EXTRACT FOR
The Begging Chair - Day 3
(Melissa DuVant)
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The Begging Chair Day 3 Melissa DuVant Copyright © Melissa DuVant The right of Melissa DuVant to be identified as the
author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of
the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic
mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. All characters in this book have no existence
outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure
invention. Table of Contents Chapter One: Putting on a Happy Face (Showgirl) Chapter Two: Eroding the Crown (Queen) Chapter Three: Catching Up (Manageress) Chapter Four: Hobbling a Challenger (Champion) Chapter Five: A Temporary Prize (Princess) Chapter Six: Taking the Crown (Queen) Day Three Intermission: Begging Chair Bonus Round Studying Submission Preview - Chapter One: An Isolated Institute I don't know about you, but I think Queen is my favorite - at least in terms of making things happen to her, that she probably doesn't really want! Chapter One: Putting on a Happy Face (Showgirl) A loud electric beeping woke Olivia up, boring into her mind, the lights flashing on and off. It was impossible to ignore, as she rolled over in bed, the lights flaring on brightly, stinging her eyes. What the hell was with this place? Her head throbbed and ached - she wanted to sleep more! But she needed to do well at this stupid competition. Her agent had nagged and bullied her into it, wanting to keep her busy, and to keep her visible, but she hadn't been expecting anything like this! She just wanted some nice, simple contests and challenges, even if she couldn't win them all. Her head throbbed and ached, not helped by the harsh beeping and the strobing of the electric lights, the sound only ceasing when she rolled out of bed. The collar was still locked around her neck, heavy and clunky, warmed now by her body-heat. The apartment air was warm against her bare skin, the place at least comfortable, despite being locked down and isolated. Although given how everyone seemed to be bullying each other, then it was probably for the best that they didn't directly meet - some of the other women seemed scary! Princess was a bossy little brat, and Queen was just scary, and Olivia was glad that they spent most of the time squabbling with each other. Olivia just wanted to be left alone! How much longer would this thing go on for? Although it was hard to tell how long she had even been here for - there had been the humiliating medical examination, then she had been injected with something, and the next thing she remembered had been waking up here, having to pull her way out of plastic wrapping, like a human parcel. That had been several sleeps ago, but it was impossible to know if those were "days" at all. She'd been on closed sets before that had been similar, never seeing daylight, just studio lights until it was over and she could escape into the sunlight. She just wanted some pills to help her calm down! She walked over to the drawers, wanting to get some clothing. She felt tired, not really wanting to put all the work in to dress up and do her makeup, but it was needed for the show. And what might happen if she didn't do it was a worry! The drawer didn't open. She tugged on it harder, wedging her fingers beneath the handle, feeling it rattle, but it was locked shut, refusing to open. The bright lights were making her eyes throb, but another tug on the drawer had no more effect than the previous ones. All she could do was her hair and makeup then, trying to make herself look as good as possible, arranging her hair, adding a touch of colour to her lips and cheeks. It felt good to fall into the routine, letting her mind fade as she moved on instinct, easy and well-practised, looking at herself in the mirror to check she was done. The strobing of the lights got faster and stronger, making her head pound and throb - was she not allowed to stay here? But she was naked! Without clothing, there wasn't much she could do though. Feeling a slow flush creep up her face, she walked towards the door, one hand covering her crotch, the other across her breasts. Olivia fumbled the door open, stepping into the main room, the light there bright, faux-daylight. Her eyes flickered uncomfortably over the room, able to spot a few not-so-hidden cameras, there almost certainly being even more that she couldn't see. The flush intensified - she hated doing nude scenes! This just felt degrading and shameful, and she couldn't hide herself fully, her backside uncovered. Not even underwear! Her stomach rumbled, and she walked towards the kitchen area. Maybe some food and water would help ease the pounding in her head? Although the food in this place was a bit rubbish, even compared to the rushed and hasty meals from an on-set cafeteria. As she approached, water surged, pouring from the tap, and she cupped her hands to drink. There was a strange aftertaste to the water, faintly medical, but it helped to fill her belly. Having to bend over at the waist thrust her ass out, making her feel even more exposed - even though she was alone, she didn't like showing herself off this much! After drinking, her head felt even fuzzier, her thoughts vague and blurry. She heard the door rattle, squeaking in surprise, water splashing off her fingers. When she moved to cover herself with her hands, now she was spreading wetness over her body, stiffly moving towards the door. She at least wanted some clothing! The door was slightly open, and she could see a package inside, a large plastic crate, the outer door still locked. Dragging it inside meant exposing herself again, bending over to pull the heavy thing around, the door swinging shut and locking as soon as she was inside. The plastic crate was plain and unmarked, with several latches sealing it shut. Without anything else to do, she opened it up, finding that it contained several items, bright and shiny leather and metal. She looked at them with fear and trepidation, not sure what they were, carefully picking them out. Boots, high and shiny, coming up to thigh-height, but with brutally high heels, that would force her en-pointe when they were worn, her feet almost vertical. Shiny metal bracelet-cuffs as well, with metal rings hanging loosely, easy to slide over her wrists. And a latex leotard, sleek, black and with a very short, limp skirt attached. But it was better than being naked, so she pulled it on, feeling it tighten over her skin. Inside of the crotch there was a squat, squishy cock-rod. Olivia tried tugging on the crotch-band, feeling the lump slap against her skin, the inner core rigid despite the squashy lumps on the outside. There wasn't really any way to wear the thing with it flapping about, the material pulled super-tight over her skin, revealing every curve of her body. She took hold of it and started easing it in, gently sliding it around to warm herself up first. It was more considerate than her past lovers! And just about the right size. She rocked her hips, sliding the lumps over her slit, her lips loosening, already moist. She was never normally this quick to respond! A sudden blush heated her entire body as she remembered where she was, dashing for the bedroom, and the lack of cameras in there. In the bedroom, it was easier to relax, as she lay on the bed, lightly stroking her breasts with one hand, the other starting to thrust the cock deeper and deeper in. It pushed into her, naturally slippery, especially when aided by her body's own lubricant. It didn't take long until it was pushed deeply within herself, as far as it would go, pushing her open, in a comfortable way. She kept rocking it, enjoying the slowly-building pleasure, closing her eyes and dreaming, fantasising of slow, gentle love-making, rather than being bent over a chair and roughly fucked by an over-eager director, forcing themselves on her. She just wanted to be held, to be loved and caressed! She let her other hand roam over her belly, feeling the soft skin, muscles beneath, sliding over her navel, all while playing with the dildo. Zzzzt! The collar activated, shattering her fantasy, making her body convulse, tears coming to her eyes. She hadn't even wanted to do this! It rumbled against her skin, and she sat up, hastily pulling the leotard into place - it was a snug fit, probably sized just for her, cupping her breasts perfectly, reinforced at the hips and waist to tighten her up into an hourglass figure, a thong sliding between her buttocks. At least it didn't have a plug built in back there! And the skirt helped hide her ass, just a little. Although she could feel something metal against each nipple, hard rings pushing back against them, settling over her nipples. When she touched them, she could feel that there were hard and stiff, pressing back against her body. As her collar rumbled again, she rose, not wanting to be punished further, wiping away a tear that was trickling down a cheek. She was probably meant to get fully dressed? But the boots looked brutal - she'd rather not put them on! High, stiff leather, with a lot of cords and laces to keep them in place, and a thick flap at the top. Pain flared into her neck, making her gasp, loud in the quiet and empty room. Cheer up! Be happy! Or else... The message flashed onto the screen, before she was shocked again. She felt the collar vibrate against her neck, warning her of further pain, and she made herself smile, feeling fake and artificial. Now dress yourself. There was no choice but to get herself into the boots, pulling one onto her leg, the leather coming most of the way up her leg. It unbalanced her, one foot pushed inches higher than the other, and having to do the laces up was complicated and awkward, the leather tightening around her leg, holding her tightly. Getting the other one on was even worse, having to hop-stumble around the place just to pull it on, a vague moment of balance as her legs were equalised, and then all the problems of lacing it up. Her ankles were starting to ache before she was done - it had been years since her ballet lessons - but at least her legs were the same length now. But she had to shuffle around on her toes, the boots tight around her ankles, doing a little to support her, the leather stiff around her knees. The last flap clicked into place, with a worryingly metallic sound. All she could manage were small steps, trying to keep her balance, reaching out to lean against the side, thankful for any chance to take the weight off her legs already. She'd done ballet, years ago, but moving en pointe had always seemed a torture, no matter how good it looked. Zzzzt! The collar shocked her again. Remember, smile! Or you will be punished, Showgirl. Olivia whimpered, forcing her lips into a fake smile, the pain throbbing into her neck. The collar felt even heavier now, settling onto her collarbone, tight around her neck. She tugged on it, twisting it around, the heavy metal band refusing to let go of her. Still forcing herself to fake-smile, she looked around the room, hoping that the fear and panic didn't show in her eyes. She didn't want to be hurt! Come and show your acting skills. Stand in front of the screen. Getting across the room was suddenly far harder, and she had to spread her arms to try and keep her balance, unused to walking on her tiptoes, perpetually about to fall over. Being on tip-toes forced her legs taut, making her pussy tighten up around the cock, the thing even deeper inside of her now, making it hard to think. She could feel some of her juices flowing, smearing on the inside of the leotard. With the boots on, if she fell, then standing up again would be hard! The leather was snug about her thighs, and every step made the skirt sway, threatening to reveal more of her ass and crotch, while it was distractingly tight over her breasts. She felt unbalanced and uneven, slightly detached from everything, as though she were somewhat outside of herself. It was like being on stage, with the audience expecting her to portray the character, discarding herself entirely, but somehow something more, especially with the cock wedged into her. The collar buzzed against her neck, and she tried to hurry, supressing a grimace as she tapped forward, trying to stay stable. The smile was starting to make her cheeks ache, as she moved towards the open space in front of the large screen, the vibrations getting more and more intense. They stopped when she was in place, and she managed to stay in place, swaying slightly, uneven and unbalanced, glad of the stiffness of the leather on her calves and ankles, needing whatever support she could get. Some of her training came back to her, and she neatened her posture, straightening her shoulders, managing to tuck her arms in, and reduce her swaying slightly, feeling the leotard tighten around her breasts, snug and tight. The thong was firmly nestled between her buttocks, tight against her asshole, but at least she didn't have anything inside that hole! The dildo inside of her was distracting enough though, fat and warm, a warm buzzing spreading up through her belly and spine. Smile. A smiley-face icon appeared on the screen, and Olivia made herself smile, feeling her cheeks start to ache. How long would she have to do this for? An image of her face appeared on the screen, small green boxes highlighting her dimples and her cheeks, focusing on the muscles, keeping a steady focus. It made her glad all her makeup was done, her face smooth and attractive, any imperfections hidden away, her lips bright and soft. Face the screen and pose. A stick figure appeared, in a simplified ballet pose. Moving in the boots! She could manage it, but it was bloody hard, the strain getting worse and worse. She had to keep moving, otherwise she would fall, taking careful and deliberate steps, having to pivot awkwardly at the waist to keep herself facing the screen, still smiling, despite the throbbing that was slowly creeping up her cheeks. She planted a foot, or at least a toe, on the floor, slowly and carefully extending the other leg. It was awkward and uncomfortable, raising her leg, keeping it high, bending over at the waist to let her stretch it out fully behind herself. The cock shifted around inside her, the change of posture making it bump and nudge against fresh parts inside herself, her head blurring for a moment. Her leg twitched, and she hastened to put her other foot down, before she fell over. Every movement made the cock lodged into herself more and more overt, the warm stretching mingling with shame and discomfort - hopefully at least anyone watching couldn't see it! The collar jolted her, making her yelp in pain - the green squares flashed red, and she forced herself to smile again. Her cheeks were really starting to hurt now - it would almost be better to have a gag! Although then she would have dribble down her chest, smearing down the outside of the leotard. More directions came, making her parade around the room, twisting her body, the leotard snug and tight. It was like an all-encompassing hug, although the metal rings chafed her breasts slightly, and she could feel her sweat starting to make it stick. She missed a pivot, and felt a new pressure, her nipples through the rings, the things somehow tightening around her skin, compressing and starting to crush. When she turned, her collar triggered again, and she staggered, stumbling into a wall, only barely standing now. This made the rings tighten up even more, the pressure tightening up, starting to throb and ache, pain beginning to surge into her chest. If she tried to remove them, it would probably just result in more punishment! Having to smile through the pain just made the whole thing even more degrading, as though she enjoyed it. But the cock did feel good, fat and warm inside of her, nestled deeply into her. As long as she didn't succumb to the pleasure, then maybe she could get through this? The crushing, pinching pain in her nipples got steadily stronger, but she managed to keep herself smiling, shifting her body as indicated, through strict postures and positions, having to stand on one leg, and then then other, all while tottering on the ballet-heels. Each movement was now making her feel hotter and hotter, some of her juices starting to leak out from beneath the leotard. Any time the smile slipped from her face, her collar shocked her, but they jolts and zaps seemed mild, letting her stay standing, despite the steadily-increasing pain and pleasure. She had to keep careful control of her arms, hearing the metal rings click against the cuffs on her wrists. Olivia picked up speed, feeling more and more confident, despite the increasing pain in her breasts and throbbing pleasure between her legs. Having to keep a smile plastered on her face was making her feel strange, a bizarre happiness despite the shame forced onto her, the twin heats of degradation and pleasure mingling uneasily. A bell chimed out, making her tense, but there was no accompanying pain, instead just a big green tick on the screen. Had she passed? Had she managed to succeed? Even if her ankles were stiff and tense, an increasing pain that threatened to be even more sore if she stopped moving. Congratulations! There was some glitter on
the screen, cascading down from above. Showgirl
has completed her challenge. A prize will
be awarded. She wanted to try and take the boots off, and get the dildo out of herself, or at least use it to get herself off. But the door chimed again, the inner door unlocking. She had to totter over towards it, her face still locked into the now-manic grin, before she rubbed at her cheeks, trying to relax out of the smile. When she opened the door, a delicious scent wafted out. There was a serving cart there, a metal tray in the centre, bright and shiny. It moved, startling her, an electric motor whirring, forcing her to jump aside before it bumped into her. She walked after it, still penetrated, as it moved into the apartment, inhaling the thick, rich scent, herby and mouth-watering. It finally stopped moving, and she cautiously approached, in case it moved again, reaching out and lifting up the tray lid. Steam billowed out, making her mouth water even more - she'd only had that food-paste since getting here, but this was an actual meal! A thick, brothy soup, a vividly-coloured salad, bright tomatoes amidst emerald-green leaves... She caught herself drooling, feeling her mouth fill, as wet and loose as her pussy. Despite the discomfort, she picked up the brilliantly-shiny cutlery, just like something from a 5-star restaurant, and began to eat, trying to be vaguely dainty about it. The food was perfect! Deliciously flavoured, subtle but sweet, and she devoured it, bending awkwardly at the waist, taking small, neat bites, savouring it, and the pleasure of the experience, glad of time without pain. As she ate, a tiredness started to swell inside her head, her focus getting vaguer. The food settled into her belly, making her feel full and comfortable. Surely she deserved a rest now? And maybe she would be allowed more rewards? The food was all gone, although the taste was still strong on her tongue, as she managed to stagger back to the bedroom. How was she so tired? But it was hard to think when she was stuffed, both in her belly, and with the cock inside of herself. It was a relief to sag back onto the bed, feeling darkness welling over her, falling into a slumber. Chapter Two: Eroding the Crown (Queen) Ayaka pushed her head forward, the feeding-cock sliding into her mouth, the slightly rank taste of her own stale spit making her wince. She could see the tank of food-goop, but the only way to get at it was to please the fake cock! If she ever got her hands on that Princess brat, she'd slap her silly, or tie her down and rent her out! She was hungry, and this was the only damn way to eat - down on her knees, hands resting on her legs, steadily rocking her head back and forth. She kissed at the rubbery length, sliding her lips up and down over it, grimacing at the taste, and the forced ,shameful degradation. Cock-sucking was something she should be ordering others to do, not having to do herself! Some dumb, leggy secretary could do the work on her knees, while she did the real work of negotiating the deal, taking advantage of the man's distraction. And this cock was quite a large one, filling her mouth, sliding into her throat. Ayaka tried to avoid taking it too deeply into herself, not wanting to eat up choking and gagging when it spewed forth food. That stupid little Princess-bitch-slut! Dumb and young - she'd look good stripped naked, tied to a post in the rough part of town, her ass and pussy slicked with cum. That would teach her some respect! And the videos would probably sell well on-line - the bitch probably had fans that wanted to see her disgraced. She kept kissing the shaft, careful not to use her teeth, caressing it with her tongue and lips. The motor-pump whirred into life, and she readied herself, feeling it start to spurt into her mouth, thick and creamy. It tasted better than cum at least, although the stuff made her feel woozy. The flow was strong and heavy, and she swallowed desperately, trying not to splutter and cough. She couldn't swallow fast enough, feeling it start to spill out of her mouth. White paste splashed out of her mouth, splattering onto her leather mini-skirt, staining the shiny black material. No matter how quickly she swallowed, it wasn't fast enough, the cock spraying out a torrent of the gunk! To avoid drowning in it, she had to open her mouth wide, food-cum and spit splashing outwards, down her chest, sticking her silk blouse to her chest. It wasn't stopping! She tried stoppering the flow with her tongue, but it was too strong, flowing around it, filling her mouth. She had to stretch her neck forward and tightly clamp her lips around it, feeling her cheeks bulge outwards as she desperately swallowed, trying to keep me from falling out and making a mess. As the flow slow, she managed to swallow most of it, but could feel some of the grainy liquid-paste on her chin, having leaked out. Ayaka slowly disengaged from the cock, kissing it clean, making the black rubber shiny with her own spit. It spurted again, shooting a sticky blast over her face, down her cheek, further splattering her blouse. She growled, not liking the expensive outfit getting ruined, using her fingers to try and clean herself off, wiping her face down and sucking her fingers clean. The wet goop made her blouse stick to her body, turning the material translucent, her black lace bra showing through from beneath. And the markings on the skirt were even worse, creamy pearls atop into the black leather, making it look as though she had been used as a cum-dump! Trying to scrape it off just made it even worse, the white smears looking dirty and cheap. She wasn't some cheap whore! That Princess bitch was going to suffer for this - she'd find where the girl lived, once this contest was over, and then send a few men around, to teach her some respect. But that was for later - now she needed to get through this. The motor surged again, spraying out another burst of cum-food, the stuff splatting onto the floor, a few droplets landing on her toes of her black, knee-high boots. That, at least, she could easily wipe clean without it looking like she'd been used! Her brain felt soft and fuzzy, the anger somewhat diffused through tiredness, although she had only just woken up. Her sense of time was vague and empty though, without any daylight - her long had she been here? Just a few days? But she didn't know how long it had been since starting, there had just been that invasive, degrading medical exam, and then the prick of a needle, before waking up here. She walked away from the cock-feeder before it could try and shoot her again, angrily tugging on a few of the drawers and cupboards, in the hope that one of them might now be open, but all of them resisted her, still locked and sealed. The only food was from the cock then, the shaft still shiny with her own spit. She growled again, staring at the thing with dislike - she wasn't some cock-licking slut, sucking her way to success! There were more messages awaiting her, but she didn't bother opening them - they were probably just Princess again, being a bitch. She needed to bring that slut down, and break her will, make her obedient and silent. She'd be a good office-toy, cuffed to the receptionist's desk, dolled up in tight and skimpy clothing, there to please and service clients until someone could help them with actual business. And a fat, chunky collar, just to remind her of her place! She returned to trying to wipe off the cum-food smears, without any more success, just making herself dirtier. Looking at herself in the mirror didn't make her feel any better - cum down her chin, more on her blouse and skirt. She'd never let herself be used like that! She much preferred being in charge, being powerful and dominant, and having a man pleading for release from beneath her, not being used and slicked with cum herself. She had to brush some of her hair back into shape with her fingers, licking her lips clean, trying to remember to smile for the audience. 'I want a challenge - if I win, then Princess gets punished or penalised.' It still felt strange talking to the empty air, but the tint of the screen changed slightly. Was someone on the other end considering her request? 'You're not going to let me change, are you? So give me something to do, as long as, when I win, Princess gets penalised.' The wardrobe always locked itself after clothing was removed, so until the end of the day, she was stuck with the cum-stained clothing. The logo appeared, slowly rotating and spinning, giving the impression of thinking. The Queen wishes to be kept busy. This shall be granted. The lights of the room all turned off, leaving her in darkness for a moment, utterly blind, powerlessness seeping in, before blinking back on. Should Queen succeed, then Princess will
be penalised. Ayaka grinned, able to ignore the stickiness against her body. As long as that bitch suffered! A rattling sound came from the kitchen area, one of the cabinets opening up, and Ayaka went to investigate. No food, unfortunately, but there was a small plastic crate. After she pulled it out, finding it surprisingly heavy, she moved it in front of the screen, snapping clasps open and lifting the lid off. Inside, amongst thick, foam padding, there were several metal bands, all fat and chunky, heavy even for fashion jewellery, with chains joining them. She picked up a bracelet, the chain gently chiming. Prepare yourself and the challenge will
begin. Ayaka took a deep breath and then put the bracelet on her wrist, snapping it shut. When sealed, it looked solid, with only the thinnest hairline-crack showing that it could open at all. It was heavy enough that she could feel the weight of it, with chains connecting it to two other bands - getting them on without tangling herself up was complicated, but it didn't take long until she had the bands around her wrists and ankles, chains linking them, giving her just enough mobility that she could walk and move, but her strides were shortened and she couldn't fully stretch out her arms. The chains didn't just link the bracelets to each other, but also to the ankle-bands, which were themselves connected. She had to stoop - more chains still connected to something in the crate, beneath more foam. She fumbled through, pulling out a wider, higher metal band, not quite fully circular, dipping low in the front - a collar. Of course. It was heavy in her hands, thick and solid, with an battery-pack attached, the chains running into it, and a metal bell on the front, chiming slightly as she lifted it. She twisted it around, passing it over her head, making sure she wasn't too tangled up in the chains, and that they were all behind her. Her breath quickened, the metal heating up in her hand, but she pressed it against her neck, snapping it shut before she could doubt her own actions. It was cold and heavy, tight around her neck, squeezing slightly against the skin, forcing her head high. It made it harder to turn her head, and the chains rattled whenever she moved, the bracelet-cuffs snug against her skin, the ones around her ankles pressing against her boots. And one more thing. She fumbled around within the box, pushing through the foam. She was already cuffed and chained, what more could there be? Her fingers found something plastic, pushed up against the side, and she pulled it out - a headband, the black plastic curve topped with fluffy cat ears. She stood up, bell chiming, resisting the urge to toss the thing across the room. She didn't want to be a cutesy, dumb, bimbo-bitch! A good girl obeys. Ayaka forced herself to smile. At least she wasn't having to wear a school uniform for some pervert this time! The headband slid over her head, pressing slightly onto her hair, cat-ears now poking up, soft and fuzzy triangles. Good girl. A soft chimed sounded out, Ayaka resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the patronising praise. A good girl keeps busy and silent. Queen will be punished for idleness or
noise. The challenge will now begin. Was that it? That sounded easy. She took a step forward, the chains between her legs snapping taut, the screen tinting itself an amber warning. How sensitive was it? She tried standing in place, her arms in front of herself, chains running behind her body and down her legs, making no sound. The collar-necklace was heavy and uncomfortable, making her breath hitch with every inhalation, and the fuzzy cat-ears were degrading, but she couldn't hear anything. The screen flashed red, and pain burst on her neck, sparks dancing in front of her eyes. She staggered, the chains tinkling. Good girls are not idle! She growled, and the collar rumbled against her neck, silencing her. Her hand raised up towards the smooth metal, but she couldn't even find the thin joining crack now, and there seemed to be no way to get the thing off by herself! She turned and took a slow step, taking some confidence in her knee-high boots, trying to feel strong and powerful. She had to keep the chains tense and taut, not wanting them to make any noise. Good girl! Keep it up! Ayaka wanted to growl, the messages patronising, almost worse than actual abuse, but kept moving, being forced to take mincing and small half-steps, her arms held awkwardly straight out, the chains tense. 'How long do I need to do this for?' A motor whirred, and the tension in the chains increased, the metal getting wound into the collar. Good girls know to stay silent. 'That's stupid!' The collar flared, harder this time, her breathing affected, everything darkening. As she recovered, she saw that wasn't just her - the room lights had tinted darker, shadows pooling beneath the furniture. Now she had slightly less movement as well, her arms and legs able to stretch a little less far, the chains tighter. She felt them wind in further, pulling her arms closer towards her body. 'Hey!' Another motorised whine, and now she could feel pulling at her legs as the chains tightened. She clamped her mouth shut, supressing a growl, trying to keep moving to avoid further punishment. Her steps were forced to be smaller, the chain snapping taut with every step. She could feel it tightening between her wrists, trying to pull them close together, succeeding when she relaxed for a moment. Good girls are polite and quiet. Good girls are seen and not heard. Ayaka tensed her hands into fists, feeling her nails prickle against her palms. The last thing she needed to hear was this patronising garbage! Although having to be spoken to this way while her clothing was covered with the cum-smears was embarrassing. Still, it wouldn't be the first time she'd had to pretend to be sweet and innocent. Studying Submission Preview - Chapter One: An Isolated Institute The hangover jangled Madison's head, her skull throbbing as the car drove up the winding mountain roads. She was thankful for the tinted windows, helping to block out the bright sunlight on steep, tree-filled hillsides. How much had she drunk last night? But it had been a great party - dancing from dusk 'till dawn, going through a blurry succession of clubs, her mind filled with the memories of flashing strobes and heavy bass. Groping hands moving over her butt, attractive men pushing themselves against her, sweat heavy in the air. Not that she'd gone all the way with any of them - although she might have blown one of them in the toilets? That had been after slamming down several shots of vodka, so it was hard to remember though. But the way that the men had looked at her, their eyes hot and covetous... Madison pulled her thighs together, a tired, head-throbbing pulse of lust washing through her. Was she even wearing underwear? A memory flashed up, of her pulling them off, holding the skimpy lace out, before rubbing them onto the face of someone, grinding against them and feeling their cock pushing against their jeans, before leaving them there, frustrated and denied. 'You need to be on your best behavior.' Madison groaned as her bitch of a stepmother spoke, primly perched on her seat. She was dressed in a close-fitting black dress and pearls, paid for with Daddy's money, of course. Money-grubbing bitch! Why Daddy had married her... 'You've been causing a lot of problems recently, so I convinced your father to take action. This is a chance to make a new start - a finishing school, far away from any... negative influences. And it's costing a lot of money, so I do hope you won't disappoint your father again. You're almost twenty, you should be behaving more like an adult!' If Madison hadn't been so hung-over, then she would have stuck her tongue out, but her mouth was dry and gungy, and all she wanted to do was sleep, maybe after a good fuck, or at least a session with a vibrator. She was twenty, yet was still treated like a child! The car turned around a mountain-edge, and a valley opened up - a picturesque mountain village was neatly contained around a sparkling lake, wood-framed houses set around a village square. Madison groaned - the place was tiny, and definitely wouldn't have any clubs or bars! Overlooking the village was an odd mixture of a castle and manor. Thick grey walls were softened with flower-covered vines, a blocky central tower rising up from behind it, windows reflecting the sunlight. But next to that was a castle-manor like something from a TV shows, a combination of sturdy grey stone and less military mansion. It was like something from a theme park, except real, with splashes of color - more flowers? - visible at the windows. Madison's stomach lurched as the car dipped down a steep slope, bumping her around in her seat. 'Here. Drink this.' Her stepmother handed over a bottle of water, the stuff looking cloudy, but Madison didn't care, opening it up and gulping it down. She'd need to go for a piss soon, but she needed liquids! The road through the village was cobblestones, the bumping around making Madison's entire body ache, her head too numb to form thoughts. All that she noticed through the village was that there seemed to be more young women than expected, all dressed in a uniform - knee-length black skirts and white blouses, with red blazers, most wearing tights. A uniform? She wasn't a kid! Although it did look tighter than most, highlighting their breasts and waists. The agonizing cobblestones continued, as they drove up towards the castle. The place was surrounded by large, open gardens, old-fashioned statues set amongst greenery, box hedges blocking her vision, with smaller buildings half-hidden amongst the estate. It was a relief when the vehicle finally stopped, the juddering throbbing no longer running through her bones, the motor clicking off. The door was opened, warm air and sunlight rushing in, Madison fumbling to put sunglasses on. Outside was stood a young woman, wearing the same uniform, a black choker around her neck, with black leather gloves on her hands. She had wavy and glossy black hair that fell partway down her back, tied at the nape of her neck with a leather band, and smooth brown skin. She looked at Madison, making her feel suddenly self-conscious - she hadn't changed from last night, and was still wearing a tight and short silver party dress, coming barely to her thighs, her heels discarded for the moment, her feet bare. Madison tried to stare back, but was too tired, looking away first. 'Madison, I believe? You are late, but the headmistress is expecting you.' They reached forward, grabbing Madison's arm and pulling her forward, out of the vehicle. She was too weak to resist, the woman stronger than she looked, leather-wrapped hands gripping tightly. Her bare feet touched onto a gravel floor, the stones spiking her feet. She yelped in pain, trying to shift her balance, but there was no way to get comfortable, as she danced around. Madison tried to jump back into the car, but the woman's grip was too tight. 'Let me go!' They changed their grip, pulling her closer, the gravel spiking her feet again, before wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her up, carrying her over a shoulder. It shoved into her stomach, making it hard to breath, and making her head tilt downwards against their chest. Madison's long, blonde hair flowed downwards, getting into her eyes, as she tried to crane her neck to look around, feeling one hand tighten on her bare ass. She almost barfed, the taste of bile rising up in her throat, and then the woman started to move. From the position Madison was in, she could see that they were wearing brown leather flats, black stockings sheathing her legs. Madison was carried inside, through a grand wooden doorway, grumpy-looking statues glaring at her from both sides. Another schoolgirl was sat behind a desk and nodded at them, before scribbling something into a fat leather book, an inside door then opening with a metallic click. Inside was revealed luxury - a red-and-gold rug covered most of the stone floor of a waiting room, the walls covered with expensive-looking paintings and ornaments. They lifted Madison off their shoulder, putting her on the floor, the rug beneath her feet, keeping one hand on her shoulder. Their gaze was strong, as they reached out and gently plucked Madison's sunglasses off her face. 'It would be better not to annoy the headmistress on your first day.' She looked down at Madison's clothing. 'More than you're already going to, at least.' They brushed their hand against Madison's face, tidying her hair a little, close enough that her body pressed against Madison's. They were wearing makeup, but it was very restrained, "natural" looking, save for smokey mascara circling her eyes, and her lashes were long and soft. The door clicked shut just after Madison's stepmother passed through, some device within the thick wood locking into place. There was a skylight, high above them, but only one other door, this one just as sturdy-looking. What was this place? Madison had been drunk when the bitch had been telling her about it, other than that she was being sent "away" to help with her "problems". The inner door opened, and another young woman stepped out. Her skirt was shorter, coming to just above her knee, but her face was red and ugly, with tears running down her cheeks. Her hands were held open, and Madison could see that her palms were covered with red marks, before she twisted them away, turning back to face into the room and bowing, deep enough that the back of her skirt rose up, revealing that her thighs were covered with more thin red marks, some starting to darken into bruises. After bowing, she turned back, her tear-filled eyes meeting Madison's for a second, before she scurried away, slamming against the door and having to hammer on it before it opened. The sounds of her footsteps retreated, going silent as the door shut once again. Madison swallowed, suddenly nervous, her bladder full. Could she go for a toilet break? But her guide took a firm grip and pulled her forward, fingers like iron, digging painfully into the bones of her wrist. She was yanked through the doorway, into the adjoining room. It was even larger than the waiting room, although the stone floor was cold on her feet - there was a large rug, arabesque patterns of red and blue and white, around an imposing desk. The walls were covered with dark wooden shelves, leatherbound books and ornaments in place. Wood rattled, drawing Madison's attention, to where a tall, slender woman was sliding a wooden stick into a pot holding a whole bunch of the things. She was dressed in an ankle-length skirt, her blouse showing off an hour-glass figure, corset wrapped around her waist, black hair scraped up into a bun. 'Mrs. Kitherton? And you must be Madison?' She turned and walked back to her desk, sitting down on the heavy wooden chair in place behind it, the thing high-backed, like a throne. Of to one side was a strange ornament, what looked like hinged wooden blocks stood up atop a wooden base. Although there were windows, they were only narrow, the room filled with soft shadows, details of what was on the shelves impossible to make up. She wanted to lay down and rest, to sleep off the head-throbbing hangover! The woman dragging her around let go, standing back and out of sight. Madison's step-mother walked forward, seeming nervous herself. 'Yes. I heard about your... establishment from a friend who sent her daughter here. Reiko Ishikawa?' 'Oh yes, little Reiko. Yes, she took some work to shape, but she got there in the end. And is now happily married. It's always a delight when one of the students is taken as a wife. Now, this is... Madison, I believe?' Her voice hardened, any warmth draining away as she addressed Madison, looking her up and down. Madison stared back, trying to ignore the still-throbbing headache, now shot through with tiredness. She wanted to sleep! But she wasn't going to be a good girl for this old bitch, although she couldn't help but tug on the hem of the dress, trying to pull it down a little, to cover more of her thighs, hoping that it wouldn't be noticed that she had nothing on beneath. 'Yes.' 'Yes, Ma'am. While you are here, you will behave with respect towards your superiors. It would be a poor start if you were to begin with some demerits.' Her look was strong and powerful, forcing Madison to look away. 'Isabella will be your grande sœur - it will be up to her to explain how things work here. And to make sure that you are behaving appropriately. It seems as though you have been allowed a little too much freedom - that ends now. Your guardians have determined that this is the best for you. There is no escape from here - the sooner you accept that the better. Now, Isabella, take your petite sœur in hand.' Madison heard a tearing sound, taking a moment to realize that it was the sound of fabric getting torn, leather-gloved fingers tearing at the neckline of her dress and ripping downwards, tearing it away from her body. Cool air suddenly kissed against her skin and she realized she was naked, forcibly stripped. Fierce shame burned through her, the prickling hot-cold flushes of humiliation. Her hands moved to cover herself, one over her crotch, the other over her breasts, as she tried to hunch over protectively. 'As you command, Headmistress Lehrerin.' A gloved hand gripped the back of her neck, pushing her forward. 'Hey! Let go!' Madison tried to wriggle away, but the grip on her neck was strong, the other student implacable. She didn't dare move her hands away, not wanting to show herself, as she was shoved forward. The large rug was warmer than the bare stone, but she didn't want to be naked! She tried fighting free again, kicking backwards, feeling her heel connect against a leg. A stiff hand chopped into her flank, just beneath her ribs, before she was simply picked up, lifted off the ground and back onto their shoulder. Madison bought her hands down, punching them in the back, but it made no difference, not even stopping their movement. Her senses spun and swam, hangover making her wanting to retch. As she inhaled to protest again, she got flipped through the air again, the back of her head knocking against the desk, dazing her. Her vision wavered, the dark wood of the ceiling flickering around as she stared up at the headmistress. She reached forward and twisted the wood, bringing it down over Madison's neck. When she tried to rise up, the wood didn't move, locking her into place. She couldn't see what was happening, but her hands were pulled back onto the desk as well, more wood hinging downwards, forcing her into a painfully arched position, feet shuffling awkwardly. 'Fuck off! What is this! Let me go!' She flailed with her legs, only stopping when a hand grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing tightly. 'Isabella was on the disciplinary committee - she is very skilled at keeping her fellow students on the straight and narrow. Now, Madison, I know that you are new, so I am willing to be somewhat merciful. Apologize to your grande sœur, or there will be consequences. As she will be in charge of you, I would advise humility.' 'No! Let me go! Stupid bitch.' A hand slapped her belly, her tit still getting crushed. 'Another word from you, and you will lose the privilege of speech.' 'You can't do this! Let me grphhhh!' The headmistress pushed a thick wad of cloth into her mouth, shoving it between her teeth. It immediately started to soak up her spit, more fabric getting pushed in, making her cheeks bulge out. 'Mpphhh!' 'Silence. Students that disobey are punished.' Madison tried pushing with her tongue, wanting to get her mouth free, but the headmistress tutted, before holding up some kind of leather strap, with a thick middle part and a bright buckle. The middle padded bit was placed over her mouth, before the strap was wound around her head. 'Mpphh! Lphhh!' There was no way to dislodge the fabric, and it was wicking away all the moisture in her mouth. 'Not the best of starts. Isabella, I leave the rest of her education to you. I was hoping to have her change into her new uniform, but her behavior shows that she is not yet worthy of it. Perhaps exposure to the alternative will render her more obedient? Now, I need to settle some formalities, and payment, with Mrs. Kitherton. You may walk your new petite sœur to her room.' She flicked Isabella's forehead, before touching some part of the restraint device and releasing it from the desk. She was pulled up to a standing position, her arms now locked into the yoke, in line with her head, elbows down. The wooden thing was so tight she couldn't slide her wrists out, her hands grasping at air. With her head locked into place, she was looking up, her stomach roiling, chest aching from the strikes and blows. Metal clicked, and the wooden block was detached from the upright bar. She was pulled upwards, bringing her face to face with Isabella. She tried to whimper through the gag, but couldn't manage more than a desperate whimper, before Isabella hooked fingers through a ring on the front of the wood. There was no way to resist, as she was dragged away, cool air sliding over her naked body. They dragged her forward, pushing the door open. Shameful prickles flushed through her, hot and cold, her body entirely exposed, her squeezed tit still aching. Isabella was moving fast, never giving Madison the chance to recover herself, pulling her back through the waiting room and the entrance hall, and then outside. The chauffeur saw her, smiling and shocked as he looked at her naked body, and she wanted to curl up and die of shame. She barely even noticed the biting gravel stabbing at her feet, as she was pulled forward, and then into another building. More young women, all in the uniform, were there, staring at the interruption. 'Npphh!' But there was no way to fight back or resist, and her mind was fuzzy and dazed. She lost track of directions, getting hauled through hallways and passageways, up a spiral staircase, knocking her toes against a steep step. Another wooden door was already ajar, leading to a room she barely glimpsed before getting pulled into a tiny, cell-like bedroom, with a small bed, a tiny window and a wooden chest. She was thrown onto the bed. 'I was hoping for a nice, polite petite sœur. But it seems that I'll have to be rougher with you. Unfortunately, you seemed determined to act up - if you ever shame me like that in front of the headmistress again, then I'll be punished as well. And if that does happen, then you can be sure that I'll take it out on you.' As Madison tried to stand, Isabella straddled her, pinning her in place with her own weight. She reached over to the chest and pulled out some rope and a leather sack. The rope went through the loop on front of the wood, then around the bed-frame, getting tied short, dragging her head over the pillow. 'You can think about your future behavior. Afterwards, I'll be teaching you correct behavior. Harshly, if needed.' She squeezed a nipple, hard enough to make Madison squeak, then shook out the sack. The opening was wide, and it was then dragged over Madison's head, plunging her into darkness. It tightened around her neck, locking out the light, before Isabella stood up. 'Good girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished. The better you behave, the more likely you are to graduate to a good home.' 'Mpphhh!' The rope held steady when Madison tried moving, making the yoke tighten around her neck, choking her. She spiraled down into darkness, giving in to the tiredness the rose up within her. |