If Stasha wasn't happy about being punished, she got really mad when I had to leave her to run a few errands. Her elbows and wrists tied together, I pulled the rope over the door as I left. Stasha's wasn't too uncomfortable before this, but now she was on her tiptoes. Her predicament had become a balance between pressure on her strappado or crotch rope. Nothing was remotely comfortable. Neighbors go about their business not knowing the significance of the single rope hanging in view. A simple turn of the knob is all she needs to escape, but it is far beyond her reach.