Catrina was mentally frayed. The cycle she'd been dealing with for hours - stimulation followed by denial followed by more stimulation - now had a third feature: shame. Like someone who had been willfully unfaithful to a partner, shame was shoved to the background by arousal and lust, but came to the forefront when the body and mind were no longer driven by a sexual desire. In Catrina's situation, however, that shame was borne from getting aroused by being treated like a piece of shit.

She simply couldn't help it. Every time Kim or Lauren stood in front of her sporting one of their superior grins, or when they took the time to describe to Catrina just how she was being abused or mistreated, her clit swelled and her cunt grew wet at an alarming rate. The first few times, she tried not to react, but after a certain point there was no hiding it, and she often felt light-headed as their taunts brought along a blast of desire so intense it nearly hurt.

The punishments they had applied only made matters worse. Every time she moved, the four clamps biting into each nipple sent shocks of pain into her tied tits and down to her clit, and somehow during that journey that pain had become a source of pleasure. Even her deep breaths made her tits expand into the unyielding bra, pushing the spikes into the flesh made tauter by the rope bra that turned her normally attractive breasts into balloon-like structures that appeared ready to burst from her chest.

She wasn't surprised that she longed for the hours when she'd worn that ball gag. At the time, it had seemed like the purest form of torture, but compared to the vile wad of piss-soaked panties now held against her tongue, the ball gag seemed like a vacation. The taste somehow seemed to get worse as time passed, going from tangy to earthy, like the panties were stewing in her saliva and growing even more disgusting. The longing to spit them out was mitigated by the vibrators - as soon as they kicked on, she was somehow pleased to be suffering such extreme humiliation, but a few seconds after they stopped she could not believe that the taste could possibly be a source of pleasure.

But it was the twin devices lodged inside her that were her greatest nemesis. They controlled all. They were the things that had to be obeyed above all else She could not ignore them, nor could she resist them. They owned her, drove her, dominated her. The controlled her. At first, she was terribly frustrated at having her most private spaces violated in such a crass way, but that had morphed into pure rage as she was pulled nearly to the peak of pleasure, only to slide back down over and over again. Watching Lauren and Kim look at her with that knowing gaze, the one that clearly stated they knew who was in charge and who wasn't and that Catrina liked knowing as much as they did, Catrina had lost every bit of fight.

The combination of all such treatments had already taken its toll. She already knew that she would do as ordered. These bitches had found the chink in her armor, and they could exploit it any time they wanted. As long as she was tied up, they had her number. Catrina hated that, but denying it wouldn't make it untrue.