"I can see you're with me Tammi - that's good baby. But I don't want you to let me down ok?"

Yes Tammi was 'with her'. It might have been a time for her to put that lucidity to good use by escaping. But no. She was with Leah alright and she was temporarily back in the real world. But not in that way. She may have been back on the planet but she was still afflicted with addiction and her mind, and body was still going through irreversible changes. Irreversible changes that the sadist Leah had instigated. In other words, Tammi despite her clarity in the moment, knew what side her bread was buttered on. There was that, plus the fact that she had this deep, deep, ingrained, almost overwhelming 'need' NOT to disappoint or let down Leah. She was brought to another room in the property where everything was provided for her. The only limit was her imagination. Leah smiled as she watched the teenager take it all in.

"Can I shower first, please?"

There was a contrite quality to her voice and the words Tammi used.

"Of course. Just through the door over there. I'm going to leave you alone for as long as to need. There is no rush, the end result is more important than how long you take."

Leah smiled and so did Tammi. There was a kind of 'understanding' between them. Nothing that anyone else would notice or hit upon. Just something. Tammi's sexuality was alive, and craving immediately after that orgasm. That wouldn't go away. In fact that would increase. It was something that she had to deal with. Would have to deal with. Her sexuality and her urges being driven at this time by thoughts of shocking her mother, and getting revenge on her mother. Possibly a little sadism existing inside her along with that bubbling, pot boiling submissiveness. Leah was watching, learning and making mental notes. She couldn't help thinking 'a future sadist in the making'.

What better way to get to her mother than to accentuate her tender, tender years? Tammi hadn't realised how much she had needed that shower. It didn't make the torments that had infested her life disappear - but it did provide an interlude - one in which all she thought about was how to hurt her mum the most. There was every conceivable outfit combination that was possible. Certainly more so than Tammi herself could think of. It might be pointed out that with there being more than she could come up with herself, that what was there was a feed and a further corruption to her mind. Before Leah had left her, she had watched, just for a minute or so, as Tammi had flicked through the clothes and accessories hanging on open, wheeled hangers. And the makeup. Shoes. Underwear. The aroma of latex, leather making the air thick with a fetish tinge. Leah was happy that this young girl was being sucked satisfactorily into her world.

Tammi chose, deliberately chose a 'schoolgirl' look. It had been two years since she had left high school and she had been well ensconced in the University way of life before this 'event' had taken over. Claudia had been relieved when she had left high school where it always seemed to be the case that the skirts were always too short and the heels were always too high. Tammi had been able to afford a smile as she chose the flouncy latex bib type dress. Shiny black and with cross over straps at the back. If Claudia had thought her daughter was borderline too short on skirts in high school, then the micro-mini length of this particular fetish number would be all too readily labelled a 'belt' by the concerned mother of twins. That hem, not skin tight, but rather loose but extremely and provocatively short. The bounce of that hem with every single move, almost, but never quite revealing more than it appeared was intended. Under that bib dress, a white, semi-transparent latex blouse that might have appeared simple. And yet, the design, the finish and the effect of that blouse under that tiny dress staggering. That blouse fitted. Not skin tight, but fitted. On Tammi it appeared made to measure as opposed to off the rack. The end result, her blossoming, and yet already large breasts sheathed in this micro thin latex and at the same time cradled in the low cut U of the bib dress. The upper section of that bib dress form fitting and accentuating the young girls blossoming womanhood. The almost pencil thin vertical line of the black latex tie added to that schoolgirl intent and seemed to dissect the bulges of breast that threatened to pop out at any time.

If one looked, and then looked again there would be that tell-tale sign through the transparency of the blouse, and just above the hem of that U front of the darkness of the tops other aureole and the beginnings of the fatness, and the bloatedness of her nipples. Not full views. Just strategic and clever hints as to the delights the teenager possessed. Tammi had perfected the art of squeezing her thighs for pleasure as she had prepped herself. She was free to use her fingers on herself and she did swipe her lips occasionally. But the nature of her addiction meant that she didn't gain much from those swipes. The thigh clenches though - they could take place and be held and although there were differing results, at least there were results. She had never worn latex before, nor even 'felt' it. At least not before the night of her arrest and bagging up of her tits and sexuality in those latex 'evidence bags'. Now she kind of wanted it. And to the uninitiated it was something of a shocking texture. A texture that seemed to drip sex - or at the very least keep those sexual drips in where they needed to be. Sealed in. She was more than sure that her mother knew all about latex and the kinds of apparel that was made from it. But that was a good thing. Claudia didn't have to be a latex version in order for her little girl to inflict the utter shock of her seeing it on her. That dress was too short, way too short for stockings. She had briefly considered latex stockings, skin tight and fitted so that they came just short of the hem line of the flouncy dress. In her mind though, she came to the somewhat advanced conclusion that it would be way too 'fancy dress' for that. Tammi wanted to retain an air of reality to the outfit. Like a slender thread to the real world - a kind of bridge, albeit a swinging, fragile bridge to the real world. She chose, dark down pantyhose. Sheer panty hose that extended her stunning legs even further and encased those wonderful limbs in another fabric that had been fetishised. The slightest sheen and glow of leg flesh through the nylon added to that bridge. Added to that reality that for some reason she simply knew her mother would get to. Additionally - those pantyhose were laddered and holed at strategic points up the legs - the thighs, the very upper thighs, giving an air, or an appearance that Tammi had been extremely 'naughty' somewhere along the line. Maybe behind the bike sheds. Or in the head of maths office. Maybe that she had indulged in, or been indulged in some kind of frantic sexual activity or other that had led to the running and the holing of her pantyhose.

Tammi had smiled to herself - it had been an evil smile real as she thought about what her mother would think of her dressed and made up like this. It was those thoughts that she squeezed her thigh too, and sighed to. It had been as she had slipped her feet into the severe stilettos of the fuck-me-pumps that she got an added buzz. The buzz as the nylon crotch of the pantyhose pressed against and kind of enveloped and shrink wrapped her saturated, hairless sexuality. A quick finger swipe over her nylon covered labia and clitoris and she squeezed with a positive delight. There was life in her fingers yet. When she had stood, and looked at herself in the full length mirror provided, even though what she saw sexually excited her, what she saw also she understood would hurt her mother deeply. Her red hair in high pigtails either side of her head and banded tightly at the roots. Her makeup, exceptionally well done. Expertly sluttish and finished off with dark, dark eye makeup, her eyelashes dripping with jet black mascara and her lips outlined and emphasised with the deep, blood red lipstick that her mother had always told her not to wear unless she meant it. Looking at herself in that mirror then - somehow and for some reason, the way she was dressed, the way she was made up and the way she was perched on those spiked heels simply inviting her, or making her stance arrogant, and sluttish. Legs splayed, one hand on a hip. Lips parted and a fleshy tongue swiping the width of her mouth, side to side. She squeezed her thighs again and her big, latex covered breasts shifted. In her sexually addicted and addled state, she actually liked what she saw. Liked it a lot.