Another Day
By: Love Those Lashes Dainty Dannielle

© July 2001

 

I can see her now, mincing down the hallway, in front of 3 Japanese Executives, her elbows chained to her waist belt by 8" chains, the bells on her ankle chain tinkling gaily, her nails flashing as her hands perform gracefully in front of her huge breasts. She smiles and giggles, but cannot speak to them. It would not matter anyhow, as she knows no Japanese and they know little English.

They are entranced by her heavy, flawless make-up, her huge, staring blue eyes (slightly oversize contacts) and knee length honey blonde hair. They point to her huge KK breasts; her 3" long nails and lashes, her tiny waist and how it makes her chest heave prettily with each tortured breath. She points to the door and the men line up to watch her pull the key from her cleavage and carefully line it up to unlock the door. Those blue contacts were made for some one else, so they render her half blind, leaving her in tantalizing world of vaguely familiar shapes and washed out colours.

She knows that there are 3 men, but will never know them by sight. All she sees are 3 dark blurs in good black suits. Her perfume, not cheap, has been laid on rather heavily, so the men are now overcome by the intoxicating scent. She fumbles at the door, knowing if she drops the key, that her bondage will render it nearly impossible for her to find, or pick it up from the floor and until the door is open the men are forbidden to help or touch her in any way. They have paid far too much to be here, to risk getting caught on the security tapes that insure compliance from guests and workers.

The men smell Japanese to her experienced nose, so she knows she will get a good tip and will not have to work as hard as if the were from Germany. Germans and Americans were the worst.

The key goes in the hole and her hampered hand can barely twist it. It opens and she ushers the men in. All crowd after her, like high school boys with their first prostitute. She closes the door after the last one then strikes a pose by it. The cleverly concealed lights and cameras expose her and record her for the video the guests will take with them when they leave in 6, short hours.

She cuts quite a figure. Long knee length, honey-blonde hair in flowing, amber waves. A sweet, heart shaped face, concealed by so much make-up that these men would not  know her when it is all removed at the end of her shift. Her brows, black, pencil stroked arches curving quizzically over the eyes. The brilliant turquoise, lavender and navy eye shadow fans from corner to corner of each eye, sweeping up and out in classic show-girl fashion. The 3" jet eyelashes, so painfully false, yet so blatantly erotic, bat slowly as she looks haughtily at them. Her slightly oversized baby blue eyes, semi blinded by the contacts, still managed to convey her dominance of mere men, even in her hampered, breast baring bondage. Shiny, slick crimson lips stay perpetually parted, as her tooth implants and tongue rods keep her mouth held slightly, sexily open. Her Wet look claws, match her lips, or both are covered in the same paint. Her hands hold her breasts out for them, the pose showing hands and tits to good account. Her bosom jumps and quivers with each constrained breath, the upper halves of both globes beaded with a faint sheen from the effort. The Blue satin mini-dress Clings like spray paint to her restrictively bound form, the silver Mylar covered belt for her elbow chains contrasting well against the dark blue satin. The pose she has taken displays her slender, dancers legs well. The mandatory fishnets, the also mandatory, locked on 6" stiletto heeled ankle boots are feasted upon by the hungry eyes of the men. She advances towards them, breaking her pose for their inspection.

The damp, smell of sex filled the fetid air of the small playroom. The last of the trio of satiated businessmen had been carried from the room. She hobbled shakily over to the unobtrusive intercom grille set in the wall. By straining her chained arm to its fullest and stretching to her full 5'8" height, she could flick the intercom switch with the gleaming tip of her right index nail. She brought her ruined, sticky lips to the speaker and gurgled at it. An answering gurgle came back and she responded again. The next noise was far more final in nature and she released the switch and settled back, on her now shaky heels.

Soon, she knew, an attendant would arrive with the small, wheeled rack to which she would be strapped for her trip to the recovery room. There she could look forward to a bath, time off and a chance to clear the heavy make-up from her face. She knew that she would like to have the nails, lashes and breasts removed as well, but that was not to be!

According to the transformation contract she had signed, all she had to do was ask and they would come off. Everything. The balloon breasts, the hideous lashes that weighted her eyelids, the shining, nails which crippled her hands, even the false vagina that held her now useless manhood. All would be removed, at her command. She had only to say the word and it would be done.  Therein lay her constant torture.

She had foolishly agreed to the Extra Bonus Option. After all, how hard could it really be to speak clearly with the jaw spreading, tooth implants and the cleverly rodded tongue?   The "Woman" who had recruited him had managed well enough, even demonstrating an ability to eat, albeit, carefully. Her speech though muddy, was clear enough to convince him to sign on the dotted line. Only now had he come to realize exactly how foolish he had been.

Marla could speak because her tongue rods were smaller than the ones in his mouth and she did not earn bigger rods and sessions with a drool inducing ring gag as punishment for poor performance. After seeing Marla's punishments for poor recruiting, however, he would stick to 3 days ring-gagged. It beat what happened to Marla when a recruit didn't sign up for another Extra Bonus Option.

The door opened and another denizen of the place, she now called home, limped in.   J6 had been like many of the other recruits, before insufficient awareness of her ultra-ballet boots had done her in. Although not in the hampering elbow chains at the time, it had taken her a full ten minutes to crawl for help in the padded corridors. She had been found crying through her ring gag and dragging her broken, right leg. The surgeons had set the bones and repaired her leg, but she was left with her limp as an object lesson to the others.

Now J6 performed only the most menial of tasks and visibly served  to remind the rest that the Masters gave and the Masters could take away.

J6 motioned her to the rack and she stepped aboard the low, wheeled cart. She leaned against the padded back and relaxed, slightly, as J6 buckled the straps that would keep her from falling on her way to the recovery room. Before proceeding, J6 removed the vision blurring contacts from the heavily made up eyes, now in ruins. She leaned back to enjoy the ride.

J6 pushed slowly, her game leg, hobble chains and 12" platform heels all conspiring to slow her walk. As the pair wobbled down the now brightly lit corridor, she saw others. Some like herself, ready to serve and keep earning towards that mythical day when the could throw off their bondage and others, still in training, not yet ready even to start amassing the points to get free.

All, with the exception of the newest recruits, had the same sexy, slightly slack mouthed look she had. All minced, hobbled, wriggled, or strutted in heels that ranged from merely high to ridiculous. Various perfumes, none cheap, mingled as they passed, leaving an intoxicating mix in the wake, always. None, even the newest, was without a face of exquisite air brushed perfection, make-up so thick, that only the knowledge of colors and patterns, allowed her to pick her friends from the rest. Here, once your make-up pattern had been finalized, you wore no other.

Her thoughts were interrupted as J6 snorted through her 'O' shaped mouth and the door to the recovery room opened before them.

 

Notes: J6 lost her name because of her clumsiness (you do not graduate to ultra-ballet boots without having earned a name) and the title character has not earned enough points yet to get one. Her punishment points are always just a few less than she earns in a session. This means forward progress is slow, but not slow enough to kill all hope. (Take away the carrot completely and the donkey stops-something more FemDom writers need to keep in mind)

As J6 pushed the small cart through the wide door of the recovery room, She saw a small crowd gathered. She waited, with decreasing patience, as J6 slowly undid the straps and helped her down from the cart. She gurgled thanks as J6 slipped away. She turned to watch the small group. She knew many of them, from 'training sessions', 'group lustings' and other activities. The only reason that so many would be permitted to gather would be a 'Naming'

Namings were always well attended and She was mildly surprised that She had not heard of this one. The many exotic perfumes mingled in an almost visible cloud, the flash of Cubic Z and rhinestone was almost blinding and the soft, muted sound of many ring-gagged mouths and rodded tongues held by spread teeth, trying to talk, enveloped the small room. She looked around, wondering whom among them might get their 'Name' today? She recognized the massive, golden bouffant and pale, ice blue eye shadow of her last roommate who still had no 'Name', as she was way ahead on the demerit board and should not have had time to work them all off.  In fact, her dangling gold nipple bells and the dainty gold teeth peeking from behind her frosted pink lips, declared that she still had demerits to work off.

All then fell silent as Marla sashayed to the front of the gathering. In her 7" stilettos and huge, copper coloured wig, Marla was a good 6" taller than anyone else there. From her commanding height, Marla looked upon all assembled before her.

"Kwet, 'Lease, Grrlz" she slurred. "We Haav a 'Nang' to Give." Marla crooked one purple 2" talon, toward her! As She minced up to Marla, ankle bells clanging madly, She Wondered that this day had finally come! She moaned as she got closer, her strapped member was overcome by the moment. Marla motioned her to a stop. Letting her gold and purple shadowed eyes sweep the room, her tiny 1" lashes not fluttering a bit, Marla returned her gaze to her.

"You Ah Now, 'CupCake',"  Marla said, as clearly as she could.   "You Haav a Nang, now 'CupCake'. Very Goot!" Marla held up a shiny, rhinestone encrusted necklace that spelled out 'CupCake' and showed it for the room to see. Then she turned and formally presented it to the still shocked CupCake, who took it from her and grasped it tightly.

Marla raised her hampered arms, to reveal elbow chains shorter than anyone's in the room and gestured at the Newest Name. Another girl, who CupCake had seen only briefly and never met, hobbled over. From her elegant, black coffee, waist-length hair, to her jeweled ballet boots, she was a symphony in glittering jewels. Three rows of small rhinestones trimmed her eyelids, over the same 3" lashes CupCake wore. More Rhinestones flashed from her nail tips, ample cleavage and, shockingly around her lips. They formed a jeweled outline, in the age-old shape of hussy’s lips, around the neon pink lipstick that covered the girl's mouth. She lifted her hands easily to CupCake's and took the necklace.

Motioning for CupCake to turn around, she raised her unfettered arms so that she could fasten the necklace around CupCake's dainty neck. The huge mass of CupCake's honey blonde hair was no trouble to the brunette, who seemed the expert she was at necklace application. A quick tap on the shoulder told her it was all done, and Cupcake turned to face the room.

Sporadic applause broke out from those who still could and happy noises filled the room. Marla let it continue some small time and the gestured again, this time for quiet.

"Thadz all, for now. Ack to Work"

Turning to CupCake, Marla said, "Follow Mih, Uh'll show You Uh new Oom"

Marla left the room quickly and CupCake found herself struggling, as usual, to keep up.

CupCake's Wildly made-up eyes widened in shock, as she minced into the room, her ankle chain bell jingling, as she struggled to keep up with Marla. Marla pointed one violet nail at the left bed. "Tha' N's yours"CupCake watched Marla sashay out, her ass swaying just so, then her eyes fell on the other side of the room.

The "woman" standing on the other side was uniquely done up even for here!   Where others wore leather straps and padlocks, ‘she' had welded steel bands. ’She’ wore no clothes, only steel and satin bondage gear. Her gracefully curved neck corset held her chin, forever skyward, while the S-curve corset banded unbreakably about her tiny waist, dislocated her spine, while forcing her large breasts into more prominence. The 4", pencil thick rings, hanging from each nipple, held no fewer than 5 bells, each smaller than the other. The bells sounded in small notes as"her' body quivered. The corset, griping her tightly just below the bust, flared to a swell at the womanly hips, before shrinking down to equal the top half at the thighs, then narrowing further, to stop just above the pretty knees. A complete hobble corset! - The most severe in the whole place.

CupCake had seen it before, but never this close. A shudder of pure terror ran through CupCake's forcibly slenderized frame, as she gazed at the body ofher roommate. Starting just below the breast, there was a shallow ruffle of black satin, then the 1/2" band of polished stainless steel. Flesh bulged over the band, just slightly, the satin straining with each breath. The shiny, polished bands continued, every 3" down the figure, stopping at the hem of the hobble, in another short ruffle.

From the armpit to the hem, silvery steel chains linked each band, the narrowness at the waist and even tinier hem holding the corset from riding up or shifting much.

Fishnet stockings, a fact of life here, graced the legs. The shoes were in a different league than any CupCake had worn, however. Ballet arched, with  visible steel reinforcing strips, each was heelless, ending in a small, but unmistakable hoof, shoe and all. They lifted the figure well over 10", although CupCake would later learn that while her roommate could stand for hours in her hoof-boots, walking was nearly impossible, done only to impress certain’hardcore’ clients and then at great expense. NO amount of surgery or training would ever allow her to walk more than a few, painful feet in these boots. She could and did stand in them for 8-10 hoursat a time, though, shuffling her feet in tiny movements to keep her hard won balance. No chain linked the boots, as their heels and odd design served as hobble enough. Wide bands of welded, polished silver steel insured that removal was not ever to happen without help and tools.

The woman grunted softly and CupCake looked up to see the most impressive face make-up she had ever seen. Bizarre Swirls. Unusual colours. Odd Patterns. It was not make-up the way the rest of them wore it, but avant-garde stylings, meant to showcase weird looks. Her make-up was heavy, no doubt, but rendered in fifteen colours, with no attempt at all to even try to be the parody that everyone else's make-up strived for.

One eye done in a bull's eye pattern of scarlet and navy, with gold dust glitter, the other eye; a subdued pairing of olive green and copper. The scarlet eye sported normal 3" lashes, while a small jeweled clamp, hooked from pierced eyebrow to lash tip, held up what had to be a 7" long eyelash on the other eye. The short 4" chain kept the whole ungainly thing from folding over on itself. The 7" eyelash was breathtakingly false, jet black and beaded with tiny black beads the length of each lash. From the pull on the tiny clamp, it was obvious that the weight of the lash would seal the eye shut, an effective yet frilly blindfold.

CupCake shuddered anew at the thought of these on her face. 3" lashes, surgically welded on were enough for her. Despite the bright, sky blue lipstick, the woman's mouth did not have the slack, sexy pout, that all who had been tongue-rodded and tooth-implanted seemed to have. Nor was there any evidence of a ring-gag. No drool stains in the make-up, no pinched look at the lips.

Another soft grunt and CupCake looked at the arms, on the figure before her. NO elbow chains. Instead black lace over satin gloves, wrapped each hand. Another wide silver band, identical to those at the ankles, circled each wrist. Then CupCake noticed the fingers. Each was spread slightly, the faint outline of the brace under the satin barely visible. The left hand was curved to hold the stem of a wine glass, the right hand frozen, and fingers together, in the act of being held and kissed, by a continental gentleman. As the woman noticed CupCake staring at her hands, they flexed, some, demonstrating their rigid, uselessness, before CupCake's horrified eyes. No long, gleaming nails were in evidence, although CupCake was sure that they could be provided if needed, just as hers always were. Other than the tight satin and lace concoctions "her" arms were unfettered, although CupCake now noticed that the gloves were armpit length and the woman's elbows had never unbent. A quick search showed steel strips in the arms too.

Mannequin arms, that moved only at the shoulder, graceful, pretty.... useless. Another soft sound escaped the bizarrely bound form and CupCake gurgled her own greeting.

The Blue lips parted briefly, revealing tiny, flat stainless straps, affixed to the teeth, locking the jaws shut. A small tube, fitted in place of a missing lower front tooth, shown the only means to drink or take nourishment. After that glimpse the blue lips snapped shut and the figure closed the scarlet-lidded eyes and shuffled to face the corner the shared room. The viewing session was patently over, and CupCake was relieved to stare only at the naked skull and black and silver sculpture that was her new roommate.

CupCake minced to her own bed, and sat slowly on it. Blanket covered concrete, no surprise there. Struggling her blonde mane out of the way, she twisted and laid back on the unyielding surface. For the first time in hours she closed her heavy lidded eyes, and relaxed. Soon she was asleep. And with sleep, came the dreams! Dreams of before. Dreams of the training. Dreams of that awful contract, and the Extra Bonus Option.

Chapter 2

Boy! Did she have a great ass! The Redhead in front of him in line at the counter squealed as something dropped behind the counter. The teenage Doofus behind the counter fell to his hands and knees, amid a series of ever-louder cries of, "My Ring, My Ring!"  He moved up smoothly behind the Redhead, pushing his way to the counter, and bending over to see what was lost.  "My Ring" she cried again, "I'll never see it!"  Even interested in the frantic scrabbling of the Doofus for the lost ring, he could not help but notice the faint flash of silver in her mouth as she spoke and a slight blurriness to her speech.

He turned from her, and fortune chose that moment to strike. He saw a sparkle under the popcorn popper and said," Could that be it?" Speaking to the Doofus for the first time, he suggested, that he try under the popper. Doofus knelt down and plucked the ring from the carpet fuzz and lint. As the Doofus made to hand it to the Redhead, he neatly snagged it and presented it to the near franticgirl.

"I believe this is yours" He said gallantly, neatly grasping her arm and steering her away from the counter and away from any awkward questions Doofus might ask. As they came to a stop, several paces from the counter in the lobby of the large chain theater, he looked for the first time at the Redhead with the delectable ass.

His gaze started cataloging from her toes, up. Neatlypainted pink toenails winked from the open toes of herblack shoes. Smooth, bare legs rose gracefully to a short, but, not too short, denim miniskirt. Her pink knit top covered her naval politely, and had sexy short sleeves. The top scooped low enough in front, to more than hint at, an impressive cleavage. The pretty lace of her bra showed through the top, outlining her large breasts even more. Oddly, a 2" wide black velvet choker wrapped tightly around her slender neck, the gold and ivory, Victorian, cameo hanging down just far enough to draw the eye to her bust.

He looked at her face. Her makeup seemed a little more than the girls he normally dated, but he seldom got to date, stone foxes like this, either. Her eyes were wide and grey, carefully lined in black, and shadowed in at least 3 shades on violet, with a faint shimmer to the lids. Her rose pink blush was very noticeable to him for he had only seen models wearing it. Her full, suggestive lips were coloured a darker, shimmery pink, neatly outlined, like the eyes, only in a darker pink.

A frank appraising stare met his own as he looked her in the eye."Like what you see?" She questioned, one neatly penciled, arch, of an eyebrow raised, quizzically

"Yes" He replied, not lowering his gaze, from hers.

"Good! Buy me some popcorn, Handsome, and I'll ditch my date.

"He hates Chick Flicks, and you are going to go with me to see 'Sleepless in Seattle' aren't you?" He realized that the redheaded babe had just asked himout. As he stood there, mind racing, he became aware of a long, oval, pink, fingernail tracing slowly down the length of his arm.

"Well. Arntcha'?" she giggled.

Striking a pose, he said "Why not, is your boyfriend bigger than me?"

"No" she giggled again "He is shorter than you and not nearly as good looking." With thoughts of the Good Day this was turning into, he followed the pretty Redhead down the hall to the theater, completely forgetting about her popcorn!

As Chick Flicks went this one had not been at all bad, although the presence of the girl snuggled into his left side for the whole movie, might explain the movie's dramatic improvement over others like it he had endured.

Halfway into the movie, he, and his member, had become aware of the faint, but intoxicating perfume that drifted from the girl's hair. As the closing credits scrolled, he manfully resettled his problem, and tried to think up a clever line.

Again she beat him tothe punch."I am famished, my boyfriend must have gone home, and I still have the gift checks, he gave me for dinner. My treat, have you ever been to 'The Quiet Place'? Still processing all of the information, he just nodded then shook his head. She correctly interpreted this to mean, yes to dinner, and no to ever having been to the restaurant. Taking his hand in her carefully manicured one; she dragged the slightly dazed man out to her BMW. He dropped in the passenger seat, admiring its rich, buttery leather. He fastened the seat belt at her direction, and watched, as she slowly started the car and drove to the 'Quiet Place' like a maiden aunt with her first Cadillac.

She bubbled and chattered the whole time, neatly diverting his attention from the fact that no one had noticed her picking him up, and no one had seen him enter her car. He rode along, watching the city slide past, sneaking a glance at the beauty driving the car so carefully, when he could. They pulled into the crowded parking lot, and suddenly she turned to him.

"This place is packed. How about I rustle up dinner at my apartment?" she proposed. Her perfume permeated the closed coupe, and it sounded like a good idea to him.

All he could manage was a weak "Sounds good to me" as she put the car back into gear. As the powerful car, slid silently through the city, he found himself more than ready for a night with this lady. His libido had quietly shifted into overdrive, and dinner was now the last thing on his mind.

An overhead light starkly outlined the cameo at her pale throat as they went by and his desire climbed another notch. He had no idea where they were, as they pulled into an underground parking garage.

"Home sweet Home" she caroled as she shut off the car," My place is own the 8th floor" She pointed. "We'll take that elevator to the apartment" As he got out and headed that way, he wondered idly if she was as good in bed as she looked, or if she was all talk. Time would tell, and she soon joined him in the elevator, her high heels beating a rapid tattoo on the concrete garage floor as she hurried to join him in the elevator.

"Press #8, Silly" He did.The elevator rose smoothly then lurched. The doors hissed open, and an older couple, dressed very formally, added themselves to the car. He noticed that the blonde had enormous breasts, and the older man very broad shoulders, before returning his attention to his date. They worked themselves to the back of the car. He realized that he would soon be bedding a woman whose name he did not even know! Turning to her, he gazed into her, large grey eyes, the makeup enlarging and adding an air of mystery, to them.

"I don't even know your name," he said.

"I am Marla she purred, as the blonde's needle found his neck, and the broad shouldered man caught him as he fell.

*****

CupCake awoke with a start. The door to corridor was just closing, and a glance at the corner, showed that her roommate was gone too. That had probably been J6 or M3 taking the Black and Silver beauty to "her" next assignment.  CupCake shuddered anew at the thought of her new roomie. Of Course, CupCake had seen the other around, her bizarre getup drawing attention even here. CupCake had never heard a name mentioned, inc onnection with the strangely done up girl, but had been told once that it was not punishment. A mental image of the gruesome locked shut mouth stayed in her mind, and she wanted never to be that way.

CupCake wondered where the attendants were? Her heavy make-up, ruined from her last session with the 3 Japanese businessmen, still clung to her face. CupCake wanted the make-up off desperately, but could not reach her face with her elbows bound the way they were. Even if she could have, the 3" nails tipping each finger would dissuade her from trying to touch her face. CupCake had only had to hurt her face once to learn THAT lesson for good. Arm-bound or not, as long as her nails remained this long, her hands did not go near her face.

Cupcake sniffed. She still smelled of her encounter, and knew that if her clothes, and hair were not dealt with soon they would be as ruined as her face. This thought terrified CupCake. The punishment for this might even take away her newly awarded Name.   CupCake pushed herself into a more upright position on the hard bed, and scanned the room for an intercom. Finally she found one on the wall over the roomie's bed. Spotting that one she turned and found one above her bed, placed so that she could never have seen it without moving.  The intercom had been carefully placed low, close to the cover, where restrained fingers could find it.

A large paddle shaped switch, made it easy for even thumb less mittens to use. Cupcake flipped the switch, and voiced frantic noises."All Right, Keep your skirt on!" replied a fairly clear voice.  "There will be no penalty assessed this time. It is busy tonight. Relax. Sleep. The maids will be there when they can." Relieved, CupCake rolled back over and lay down. Penalties were NEVER lied about. If the voice had said there would be none then there would be none. If not, That voice would soon envy Cupcake her freedom. CupCake settled down to wait for the maids. She shifted her huge breasts to a slightly more comfortable position, and closed her heavy lids. Even after all this time, the 3" lashes made her eyelids so heavy, that any chance to close her eyes was a great relief. Sleep stole up on her, and the dreams returned.

*****

"You are awake, I see," said a perfectly ordinary female voice. He opened his eyes to see a strange woman looking down at him. "Don't try to speak"  the woman advised him, "There is a tube down your throat,"He grunted.

"I'll be right back, don't move until I return," she cautioned. He played the whole bit over in his mind as she swished out in a swirl of skirts he could not see, but clearly heard. The tapping of high heels accompanied her out the door.  The woman's face stuck in his mind. Although his glance at it had been brief, the details stayed sharply etched in his memory. She had been wearing more make-up than any woman he'd ever seen. Many colours of eye make-up - Black shiny lines, shaping both eyes, similar shiny lines arched were her eyebrows should have been. Thick, sticky looking orange lipstick had caked her lips, and the streaks of red blush climbing each cheek, reminded him of someone.

The woman's hair had been a huge, bouncing mane, all curls and wisps, in a shade of blue-black seen only in bottles. He was sure of that.  Strange too had been her earrings, 2 large hoops, and one rhinestone dangle that had to hang 6" as she had bent over him. Each ear had been adorned this way. He thought about her strange appearance as he lay there, slowly becoming aware that he could not move, and someone was sitting on his chest.

He heard the door open, and this time at least three sets of high-heel shoes clattered into the room. "Just relax," said a woman, he had not heard before. "You are here now, and you will not be leaving anytime soon. This is a facility for altering people, so that they might better serve the Masters.

"You were chosen to serve. Solely you made this decision.The Masters simply reviewed your attempt to avoid an education, your lack of close friends and relatives, and physical soma type. These matched the profile they have for new recruits. You are now a recruit.

"As there is avery small market for male recruits, you will be remade as a female, to serve better.  This is the Masters plan.  Do not fight, you will be punished. Do not disobey, you will be punished.  Do not try to escape, new recruits have only so much value, and persistent objectors will be discarded. Cooperate in the remaking process, you can earn small rewards. That is all" The woman stopped speaking, and turned around, exiting the room. His whole life casually destroyed, by Masters he had never met, sentenced pronounced by a woman he never even got to see. As the rage began to boil up in him, he heard another voice. This one was familiar. It was the voice of the Redhead!

" Iss OK, Hun," slurred the Redhead, "You are Heah now, an you will do real good. You will be veruh pretty." To the sound of muted tapping, the Redhead swam into his line of sight.  He did not recognize her at first.The face he saw could have been a twin to the one he had first seen. A riot of eye make-up, in gold and many shades of purple festooned her eyes. Absurdly long, false eyelashes fluttered, and the same kinds of earring decorated her ears. Frosty, pale pink lipstick coated her lips, in a shimmery, thick coat.  The hair was a far brassier shade of red-gold, and seemed to hang past her butt. It had the same curls, waves and wisps look that the other girl's had, but somehow looked more wanton and sexier in the lighter color. The Redhead, he remembered her name now as Marla, lifted one hand to pat him on the arm. He saw long, long shiny pink daggers tipping each finger, and saw too, the short silver chain that locked her elbow to her tiny, belted waist. Her upper arm had moved no more than 4", before the chain went taut and her arm stopped moving.

Marla patted his arm clumsily and smiled at him."I had to," She said." Please don't hate me. They make me do things, and no one ever says 'No', not if they know what they're doing."  Her whole speech had been forced out, and now he could see why. Marla's mouth was full of hardware! He had seen at least two rings all the way through the tongue as well as one stout, half-inch thick rod, welded through the tip. This hardware slurred her speech, and caused her to have to force herself to talk.

He saw tears start to form in her eyes, and had the strangest thought. "Don't Cry Marla. You'll smear your make-up." Now where had that come from? Marla motioned to the other girl, who stood by silently the whole time. Marla took something from the other and held it in his face where he could see but not read it.

"This is your contract. If you sign it, you will be trained to earn your keep here and provided with food, clothing, shelter, and medical care. After 15 years of serving the Masters, if they are pleased with your service, they shall return a portion of your earnings to you, and provide you with a place and means to retire. You cannot sign the contract now, as you have not finished the necessary surgeries. When those have been completed, then you may choose to sign." She smiled at him.

"Seems backward, Huh?" She looked at him one more time. "You rest now. The Surgeon will be back soon, and I will see you after you have had your bandages removed." With that cheery news, Marla and the other bizarre figure left the room. He strained his eye down toward his chest, and saw what he had dreaded seeing. Twin mounds, huge ones, tented the sheet on his chest. He could barely see them, but even from this angle they looked gigantic. He wondered about the 'contract', and he wondered why his emotions felt so dead even as his old life closed behind like a slamming door. He suspected drugs, and would never know how right he was.

The newest recruit stood in her 4" heels in the reviewing room. She stood up as straight as she could, the armpit to hip corset helping in this. It had been laced closed for the first time in the new recruit's experience, and her labored breathing took much of her concentration. Although she had been through many phases of surgery and some small amount of training, this was the first time; all the elements had been drawn together.

She cataloged the sensations as she stood there, waiting.  The heavy, waist length, honey gold wig, sat on her head immovably. She had been shown the futility of trying to pull it off, by being made to spend 6 hours trying to rip it from her own head. While her scalp never did bleed, the pain had been so bad at the end, that she had simply sat on the floor and cried, not caring about the punishment she would receive for wrecking her make-up.

Make-up! She wore as much now as Marla, or any other girl here. She still could not put it on, but had been assured that this was the first item on her training agenda once she signed. The weight of the long false eyelashes dragged at her eyes. Her chest felt crushed by the corset. It held the surgeons greatest work, in front where all could admire it. The breasts were enormous! She had no idea how big they were, but knew that only a few 'enhanced' strippers ever had tits like this. The edges, of the corset, even padded, bit cruelly into flesh. It did keep her back ramrod stiff and kept her from slumping. Any! At all!

Stay-up stockings, the kind without garter belts, covered her legs. Like everyone here, they were a fishnet style. Last her aching feet had been crammed into 7" stiletto heeled pumps, with ankle straps. Then leather shoelocks had been added over those shoes and padlocked in place. The same padlocks also secured the 10" chain between her feet. She danced uneasily on her high-heeled feet, the chain restricting her steps and trying to trip her.

Her huge breasts heaved, with each breath, as she struggled to suck in air. She held her arms at her sides as she had been taught. There was nothing to grab in the room anyway. The door opened, and Marla minced in, her latex hobble skirt, undulating.

"Owdy, Recute. Redda to sign?" She shook her head, honey blonde flying. "OK, ‘Ow about the 'Extra Bonus Option'?

"That is where we will allow you to get out of everything you have authorized. The catch is, you have to authorize lots more, to be done. Nails, Eyelashes, Your mouth, your dick. Lots More! After you have been altered, wait 90 days and then came to me and tell me that you want it all off. Just tell me. I'll have it removed. Of Course, we will fix your mouth up for you. Do you want rings like mine?

"For 60 days - OK, the tooth implants too. They are bonded to the molars, and keep you from closing your mouth all the way. On the other hand they will knock 30 days off the time you have to wait before you can ask for freedom to serve the Masters elsewhere."

She still looked hesitant. Marla picked an oversized toothpaste tube from her skirt's waistband. She held it up so the new recruit could read the label. 'Protein Paste' said the label. Marla squirted it in past the rings and rod, and swallowed.

"See, You can do it. Only 60 days!" The new recruit leaned forward and took the contract from Marla's other hand. Marla turned around and produced a pen. New recruit took it, and signed the contract on Marla's back. Marla straightened up and took it from her."Congratulations!"

 

To be continued …

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Love Those Lashes Dainty Dannielle. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.