"Very well, little slut: since you asked so nicely, I will grant you the whipping you've asked for. Not yet, though: I think you should keep my pet company for the evening, then I'll come and fetch you both when the club closes."

The long blonde hair is just a wig, so tying it like the first girl would be no use for restraint, but two padlocks and a thin but study chain quickly connect her pierced ears to the urinal beside her new friend in a way she won't escape from without serious pain and injury. With a terrified look on her face, Slut Harriet contemplates the next few hours chained in place, being used like the first girl — or worse: in other contexts, the slavegirl's chastity belt might be extremely frustrating for her, but in this predicament it can serve the original function of such devices, protecting both the wearer's holes from the intruders her mouth has to entertain.

The statuesque redhead stood, amused, as poor Harriet tried to stammer out her concern for a minute, before offering a solution: "so, little slutgirl, you're wondering if you could get a chastity belt like the naughty slut beside you? You certainly can't borrow hers — it's only been on a few weeks! I do have a spare here you could borrow, I suppose ... but you'll have to earn it with some kind of forfeit..."

Rummaging in her purse for a moment, she produces an intimidating-looking belt, then looks closely at the slut's bare breasts, finding part-healed piercings and smiling to herself at the discovery. Contemptuously discarding the pair of 'chicken fillet' inserts which had filled the girl's bra, the redhead quickly swabbed the skin and jabbed a disposable saline pack into each. Designed to give quick infusions of IV fluids to accident victims, each pack forces a full litre of sterile saline through a large needle. On trauma victims, this can buy enough time to get a proper matched blood transfusion going; on the kneeling slavegirl, it rapidly produces an impressive feminine chest, the spectacle distracting Harriet from the pain as the fluid enters.

A few minutes and more than a few tears of pain later, Slut Harriet's captive genitalia are crushed tightly between her legs, a large inflatable plug locked inside her rear and painful, heavy clamps padlocked to the freshly re-pierced nipples. Like the other captive girl, poor Slut Harriet's face is at the mercy — or lack thereof — of every visitor to the men's room, her brand new feminine mounds painfully clamped and vulnerable to every whimsical tug, but all that can happen below the waist is the inflation of the plug.

Turning to leave her girls to their fate, their tormentor smiled as she saw the first man preparing to "use" poor Harriet's captive mouth while the second emptied his bladder over her companion. As an afterthought, once the first man had left a sticky white mess across Harriet's forehead the woman stepped back and clipped a heavy riding crop to the breast chain. No doubt in the coming hours, visitors would enjoy applying it to the vulnerable mounds exposed above, or to other parts of the poor wearer.

"Don't go away, girl!" the beautiful sadist smirked as she finally abandoned the two to their fate for a while. Even if she managed to escape the chains locked to her ear piercings, she still had her hands cuffed behind her back and her genitals firmly and painfully locked away: barring a very helpful locksmith happening to visit, it was clear she would be stuck here until her tormentor decided otherwise.