Thrilling Rape Fantasies - Illustrated

CHAPTER THREE

Alison awakens bright and early the next morning, momentarily disoriented to find herself still cuffed to the bed, chained and corseted, albeit not so tightly as to be terribly uncomfortable. In a horrifying flash she recalls the events of the previous day and a bolt of absolute terror runs through her. The beautiful blonde quickly determines that today she will have to find a way to escape. She is still pretty sore and hung-over, and very hungry. Also she has an urgent need to urinate. Swallowing her pride for the moment, she calls out to her roommate who she hears bustling around in the kitchen, filling the apartment with the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee.

"Fiona come help me… Please you've got to let me loose I have to pee… please hurry…"

After a moment, her roommate comes into the room, carrying a tray with coffee, juice, eggs and toast, setting it down on the bedside table. "So our little trainee has to go pee pee…" Fiona smirks, "First I think we better get a few things straight." The brunette is dressed already, rather bizarrely, in a black catsuit, high-heeled boots, and long black rubber gloves. Around her waist is a thick leather belt from which various implements are hung… a ring of keys, the little black beeper she can use to summon assistance, and a short black leather quirt or whip about 18 inches long. Fiona's long dark wavy hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail and the expression on her face is serious. She sits down on the bed next to Alison and explains that she has been left in charge of the girl for the morning, and indeed whenever the master of the house is not present. It will be her job to get Alison ready for the afternoon's entertainment, whatever that might be, according to Slate's instructions. Since she herself will be punished for any failures or lack of preparation on Alison's part, she had best not have any illusions about their relationship. If Alison refuses to obey or even moves too slowly, that's what the black quirt is for. Fiona will be happy to provide some encouragement. She herself has been where her roommate is at now, and has no desire to return to her former status. Accordingly, whenever they are alone together in the apartment, she will be addressed as Mistress Fiona, just to keep Alison constantly aware of her place.

"Do we understand each other?" The luscious blonde squirms with the urgency of her need to go to the bathroom as she is forced to listen to this long-winded lecture. It's so humilitating to have to ask permission just to go to the bathroom. "Yes, Mistress Fiona… whatever you say… I understand." Alison mumbles, choking on the words. She hates her snake-in-the-grass roommate more than ever, and hates herself for giving in already, but she cannot fight the call of nature. Her feelings are not lost on Fiona, who eyes her with amusement. It's so much more fun when they're a little unwilling.

Finally, the sultry brunette unlocks the chain fastening Alison to the headboard, allowing the girl to sit up. She fixes a one foot length of chain to the cuffs still fastened to the blonde's ankles, and attaches a four foot leash to the ring in the front of her collar. "Just in case you were thinking of trying to run off anywhere…" She leads her statuesque roommate like a dog to the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet and allowing her to finally relieve herself. When she has finished her business, her wardress leads her back to the bedroom and tells her to hurry up and eat her breakfast, they have a tight schedule to keep. The captive receptionist eats ravenously, still feeling very stiff and sore as Fiona gets up an goes back to the bathroom. Her hands are still cuffed together in front of her. From inside she hears the sound of running water. After a few moments the dark-haired girl returns, holding a small silver shrink-wrapped package in her hand. "I think I know how you're feeling, honey. This will help." She unwraps a couple of white waxy suppositories, about an inch long and rounded at one end. Some sort of pain-killers, no doubt. "Turn over on your tummy, sweetie…"

For a moment, Alison considers putting up a struggle… the last thing she wants right now is more drugs. She's got to keep her wits about her, remain focused if she wants to attempt an escape. At least the throbbing soreness she feels in her private parts helps to keep her alert and motivated. Sensing the girl's reluctance, Fiona warns her… "Do you want me to get Tony to lend a hand?" Her finger is on the red button of the beeper. The idea of that overgrown gorilla participating in her humiliation gives Alison pause. Maybe now is not the time. With a sigh the cuffed blonde rolls over, exposing her well-formed rear. The marks of Leroy's belt whipping have mostly faded by now, her ivory white buttocks looking smooth, soft and temptingly umblemished where they jut out temptingly from beneath the back of the patent-leather corset. Fiona clips her wrists back to the headboard, stretching her arms up over her head, removing the chain from between her ankles and forcing them apart. Alison feels rubber-gloved hands prying her apen, separating her cheeks, teasing her tight rectal dot. Involuntarily, she tenses, squeezing her butt together tightly. "Relax, honey… loosen up…" her wardress commands her. Alison grits her teeth. "Can't I just take a pill? Why do you have to… " WHAPP! She feels a streak of fiery pain burn across her contracted tush. Her captor has struck her with the quirt. "You forgot to address me by my title…" hisses the black-haired bitch. "What is it?" "Yes Mistress… Yes, Mistress Fiona…" the tied up blonde stammers quickly. A single dark pink stripe now decorates her tempting behind. "You know I just adore whipping asses…" says her evil roommate with a smile, "…And yours is just made for it. You look so cute with that welt across your cheeks… are you sure you wouldn't like another?" "No, Mistress Fiona… Please Mistress Fiona…" grovels Alison. There that's better… now we know who's boss.

The shackled secretary forces herself to relax as Fiona once more pries her open, smearing a little lube around before inserting one of the waxy white suppositories in the girl's abused and slightly swollen rectum, pushing it up there good and deep with a slender rubber-gloved forefinger. "Now raise your hips up for me, blondie…" she orders the shamed cutie, working the other suppository up Alison's tight hairless quim as she obediently opens herself further, still feeling the sting of the lash. "There… all done." Fiona remarks, withdrawing her probing finger and slapping her playfully on the butt. The brunette then gets up and goes back to the bathroom, turning off the water which has been filling the king-sized tub. Alison hears the gurgling sounds of some kind of container being filled as she lies there waiting face down on the bed. Within a few minutes she feels the throbbing soreness of her sensitive membranes being replaced by a warm comforting glow as the suppositories melt inside her and are absorbed, soothing her and sending warm relaxing messages rushing through her bloodstream and up to her brain. By the time Fiona returns to the bedroom, her little trainee is feeling vaguely buzzed and dreamily compliant, her eyelids half closed. "See, I told you you'd feel better… Mistress knows best. Now let's go and get you cleaned up…" Fiona quickly strips the girl, untying and removing the tight leather corset, removing her ankle cuffs and pulling the laddered and ruined stockings off her legs and throwing them in the trash. She then unties her manacled wrists from the headboard and leads her naked and now much more docile charge back into the bathroom by the leash still attached to her collar.

Once inside, the lovely captive is allowed to brush her teeth and gargle with mouthwash. Then Fiona sits her down on a white plastic chair and removes the smeared makeup that still remains on her face with cold cream. Alison sits quietly with a dreamy expression on her face, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes closed. Her rubber-gloved mistress then leads her to the tub and sits her down in the warm scented bubble bath. "Raise your arms up for me honey…" The sweetly-shaved secretary passively allows her dark-haired roommate to manipulate her this way and that, soaping her thoroughly all over with a soft sponge and washing her long silky blonde hair, finally tying it up in a towel turban style. Fiona pulls the plug and empties the tub, leaving the mildly doped-up blonde sitting there.

"Well now you're all clean on the outside… It's time to get to work on the inside…" the depraved brunette tells her brightly. What does she mean? Hanging on one of those wheeled poles they use in hospitals to hold IV solutions are two enema bags, one red and one black, both filled to the brim with steaming hot douche solution. So this is what Fiona was doing before. Hanging from the ends of the hoses are two unusually large nozzles, also black and red, resembling longish flexible plastic dildoes about an inch in diameter with rows of holes punched out in circles around them every half inch or so. Each of them is about a foot long. "Let's do the front first…" says her raven-haired captor, wheeling the pole over to the tub, a tube of jelly in her hand. "No Mistress, please… I really don't need to… Please Mistress Fiona really I'm fine… Please no…" Alison babbles, ever mindful of the little whip still hanging from her roommate's belt. "Now Alison, don't be difficult… I could always call Tony. I'm sure he'd be happy to help…" That's the last thing the naked blonde wants. She shuts up.

Pushing her cowed prisoner down on her back in the tub, Fiona crisply instructs her to spread her legs. To Alison, as she meekly complies, it seems like someone is always repeating that command. She closes her eyes and whimpers, not wanting to watch as her governess prods her hairless labia open with the lubed tip of the red plastic nozzle, pushing it inside her with a steady pressure until her widely spread inner lips are wrapped around the hilt. It's long enough to bump up against the back wall of her vagina. Fiona releases the clip on the hose and the captive receptionist's nookie is immediately flooded with very warm douche solution, making her flush. The stuff fills her up and trickles out of her past the flanged hilt of the nozzle, running down the drain. The kinky brunette does her job thoroughly, working the thick red nozzle around inside until the big red rubber bag hanging over them is drained. The whole process takes about two minutes. "So far, so good…" says Fiona. "Now for the fun part…"

The sultry dominatrix gets the increasingly anxious Alison up on her hands and knees in the tub, fastening her collar to a convenient ring mounted in the wall, then clipping her hands to the collar. All of Alison's weight is now on her knees and elbows, her head down and her ass up. Taking some more jelly on a rubber-gloved forefinger, she stuffs it up her roommate's helplessly trembling rectum, squishing it around inside. Then she smears some more jelly on the foot-long flexible black plastic nozzle that hangs from the other bag. With a quick flick of her wrist she shoves a couple of inches of it up her fettered captive's startled sphincter and into her quivering colon. Alison bites her lip to keep from crying out as her bizarrely-clad keeper slowly screws inch after inch of the thing up her backside. Because it is so smooth and flexible it penetrates her easily despite its thickness. Finally, all twelve inches of it are firmly lodged within her, her pinkish-grey asshole stretched around its base. "Now Alison, I want you to hold this…" her mistress instructs her. "If you spill even one drop before I tell you to release it, we'll just have to do the whole thing over again until you get it right, but I'll take my quirt to you first… Understand?" The buggered blonde whimpers her assent.

Fiona opens the clamp on the black rubber hose connecting the nozzle to the bag and steaming enema solution starts flowing into Alison. Sweat breaks out on the bound girl's forehead as the hot liquid fills her colon. She struggles to keep her anus gripping tightly around the base of the nozzle, not letting anything escape. With nowhere else to go, the stuff seeps deeper and deeper into her bowels, making her belly bloat and giving her cramps. Time seems to go on forever as the whole two quarts of steaming fluid empty into the helpless blonde's aching ass guts. She feels like she is going to explode in a torrent of filthy shit-water. Finally, the black rubber bag hangs empty and collapsed over their heads. Alison is groaning incoherently. "Remember what I said, sweetie… not one drop…" warns Fiona as she slowly withdraws the thick black nozzle.

Imagine the trussed-up cutie's surprise and dismay when her sadistic governess shoves a two-inch thick black rubber butt plug back up her straining ass hole. The thing is narrow at the tip, widening out in the center and then narrowing again before it flares out at the base, designed so that the natural clenching action of her sphincter will keep it securely in place. As a matter of fact, once Fiona stuffs it in there there's no way she can push it out on her own. The brunette then unfastens her roommate from the ring on the wall at the foot of the tub and, leaving her hands manacled to her collar pulls the young girl by the leash up out of the tub and over toward the toilet. "I bet you'd really like to go to the bathroom now, wouldn't you, Alison?" The tortured girl can barely move, gasping… "Please… please… please…" Fiona sits down on the commode, pushing the plugged blonde down onto her knees in front of her. She opens the snaps at the crotch of her catsuit, baring her trim black haired muff. "Suck my cunt until I come, you sniveling little slut… Do a good job or I'll take my whip to your hairless little pussy. Get your nose in there and lick it, bitch…!"

With tears running down her face from the agonizing cramps convulsing her, the humiliated receptionist buries her face in her former friend's gamey-smelling twat. Unlike Alison, Fiona has not bathed this morning, deliberately planning for this moment. The innocent-looking blonde's delicate nostrils wrinkle in disgust at the strong fishy smell of unwashed cunt. Nevertheless, she sets about her task energetically, impelled by the pressure within her, slurping and teasing her depraved guardian's clit with the tip of her pointy pink tongue. A smile of sluttish satisfaction spreads over Fiona's face as she bucks her hips up and down. "You've got a talented tongue, cutie… We'll have to do this more often. Maybe every day…" Alison laps and sucks feverishly, desperate for release. Fiona lets her head drop back, grabbing her captive by the ears and forcing her face hard into her widespread crotch, grunting with sadistic pleasure. Finally, her orgasm overtakes her, her fat pussy lips clamping down around the suffering slave-girl's tongue as she quivers and shakes, farting in Alison's tear streaked face, which is smeared with her secretions. "That's a good girl… I'll make a lesbian of you yet."

Eventually, the dark-haired woman gets up and makes room for her plugged-up prisoner on the toilet. Ominous gurglings and rumble inside her as Fiona reaches down and pulls the black butt-stopper out with a pop. Immediately, a great rushing gush of filthy-smelling liquidy shit and water explodes from the mortified blonde into the bowl as she hunches over, gasping in relief. On and on it squirts and spurts out of her, filling the room with the scent of her inner bowels, finally leaving her drained, pale and exhausted, shamed beyond belief. "That's what you call a punishment enema, honey. Don't blame me… the boss insisted I put it on the schedule." Alison is too weak to care as her sprays some air freshener around the room, wipes the pussy juice from the blonde's face with a soapy washcloth, then helps her up and washes off her splattered behind, leading the submissive receptionist back toward her bedroom by her collar and allowing her to collapse on the bed. "You rest for a while, cookie…" sez Fiona, fastening the girl's wrists to the chain still attached to the bed. "I'll fix you a little pick-me-up. Then we'll get you dressed."

It is now around ten in the morning. After a few minutes, Alison's guardian returns to the room bearing her silver tray and hypodermic gear. Meanwhile, the bound receptionist has somewhat returned to her senses and regained her strength. When she sees her mistress approaching her with a 5cc hypo in her hand, she cringes up toward the headboard of the bed. Fiona tries to reassure her. "Nothing too extreme, honey… just a little prick in the behind. Of course, I could always call the boys to come and hold you down…" the brunette fingers the red button on the beeper. "Be a good girl and just turn over on your tummy for me, will you?"

The sexy shaved secretary thinks it over for a minute… with her hands fettered to the bed like this, she can't put up much of a struggle. "I don't hear you, Alison…" snaps Fiona impatiently… "Do I have to whip your pussy?" "No, mistress… yes, mistress… I mean no mistress…" stammers the helpless blonde as she stretches out on her belly. Alison feels a cold swab on her softly trembling white buttock, then the jab of the needle and a slightly painful pressure as Fiona empties the syringe deep in her glutes. The familiar tingling warmth is soon spreading through her bloodstream again, up her spine to her brain making her feel sort of sleepily excited, docile and yet eager. Unconsciously she rubs her thighs together as she turns back over on the bed, awakening pleasant sensations in her stiffening little clit. This effect is not lost on Fiona, who puts aside the depleted hypo and reaches down with her rubber-gloved hand to toy with her captive's pink and hairless slit. "There… that's not so bad, is it?" "No, Mistress…" says Alison quietly through open and trembling lips, her eyes getting a misty and submissive look as her girlish little pussy starts moistening itself. The feel of the black rubber fingers on her smoothly-shaved mound is kind of weirdly exciting. She has totally forgotten about her half-baked plan to escape.

"Well, enough of this fooling around… we have a schedule to keep…" says the black-clad bitch, removing her hand from between the blonde's legs. We've got company coming for lunch and you've got to get dressed. I think pink today… you'll look pretty in pink. He likes them sweet and innocent…" Alison pouts in disappointment as her governess gets up from the bed, holding her by her manacled wrists. Those fingers were just starting to feel really good down there. Fiona leads her by the leash back to the doorway where once again her hands are fastened to the hook over her head, stretching her body taught beneath them so that her feet just barely reach the floor. She is still naked except for the towel wrapped around her hair and the air-conditioned atmosphere in the apartment is cool on her bare skin as she shivers slightly, getting goosebumps. Fiona goes to a tall dresser standing in the corner and pulls open some drawers, returning with a pair of sheer lacy-topped pale pink stockings and a new corset of pink and white floral patterned satin brocade. Alison's wardrobe has been completely restocked with a wide selection of such items. High heeled white slingbacks with built-in D rings on the ankle straps complete the ensemble. As her dark-haired keeper kneels in front of her to pull the shimmering extra-long stockings up to the tops of her thighs, the suspended blonde feels an anxious flutter in her belly…

Who is the He that's coming to lunch, that likes them so sweet and innocent? Does Fiona mean Slate… or someone else? What role will she be expected to play? What will he want from her… demand of her? Fiona stands up and wraps the corset around her, fastening the little hook-and-eye clasps in the front. Unlike the black number she wore yesterday, this corset has full bra cups and shoulder straps set off in white lace. Little circles of white lace also surround the cut-outs in the front of the cups where Alison's bright pink nipples jut through invitingly, and a fringe of white lace lines the bottom where it presses into her belly. The corset is cut higher in the back, leaving the lovely blonde's buttocks almost completely exposed, the white laces hanging down loosely between them in the back. The single red stripe left by her mistress' whip stands out starkly against their ivory whiteness. Fiona gets her captive into her five-inch heels, buckling the ankle straps as tightly as she can, then fastening them together with a short length of chain and a couple of clips. The shoes pinch the girl's toes tightly and the effort of balancing in them lends a certain muscle tone to her shapely legs and rear.

Circling around behind her, the sultry brunette gathers up the laces of the corset and begins to pull, forcing Alison's belly in and her chest up. If anything, this corset is even more restrictive than the one she had worn yesterday, with the potential to be drawn as tight as sixteen inches. Just because it is fabric instead of leather doesn't mean there's any more give in it. The dozen or more metal stays imbedded in the material help it retain its shape, molding and constricting the girl inside inexorable as Fiona works down the laces from the top, drawing the edges to within an inch of each other, finally tying them in a double knot at the small of the gasping

Alison's back. That's good enough for today… she doesn't want to injure the girl. With a day or two of practice she will soon be able to make them meet. Poor

Alison feels as though she is being squeezed in a giant fist, like maybe King Kong had got ahold of her around the waist. The blood pounds in the temples and down below where the corset ends as she is forced to take quick shallow breaths, her nipples fairly bursting through the little cutouts in the bra cups and bobbing up and down with the heaving of her bosom. Fiona lets her hang there for a minute, supporting some of her weight from her manacled wrists, as the severely corseted blonde's internal organs are forced to shift around and her body gradually remolds itself into the shape imposed upon it.

"That corset looks terrific on you, honey… I'm sure our guest will be pleased… and it does wonders for your posture." Finally, when it seems Alison is breathing a little more normally, the raven-haired vixen releases her fettered hands from the doorway above her head and leads her back to her white fur-covered vanity bench, the chain between her ankles jingling as she walks, sitting her down before the mirror. The sweetly-shaven little secretary is forced to sit up very very straight, the fur of the bench tickling her inner thighs. Although the constriction of the corset is not so severe as to be really painful, nevertheless it very much limits the blonde's freedom of movement, making her feel more than ever restricted and controlled. There is something in

Alison's feminine psyche that responds to this receptively, even pleasurably, once the initial discomfort has abated. Certainly the garment exaggerates her femaleness… the fullness of her bust, the slimness of her waist, the roundness of her hips and buttocks… and tends to concentrate her attention on those parts of her body which are left free, namely her tightening nipples that thrust provocatively through the holes in the lacy cups as if begging for attention and her nakedly attentive loins pressed against the fake fur beneath her. Her hands wiggle and twist anxiously in their cuffs. Once again Alison's body is betraying her, readying itself for penetration even as she struggles to recall her determination to escape. Already she feels as if she can barely remember the person she once was… cool, controlled and elusive.

"Did you know that I studied to be a beautician before I wound up working for Mr. Slate?" Fiona's question breaks into the fettered girl's reverie. "No, Mistress Fiona…" she answers meekly. "It will be a pleasure to have such a lovely face to work with…" sez the kinky brunette, bending over the make-up table and selecting the items she will need. First, she applies a very pale foundation, accentuating the whiteness of her bound rooommate's skin, giving it a good coat of powder on top to smooth it and make it set. Then she brushes two circles of pinkish blush onto her prisoner's smooth cheeks, not so much to bring out her already well-defined cheekbones as to create an almost doll-like effect. She darkens and shapes the girl's slender tapering brows with an eyebrow pencil.

Alison closes her eyes as her caretaker dabs on eyeshadow heavily, fading from pinkish purple at the inside of her lids to a medium darkish hue at the outside, making the blonde's bright blue eyes seem even bigger. She brushes on a thin line of liquid eyeliner above and below and out at the corners, further accentuating the doe-like effect. A couple coats of mascara transform the girl's eyelashes into a couple of fluttering butterflies. All she needs now is lipstick. Fiona takes a pink-magenta pencil and carefully outlines the shape of the docile slave's pouting lips, accentuating their fullness, and then paints in the shape she has outlined with a shiny dark pink lipstick of the type that dries quickly and will not wear off. Then she gives her an overcoat of gloss, blotting it with a tissue. The total effect is striking, if a bit over the top for normal daytime wear. But of course this is not a normal day, or at least it doesn't seem quite normal yet to Alison, although it seems like it soon would be.

Her blackly-suited mistress then takes out a blow drier and brush and goes to work on her captive's long ash-blonde tresses, removing the towel turban and using plenty of hairspray to fluff it up on top, pouffing up her bangs. Big hair, that's what the guys go for. When this is done, the dark-eyed brunette gathers a handful from the back of Alison's head into a topknot-ponytail, which she clips in place with a rather large and slightly silly-looking pink hair bow. The tightly-corseted blonde now looks almost like a caricature of the innocent helpless victim from some old Dudly Do-Right movie, the girl that the hero has to keep rescuing all the time. Only there's no hero in this movie to save her. Fiona steps back, admiring her handiwork. "Just a few accessories and you'll be done."

First the earrings… she rummages around in a jewelry box with several drawers. She selects a pair of long dangling pearl and silver ones, looking almost like miniature chandeliers. They are heavy, and hang down almost to the bound girl's shoulders. Then Fiona removes the two studs are still in place above them on each of the blonde's shell-like ears, replacing them with smaller versions of the same pearly design, each a little shorter than the last. They clink together like little chimes every time Alison moves her head, and she is very conscious of the weight of all this hardware hanging from her earlobes. Fiona reminds her still shackled roommate that Slate had promised to have her pierced, and this seems like a good time to start.

Taking one of those CO2-powered earring guns that they use in jewelry stores, the brunette punches two new pearl studs through the cartilage higher up along the edge of her roommate's translucent ear. Alison now has five holes in a neat row running up to just below the middle of her ears, which have never felt so stuffed with metal. "You will wear these as yet another sign of your submission…" her mistress instructs her. Tomorrow she will get two more, and two more the day after that until the entire circumference of her ear has been encircled with piercings. The fresh punctures burn and throb slightly, making the dolled-up blonde squirm ineffectually in her bonds, rattling the chains that hold her. Her outrageously displayed nipples and her still-tender clitoris seem to throb and harden in sympathy, suddenly remembering the long sharp needles driven into and through them.

Fiona gets Alison up from the vanity table and leads her by the leash back to the doorway, refastening her wrists to the hook over her head. Using a crystal atomizer with one of those rubber bulbs on the end she sprays the girl liberally with the musky floral perfume they had used yesterday, filling the atmosphere with the scent of delicate spring flowers mixed with cunt in heat. She perfumes the suspended secretary all over, finally kicking her legs apart to spray the stinging stuff up between her legs onto her shaved mound and into her asscrack. It burns as it dries, and Alison anxiously shifts her weight form foot to foot. "You know, that black collar and cuffs just don't match…" comments the dark-eyed dominatrix. "Let me find you something more appropriate…"

She goes and digs around in the trunk filled with bondage gear, returning with a pair of pink fingerless gloves trimmed in white lace, of the type that comes to a V over the top of the hand, and what appear to be a couple of wide faux-pearl bracelets and a choker of the same design. Unlike department store costume jewelry, however, these have a solid steel band underneath the pearl beading that locks, and a couple of conveniently mounted D rings. The metal is wrapped in thick white satin, padded on the inside, and the rings are painted white to blend in. These items are about an inch and a half wide, with the collar having a little cameo broach in the front, which upon closer inspection turns out to have a design of crossed whips upon it.

Removing the black leather collar from around Alison's slender throat, Fiona fastens the pearl one in its place, locking it securely. The perverse brunette then releases her captive's hands one at a time from the cuffs over her head, keeping the other hand manacled to the doorframe as she pulls the gloves up over the girl's forearms and snaps the matching wristbands in place, refastening one hand before she does the other. Alison is now outfitted entirely in pink and white, with just a few gleams of silver glinting from her earrings and the chain between her ankles. "Just hang out here a minute…" Fiona suggests sardonically as she turns back to the trunk… "There's just one or two more things I need to get." In fact, the beautiful blonde can do little else, anxiously twisting around in the steely grip of her pearly handcuffs.

A moment later, the dark-haired dominant returns, bearing in her hands a wide white patent leather bondage belt, studded with rings and buckles, and with an inch-wide strap hanging down in front to which are affixed two closely-set white plastic plugs about nine inches long and an inch and a half thick, shining with lubricant. In her other hand she holds a pair of silver screw-clips, adorned with pearls and connected with a foot long length of chain. Alison beholds these objects with dread. "Which one do you want first?" her captor inquires ironically. The frightened girl can't answer. "No… Please Mistress… no… no… no…" Fiona ignores this meaningless outburst and sets about fastening the thick white belt around her prisoner's tightly constricted waist, cinching the buckles securely. She then takes the strap which hangs down in front and brings it up between the whimpering blonde's legs, carefully inserting the twin plugs into her smoothly-shaved honeypot and twitching pink rectum. When she's got them screwed in there as far as they will go, the kinky brunette brings the strap up between the cheeks of Alison's well-formed ass, pulling it up tight to a buckle at the back of the belt right in the middle of her back. The narrow white strap is now pressed closely into the flesh of the manacled doll's most tender parts, bisecting her crotch in the front and back, holding the twin dildos firmly in place inside her.

The doubly-penetrated blonde shakes her hips in frustration, a fat tear of humiliation dripping from the corner of her eye. This just causes her defiantly erect and tinglingly sore clit to rub excitingly against the strap pressing down on it… Alison moans, her bright pink bow of a mouth open to reveal a couple of pearly white teeth, her lips trembling. "Don't worry, honey… you'll get used to it…" says Fiona. "The boss used to make me walk around the office like that all day, underneath my clothes. After a while I couldn't stop coming… it was embarrassing…" Indeed Alison is unable to keep her body from responding, her moist insides clenching rhythmically around the twin intruders as her clit throbs at constant attention. "Oh my goodness… it's almost noon. Our guest will be here any minute. There's just one more thing…" says her captor brightly.

The black-clad bitch brings up the silver and pearl screw-clips with the little connecting chain. "Accessories make the look, dear…" Fiona comments teasingly as she fastens first one and then the other of the devices to the suspended slave-girl's temptingly exposed and fearfully erect nipples, screwing them on just tightly enough to bite a little, letting the little silver chain between them hang. There's no way the girl will be able to shake or rub them off. "Tight enough for you, dearie?" Fiona inquires, giving the chain a little tug. The captive blonde gives a yelp… "Yes, Mistress Fiona…" she realizes how easily she can now be controlled or led by anyone pulling on that little silver chain. "Don't forget I can always make them tighter…" says the sultry dom… "Remember that you are absolutely forbidden to touch them. You'll regret it if you do…" Not that Alison will have much opportunity, as to her dismay Fiona takes her cuffed hands and refastens them behind her back.

Alison's tender pink buds will now remain throbbingly at attention. The girl has never felt more achingly aware of her female sexuality, with her nipples, pussy and anus controlled and dominated by the instruments she is obliged to wear. Still, enough of the drugs her mistress injected into her earlier are running through her bloodstream to keep her in a dreamily compliant state of mind, a warm gushy feeling gathering in her hips and backside… She feels the two dildoes locked within her moving around when she walks, forced to take little mincing steps as Fiona finally releases her handcuffs from the doorframe above her head and leads her out into the living room, sitting her down on the couch. Just then the doorbell rings. Alison's date is here.