hurts
That night was the night of the ball in town that every year made Theodorius physically ill but, every year he went. He only attended to vainly show off his beautiful wife, making her nothing more than a dusty trophy, and to fawn over and lust after the young, supple flesh that always presented itself on the occasion. The families servants were all busy in one way or another, picking up Theodorius' suit from the cleaner or startching the fine ladies dresses or something of this type, so Justine called upon Theodorius to help her prepare. "Come dear, and help me into this corset, make sure and lace it tightly so that I will look as lovely as any women there."
"But, darling," Theodorius replied, "you are already the most beautiful women there, "he told his wife who's pale cheeks blushed brightly. He quickly added, unbeknowest to her fair ear, "of your stature," making sure that he did not forget the young tutor of the Williams', their closest neighbors, a young virgin of 16 who was well educated and beautiful. Theodorius longed to bury himself in her flesh and pledged to as he looked at his beautiful wife waiting patiently for her lavish gown and felt a ping of utter discontent.
"Come now Theodorius, I must be getting ready and you simply must lace this and tighten it." Theodorius sighed and set himself to do the task delicately pushing the strong strings into the simple holes, creating a device that would alter his wife's appearance to that of a slender beautiful maiden. He gave the strings a neat tug but felt a sharp pain as he realized detachedly that his smallest finger was trapped by the pressure and was being crushed by the tightening. He began to remove it but, instead hooked his entire left hand into the cords and pulled with all his strength causing tears to well in his eyes and his wife to scream in pain. "Not so hard," she told him, as a mother tells a child, after regaining her composure. He removed his throbbing, swollen hand from the laces and continued the task with a goofy, sated smile.