The stapler was jammed again.

Admiral A.J. Chegwidden sighed and slumped a bit over his desk.  Some days everything seemed to go wrong.  He pried the top off the stapler and fished out the bent staple that was awkwardly sticking out.  He held it in front of him for a moment and stared at it with his lips drawn into a thin line.  Shaking his head and muttering a garden-variety curse word, he placed it on his desk along with the other jagged, deformed staples that had gotten stuck throughout the day.  A pile of papers lay in front of him, still unstapled but with more than a few tiny holes in the corner where previous attempts had failed.

I shouldn't have to deal with things like this, he thought to himself.

It wasn't just the stapler.  All day long, throughout the JAG office, things had been either breaking down or not working right or were missing or undergoing any number of unfortunate fates.  First the power had gone out for twenty minutes.  Then the photocopiers refused to work.  Then someone discovered that there were only two legal pads left in the entire office because someone had neglected to order more.  His phone was doing all sorts of strange things; whenever he tried calling Admiral Jennison in Chicago, he was somehow connected to Commander Rabb's office instead.  And when he tried calling Commander Rabb's office, all he ever got was a faint, static-covered voice that spoke only Japanese.  He tried calling Captain Berrings in Sacramento, and kept hearing a male teenage voice say, "Zorba's Greek Deli; will this be take-out or delivery?"

Thank god it was Friday.

He looked down at the pile of papers again and shook his head with a pathetic smile of frustration.  Deciding to wait a few minutes before another stapling attempt, he reached into his desk for a highlighter.  There were two there: a thick one and a thin one.  He grabbed the thick one and began reading page one of his document.  Line four needed to be highlighted.  He took the cap off the neon yellow marker and ran it over the appropriate words.

Nothing.

The highlighter was bone-dry.

He threw it into the wastebasket with a resounding plunk and reached for the thinner highlighter.  Another loud plunk followed as he soon learned to his chagrin that that one had dried up as well.

"I give up," he quietly muttered to himself.

He looked over at the clock.  He was going to go home in twenty minutes whether anyone else liked it or not.

His mind wandered back a few decades.  Life as a SEAL in Vietnam was a whole different world compared to his assignment at JAG.  SEALs rarely if ever had to worry about dry highlighters-- unless they were using one to kill the enemy with.  His mind wandered as he tried to think of various ways the enemy could be killed with a highlighter.  He'd counted up to eight when there was a knock on the door. 

"Enter," he barked, trying not to sound as tired as he really was.

Lieutenant J.G. Bud Roberts entered the office.

"Sir, there's a problem with the fax machine in the main office."

Chegwidden remained expressionless.  "And what, pray tell, would that problem be?"

Bud took a deep breath.  "Well, sir, Ensign Wiley spilled hot coffee on it, which ruined the faxes that were coming in from Admiral Jennison.  The coffee soaked through all the faxes-- including the ones that were still coming in.  When the machine tried putting out another page, the wet paper turned into a mushy mess.  Lieutenant Banes fished around to get the mush out, but then he dropped the whole fax machine on the floor, and now it's not working at all.  We've asked about getting it replaced, but Commander Arken says we can't order another fax machine because it's not on the approved order list."

Bud had managed to spit out the entire thing in only two breaths.

The Admiral scowled slightly and waited for his Lieutenant to breathe a few more times.  He'd spoken to Bud about this before.  He'd been tempted to interrupt him again and order him to "breathe before you pass out on my deck," but chose instead to simply be entertained as Bud's face grew redder and more bug-eyed.  Each successive word drained his brain of more oxygen, yet he still seemed only passively interested in collecting more.

"Lieutenant?"  Chegwidden addressed when the color had returned to Bud's face.

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring Ensign Wiley, Lieutenant Banes, and Commander Arken here immediately."

"Aye, sir."

A few minutes later, the three requested persons were standing at attention before the Admiral.  He let them stand there for quite a few seconds, glaring at no one in particular, before he uttered his next words.

"At ease."

They obeyed, although they certainly did not feel at ease.

Chegwidden stood in front of his desk, breathed a short sigh, and crossed his arms in front of him.  "Ensign Wiley, would you care to explain what happened to the fax machine?"

The tiny young woman did her best to appear brave.  "Sir, well, it, sir, it was an accident-- I was retrieving the faxes for the Greyling case from Admiral Jennison, and the cup just slipped--"

"Ensign, until further notice, you are not to drink any beverage within five feet of any electronic device in this building.  Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," she answered clearly.

"Good.  Lieutenant Banes?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Never poke around in an electronic device that's just had liquid spilled on it."

"Yes, sir," answered Banes sheepishly.  He knew he should have known better.

"And Commander Arken?"

"Yes, sir?" She answered, considerably taming down her usual bossiness, now that she was in the presence of her commanding officer.

"You will order a new fax machine for the main office.  Is that a problem?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, sir--"

"Maybe I wasn't being clear, Commander, the correct answer to that question is 'no, sir.'"

"Yes, sir.  I mean, no, sir."

The Admiral nodded curtly.  "Good!  Now, Lieutenant Roberts?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Contact Admiral Jennison and tell him to re-fax the information.  Have him send it to machine number two."

"Aye, sir."

"And, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring me a stapler that works."

"Er... yes, sir..."

The Admiral made eye contact with all four of the people in front of him.  "You all know what to do-- and what not to do.  Dismissed."

They all filed out the door as efficiently as possible, leaving Chegwidden alone in his spacious office, still leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.  "I've got to get out of here," he mumbled softly.

A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was indeed time to go home-- or close enough to it. 

In an amazingly short time, he was unlocking the door to his blue Ford Expedition and beginning the drive home.  Along the way, he began his daily shift from "work life" to "personal life," mentally forcing himself to leave work-stress at work.  Sometimes he could do it, sometimes he couldn't. 

Being the boss wasn't always all it was cracked up to be.
 

17:40 Eastern Time
Home of Admiral Chegwidden
McLean, Virginia
 

With an audible sigh of relief, he pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine.  What he needed most was a shower.  He'd plan the rest of the evening's activities when he got done.   For now, it felt good just to be plain old A.J, instead of Admiral Chegwidden.

He paused on the porch to look through his keys and find the one for the front door.  "For god's sake..." he began, but was cut short when he heard a snap off in the woods next to his house.  His head jerked over in that direction, and he carefully stared, but saw nothing.  He went back to fishing for his key, and did eventually manage to get the front door unlocked-- only to be startled again by another noise directly behind him.

Something wasn't right.

He turned around with the quick reflexes of a well-trained SEAL, but it still wasn't enough time to avoid the ample electric shock as a hand reached out, holding a 100,000-volt stun gun against his neck. 
As his body fell limply into the doorway, a tall, feminine figure crouched over him and brushed her hand against his smooth cheek.

"Forgive me, A.J," were her only words before she dragged him into the house.

****

She carried in two bags from their hiding place in the bushes: one was an ordinary tan duffel bag, the other was a large, heavy suitcase with a floral tapestry design.  Its heaviness came not so much from the suitcase itself but from its contents.  As she picked it up and dragged it into the house, its contents shifted slightly, producing a few muffled clanks of metal.

"First things first," the woman muttered to herself as she left the two bags on the floor and reached down for A.J.  This would be quite a test of her physical strength, she knew, but it had to be done.  Taking a quick breath, she bent down, hooked her elbows under his arms, clasped her hands together where they met over his chest, and began the tedious process of dragging him into the bedroom.

A.J. didn't see or feel the muscle relaxant she injected into his arm.  He didn't see her go into the bathroom and draw a pan of hot, soapy water.  He never even felt his uniform being removed in its entirety.

****

He was out for quite awhile.

Before his brain was ready to wake up, it played nice little dreams for him.  He dreamed he was lying in bed, being bathed by a beautiful woman.  She had a good touch, and knew how and where to use it.  The warm water and fresh-smelling shower gel made soothing lathery bubbles.  The bath sponge firmly caressed his body, part by part.... it was hard to concentrate, or even to think of anything at all, but he laid silently in his dreamland and watched the images playing before his closed eyes.  He enjoyed the feeling of the sponge rubbing against his skin.  The soap smelled good.  The warm water felt good.  Being clean after a rough day felt especially good.

Not once did his brain warn him to think of who might be on the other end of the soapy sponge.

At the same time he was dreaming...

As she squeezed the sponge to rinse the suds away from his chest, she leaned over him with her lips almost touching the firm muscles over his rib cage.  She placed an apprehensive kiss on him as her lips barely brushed his left nipple.  Another kiss followed, and another, each one harder than the last.  She stopped for a second, deep in thought as she glanced up to his neck.  She moved closer.  After an almost audible sigh of anticipation, she kissed his neck and took a deep breath. 

"Ohhh, yes," she whispered as she drank in the incredible scent of his aftershave, which, after a long day at work, was permanently muted and blended with the natural scent of his skin.  The two together were a sensual experience she made sure never to forget.

She ran a hand across the salt-and-pepper stubble along the back of his shaven head.   Leaning down, she kissed the top of his head, moved down to kiss his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, then kissed him gently on his lips.  Yes, he was currently unconscious and unresponsive, but his lips still felt wonderful.

It wouldn't be long til he opened his eyes.  After planting one more kiss right in the middle of his masculine, hairy chest, she pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down to eagerly wait for that moment.

She'd seen those gorgeous, expressive eyes from afar before-- newspaper photos,  magazine articles about the JAG office, the occasional TV news clip-- but never this close.  Never so close.  Never even touched him before now....  She reached out and grabbed his firm bicep muscle, feeling his entire arm from shoulder to elbow.

"He'd be strong enough to lift me and throw me across the room if he wasn't drugged,"  she quietly mumbled to herself. 

She checked the restraints again to make sure they were tight.
 

19:20 Eastern Time
Chegwidden Bedroom
McLean, Virginia

It felt like many hours later when he finally regained consciousness.  He immediately tried to identify his location and recognized it as a somewhat blurrier version of his bedroom.  Even his thoughts were blurry, and he faintly noted with confusion and alarm that he was not only lying on his bed, he was strapped onto it. 

Strapped?  Into my own bed? 

Shaking off as much of the mental fog as he could, A.J. tried to sit up.  It was impossible.  There were tight straps-- no, chains-- heavy chains wrapped in leather-- holding him down.  One looped around each ankle and was tied tightly against each side of the bed, one went around each wrist, also tied to each side of the bed.  One chain went across his stomach, and another was directly across his throat.  Becoming more alert by the second, he noticed one other very important, very disturbing thing.  Underneath those leather-and-chain straps, he was completely, utterly naked.  His eyes blinked open wide,  the last trace of mental fog fading fast.  It was then that he finally noticed the woman sitting in a chair next to the bed, just inches away from his left hand.  If he could have jumped in surprise without being choked by the chains, he would have.

"What the--"

"Hello, A.J.  Feeling ok now?"

He squinted to see her more clearly.  Nothing about her was familiar.  She appeared to be in her early thirties, a brunette with dark eyes, wearing a black t-shirt and black denim jeans.  He looked more closely, and still found no evidence whatsoever to suggest that he'd ever met this woman before.

"Do I know you?" He tried to ask with an air of authority, but the words didn't come out as he'd hoped; the chain across his throat was a bit tight. 

The woman stood up and ran the back of her hand gently down his left cheek.  "Oh, I'm sorry; is that too tight for you?  Let me loosen it a bit."  She smiled wryly.  "Only a bit, though.  I mean, I'd hate for you to get away, especially after I went to all this trouble, y'know?" 

She reached under the bed and seemed to turn some sort of crank, maybe twice, and the chain around his neck felt much looser.  He could now lift his head almost four inches off the bed.  He craned his neck around to see what she was doing.  What was that crank she turned?  How did she install that?  This is my bed, for crying out loud; since when did it become a project on Home Improvement? 

He cleared his throat.  "Do I know you?"  He repeated.

"No."  She stated simply.  "I don't suppose you do."

"Then why--"  he began.

"Because I've admired you anonymously for far too long.  I need some quality time, A.J." 

She was speaking pleasantly and conversationally, as if they were both sipping lemonade in the living room, instead of with him strapped naked to his own bed with leather and chains.  Yet somehow, he did not get the impression that she was insane-- just very obsessed and very daring.  He reminded himself of the fuzzy line that divided those categories.  Besides, insane or not, she still had him in a very compromising situation.

She continued.  "Trust me, I'm a pretty cool person once you get to know me.  And believe me, A.J., you will get to know me."  Her dark eyes bored into his, then traveled down the entire length of his nude body.  She took a slow, deep breath and exhaled with a low, muted sigh.

"What is it you want?"

"A.J, sweetheart, let me make this as painfully clear as possible.  For this entire night, you will be absolutely, completely, 100% mine.  You have no idea how long I've wanted this, how much I've needed this, and how much time I've spent dreaming about it.  About you.  For the next twelve hours, I will control everything that happens to you-- and it will be the most intense night you ever experience in your entire life.  After that, I will leave, you will be free, I will be gone forever, and you will never, ever see me again.  Any questions?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Ever seen Misery, A.J.?"

"What?"  It took a moment for him to realize she was talking about the movie.  That Stephen King thing.  He'd seen it, once, a long time ago.  Didn't much care for it.  "What about it?"

"Well, A.J., let's just say I'm 'your biggest fan.'"  After a sweet but mischievous smile, she ran her fingers lovingly over the stubble on his head.  "Don't worry, though--  Unlike Kathy Bates, I promise I won't try to kill you."

"Really.  My biggest fan," he repeated, with a noticeable drawl of disbelief.  "Wasn't aware I had any fans.  Especially not today."

"No, really," she said convincingly while walking over to the dresser and reaching into her tan duffel bag.  "I mean, come on, A.J, you're the Judge Advocate General.  You're incredibly handsome with a voice that could melt chilled butter.  You're a SEAL.  You're an Admiral.  You're in a position of power.  You're a man in uniform.  Women really get off on that kind of stuff, haven't you noticed?"

"Well," he mused as he felt a draft, "I don't seem to be in a position of power now--  or a man in uniform, for that matter."

She smiled.  "Yeah, I know.  But Monday when you go back to your office, you'll still be all those things again.  Haven't you ever wanted to just 'let go' and give someone else control for a while?  Just for awhile?  To not have to worry about doing anything or deciding anything or being responsible for anything?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped short as he realized that that was exactly what he'd been daydreaming about in his office earlier in the day.  He had wanted very much to just 'let go' for awhile.  This particular solution, however, was not exactly what he'd had in mind.

His silence answered her question better than any words could. 

"You don't have to answer that if you don't want to," she assured him.  "Anyway, trust me.  Biggest fan.  But if you don't want to stand on formality, you can always call me Lia." 

A.J. watched her intently but still suspiciously, pulling at his restraints while she stood at the dresser going through her duffel bag.  He could tell it must have been quite a powerful drug she slipped him; normally he could summon a lot more muscle power than this.  Surely there was some way he could break free... if only he could think clearly... think... concentrate...  He tugged at the leather restraints again.  The chains inside were as thick and strong as they could be, and they were pulled tightly against the bed frame.  Sighing, he laid limply on the bed.  He'd have to wait for the right moment, but he would be able to escape.  Til then, he might have to humor her for awhile.  After thinking about what she'd just said, he figured maybe it might not be so bad.

"How did you lift me up here, Lia?"  He asked.

She smiled sweetly and gave him a conspiratorial wink.  "Must be I'm stronger than I look, huh?"

Lifting his head off the pillow as much as he could, he looked down once again at his naked, spread-eagled body.  It's a good thing I'm trained to kill people with my bare hands, he mused to himself,  because it looks like right now, that's all I've got. 
 

19:45 Eastern Time
Chegwidden Bedroom
McLean, Virginia

The Admiral now had a lot to consider.

He thought of everything she'd said, studying her body language, trying to find the words that were in between the words.  He had only one question left to ask.

"So what are you going to do to me?"

"Well," she began as she picked up the bowl of water she'd used for his sponge bath, "right now I'm going to go empty this out and get some fresh warm water."

"And then?"

"Wait and see."
 

He heard her pour the dirty water into the sink.  Then the faucet ran while she rinsed out the bowl and refilled it.  She came back into the bedroom, gently laid the large bowl of water on the bed, and went over to retrieve two items from her duffel bag:  a can of Edge shaving gel and a disposable razor.

A.J. saw this and his brow furrowed.

"Just what do you plan to do with that?"

"What do people usually do with razors and shaving cream?  I plan to shave all this off, A.J.  She ran a hand through his copious chest hair, moving down to lightly pat his stomach.  "Freshly-shaven skin is very sensitive to touch; I think you'll notice quite a difference."

He grunted in protest.  "I don't want to notice a difference."

"But you will anyway."  She dispensed a dollop of the Edge gel into her palm and began rubbing it over his chest, adding a bit of water to make the foam easier to spread.  The same process was repeated over his stomach.  Holding the razor carefully, she began shaving his entire chest and stomach until they were baby-smooth. 

"I'll leave your arms and legs alone; as much as I'd like to strip those too, I know you'd probably get peculiar looks from people at work or on the street."

"Thank god for small favors," he muttered sarcastically.

Lia sniffed in amusement.  "Bet you really wish I was 'out of your hair,' don't you, Admiral?" 

He gave her a 'bad pun' cringe.  "You have no idea."

Her breath felt cooler on his now-hairless chest and stomach.  As he looked down at himself, despite being mortified at the radical change in appearance, he was relieved to see not even a drop of blood.  She had done the entire thing without even one nick.  He was about to release a pronounced sigh when he felt her on the bed, moving up between his thighs. 

"Whoa, there, A.J, don't move around on me too much.  This is the part where you really have to keep still." 

Despite her words of caution, he jerked against the restraints as hard as he could in a futile attempt to pull his legs together and sit up.  "What the hell are you doing?" He shouted.

"You're a smart man, Admiral;  use your powers of logic and deduction."  She took the can of Edge shaving gel and dispensed a small amount into her left hand.  The cool, blue-green gel turned into rich, white foam as she deftly massaged it into his pubic hair.  She added a bit of water from the bowl and worked the foam up into a smooth, soft lather.  A.J. froze, doing all he could to keep from thinking about how good this actually felt.  Her nimble fingers stroked everywhere except his penis, maintaining an intense, sensual, rhythmic pressure.  His teeth clenched and he bit his tongue in an effort to keep his self-control.  Parts of him, some parts more than others, were impatiently, eagerly waiting for her to hurry up and touch him where he needed it most-- the one part she was purposely avoiding.  His muscles tensed more with every second and he dared to look down at her.

She was reaching for the razor. 

He jerked against the restraints, hard, one more time, before the razor got any closer.  She looked at him and smiled with a sweet, cute grin.

"Now, now, A.J.,"  she teased,  "you've really got to lay still here.  It's dangerous to thrash around near such a sharp object.  You've got a lot at stake here."  She glanced back down as she put her foamy hand back on him, noticing with pleasure that he was beginning to get hard.  "Quite a lot, if I do say so myself.  Don't worry.  I'll be ever so careful.  After all, why would I damage the very thing I plan to use later on?"

He felt her soft, foamy hand touch him again, and held his breath as the razor in her other hand began thoroughly shaving off every hair he had.
 

21:00 Eastern Time
Chegwidden Bedroom
McLean, Virginia

After every hair had been shaven, she dumped the water into the sink, rinsed out the bowl, and put away the razor and gel.  Returning to the bedside, she noticed that its occupant did not look entirely sure of his safety.

She knelt down beside him.

"Please relax, A.J.  I promise you, you're not in any danger."

He smiled, uttering a monosyllabic laugh of disbelief.  "You've broken into my home, stunned me, drugged me, stripped me naked, chained me up, shaved off hairs I don't even look at that often, and I'm supposed to feel safe?"

"Yes.  I already told you I'm only keeping you for one night.  Just one night with you is all I've ever wanted.  I'm leaving tomorrow, and you can be sure you'll never see me again.  Unless you want to, but somehow I doubt that'll be the case."

He studied her closely.  "What do you expect me to do?  You've obviously been planning this for quite some time; what did you imagine I'd be doing right now?"

"Well, A.J, in my wildest dreams, I thought maybe you'd find some of tonight's activities... enjoyable.  I'm going to do all I can to give you extreme amounts of pleasure.  All you have to do is let yourself feel it.  Please, relax.  There are men who'd pay a lot of money for a night like this."

"Are you used to being paid?"  It was a mean, hurtful question, and he regretted it the instant he asked.

Her eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and hurt feelings.  "No!  Of course not!"

She fell silent for a second and stared at the bedpost before getting up and walking back over to her duffel bag.  A.J. turned his head away so he didn't have to see her hurt expression. 

He sighed, still looking away.  "Okay, so it wasn't a nice thing to say.  It's hard to be Mr. Polite when someone's got you chained up with your balls hanging out.  All right?"

Without replying, she reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid.  It looked slightly thicker than water, and had a very faint orange-yellow tinge.

"What is that?"  asked A.J, craning his neck as best he could to peer at the bottle and its contents.

"It's massage oil."  Lia walked over to him and waved the bottle under his nose before pouring a small amount onto her fingertips.  "See?  It's tangerine-scented."

She reached for his temples, lightly laying her fingertips on each side of his head.  The motion was nearly undetectable at first, but as he lay quietly, he could feel the subtle, small circles, semi-circles, and figure-8's she gently traced into his temples.  Gradually, she increased the pressure just a little.  After a minute, she moved on to massaging the rest of his head, reaching behind him to loosen up every tight muscle she felt in the back of his neck.  It did feel calming and relaxing.  It actually felt quite nice, but even a firing squad couldn't have gotten him to admit it.

His heart stopped pounding, his breathing slowed, and he took a deep breath as he closed his eyes.

She smiled to herself. 

His shoulders were next.  It felt good to rub oil into those strong, broad, masculine shoulders, working out all the knots and tension.  Taking her sweet time, she moved on to his chest.  His eyes remained closed, and now and then he allowed himself to emit a very contented sigh. 

Next, she massaged his arms, working from the thick bicep muscles all the way down to his hands.  Her soft voice broke the silence.

"You've got nice hands."

He grunted.  "They're just hands."

"Well, I like them.  They're strong and youthful.  They've got a lot of character."

His reply was inaudible.

She smiled and moved on to the next body part-- his left foot.  She added more tangerine oil to her fingertips and firmly massaged his heel, shin, and toes.  He jerked once or twice when she hit a ticklish spot, and she adjusted her pressure accordingly.  His right foot was next, followed by his calves, knees, and thighs.  She smiled again as she looked up at the sublimely relaxed expression on his face.

"Any thoughts?" Lia ventured when she heard yet another deep, contented sigh escape his lips.

"Navy SEALs shouldn't smell like tangerines,"  he muttered softly with his eyes still closed.  He tried to say it with an authoritative growl, but was too busy forcing himself not to feel any pleasure.  Neither attempt worked.

"Mmm?" She acknowledged as she began massaging the muscles in his left thigh.  "What should SEALs smell like?"

"Dirt, sweat, and the blood of the enemy,"  he stated decisively, with a somewhat more convincing growl.

"Ah.  Well, the store was out of that scent." 

Only after every other part of his body had been thoroughly massaged did she move on to his penis.  He knew it didn't make a lot of sense, enjoying such bizarre circumstances this much, but some parts of him wanted very much to be pleasured.  Other, more stubborn parts vowed never to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd "won."  His battle for self-control was a losing one, since the parts that seemed to be winning were the ones about to be stroked over and over by a very skillful set of hands.

He opened his eyes and looked down just as she'd begun lightly caressing his balls with a fingernail.  It was a light, ticklish sensation that easily started his erection.  She gripped the base of his penis and firmly swirled two or three fingers around it, as if she were adjusting a radio knob.  Then she leaned down and gently sucked the head into her mouth, massaging it quite efficiently with her tongue.

His sincere moan of pleasure was a sound she'd dreamed of hearing for a long time.  His voice always sounded good no matter what it did, but it sounded especially good at this particular moment, when his pleasure could be expressed in no other way except a deep, half-whispered moan.

Droplets of slippery, shiny liquid slid from his penis onto her tongue.  She artfully spread them around the entire head with a single lick.

He clenched his eyes shut and gasped.  Everything she did, as much as he was loath to admit it, felt damn good.

Her fingers moved faster in their swirling grip.  She took him further into her mouth and continued the merciless onslaught with her tongue, stopping only to give him a good suck now and then.

His muscles began to tense...

Her hand switched to a steady, regular, up-and-down rhythm.  Her lips moved back up to just the head, and she ran her tongue around the ridge in a constant, tireless circle.

He took a deep, shaky breath...

His moan started out as a breathy, awe-struck exhale, but grew into a long, deep, guttural roar that built in intensity, mirroring the extreme sensations he was feeling.  He came fiercely, powerfully shooting a full dose into her throat.

She swallowed again and again, leaving a small bit of it on her tongue as she squirmed up next to him and whispered in his ear, "That's what I love to hear."

He could still feel the last remaining muscle contractions of his orgasm as her lips pressed against his.  It was a short kiss, to allow for his rapid, shallow breathing.  She lapped her tongue briefly against his, giving him the opportunity to taste himself.  She let him catch his breath a little more, then kissed him again, barely able to control her delight as she noticed he was not struggling.  In fact, she could have sworn she felt him kiss her in return.
 

23:00 Eastern Time
Chegwidden Bedroom
McLean, Virginia

Stepping a few feet away from the bed, Lia proceeded to remove her clothing.  There was no slow, seductive strip tease, simply a concerted effort to be naked as quickly as possible.  A.J. watched her with obvious interest, noticing that she was shaven smooth all over.  His eyes gazed admiringly as she grabbed a large spare pillow and walked back over to him.  He enjoyed the firm jiggle of her breasts. 

She reached down for the crank that adjusted his neck chain and gave it two quick loosening turns.  Then she propped the fluffy pillow under his head.  He could now comfortably see down the entire length of the bed without craning his neck. 

She moved down to the foot of the bed and crawled up onto it, sitting between his spread legs.  She draped her legs over his hips and scooted up until his penis almost touched her-- but not quite.

Her legs were spread out as far as his were, and he could see absolutely everything.

She reached down and dipped a finger into herself to collect some of the ample lubrication that had been collecting for quite awhile.  A.J. swallowed hard and stared with rapt attention as he watched her begin to stroke her clitoris with that same slippery finger.

Her head tilted back and she closed her eyes while rubbing, stroking, and caressing herself-- knowing full well that he was watching her every move.  She could hear his excitement as he shakily breathed faster.

She gathered up more lubrication.  Taking her clitoris between her thumb and forefinger, she began to squeeze and massage it.  In addition to the pleasure she gave herself, she could feel A.J's strong thigh muscles beneath her legs, tensing and rippling as he tried to push himself closer to her. 

Her fingers picked up speed and began a tireless rhythm against the hard sensitive nub: first, two circles around it, then two firm strokes up and down the entire length of it.  She repeated it over and over...

She was quiet-- there were no other sounds besides her heavy breathing and the juicy, wet noises her finger made.  He liked that.  He'd never been much for the ultra-theatrical women who felt they had to scream during sex.  Not only did it sound cheap and fake, but it never failed to give him a splitting headache.

Lia stopped, suspending the moment in time for a few seconds before choosing to go on to the point of no return.  She opened her eyes, reached for his penis, and scooted up an inch or two-- just enough to close the gap between them.  His penis felt every sensation as she rubbed the head back and forth against her clitoris, which by now was jutting out proudly and expectantly.  His eyes were glued to the scene before him, and he drank it all in like a good shot of whiskey.

She came quietly but intensely.  He could easily tell when her moment arrived; even though she'd made no noise, there were still the incriminating signs:  sharp intake of breath, the vaginal muscle contractions which were so profound even her clitoris throbbed a little.  It was still pressed against the head of his penis, and he could feel the small, spasmodic twitches. 

She caught her breath and looked straight into the Admiral's eyes.

He was speechless.

She was still gripping him tightly, and noticed that he had gotten another large erection.  With wordless curiosity, he met her gaze.  He looked down at his ever-hardening self, then back up at her. 

He wanted to come again.

And he knew it wouldn't happen unless she made it happen.

Lia shifted position so she was straddling him with her knees against his hips.  She leaned down until she was lying completely on top of him, skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest.  With their eyes only inches apart, she whispered,

"What would you like me to do?"

His glazed eyes ached with lust.  "I haven't been inside you yet."

He wasn't exactly far from that goal at this moment-- with her lying on top of him, his hard penis already poked against her labia, just beginning to separate the folds.  If only he wasn't restrained, one good thrust would have thrown him deep inside her.  He wanted that more than anything.  It had been far too long since he'd made love to a woman, and even longer since a woman had made love to him.

She made sure to kiss him thoroughly on those hungry lips before returning to her vertical kneeling position.  After moving up a few more inches, she was ready.  Reaching down and taking hold of the very warm, very erect penis beneath her, she placed the head at the entrance of her vagina and carefully slid down onto him.

He went in quite deep.

After hearing his quick inhale, followed by an intense "Mmmm," she began rocking her hips back and forth.  This was another thing she'd been dreaming of for a long time-- the feel of him moving inside her, rubbing against her inner muscles over and over and over.

He enjoyed this immensely, to say the least.  He shuddered when she clenched her muscles against him.  She saw the effect it had on him and began doing it every time she pulled away.  It drove him completely mad.

The pleasure was incredible.

Just when he wanted her to start speeding up, she slowed down and gave him a light smack on the side. 

"You can't come yet," she ordered.

He glared at her through eyes that were still glazed with a very immediate need.  "What do you mean, I can't?  The hell I can't!  Move faster and you'll see!"

"No."  Her words were firm.  "You're going to wait just a bit longer."

Her pace was unbelievably slow.  It seemed that even snails could move faster than her hips were going.  In a healthy handful of seconds, his penis made the long journey from bumping against her cervix to almost being able to see the light of day-- then another handful of seconds for the trip back.  He felt her every inner contour as he slowly slipped past her again and again.  Granted, it prolonged some very pleasurable sensations, but he grew anxious as it became more and more apparent that he needed to come-- and he needed to come now.

As for Lia, she was still completely relishing how good this man felt.  With every rock of her hips, she breathed in amazement at the feelings he gave her.  Sensing A.J's impatience, she finally obliged and began to move faster.

He grunted his approval.

She worked him up with a rapid, steady pace, and in the process, worked herself up as well.  She moved harder and faster, not just because he needed it but because she definitely needed it too.  He expressed his pleasure again, this time by clenching his eyes shut and opening his mouth slightly.  His head pressed back into the pillow.

He had to remind himself to breathe.

Lia came first, her muscles gripping him and squeezing him repeatedly as she let out a short, soft cry.  The look of bliss on her face, her hardened nipples and clitoris, and the repeated grips on his penis were quite enough to send him far over the edge.  It hit him hard, and he grunted in shock as though he'd been hit with a large brick.

She was right, he admitted to himself.

It was well worth the wait.
 

01:00 Eastern Time
Chegwidden Bedroom
McLean, Virginia

As both of them lie there panting, Lia brushed the back of her hand over A.J's cheek and swallowed before trying to speak.

"I'm... going to give you a... few minutes to ...recuperate here.  Let's both... take a break."

He nodded, watching her body move as she got up off him and went into the bathroom to get a clean, damp washcloth to clean herself off with.  She came back out into the bedroom with a washcloth for him as well.

"By the way, what did you do with my uniform?"  He inquired, as she rubbed the soothing, warm washcloth over his body.

She gestured over to the chest of drawers behind her.  The uniform had been neatly laid out on top. She walked over to it and looked at all the military pins and decorations.  She reached out to touch them, but apprehensively pulled back at the last minute as if the numerous multicolored decorations could give her a shock worse than her stun gun.  Her attention was drawn most of all to the SEAL trident.  She reached out again for it, stopping to look back at the Admiral questioningly.

"May I?"

After a moment of thoughtful decision, he nodded.

She carefully unfastened the SEAL trident and carried it back over to the bedside.  She held it gingerly in her fingers, admiring its intricate details. 

"It's beautiful.  It must mean an awful lot to you."

"It does."

She nodded, still looking at the trident.  "I once did some personal research on SEALs.  It was amazing to find out all the stuff these guys have to know.  Weapons, parachuting, explosives of all types, rappelling, combat tactics-- I can't even remember all of it.  Having to go through all of that would absolutely kill me."

"I think you're tougher than you think you are," he said plainly.

"I doubt that, but thank you anyway," Lia smiled.  "But to go through all of that and still have to go to war besides--"  She gestured over at the purple heart pin that still lay on his uniform.  "--You're a brave man, A.J.  I could never do any of that."

"You could do it if you wanted it more than anything," he said with a nostalgic look in his eyes. 

"Besides," he added as he pulled against his chains, "You did this, didn't you?  You captured a Navy SEAL, stripped him bare, chained him up, and seduced him quite effectively."  He offered her an off-center grin.  "That took a lot of balls, woman."

She laughed.  "Yeah, I suppose it did.  I doubt I'll get a medal for it, though."

"I don't think they make medals for that,"  he chided.

Lia took one last look at the trident before going over to the chest of drawers and returning it back to its rightful place on his uniform.

On her way back to his bedside, she shook her head thoughtfully.  "Still, it must be nice to have such a tangible symbol of respect.  People see all those pins, medals, decorations, and awards-- and they know all the hard work you've gone through.  They see the success you've achieved.  It's a powerful thing; it commands respect."

"Decorations don't earn respect;" he explained.  "The man behind them does.  I've always believed that.  I've known seaman recruits with great integrity and honor, and I also know high-ranking officers who are nothing but assholes in blue."

Lia listened with complete attention, realizing that such open, philosophical introspection was probably a very rare thing coming from this man. 

"Being the boss isn't always all it's cracked up to be," he mused, repeating the thought he'd had while leaving the JAG office earlier that day.

A few wrinkles appeared in his forehead.  "I guess I do miss my SEAL years,"  he admitted.  "I never thought of it quite like this, but when I see that trident, I see a time I wish I could go back to now and then.  Even though I saw and did more killing than any man should, I don't know..."  His eyes narrowed.  "I was in my element, I was good at what I did.  It changed the way I think.  Everything I see now is processed through that filter."

He gave a short, humorless laugh and shook his head.  "Hell, earlier in my office today I was thinking of eight different ways the enemy could be killed with a dried-up highlighter."

"Who was the enemy?"

He thought for a moment.  "No one in particular, I guess-- though whoever invented staplers was quickly becoming a candidate."

He stopped and studied her face for a moment.  She was sitting on the edge of the chair, leaning forward, appearing truly interested in every word he said.  She looked genuine and sincere.  He pursed his lips and cleared his throat.

"I don't know why I'm admitting this to you, but it's nice to have someone to talk to like this-- someone to just sit and listen to me rattle on."  His voice was very soft, and he measured out each word carefully.

"I get the impression you don't rattle on very often."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it just seems to me that you're usually a man of few words.  The stoic, mature, strong, silent type.  You're in a position of power.  You probably don't like talking too much about personal problems to people under your command, because that would be sort of like admitting weakness.  Maybe you worry that they'd lose respect for you."

He thought about that.  The words seemed to click into place and he realized they made a lot of sense.  He listened intently as she went on.

"And since you're the highest-ranking officer in that building, everyone there is under your command.  You're, well, you're in charge of everything and everyone.  I imagine there's some unspoken rule that it's inappropriate for commanding officers to show vulnerability by admitting that they're only human.  Heaven forbid you should actually get stressed out sometimes, right?"

He gave a small nod of agreement and lay there in quiet contemplation.  His forehead wrinkled slightly as his large, expressive eyes narrowed again and gazed up at the ceiling.  He turned his head to look at her.  The wrinkled forehead smoothed out as he managed a tiny smile. 

"You understand a lot of things, Lia."

She returned his smile and reached over to hold his hand.  She gave it a reassuring squeeze, lacing her fingers through his.  Leaning down, she kissed him sweetly on the wrist.

The two of them sat there wordlessly for a long handful of seconds before he squeezed her hand in return and looked over at her again.

"You're not at all what I thought you'd be."

She smiled down at him.  "Why, A.J, I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me all evening."  She leaned over to plant three soft kisses along his strong, masculine jawbone.  "Now, would you like some more 'help' forgetting all those nasty staplers?"

His eyes lit up with energy as he smiled and squeezed her hand harder.  He wanted that very much.

She got up and started walking toward the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" He shouted after her.

"I'm going to be adventurous," she yelled back teasingly.  "I told you this would be a night you'd never forget, and I fully intend to make good on that promise."

"You already have-- I couldn't forget this night even if I tried."

"I'm touched to hear that, Admiral," she quipped with a friendly bit of sarcasm.  Her voice grew fainter as she walked into the kitchen.

A.J. listened carefully and heard the refrigerator door open & close, followed by a few drawers and cupboards.

"Hey, where do you keep the sharp knives?" She called to him.

"What?" His eyes widened.  Surely she was just joking.

"Wups, never mind-- I found one."  He heard a drawer close firmly.

"What are you doing in there?" He called out to her, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Well, you'll see in a minute because I'm coming in there now."  Her voice got louder as her footsteps approached.

She walked in the bedroom carrying a silver tray.  On this tray was a very large cherry tomato, a tiny sampler box of chocolate cherries, a bottle of 7-up, a clean dishtowel, and a very sharp kitchen knife.

He stared at the tray's contents with a look of concerned puzzlement.  "I'm not gonna ask."

With a very full grin, she gave sort of a sideways nod.  "Suit yourself."

A.J. sniffed the air, then took a deeper breath.  "I smell smoke."  He tested the air again.  "What have you done?  I smell smoke."

"Yes, you probably do.  Don't worry, A.J; it's only incense.  Cactus-Flower, to be exact.  I think it's rather nice.  Let's just say it inspires me."

"Somehow I'd rather you were uninspired," he chided with a playful grin.

Lia imagined that people in the JAG office rarely, if ever, got to see that grin.

The first thing she reached for was the bottle of 7-up.  She twisted off the cap and moved up close to his chest.  Holding the cap like it was a tiny bowl, she filled it full of the soda.  Then she promptly dumped it onto his left nipple.

He blinked in surprise.  Bubbles-- lots of them-- and they rather tickled.

After the cold bubbles had sufficiently teased him for a second, she leaned down and began licking it all off of him.  Her tongue felt good against his left nipple-- and everywhere else it touched.

Another capful followed-- this time over his right nipple.  Again, she licked him completely clean.

She dipped her finger into the next capful and gently spread some onto his neck, kissing and licking him thoroughly.  She spread some onto his lips, and their tongues fought to see who could get the most.

Moving down between his thighs again, she placed the dishtowel underneath him.  Lifting up his penis, she poured an entire capful of 7-up directly onto his balls.  His hips wiggled a bit while the bubbles subsided, then laid perfectly still as she licked him clean.

She repeated with another capful.

His eyes were closed and his eyelids fluttered a bit after every little bubble popped.  He was expecting a third capful, only to be quite surprised when she tipped up the entire bottle and poured nearly half a cup right onto the head of his penis.  He gasped and opened his eyes wide.  These were some serious bubbles.  And he knew full well what was coming next...

Indeed, she sucked and licked off the sweet soda with admirable efficiency, and poured yet more onto him.  The few drips she didn't catch were cleanly absorbed into the dish towel.

For the second time that evening, he felt her sucking him far beyond her lips and kneading his raw flesh against the roof of her mouth.  If his hands had been free, he would have reached down, buried his hand in her hair, and pushed her against him to set the rhythm that felt best.

But she wasn't doing bad at all on her own.

She took him out of her mouth and let one hand play with him while the other hand reached for a chocolate cherry.  She bit it, licked out the middle, and smeared the sweet, syrupy insides all over the broad, sensitive tip of his erection.  The thick, sugary candy mixed in with the droplets of slippery liquid that indicated his growing arousal.  Again, she licked and savored every drop.

She reached for another chocolate cherry, this time biting it in half and keeping only the cherry.  She held it between her teeth and smiled at him.

Cupping the cherry on the tip of her tongue, she again took him between her lips and began using her tongue to rub the cherry against his swollen, sensitive head.  It felt unusual, and took some getting used to, but was definitely very erotic.

Just when he thought she'd take him to climax, she stopped and turned to the tray's remaining two items-- a large, almost golf-ball-sized cherry tomato, and a very sharp knife.

Watching her with careful attention, he saw her slice the tomato neatly in half and hollow it out.  She left a small pile of pulp and seeds on the tray.

With her left hand, she reached down and touched herself, collecting an ample amount of lubrication.  She then proceeded to spread it inside one of the tomato halves.  Taking this half, she cupped it neatly over the head of his penis, which had been shamelessly begging for more attention.  He experienced another new, bizarre sensation as she rubbed the slippery, hollowed-out tomato shell over him.  It felt unusual-- but again, very erotic.  It stimulated the entire head all at once, with a texture that was smooth enough to be comfortable, but rough enough to be extremely sensual.  There were no two ways about it-- this felt very good.  His thigh muscles rippled as he tried to push himself closer to her.  The leather-covered chains gave a soft, metallic clank as they firmly held him back.  He again felt ready to come, and this time she didn't stop him.   Her fingers-- and the tomato-- kept going until his climax was inevitable.  The strong, vigorous pulsations took over once more, leaving him barely able to think.

She lifted the tomato away from him and promptly popped it into her mouth, swallowing it after a few quick chews.
 

02:45 Eastern Time
Chegwidden Bedroom
McLean, Virginia

He caught his breath for the hundredth time so far that evening, and looked over at Lia, hardly able to guess what she'd be doing next.  He found her sitting at the edge of the bedside chair, staring at his left arm, apparently in a state of indecision.  After a few seconds of silence, she nodded to herself and grabbed the chain that was holding down his left wrist.  She reached under the bed and turned the corresponding crank four or five times, until he could easily pull his hand free.  She ran her fingers down the entire length of his arm.

"You've trusted me, now it's my turn to trust you."

She pulled the large bedside chair up to him so it was very close to his free arm.   After laying a clean towel on it, she sat down and draped her legs over each arm of the chair. Placing her body within easy reach of his hand, she presented herself to him.

"Do whatever you feel is fair and just, Mr. Judge Advocate General."

His eyes narrowed, and a wicked grin spread across his pursed lips.  He stretched out his arm and flexed an impressive array of muscles before reaching out for her.

He traced a single fingernail around her labia, then repeated the same tracing with two fingers.  He firmly massaged the triangular, clean-shaven mound of flesh where her pubic hair would have been. 

"This is how you touched me when you shaved me," he explained.

"It feels good," she breathed. 

With her head tilted back, she was unable to see the sly, wicked grin on his face.  It was payback time, and she would find that out.

His strong, masculine fingers kept tracing a seductive outline just around the outside of her labia, occasionally repeating a firm massage of the smooth skin around it.  He went nowhere near her inner genitals.

She squirmed closer to his hand, hoping to feel a finger or a knuckle brush against her more sensitive areas, but he promptly pulled away.  Her quick, frustrated exhale made his revenge grow progressively sweeter.  He'd make her wait at least as long as he'd had to.

She had two choices: either reach down and finish the job quickly herself, or patiently submit to his deliberately slow explorations.  She decided on the latter.  After all, she could touch herself anytime, but this was probably her last and only chance to feel him do it.  So, with a sigh of resignation, she relaxed and placed herself quite literally in the palm of his hand.

After an untold number of minutes, she felt a finger rub around the outside of her vagina, picking up some of the slick juices.  He put the finger barely an inch or two inside her, stroking and rubbing around just long enough to tease her.  Her legs spread further and she again tried to push herself closer to him.  He withdrew his finger, lifted it to his mouth, and licked it off.

She opened her eyes and smiled softly as he tasted her.  It was so hard to relax and be patient.

Leaving some spit on the end of his finger, he placed it firmly against the top edge of her slit and traced a straight line all the way down the middle.  Her muscles jumped as it ran over her clitoris, stopping to rest just under her vagina.

He began that same downward trip again, but this time, much to her liking, he stopped to circle her clit a few times before continuing the rest of the way down.

On the third trip, he lingered around her clit even longer, giving it a luscious amount of attention.  She opened her mouth and ran her tongue along her teeth.

"Mmhhh..." was the only sound she could make.

He put more spit on the end of his fingers and mixed it in with her own lubrication.  His fingers now slid effortlessly over and around everyplace they traveled.  To her delight, they began traveling more and more often to her clitoris.  He knew exactly where, which way, and how hard to rub, and she found herself wondering how many other women he'd "practiced" on.  Lucky women.

He eventually sensed she was near orgasm, so again he gave her a taste of her own medicine and stopped touching her, waiting for her reaction.

Her cry of protest and disbelief punctuated a frustrated groan.  "Keep going..."

"No," he mocked, repeating the words she'd said to him earlier.  "You're going to have to wait a bit longer."

She groaned in a delicious mix of pleasure and frustration.  "You're a cruel man, A.J."

He nodded in agreement.  "Damn right-- I learned from the best."

After making her wait for a few infinite seconds, he began resuming his previous activities.  Her extreme wetness showed that she was more than ready for it. 

It was almost too much to enjoy all at once, as she absorbed the sensation of his strong fingers playing with everything she had.  He intently watched all her reactions, learning which motions brought her the most pleasure.  He squeezed her clitoris and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, the way she'd done to herself earlier.  He smiled as she held her breath.  Her skin flushed, and she blinked a few times as her eyes began to water.

She was going to come any second if he kept that up.

Knowing this, A.J. changed his battle plan.

He inserted two fingers inside her as far as he could reach, and began a series of long, spiraling strokes that eventually found their way back to the outside again.  He spiraled back in again, and then slowly back out.  He saw her glance over at his penis, which was standing up again at quite a steep angle.  Deciding to tease her some more, he took his hand out of her and reached down to hold himself, letting her watch as he stroked his erection until it was as big as it could possibly be.

"I can do that for you," she breathed.  "I'll take care of it... I'll do anything-- just let me come.  Please..."  Her voice was desperate with sexual tension.  "Please, Admiral-- make me come."

His face softened with compassion and he decided to comply with her wishes.  Revenge had served its purpose.

Moving back to dip his fingers in her wet, shining juices, he began a no-nonsense assault on her clitoris, rubbing it non-stop until he heard, saw, and felt what was undoubtedly a very intense climax for her.

"...Thank... you..." she managed between breaths.  He grabbed her arm and pulled her up to him in a sexy, aggressive manner.

"You made me a promise," he said sternly.

She panted a few more times and gave him a confused look. He pointed to his erection.  "You said you'd take care of it.  Take care of it."

She smiled.  He did enjoy being in charge.  Now that he'd been given a little more freedom of movement, he was pressing every advantage he had.  She'd given him an inch and he'd taken a mile.

It went exactly as she'd hoped.

"Yes, sir," she answered obediently as she got up on the bed and again straddled him on her knees.  Without any further ado, she quickly placed him inside her and slid down on him, instantly starting a rapid, insistent pace.

This was no longer about slow, seductive teasing.

This was about quick, hard sex.

The Admiral had given an order-- and he always got what he wanted.

It was only a matter of minutes before he came inside her with a satisfied shudder.

Both of them were exhausted. 

She lay down on top of him, he wrapped his left arm around her, and they kissed once before they both fell asleep.
 

06:45 Eastern Time
Home of Admiral Chegwidden
McLean, Virginia

The next time A.J's eyes opened, a faint blue glimmer of morning sky was shining through the window.  It was tomorrow already.

He heard the shower running in the bathroom, and saw that all Lia's belongings had been packed back into her duffel bag. 

She really was going to leave, just like she promised.  Oddly enough, he wasn't sure whether that made him happy or not.

The shower stopped running, and he heard the rustling of fabric as she toweled off and got dressed.

A few minutes later, she came back out into the bedroom, completely clothed.

"A.J!  Good morning!  Would you like some breakfast?"

"Well--" he began.

"Sure you do.  I'll go make something."  She looked absentmindedly around the room.  "Where's my duffel bag?"

He pointed to it.

"Oh.  Thanks."  She picked it up and carried it into the kitchen, then returned to the bedroom.  Standing next to A.J, she fondly looked down at him and leaned over to give him a big, soft kiss.  He accepted and returned it in silence.

"Breakfast awaits," she announced.  "At least, it will after I go out there and discover what the heck it's going to be."

"After all," she winked on her way out the bedroom door, "breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?"

A.J. watched Lia leave the room.  As soon as she was out of sight, he quickly looked down at his left arm.

She had left the restraint undone. 

He listened to make sure she was in the kitchen, then leaned over to his side as far as he could, feeling alongside the bed.  It was hard to reach down that far, even though his neck restraint was still very loose and his left arm was free.  Reaching so far to his left pulled his still-restrained right arm so hard he thought it would break.

Still, he was able to feel around for the crank that controlled his neck restraint.  He could barely reach it, but was able to gingerly grab it and turn it until the chain was loose enough for him to simply reach up and lift it over his head.

Now it was much easier for him to lean over further and locate the crank for the chain that went across his stomach.  He couldn't lean over far enough to see it, but his left hand could feel it.  He loosened it as far as it would go, and tried to reach down to the crank for his left leg.

He couldn't reach it.  The right wrist chain was holding him back.

In frustration, he jerked hard against his remaining chains, and was surprised to hear a few clicks come from his beneath his right wrist.  It felt looser. 

Both hand restraints must have been connected to each other beneath the bed.  Now that his left hand was free, his right hand's chain yielded much easier to pressure.

After a few good hard tugs, the chain was loose enough so he could wiggle his right hand free.  He was now able to sit up.

He listened carefully to make sure Lia hadn't heard anything.  Cautiously, he leaned down and loosened both leg restraints until he was completely free.

He was a bit unsteady on his feet for the first few steps, but felt better after a few stretches.  He threw on some clothes and went into "stealth" mode, listening at the doorway and carefully slipping through it, keeping his back to the wall.

He couldn't hear any movement coming from the kitchen.  With his senses on high alert, he proceeded to search every room in a hunt for Lia.

His thoughts growled to him.  "When I get ahold of her..."  and then he stopped.  Just what exactly was he planning on doing, anyway?  A small part of him wanted to put her in a headlock and call the authorities.  Other parts had different ideas.  Chain her up in those things for a day or two, maybe...  or maybe just lay her down on the floor and mount her right then and there... he'd had a lot of sex in the past twelve hours, and none of it was with him on top. 

But first, he had to find her.

And that was easier said than done.  A.J. soon discovered, to his utter amazement, that the house was now empty.  She had left him.  The last room he checked was the kitchen.  It, too, was empty.  He looked at the kitchen table.  On it, set out very neatly, was a bowl of strawberries, a danish, a glass of orange juice, and a small sampler box of chocolate cherries with two cherries missing.  Next to the cherries was a little envelope.

He turned around, as if to convince himself that the place truly was empty, then quietly walked over to the table and picked up the envelope.

Inside was a pretty little card with pictures of Victorian flower bouquets.  He opened it and read the inside.

Dearest A.J:

Thanks for a wonderful evening--
surprised it took you this long to escape. 
Love you madly. 
Enjoy breakfast.

--Your biggest fan.

P.S. Don't worry, I'm sure the hair will grow back eventually...