The Bondage Dungeon Paris From the Paris dungeons we meet the pratique BDSM experts of France The vehicle started as soon as she set foot on it. On the bus, Eloise was assailed by questions from the band’s manager, a short, squat, balding man with a ridiculous excuse for a toupee. He was livid. “At a friend’s.” She replied, breathless. “Well, your little excursion to a ‘friends’ cost us an entire night of travel. There’s no way we could get down to Oklahoma City in time for the show in this bus. I had to charter a jet for you and your equipment! We’re taking you to one of the airports around here. The bus will meet you guys outside the arena in Oklahoma City.” He was fuming. She sighed. “Joe-“ French SM and Obedience“Hold it. Don’t speak. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t need your reasons. Don’t tell me; cause it hurts the pocket book.” Eloise sighed again. “Joe, listen to me. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and the cost. But frankly, this band has made enough money for you over the past 15 years that I think you can put up with my little excursion last night.” Joe fumed, but didn’t say anything. Eloise relaxed and smiled. “Joe, out of curiosity, where are we going to be in a month?” Joe rubbed his chin. “In a month? Paris, I think. Yeah, Paris.” Her smile widened. “Thanks Joe. You’re a life saver.”
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