 |
|||
|
|
Melissa tried to shift her mind away from this annoying experience by reading her assigned books, but the most she could manage was a couple of minutes worth of focus before her thoughts sneakily turned to the memory of her kneeling down on the floor with the tips of shiny black pumps just under her nose.
Perhaps a couple of hours later, Melissa was marched out of the cell and led towards the administrative section of the building. She was curious if the director wanted to see her again, but that was not to be the case. The accompanying guard led her to an unfamiliar office door. The guard’s polite knock was responded to with a soft female voice: “Enter!”.
For a moment Melissa was afraid that she was going to come face to face who the woman who gave her the ultimate power-trip treatment back in the corridor. The chained girl was briefly relieved that that wasn’t the case, but the reality didn’t present itself much better. Inside a spacious, well-lit and modernly furnished office, behind a glass-top desk on elephant-tusk legs, sat a young and very beautiful woman. She must have been in her early 20’s with shoulder length locks of blonde hair surrounding an angelically sweet face that carried an expression of both innocence and calm authority. She wore a pink, somewhat fluffy turtleneck blouse and a smart knee length skirt that ended just over black high heel boots on her feet. The woman kept her focus on the computer screen seated on her desk and occasionally plugged away on the keyboard.
The guard pushed Melissa inside and led her by the arm to the only piece of furniture in the room befitting a prison complex. There was a metal pole at the center, affixed to the ground, about three feet in height, with a ring at the top of it. The ring was attached in a similar manner as a knocker on a door. The guard unchained Melissa’s wrists from the front and restrained them in the back instead, adding a padlock to fix the chain between handcuffs to the metal ring. Melissa felt highly uncomfortable at this proceeding. Being led and manhandled was always a humiliating and humbling experience. The situation was now made worse by the fact that she was standing, restrained and naked, with her breasts jutting forward as if on attention, in front of this beautiful young girl. It made the blow to her dignity all the more severe.
“What does she want from me?” – thought Melissa – “She looks like she could be in high school or a college junior at most. Why do I have to stand here in front of her!”
The uncomfortable situation continued for a few more minutes while the young beauty kept herself immersed in her work without throwing even a fleeting glance at Melissa. This, besides her humiliating position, started to add to Melissa’s sense of annoyance; she was acutely aware of how her already large breasts were thrust forward as a product of her hands being chained behind her back. The guard who led her into the room remained standing off to the side, twitching his rather prominent mustache and lazily switching his gaze from Melissa’s cleavage to the boot-clad legs of the young woman behind the desk.
Melissa couldn’t stand looking ahead anymore so she started observing the details of her surroundings, anything to get her mind off of her position. The office was rather spacious and there were few items in it, which resembled typical administrative work. There were some cabinets containing decorative dishes and vases, some figurines of elephants and other animals. There were a couple of large plants in the corners and paintings on the walls. All of this actually proved very stimulating for a girl who spent the past few weeks in grey, featureless cells, staring at handcuffs joining her wrists.
“Stand straight and look forward!” – came a firm order from the guard.
Melissa jumped at the unexpected shout and reflexively reassumed a forward facing position. Even the lady at the desk briefly took her eye off the computer screen and took a quick glance at the prisoner before returning to her work. The woman’s fingers continued tapping at the keyboard, with brief interludes, for a couple more minutes before she accentuated the final few key strokes, slung the keyboard aside with some controlled vigor and turned her comfy, rotary chair towards the middle of the room.
“I am sorry it took so long.” – said the young woman in a soft, feminine yet authoritative voice – “I simply had to finish this report before 5pm. Fortunately it’s done now so we can attend to the matters at hand. Your name is Melissa, correct?”
“Yes.” – responded Melissa quietly through a lump in her throat, looking straight forward, but just above the woman’s head.
“My name is AnnaLynne Owens and I supervise all prisoner assessors here at ICBG. Your assigned assessor has unexpectedly quit her job a few days ago, which is why you were brought directly to me. Do you know why you are here?”
“No, I don’t…”
“It’s ‘No, I don’t, Madam’! Speak properly!” – shouted the guard.
Miss Owens made a calming gesture extending her palm towards the guard.
“It’s ok, Sir. I don’t like to be called “Madam”. It makes me feel dated. You may leave us alone now. I’ll call for you when we are done here. Thank you!”
The guard frowned a little bit at being admonished, but he was apparently under the spell of Miss Owens’ beauty, not to mention her clearly superior rank, as he promptly left the room taking measured, marching steps towards the door.
“Ok, Melissa, I received a complaint from one of my staffers that you were disobedient to her requests. She said that she had to repeat herself three times before you complied. Is that true?”
“Well, if you’re talking about what happened in the cell hall a couple of hours ago then I would say it’s not. She didn’t request anything reasonable from me that I could do.”
“It is not for you to decide what is reasonable and what is not. What did she order you to do?”
Melissa’s face flushed with suppressed anger as she pondered her response. Her clenched fists were white knuckled while her wrists tugged at the handcuffs.
“She told me to kneel down on the floor!”
“Ok, I understand that you may not be used to doing that, but it doesn’t seem very difficult to do. Did you follow her order promptly?”
“I did it pretty soon, not immediately, but soon.”
“Did anything else happen?”
“Well, there wasn’t anything… no, not really.”
“Well, think about it.” – said AnnaLynne – “My staff member also reported that you were slow to kiss her feet on command.”
“You know everything already, so why are you asking me!?” – blurted out Melissa and immediately became anxious of the repercussions of her outburst causing her to hunch her shoulders forward almost imperceptibly.
“Listen, Melissa, you are here to learn, first and foremost. I know you might have been told differently, but you are actually allowed to make mistakes. However, it’s important that you always put forth your best attitude. I can tell that you’re trying to overcome some bad habits… it’s just that you’re not quite there yet. I am contemplating what to do with you now. Let me see…”
The young beauty pulled back the keyboard of her computer and proceeded to type away for a few seconds. Melissa could see the outline of her slim, but curvy figure and the statuesque outline of her facial profile as she immersed in this work. There are hardly words to describe the jealousy and shame that a chained prisoner felt towards the presence of a free young woman flaunting her sexuality in such an obvious though casually understated way. Miss Owens turned her sweet face back to meet Melissa’s eyes.
“Ok, looking at your file, I see that you’ve been kept in level C so far and that you haven’t had any serious transgressions during your stay. A couple of minor admonishments from the psychologists are all that I see. I am tempted to just let this issue slide, but I’ve done it before and it usually backfired on me. So… let’s go for a compromise, shall we?”
Melissa didn’t know if the woman was really expecting an answer to this question so she chose to remain silent and wait. She felt the big lump in her throat that has been growing steadily ever since she was walked into this room choke her up almost to a fit of cough. Despite a very strong resolve to abstain from crying, fueled mostly by her intrinsic pride and strong self-esteem, Melissa could not hold back the tears that trickled out of the corners of her eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths to conceal sobbing contortions that gripped her chest and awaited being told her fate.
“I am going to increase your security level, meaning that you will be reassigned to be housed on level D. It will, however, be probationary and your status will be reviewed in just five days. As long as you display a proper attitude, and conduct yourself in accordance to the rules, you can be sure that this measure will be lifted. Do you think that’s fair?”
“Uhh, I don’t know what that means exactly. I mean, I think so. Will being on level D be much different from where I was?”
“It will be a little harder for you, I am sure. I can’t tell you the specifics right now, you’ll be briefed on the rules and restrictions when you get there, but it’s a general rule that you want to be closer to the beginning of the alphabet when it comes to your security assignment at an ICBG prison. Do you have any other questions?”
“No....” – said Melissa in a hushed voice. The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. She understood that there was no real choice in the matter. Her fate was out of her control and at the moment rested entirely in the pretty hands of the young, ambitious overachiever, who was eyeing her with calmness unbecoming of the bizarre situation.
Miss Owens pressed a red button affixed on the left side of her desk and a couple of seconds later the doors swung open, precipitating the guard’s burly figure entering the office.
“Please escort the prisoner to the level D lock-up area. I will send them her guidelines in just a minute.”
The guard smirked at the side of his lips, unlocked the padlock locking the handcuffs to the pole, and grabbed Melissa by the arm leading her out of the room.
“Good luck Melissa!” – chirped Miss Owens as the pair were exiting – “I will be inspecting level D in a couple of days so I’ll make sure to pay you a visit…”
The door shut behind Melissa and the guard just as Ms Owens finished her speech. A couple of minutes later, Melissa found herself, still handcuffed behind her back, in an elevator boxcar riding down a shaft towards new lengths of despair. Every time she descended deeper into this hellish prison, it seemed as if a portion of her former life’s memories were replaced by this grim reality. The elevator finally came to a stop and the safety bars moved aside revealing a concrete-walled room with a large pulpit facing the entrance. The desk, though solitary, was solid and stout, occupied by electronic equipment in the shape of flat screens, status panels, keyboards, switches and levers. There were a couple of men dressed in dark green uniforms who monitored the various controls. As soon as the guard led Melissa into the room, one of the men took a glance at a screen in front of him and motioned the pair to stop.
“This prisoner was just assigned to be housed here. You should be getting instructions shortly.” – said Melissa’s guard.
“Acknowledged.” – replied one of the green clad men – “We don’t have the directives yet, but we need a few minutes anyway as the cellblock area is in lockdown and we can’t setup an entry interview for her. Put her in holding cell ‘C’. It’s behind you to your right.”.
The guard turned Melissa around by her shoulders and they were now facing the elevator entrance. There were three sets of metal doors on either side of the elevator, embedded in the wall. The doors were not much wider than school lockers and resembled them in appearance. Plaques with gothic style letters labeled the cells from “A” on the left to “F” on the right. Melissa soon figured out that the lofty description of these compartments as “holding cells” was a major euphemism. The insides were barely spacious enough to accommodate a slender girl like her in a standing position. Granted, her butt cheeks protruded backwards in a gravity defying way as did her breasts in the opposite direction, but the dearth of space afforded to her was still sickening and offensive to her sensibilities. Nonetheless, she was pushed backwards into the compartment with her face towards the locker entrance as the guard pressed the metal door to close with some practiced gentleness. The soft approach was a necessity in this case as Melissa’s breasts had to be literally squeezed inside for the door to close. There was a small, barred opening at face level, which now provided the only connection between Melissa and the outside of her tiny cage. She could see the guard who escorted her down to level ‘D’ entering the elevator and soon a mechanical humming sound signaled his departure. The figures seated at the desk continued about their business without paying any further heed to Melissa’s presence.
A few minutes passed before a couple of guards entered the room from the door on the right and retrieved a curvaceous blonde girl from the confines of holding cell ‘A’. Melissa was startled at the fact that there was someone else besides her in these tiny compartments. The room was so abjectly quiet in the preceding minutes that it was hard to believe that another beautiful female could be in such close proximity. The girl was handcuffed behind her back and shackled in leg irons in exactly the same manner as Melissa. The guards led her to the door on the right from which they entered just seconds ago. All was quiet again, after their departure, save for an occasional tapping of fingers on the elaborate keyboards and switches operated by the green uniformed men.
Melissa was growing restless and tired in her restrictive predicament. Objectively, she was in terrific physical shape having practiced Yoga and non-contact martial arts coupled with healthy eating habits in the past few years. However, the mental stress of her position and the unusual restriction of movement combined to dissipate her natural energy into a pitiable state of malaise. She never thought that her calves could hurt so much from the simple fact that she could not bend them under the weight of her own slender body.
Finally, a loud clank broke the contemplative mood. Two guards have entered the processing area and opened Melissa’s holding cell. The girl, exhausted as she was from her ordeal in the standing cell, was led straight through the passage into an adjacent room. Melissa stumbled slightly in her leg irons, feeling a bit lightheaded at being released from the tight confines. It took a few moments of focused recovery before she could begin to contemplate her new surroundings. The walls of the room conveyed a grim and gloomy picture of a featureless dungeon. Melissa found herself in a rectangular area lit by several lights affixed in the ceiling. The room was rather small and the prominent place was occupied by a wooden desk with a couple of strobe-capable lights focused against a solitary metal pole, this one extending up to about eight feet from the floor. Curiously, she was not led to the pole itself, but rather to the chain that hung off of a horizontal extension of the pole, a couple of feet towards the stationary desk. The chain was augmented by a leather collar, which looked brutal and ominous in the glow of a spot light.
The guard looped the leather band around Melissa’s neck and tightened it in the back. He made sure that the collar was just a little too snug for comfort and indeed Melissa found that her breathing had to be labored in order to satisfy the demand of her body over the constraint imposed by the collar. To make matters worse, the guard pulled on the length of the chain on the other side of the ceiling pulley and brought Melissa up to her toes, even forcing her head slightly to the side as that was the only position capable of accommodating the elevation of the collar without suffocating.
Melissa was forced to wait in this restrictive predicament for a few minutes before a suit clad man entered the room seating his burly frame at the seat behind the desk.
“Hello there, pretty lady! I apologize if your accommodation is a little bit uncomfortable, but I can’t do anything about that at the moment. What is your name?”
Melissa lifted herself just a little bit higher on tiptoes to alleviate the tightness imposed by the leather collar and managed to blurt out her name.
“Melissa. That sounds nice! You don’t need to know my name. It’s enough for you to know that I manage the level-D lockdown area and I make sure to have at least a quick chat with every prisoner that comes through this door. My goal is to ensure that you move back up as quickly as possible, although the outcome is inevitably up to your behavior and compliance. To put it bluntly, you will not like your stay down here. As much as you may have been surprised, outraged even, over your treatment thus far, I can assure you that it will get worse down here. Do you understand?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me if I understand?” – exclaimed Melissa. Her eyes were tearing up at this point and the lump in her throat was growing again, which didn’t sit well with the tightness of the collar.
“I have no idea what this place is… I just know… Will you please just let me out of here?!?”
“You know that’s not going to happen. I see that you’ve only served a few weeks of your two year sentence and your beauty quotient has been set extremely high, which pretty much takes away any possibility of an early release. You have to prepare yourself to serve the full sentence. It is, ultimately, for your own good.”
“Stop telling me what’s good for me! How can you possibly know? I’ve been doing my best to keep quiet and out of trouble, but I am tired right now! After all the things that I’ve been through and put up with, I am just being punished further. What more can I possibly do?!”
“Melissa. Restrain yourself or your stay here will be much longer than currently prescribed for you! You have lived a sheltered life and most of your outrage comes from the fact that you consider yourself above ordinary human beings. Your stay at ICBG is supposed to humble you, I won’t deny that, but most of the measures that are taken to control you are simply safety precautions, and in some cases they are specifically targeting long-term resocialization.”
Melissa, at this point, closed her eyes tightly and focused more on her labored breathing and aching foot arches than the pompous speech of the man in front of her. She was experiencing a slight nervous breakdown and all her will was bent on getting out of the situation. The interrogator took a few glances at the tortured goddess in front of him and realized that further conversation was useless. He called for the guards and soon two of them appeared in slick black uniforms. They unchained Melissa’s neck and let her through a doorway on the right side of the room.
The trio entered a hall, surprising in its expanse, consisting of a metal crate surface, with a solid floor visible a story underneath, and rows upon rows of rectangular hatches on both levels. Most of the hatches were tightly shut by steel doors, but a number of them, here and there, were gaping open to reveal iron bars right behind the sliding doors. As they were advancing through the corridor, Melissa could catch a glimpse of the interiors of a few of the open cells. Some of them were lit and others were dark except for the light emanating from the corridor, but in all of the “open” cells, Melissa could see prisoner girls in various forms of restraint and discomfort. To be more precise, she could see the girls in some of the cells, while the others were too dimly lit and passed by too quickly to spot the inhabitants, but imagination quickly filled those gaps. The most startling of the “exhibits” was one partially concealed in the darkness of the cell, only vaguely illuminated by the deflected lights of the corridor. There was an unmistakable silhouette of an hourglass female form in the far corner of the cell, but its appearance was very unusual. For starters, it appeared above the ground, suspended. The girl’s body was stretched, rigid, with arms by her sides, obviously restrained and forced to remain in this position. A chain extended from just above the girl’s head and up to the ceiling.
Melissa perceived the shocking image in a fraction of a second as she was being led rather quickly down the corridor. Just a moment later, she began to doubt her faculties especially as they seemed to have gotten past all of the open cells.
Now the guards veered left leading their prisoner to one of the sealed hatches. The door was unlocked by one of the officers through pulling aside a couple of heavy deadbolts. The interior revealed a small rectangular compartment, lined with gray painted bricks on the walls and nearly devoid of any furniture. There was a thin mattress in one corner of the cell, but the main focus was drawn towards an object that stood, or rather hung, in the other far corner. Melissa could no longer doubt her earlier scary impression and she shuddered with her whole body, her handcuffed wrists pulling apart painfully, and her breasts bouncing in accord with the motion. There was a metal contraption, painted black, molded in the form to contain a human body, hanging from a chain affixed in the ceiling. Its purpose was so ominous and so inescapably obvious that Melissa stumbled backwards before she was held in place, with anticipatory calmness, by the guards.
“Ok sweetie, this is your home from now on.” – spoke one of the guards whose voice mixed irony and indifference in tone – “You are expected to stay quiet while in here. You can see that you have a mattress to sleep on over here. You are allowed to lay down on it unless expressly forbidden. And over here, is your “other” bed.” – said the guard pointing to the metal contraption. “You will spend every other night in it starting tonight. You may also find yourself confined to it if you misbehave. We know from experience that pretty young girls go to great lengths to avoid it having experienced its grip even once.”
“A couple of other things you should know…” – said the other guard – “You probably know this already as they should have told you, but the orientation processes tend to be sloppy sometimes… You are not allowed to urinate or defecate outside of the allowed schedule. Twice a day, you will be given a bed pan and you can relieve yourself into it. You will have ten minutes to do it each time. The bed pans will generally be dispensed after meals of which you will also be given two a day…. Now don’t worry, you won’t starve here, you will also get a couple of portions of fresh fruit and vegetables, which we don’t count as meals. But those meals will not be followed by dispensing bed pans. Just so you now. Now, let’s get you settled here.”
The guards uncuffed Melissa’s wrists from behind her back, which brought quite a relief as her joints were protesting from being stretched for such a long amount of time. The relief was so great that she felt almost no indignation when her hands were chained in front of her and a set of light leg irons was placed around her ankles. The guards shut the steel bars confining Melissa to her cell and walked off to carry out other duties.
Melissa was left all on her own again. The events of the past few hours were draining so she desired nothing more than to drop down on the mattress and rest. This proved to be a good strategy for the next half hour or so until she woke up from a brief slumber, immediately startled and alert. There was no immediate need for attention. Her cell was semi-dark and empty and the corridor outside was quiet as well. For the hundredth time, Melissa was struck with the surreal nature of her predicament. She was sitting naked inside a small concrete cell, with her wrists and ankles bound by restrictive chains, and her body was on display for all those who had the authority to pass through these halls. The change from her former life was almost to incomprehensible to bear, yet as much as she shut her eyes and tried to wish it away like a bad dream, it would not go away. It was present in her surroundings and it was augmented by the chains that restricted her movement.
Chapter 12
Melissa spent a couple of hours in the gloomy darkness of her cell. There was a period that lasted no more than a quarter of an hour when the light came on, brightly illuminating her prison, before going off again. As long as it was on, Melissa couldn’t help but to stare at the frightening device, which hung just a few feet from where she sat. The rigidness of its structure, and the maliciousness of its purpose, was as dreadful to behold as it was impossible to ignore.
Eventually, a sound of booted feet could be heard that slackened the pace and grew louder near Melissa’s cell and a tall silhouette could be seen against the brightly lit backdrop of the corridor. A guard opened the lock mounted on the steel bars of Melissa’s enclosure and walked towards the girl still curled up on the thin mattress lining the corner of her cell.
“Stand up!” – came the order.
Melissa got up to her feet in a deliberately slow way in order to exercise even the tiniest bit of control over her fate that could be reclaimed in her miserable position. The guard took her by the arms and straightened her out by pushing her shoulders backwards. Then he cupped her chin in his hand and moved it from side to side several times. Melissa was trying to breathe deep and stay focused within herself. It was unspeakably annoying whenever she was manhandled in a similar manner and it took tremendous self control to remain stoic about it. She would have blown up many times before, but ICBG was very intimidating in every respect and even a spoiled, pretty girl could sense that being petulant was going to prompt swift and intense punishments. As ashamed as she was to admit it, even to herself, she was subjugated to her jailers’ whims, even if there was still a fiery personality behind the abiding exterior.
“Do you have any physical pain that’s troubling you right now?” – asked the guard.
“No…” – said Melissa instinctively, it was a bit strange that a guard asked about her well-being – “My wrists and ankles are hurting a bit.” – she added as to not sound so agreeable.
“That’s normal given that you are restrained. You are fit for nightly immobilization then. There is one main thing you should know about this procedure. If you appeal for help, it will be administered to you very quickly. However, if it is found that you were simply seeking some superficial comfort, and not fallen on dire straits, it will result in some very severe repercussions. You will not be trusted again… it’s the ‘boy who cried wolf’ type of thing. The best thing for you is to be quiet and obedient. Let’s get you ready now…”
There was a length of chain protruding out of the wall near the suspended metal cage and the guard manipulated it now and fed the chain upwards in such a way that the mechanism unlocked and allowed for the cage to be lowered down on the floor. It laid down on the ground slowly albeit loudly and the guard proceeded to open the padlocks affixed on the left side, three in total, and opened the hideous contraption by lifting the top half on its hinges. The interior of the device was now exposed and menacing. The guard took Melissa’s hands and proceeded to remove her handcuffs. He also knelt down and took the leg irons off her ankles, obviously savoring all the physical contact he could make with the pretty legs of the captive girl.
“Lay down on your back, right here.” – the guard pointed to the interior of the device.
Melissa hesitantly stepped into the metal framework. The metal bands comprising the device were rather harsh on the soft soles of her feet, which hastened her approach. She laid down on her back as ordered and the guard lifted the heavy front portion of the device. The metal bands pivoted in Melissa’s view and stopped just short of her body. There was one metal rod that went just underneath her chin and another that fit snuggly below her breasts. In fact, the guard had to lift her mounds ever so slightly so that the cold, unyielding metal could slide clear into place. The padlocks were soon affixed at the sides to join the two halves of the device. The guard pulled at the wall-mounted chain again and the contraption began to rise upwards. With a goose-bump inducing screech, the device dragged along the floor until the bottom portion, just below Melissa’s feet, cleared the floor and the whole apparatus was born by the chain connecting it to the ceiling mounted pulley system.
Melissa found herself swaying gently back and forth while being totally immobilized. Her wrists were chained down at her sides and her feet were held by manacles locked around her ankles. Her posture was rigidly straight as mandated by the device that held her lovely body. The guard eyed her up and down several times, no doubt trying to imprint a memory in his mind before he moved on to more tedious tasks of his daily routine. The suspending chain was locked in place and the guard stepped out of the cell locking the metal barred door behind him. Melissa was now left alone to her devices although obviously there was very little that she could actually do. Her body was held in a rigid position and even after a couple of minutes she could feel that it was wholly unnatural to not be able to flex her leg or bend her back, motions that were limited, but not made impossible by her usual wrist and ankle restraints.
The metal rod underneath Melissa’s chin felt particularly insulting. It dug into her throat, being pushed quite a ways against her tender flesh. It held her head pointed forward and any side to side movement was precluded by the metal bands that encircled her whole body on a vertical measure. The whole contraption resembled a medieval Iron Maiden except that there were no metal spikes inside and the whole device was made as open as possible while maintaining the firm grip on the unfortunate prisoner pinioned inside. There were elements on the device that unambiguously suggested that it was meant to be used on females; for example the adjustable iron rods in the chest area to accommodate the different breast sizes, also the protruding hips and buttocks that could only be filled by a well defined female hourglass figure. The rigidness of her bondage made Melissa’s emotions swell up in vengeful disdain. She was never patient with things or persons that impeded her progress in life and it didn’t take very much to awaken her incendiary mechanisms. Once or twice she strained her body against the merciless structure, but the futility of those efforts was duly noted by the feeble, clanking sounds of metallic elements that comprised her tiny enclosure.
Momentarily, a sense of surreal cognizance has infiltrated her thoughts once again. She was naked and chained in a small dungeon, detached from all that she knew in her sheltered life, humiliated beyond belief, deprived of basic privileges that she came to know as intrinsic. Her back was pressed strongly against the cold hard metal running along her spine, and the rod pushing her chin forward made swallowing more difficult then usual. Any abrupt movement sent her body into a gentle sway that was infuriating in its momentous meticulousness and exasperating to the extent that it was beyond her control.
Her distressed nervous system was stretched thin, her patience running out, and the stilted powerlessness of her position was exasperating. She was held so effectively in her bondage, that any notion of escape or even relief was simply improbable. Her pretty feet rested on specifically prepared surfaces at the bottom of the contraption and her vaginal area was supported by a flat yet narrow band of metal that ran between her legs. Her private juices were slowly leaking out onto this plateau, which immediately would have made it an object of desire for men the world over had they been given access to this small enclosure. Incapable of physically removing herself from the restraints, Melissa retreated into the refuge of her memories.
|
|
|