Friday night. Weekly performance review:
Dear I am reading my diary and your slate is clear this week. But that odd and fearful expression I see on your face while you are kneeling , hands on head in front of me, makes me think you are hiding me something. Don't you have anything to confess, darling? Nothing? Are you sure?
I am not convinced, yet. Stay like that, back straight. Thinking about it. I am going to the sofa to watch TV. If you stay perfectly still, and you really don't remember nothing to confess during the three hours that my favorite show lasts, I will free you from your cock cage.
