"I think you could do with an early night tonight. You're obviously overtired and cranky, so tonight can be your sleep night. Suggest that we get you ready for bed, because you do not want to be late, unless you want to miss your night out tomorrow."
Almost every argument in recent years had ended with those same words. In a fit of exasperation she huffed and threw up her hands, pointedly staring at the clock as it ticked over to 18:32.
She knew that there was no point in any further debate on the subject. She was now on the clock and any further prevarication could have severe consequences beyond this evening.
"What sane adult gets herself ready for bed at bloody six thirty in the evening," she thought to herself, as she stormed up the staircase, her high heels echoing on every wooden step as she attempted to make her feelings known without incurring further penalty.
Of course, it a question that she had asked herself almost every time that he had declared the evening a sleep night. To her, he was being unreasonable and controlling. In his mind, he was being caring and concerned for her welfare.
Before they were married she had been a workaholic, often working late into the evening and starting again with only a handful of hours sleep for nights on end. Eventually, this habit of burning the candle at both ends had taken it's toll, and it led to her burning out. Not only had she lost her job as a result, but their new marriage had suffered badly. She was often too tired to offer any kind of love and attention to her new husband, at a time when their relationship should have been blooming. Something had to be done to save their marriage, before it floundered beyond repair. Despite their problems, they loved still each other dearly.
So sleep night was introduced to their relationship. He decided that one night a week, she would be forced to have at least 12 hours rest, free of distractions of the world, so that her brain could rest and regenerate. From eight o'clock in the evening, until the same time the next morning, she would remain in bed and do nothing but rest. Despite her misgivings, she was prepared to accede to his wishes, in an effort to stay together.
Of course, there arguments and tantrums. Initial attempts to enforce the new rules were often met with defiance and outright revolt, despite knowing the consequences. Excuses were made and pleas were heard. Then there was the outright refusal to stay in bed. Eventually, out of desperation, he gave her an ultimatum. "Do as you're told or I will leave you."
"Make me," she snarled in reply.
Her taunts followed him down the hallway, leaving her to believe that once again she had won, but her confidence this time was short lived. He returned minutes later with two lengths of chain in his hands. The struggle was short and sweet, the result of which was that her ankles were surrounded in chain and a padlock, while a second chain connected them to the leg of the bed. There would be no getting out of bed that evening.
She lay in bed, at first furious with him for what he had done to her. This is assault, I will call the cops as soon as I am freed, she thought to herself. all the while shaking her ankles to try and force the captivating chains off her. But throughout her futile attempts to get free, another emotion was stirring inside of her, one which she had not encountered before. Whether it was the shock of her sudden captivity, or the sensation created by the friction of her thighs rubbing together she would never know, but she suddenly realised that for the first time in months she actually wanted sex with him.
Half expecting a missile to the head, the next morning, at eight o'clock on the dot, he went to release her. Instead, he was astonished to find her soundly asleep upon quietly opening the bedroom door. Intending to open the padlocks and make a hasty retreat, he was caught by surprise when she stirred as he fumbled about, trying to insert the key without rousing her.
"No, don't," she whispered, barely awake, "Fuck me first!" The instruction, and the tenderness with which it was delivered unnerved him somewhat.
"I have to undo your legs first," he countered, unsure as to whether she was talking in her sleep or not.
"Fine, but don't release me. I want you to fuck me while I'm still locked up in your chains." Her voice was husky, it sounded like she had been running. As if to emphasise her request, she desperately tried to part her thighs as much as her bonds allowed. The aroma that she gave off was unmistakable. She was desperately turned on.
Unlocking the padlocks, gently and with far more tenderness than when they were applied, he unwound the chain sufficiently for her to pull her left ankle free, without letting go of his hold on her right foot, reapplying the lock to trap her right ankle in a single loop of chain. Pulling on the excess he wrapped the other end around the corner of the bed frame, using the other padlock.
Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, moving her left leg out to the other side to make room.
"No," she whimpered, "I want you to do it properly."
Dismounting from her, he looked at her longingly, then with a promise to return quickly, made his way out to the garage. He returned with a handful more chain, padlocks and some cloth.
Gently grasping her left ankle, he wrapped the other chain around it, padlocked it and pulled slowly. She gasped as she felt her legs being drawn apart, forcing her to spread her legs so wide that she felt her vaginal muscles tighten. Never had she felt so vulnerable and yet so alive, but he wasn't finished yet. Shifting his body next to hers, her gently gripped both her her wrists with one hand, while adding more loops of chain to them with the other. The click of the lock brought a deep moan, as she tested the effectiveness of her makeshift hand cuffs.
She made no attempt to fight him when she felt her arms being pulled upwards, towards the headboard. Reflex caused her to jerk them back as soon as she heard the soft click, but it was too late. She was trapped and his, just as she had imagined she would be throughout the preceding night.
He had one last surprise for her. Carefully straddling her, knees either side of her breasts he carefully lifted her head and wrapped the cloth around her eyes. The lights went out for her, but inside her mind she could see so clearly how her new found desires would play out.
Things progressed quickly from that day on. They talked that night, both expressing to the other their feelings and emotions, both equally excited about the shared experience that morning. It was mutually agreed that sleep night was here to stay. As the weeks and months went on, they both went deeper and deeper into exploring new and exciting methods of bondage. Separately and jointly, they researched ideas and bought new pieces of equipment. She found that she relaxed best when totally deprived of sensory inputs and so various hoods were bought to experiment with. He enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing her fully restrained. Between them, they now had a routine that would satisfy both their needs and fantasies, while still retaining the original objective of sleep night.
Of course, none of those thoughts were anywhere close to her mind as she stomped up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door. Stripping off her clothes and flinging them angrily into the corner, she ran the shower and hurriedly climbed in, letting the hot water cascade over her as she started to calm down.
There was no point in fighting it. That had long since been proven. Rules were rules and he was the one who made them. The first rule was that he decided when sleep night was to fall, and he could decide at a minutes notice. As long as he gave her sufficient time to prepare herself it could be invoked any time providing that at least three days had elapsed since her last session, and had to be invoked at least twice in a fourteen day period. Rule two was that she had to be ready and in her bondage by eight o'clock sharp for her twelve hours enforced rest to start. Rule three was that if she wasn't ready by the 20:00 deadline, for whatever reason, the whole thing was repeated the next night as well.
She had learned the hard way not to play fast and loose with the rules, and still shuddered as she recalled the time that she had refused to dress properly and he had been ten minutes late finishing her restraints as a result. Unfortunately for her, the next evening a pile up had meant her getting home late from work, and missed the deadline a second time. Despite her pleas and sobs as he repeated the same procedure she had suffered the night before, that meant a third day of severe bondage in a row. It taught her no matter how angry she was, being late presenting herself for her preparation was not the thing to do.
The clock showed 19:10 by the time she had towelled herself off, and dried her hair. She deliberately kept her hair short these days, learning from her experiences of early days that a loose hair under a hood could cause a wealth of suffering over the twelve hours of her confinement. Several times, a single strand had been left brushing her nose or forehead when her hood was tightened. There was nothing more annoying when trying to sleep and on several occasions she came out of her cocoon far from rested, resulting in another session soon after.
With little time to spare, she brushed her hair through and climbed into the spandex catsuit that she preferred for these occasions. She had tried other materials of course, but latex was too hot, leather too heavy and sleeping naked had caused her get chilly during the night. The spandex gave her a gentle hugging feeling, kept her comfortably warm and allowed the bondage gear to slide into the correct position without getting caught up and pulled about.
19:15, and she was ready to face the evening. Now she had calmed down, she began to look forward to what lay ahead, which frequently culminated a session of passionate lovemaking upon her release in the morning, often still in various parts of her bondage. Calmly, and taking a deep breath, she opened the door of the bedroom where her husband and inquisitor was waiting amongst the carefully laid out bondage paraphernalia that she would soon be wearing.
There was a defined order to the process, established over many months, varying only by the addition of a new piece of clothing or gear. She knew the routine by heart, and presented herself in front of him, her hands placed on the back of her neck as he wrapped the leather and steel boned under-bust corset around her waist. Deftly clipping the busk together, he positioned it with care, ensuring that the breasts were cradled and supported but not squeezed. He had learned to love how, when fully tightened, it reduced her waist to a perfect twenty-two inches while enhancing her above average firm breasts and buttocks. She turned her back on him, allowing the laces to be drawn snugly tight but not, as yet, pulling her waist in. There was a time for that shortly but not yet.
Spinning her to face him again, he took one arm and fed her hand into a shoulder length leather glove. It was at least one size smaller than a proper fit, and it took some pulling to get the fingers fully into their corresponding pouches. By the time her other arm was clad in leather, she struggled to bend her fingers sufficiently to make a fist. Narrow straps above the elbows ensured that they would remain wrinkle free. The leather would offer some protection against the harshness of her arm restraints through the long night.
Not content with encasing her arms, mittens were next to be applied. Cuffs around her wrists secured them in place. The mitts weren't part of the final outfit, but they helped for the next stages in the dressing. Satisfied that they weren't going to slip, he indicated to the step, placed below a bar which hung off chains from fixings in the ceiling. She knew exactly what to do, and compliantly stepped up, raising her mittened hands to grasp the bar as best as she could through the layers of tight leather. Swiftly, he secured straps on the tips of the mittens to buckles on the wrist cuffs, preventing her from letting go of the bar, even if she wanted to.
"Ready?" he enquired. They were the first words that had passed between them since she had walked into the room. She nodded slowly, gripping the bar even tighter, her arms straightening and her heels lifting off the step. Taking his cue, the support was wrenched from under her toes, leaving her feet scrabbling to touch the floor. She knew from experience that the bar was set at the perfect height to prevent that elusive contact, but she still played the game.
He let her hang for a few minutes, knowing all too well that she was desperately trying to hold herself up in an attempt to lessen the tightening of the corset. It was, of course, cheating. But even though she had come to love the feeling of breathlessness that having her waist reduced by seven inches caused, the game had to be played. Inevitably, her strength gave out and she her body sagged under her own weight. She hung under the bar, limp and exhausted, the very tips of her toes now lightly brushing the carpet.
Quickly, he grabbed the corset laces and began to pull, watching with pleasure as the edges of the corset drew closer to each other. He stopped every so often, deftly working the ever decreasing loops between each eyelet to ensure an even result. As his goal of total closure grew closer, the effort he put in grew greater, accompanied by her groans, a mixture of discomfort matched by pleasure. Her waistline now possessed a well defined valley on both hips.
Satisfied at last, now that the edges were almost touching each other, he knotted the laces in the small of her back and tucked the residual ends into a pocket to one side. Once happy that they were tucked away, he covered them with two flaps of material, which were intended to cover the lacing and render the corset non-adjustable. A small steel ring sewn into the body of the corset allowed for the addition of a lock to seal the garment on the unfortunate wearer. All too familiar with both the sound and the purpose that it denoted, she recognised the finality of the click. Shallow, controlled breathing was now the order of the day.
His attention now turned to lower down, and he knelt at her feet, her toes still twitching in an effort to gain some purchases on the soft flooring. To her, it was bizarre that she had to wear boots to bed, but he had insisted on it from day one. During their initial sessions, he had chosen a pair of soft leather knee boots with very high heels. Although he loved the look of how the heels elongated her slim legs, he was never really satisfied that he could never strap her legs and feet along their full length because of the toe of the boot.
After a bit of research, he discovered ballet boots and found that they suited his purposes perfectly. Not only did they look the part, with their seven inch heels, the foot could be forced flat, ensuring no wriggling. Not only that, they were a useful tool in dealing with minor instances of disobedience on her part. A couple of hours in them was all she could withstand when having to move around. Tonight he was trying something a little different though. He had recently found a company that sold a style of ballet boot without any sort of heel. They were impossible to stand up on or walk in, but for his purposes, they were perfect.
Gently lifting her right foot, he slipped her toes into a clamshell of heavy foam which had been moulded to envelope her toes up to the second joint. Not only did they provide her with some padding for her toes, they stopped her from making the slightest movement of them as well. It was all part of his ultimate goal of stopping any movement, which could be a distraction to her. The boot was next. It slid onto her pointed foot, making certain that the shell was fully into the toe. He always did this without any lace in the boot, so that he could make sure that nothing was out of place. Only then did he start threading the laces, pulling them with all of him might, so that her insteps and ankles were almost crushed by the leather. The boot only reached as far as her ankle, just about covering the line of skin below the leg of her catsuit, but when fully laced, it showed of the perfect straight line of her ankle.
The other foot got similar treatment, the slightly longer foot length of the boot finally allowing her toes to the floor sufficiently that it took some of her body weight off her hands, which were feeling strain by now. She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. Twenty five minutes to eight, this was going to be cutting it fine tonight. Distracted, she failed to notice that he had carefully moved her booted feet side by side. Now he started to apply tape around her ankles at the top of the boot, slowly and systematically working it in layers down her feet until both boots were effectively melded together from tie to ankle as one immovable unit, a mono-boot.
With her feet clamped together she appeared to be standing on a single pointed toe, only a fraction of an inch deep. Already, he was liking the effect that not having a heel created. It's absence accentuated the beautiful arch of the sole of her foot, almost vertical. His next step was to join the legs together to create a single limb, but for that he used more conventional means.
Dragging a shapeless sack of material, he lifted her feet to position them within the pointed end of the fabric, which looked like Lycra, but was a lot tougher in reality. This was a special material called Darlex, a sandwich of spandex with a heavy rubber filling. The bag had been created to envelope her body from the tips of her toes to her neck and was designed to be skin tight, the overall dimensions being about 2" less than her body shape all over.
Drawing the tube up her legs until touched her upper thighs and holding the edges closed with one he started the full length zipper with other, until it to rested just below her buttocks. Now he started the lacing process, pulling the built in folds of material ever closer until her legs were a single, wrinkle free sheath of shiny black material. Satisfied that he could do no more to her lower half, it was time to start securing her arms.
That meant removing them from the bar but first, she needed help to be able to support herself, balanced as she was on just her toes. She watched as he wheeled what appeared to be a sack truck in front of her. Slowly, he pushed the plate under her toes, causing them to slide back and then a the slippery plate got underneath, to slide forward again until her legs and upper body were flat against the upright part. Quickly, he applied straps to her ankles, thighs, waist and chest to stop her falling backwards. The truck and straps provided the support that she needed to be be able to release her hands from the overhead bar.
She braced herself, anticipating the pain that she would be feeling in her toes any time soon. She had already figured out that without a heel to rock back on, these boots were going to be twice as bad as her usual footwear for these situations. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, gentle caressing the hairs as he reached up to released the finger straps that had been keeping her grasping the lacing bar. Finally, she was able to briefly flex her fingers to try and get some circulation back while he removed the wrist cuffs and mittens from her hands.
The relief was short lived. As quickly as her hands were free, a strong grip on her elbows forced them behind her. She knew what to do, and complied instantly, placing her palms together with each finger flat against the corresponding finger on the other hand. This was the part that she hated most. Even after all this time, the thought of having her arms trapped behind her for twelve hours intimidated her. She could cope with the discomfort after all this time, but the feeling of defencelessness caused by having her hands pinned behind her still scared her.
It wouldn't have been so bad if she could wriggle her fingers inside the leather tube that he used, but even that privilege was taken away from her by the tiny cable ties that he slipped over and under each knuckle joint, ensuring that the fingers stayed pinned to it's partner. Lastly, the already paired thumbs were tied to her index fingers It was overkill, he knew, but necessary to eliminate every possible movement.
Removing the excess material off the clips, he swiftly immobilised her arms inside the armbinder tube, the speed lacing allowing him to draw her elbows together with ease. When fully laced, her arms were covered all the way up to the top edge of her leather gloves, only the top four inches of her arms and shoulders uncovered to reveal the catsuit that was the base for her outfit. Releasing the strap about her chest briefly, he threaded the shoulder straps through her armpits and back over her shoulders, pulling them tight through the buckles, before replacing the chest strap over her now useless limbs.
With the armbinder in place, he could now complete her immersion in the sack. Removing the strap from around her waist, he worked the material up her body, ensuring that it didn't snag on the frame of the supporting dolly. He stopped again when reached her breasts, and zipped up the sack as far as it would go, before once more threading the constricting lacing through the eyelets. The waist strap was once again replaced as soon as he was finished lacing up to that point. Now, he could undo the chest strap again and complete the task, the material being drawn over her breasts to enclose her shoulders and leather bound arms in an ultra tight latex and spandex prison.
With the lacing completed, her body was now a black cocoon, save from her chin up. The only break in the material was a two inch circle, cut out at her crotch, right over her clitoris. However, before that was any use, there were final tasks to complete.
She opened her mouth in expectation of the gag that he held in his hand, ready for insertion. If hatred of the armbinder was equally matched by her love for her gag. She likened it to a baby's pacifier. Made of padded leather, it took on a bulbous shape, large enough to fill the oral cavity and keep the tongue depressed, but allowed the mouth to close without pressing on the roof of the mouth. Unlike most gags, it needed no strap to hold it in place. Instead, it had a slightly sticky pad which adhered to the area around the lips and cheeks.
Reaching around her head from behind, he held the gag in the palm of his hand. Feeling it engage in her teeth, he exerted a small amount of force to push it fully home. Instinctively, she closed her mouth, and using the flat of his hand he kept pressure up over her mouth until the adhesive took on the skin.
"Now swallow" he commanded her; one of the few words that he had spoken since they started. He watched as the lump in her throat rose and fell repeatedly. indicating that gag would not interfere with her ability to cope with the build up of saliva over the long hours. Satisfied that she wouldn't suffer during her long confinement, it was time to complete her enclosure. Soft foam ear plugs were inserted into the ear canals, blocking out any sound, bar the sound of her own breathing and the blood as it pumped through the veins in her neck.
She took one last opportunity to glance at the clock. 19:47 it read. This was going to be very close. The charity benefit tomorrow was too important to miss because of a couple of minutes extra that she had spent in the shower, and she silently prayed that he would hurry to complete his tasks in time. As she stared at the clock her view was interrupted as he placed two pads of foam over her eyes, concave in shape and held in place by tapes from her forehead to her cheeks. The shaping provided some relief from the pressure on her eyelids, although opening them would prove pointless. To all intents and purposes she was now deaf. dumb and blind.
There remained two pieces to fit, before she could be put onto her "bed" for the night. The hood was thick, but soft lambs leather. Double layered, to ensure that not a single atom of light penetrated, it was padded over the mouth, ears and eyes to ensure her complete isolation from the outside world. It always took some force to get it over her head, so tight was the fit, but he always took the greatest of care to make sure that the nasal holes, the only break in the cask of leather once it was closed up, were properly aligned so that her breathing would be in no way compromised. Once in place, he had no fear of her moving her head and causing a misalignment that could bring on panic. Movement, if he did this right, would be almost a near impossibility.
The hood, fully fitted and laced to a tightness that revealed every curve in her facial features despite all the padding, had two final addition. Straps encircled her head over her eyes, ears and mouth, completing the compression and, together with the strong aroma of leather that overpowered her nostrils, completely eliminated her senses.
Now it was time to seal her in completely. Gently cradling her chin, he wrapped the five inch curved posture collar around her slender neck, before tightening the two buckles and adding a couple more padlocks. Underneath the tall collar, were laces and zips for her catsuit, hood and bodysack. The application of those locks meant that she was now sealed in her leather prison for as long as he chose.
She was secure, and if he put her on the bed, she wouldn't be going anywhere, but wasn't enough. To be certain she had nothing to do but sleep, she had to be totally immobilised. Anything less, and she would be distracted, trying to move. So for these nights she had to forego her soft mattress. Her "bed" for tonight was an unyielding length of hard wood timber, which he had continually refined to make her time restrained on it as comfortable as possible without any concession to her immobility.
What had started as an eight inch wide piece of timber, cut exactly to her height when perched on her booted toes, had several distinct shapes and functions. The head was rounded, and a large oval hole removed from it's centre. That would accommodate her face as lay face down, ensuring that her limited breathing passageways would not be blocked in any way. It also made it easier to secure her head. Where her breasts would sit, the board was shaped so that they would be squeezed into two more ovals cut-outs. Even though her breasts were well covered, both the catsuit and the body sack were shaped so as not to overly compress them. He wanted the device to do that. Every time he carefully manipulated them into their place, the moans of pleasure emitted from behind the gag gave him immense pleasure.
From below the breast holes, the piece began to taper, shaped precisely to be slightly narrower than her body at every point. Where it flared to correspond with her hips, one last hole was placed, and a narrow slot. This was for the device that would guarantee her a good nights sleep, eventually. Along the entire length of the board, space about four inches apart, he had attached straps, shorter ones on one side ended in a buckle, the longer straps intended to join them and keep her secured to the board. There was even one final strap, which ran from the back of her neck over the back of her head, to force it down into the covered foam padding that he had applied to make the nights more bearable.
Time was running out, less than ten minutes left, so he had to be quick. Even though it was her alone who suffered whenever the deadline past, he would never deliberately delay. He loved her too much to put her through this ordeal any more than she deserved. The clock stopped as soon as he pressed the button, frozen to be shown her in the morning. Only then would she ever know if her most recent ordeal was all for nothing, to be repeated less than twelve hours later.
Moving quickly, so that she would not be unstable for any longer than necessary, he loosened the four straps holding her upright on the dolly, not completely but just enough to be able to spin her around on the points of her toes so that her arms were now against the frame. He wasted no time in re-tightening the straps, ensuring that her legs were as straight as they could be. He was now ready to present the sleep frame up to her body for positioning.
First things first, there was one item to fit to the frame. The head of the magic wand fitted through the hole at crotch height smoothly, before the neck engaged in a narrower slot cut below it, leaving the head standing two inches proud of the surface. He had designed it this way so that when in place the head would be pressed into her crotch area with some force, guaranteeing that she would feel the full effect of it's actions.
Happy that everything was now in place, he offered the padded plank up to her body, the lower edge resting on the floor, touching the tips of her feet. With care, steadying the bottom with his own foot so it did not slip, he adjusted it so that her face, or at least the hooded mass that covered it, centred in the right place. Through her hood, she vaguely felt the first strap being tightened, pushing her face forward so that she could no longer move her head from side to side. The lowest strap, across the soles of her conjoined feet was next. Now that the device was held in place, he was able to move more freely.
Discarding the chest strap that pinned her to the dolly, he drew her breasts into their accommodation holes, eliciting another series of groans from behind the gag as he massaged them through the layers of material. The straps above and below her now cinched tits made sure that they were fully pressurised, Next to go was the waist strap, replaced by the the board's own restraints around her waist and hips. He took care to ensure that the head of the wand sat in precisely the right place in her crotch before cinching them up. Instantly, he could see the effect as she tried to rub herself against the lump pressing into her pussy. He smiled as he briefly watched her getting more and more turned on.
"Just wait a little longer darling," he whispered.
Now she was ready to be moved to her resting place for the night. Removing the last two straps that held he on the dolly, he swivelled her around so that she was face down, her neck lined up with the cross bar of a simple wooden saw horse. A short, thick dowel affixed to the bottom of the device at neck level slotted precisely into a hole cut into the top surface of the horse, ensuring that it even an earthquake would not displace it. Raising her feet to the same height, a second horse was positioned under her knees, and the second dowel engaged. This was how would she would spend the night.
Time was now running out. There were twelve more straps to secure, along the length of her body. With experienced hands, he knew exactly the correct placement for each, using indentations in the straps from previous use to judge which hole to use for each. As each strap cinched up, it formed indentations in the outline of her body, making it appear as if she had been put into an inflatable suit from which the air was being squeezed. Inside, she could feel the heat rising, not only from the pressure of her bondage but also that inner heat as her orgasm built. She knew it was nearly time.
One last check to make sure he had missed nothing, That, and plugging the cable from the wand into the nearby box of electronics was all that remained. He ran his hand over each strap in turn, testing for the slightest looseness that might allow for movement other than the rise and fall of her chest where the padding was a little softer, to allow her to breath in shallow intakes of air.
Picking up the trailing lead of the wand, he pushed it fully into the socket in the box. It was a simple creation. A series of electronic timers which, over the next two hours would run the wand through a cycle of speeds, modes and intensities, guaranteed to continually push her over the edge of multiple orgasm. At the end of the cycle she was always so exhausted that her body and mind would shut down, and remain that way for the next ten hours. She had never woken early once since it's introduction.
He pushed the button. As always the wand fired up at maximum intensity, her body tensing as the first wave of orgasm coursed through her body. He watched intently, checking for the slightest movement as her entire torso tensed and tried to arch. There was always some movement, but it was never more than millimetres. Even so, where he saw it, her bonds were tightened by another hole until there was nothing but a motionless body. Only the hum of wand and the accompaniment of her muted cries of lust echoed through the bedroom.
Then it caught his eye, the numerical display that had remained blank until he pressed the button to start the cycle.
"She is not going to be happy in the morning, but rules are rules," he sighed to himself, as the figures stared back at him.
20:01:08