Chapter Thirteen
Surprise
When Sammy Sky enters the shade (93 degrees vs. 96) of the apartment house and looks up the first long, torturous flights of steps, she wishes that four stories - well, three apartments - qualified for an elevator. She'd managed to get a Metro car without air conditioning, and at five two standing in a crowd of giants - naturally no one offered her a seat - meant no breeze at all, leaving her to strain scorching air through her cooking lungs. By the time she managed to force herself out onto the platform she felt more wilted than the flowers Bill gave her last week.
She's tempted to open her blouse, but even a bra had been too much once she'd changed back to blouse and shorts and stepped out of Autopsy; and the pubescent kid in the first apartment always hears her or Abby on the stairs to their middle floor apartment. Sometimes getting past feels like traversing a testosterone gauntlet.
It's too hot to boost herself up stairs that she'd run up two at a time a month ago, even the hand rail is too warm to grab, but eventually she does force herself to the third floor landing where she considers either fainting or simply liquefying into a puddle where she stands. Her wet blouse and shorts lend more weight - the weight of the virtually dripping fabric - to the puddle option.
She's not sure if they'd set the air conditioner timer before they'd left this morning. Considering their schedules, timing is more often miss than approach the target, but as she digs into her too moist hip pocket for her keys the door swings inward and a gorgeous draft hits her head on.
"I thought it was you," Abby says. She's wearing black baseball polo shirt and the black shorts she'd had made up for the 'Shirts vs. Skins' baseball game in this past exceptionally hot June, the shorts with the outrageous palm prints on her butt cheeks, so she had turned the AC on when she got home.
Sammy can count the number of times the woman has come home first but the only thing she can drag into her brain is "Ocean. Iceberg! Glacier! PLEASE!"
"Come in here before you melt, Elphaba," her friend urges as she tugs her inside. The final fate of the Wicked Witch of the West is something the dripping young woman can appreciate. Then again, Elphaba had suffered that fate by having a bucket of water thrown onto her, which is something she won't refuse either.
When she's inside the gloriously cool living room Abby tells her as she propels her toward the bathroom in the short hall between living room and coffin room: "Get out of those things and have a proper bath before you catch your death of cold."
"Cold doesn't make you sick. It's the reduction of efficiency of disease fighting enzymes that are susceptible to lowered temperature that allow germs to get the upper–"
"Don't out-science the Scientist, Doctor," Abby reprimands her. "Date's coming and you're dripping all over the carpet."
"You have a date coming here?" she asks, doubting she could do much harm to the black shag.
"I may wear a funeral shroud and sleep in a coffin but I am very much alive."
"Do I know him?"
"Yes, you know him and if you don't get in and have a shower you are going to drive him away. Now get in there before your only other choice is the sprinkler at the Park."
"I'm going, I'm going." She'd like to stay to tease her but she can count on one hand the number of dates Abby has had lately and still have some digits left over.
The huge coffin room, nearly as large as the living room and kitchen before it, has the bathroom beyond it to her right. In the few steps beyond the coffin she unbuttons her wet blouse and peals the unpleasantly cooling material off. Stepping in, she puts the wet blouse through the under sink hamper's swinging door and decides to have a more relaxing bath rather than a shower. If company does come she can easily hide in the coffin room Abby uses as her bedroom without being seen. Both their dressers are there, as are their closets though she sleeps in the new convertible in the living room.
She stoppers the deep tub and turns the taps on full, then balances them to a comfortable temperature for soaking before finishing undressing. She'll close the wrap-around drape in case, which will also prevent an unexpected breeze from chilling her if she mistimes this so rare event in her friend's social life.
x
The warm water, neither scorching like the air outside nor cool enough to chill her, feels so utterly relaxing that after a time she catches herself on the verge of dozing. If not for Special Agent Gibbs' demanding expectations - and she does grant he's feeling pressure from the Director, from SECNAV and God knows who else to produce results on this frigid case by a week ago Tuesday, but still...
No, she's home, she's in the tub with soothing scented oils in warm (not hot) deep water up to her chin and it's been... how long has it been? Long enough for her body to feel very good and for the kinks to vanish. She moves the curtain aside with her toes far enough to see the faux cuckoo clock on the wall beside the door and decides that maybe it's been too long. Abby has a date and there's a line between indulgence and selfishness and perhaps she's crossed it?
She carefully pulls herself out of the water to stand up, carefully balancing, the water almost up to her knees. The oils have made everything but the plastic bubble mat under her slippery. Unstoppering the tub, she turns on the shower. She hadn't been able to shampoo but with her pixie hairstyle this'll take less than five minutes.
x
After the shower she pushes the water from her body, comfortable in how the oils have softened her skin, pulls the curtain aside, has to step up to put one foot onto the small carpet and reaches for the empty towel rack.
'Oh, come on.' She steps fully out, looks about the small room. Nothing folded on the shelves over the john, nothing anywhere. "Abby?"
No answer. 'You've gotta be kidding me.' "Abby, where are the towels?" Still no answer. "Abby?" she calls louder. 'Did he come and they went out?' "ABBY."
'Fine. Okay, they're going to be washed anyway.' She pushes open the swinging door under the sink, reaches for the first material she can fi–
Her hand touches nothing and she peers inside. The hamper had been half full, now it's as bare as she is. "ABBY, ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?" No answer. 'I am going to hurt that woman.'
x
Okay, her dresser is right in the next room, it's not like she can't go naked into the coffin room to get what she wants, but she doesn't want to go dripping into the room. With the way her luck has gone today, the coffin won't be empty. So to shout for help or not to shout?
About the only useful item left in the room is the electric blow drier, which she needs for her hair anyway. Carefully regulating it between hot, warm and cool - the thing is made for hair and not for sensitive bare skin and most especially not for really sensitive bare skin – but by frequently changing the temperature she manages to dry herself.
She stows the dryer, opens the door and Abby is standing on the other side of it, her lips pulled in a devilish smirk. "Abby, what the hell? Didn't you hear me calling you?"
"Sure, I did. I've been standing here the whole time waiting. Who has a bath and a shower?"
"Someone who wants nice hair." She's too annoyed to care that she's standing naked in front of her roommate. Squeamishness has faded years ago with anonymous partners of both sexes at 'Sodom and Gomorrah' and 'Taiwan On' even discounting a thoroughly enjoyed lifestyle of bi-sexual sex, but in the months they've lived together neither of them had been naked in front of the other. It breaks their Living Agreement in half.
"I have a surprise for you," Abby announces.
"I've had one, thanks."
"Put your hands out like this," she directs, extending her own hands and cupping both as though holding a baseball.
x
Unable to fathom her scheme, Sammy complies. "Further out." She extends her arms all the way, hands now outside the room and still holding the phantom baseball. "Now close your eyes and keep them closed."
"Abby..." She'd much rather put on underwear. She doesn't mind nudity, but since Day One they've had understandings.
"Close your eyes and keep them closed."
"Oh all right." As a surprise this isn't much fun.
She waits, wondering what's going to land in her cupped hands until something clenches her wrists tightly and her eyes fly open to see Abby swiftly wrap a doubled rope of scarlet silk a half dozen turns about her wrists. The force has pulled her cupped hands together and her wrists press hard.
Before she can pull back Abby runs the long rope between her hands, cinches the grip tighter on the radiocarpal joint of each hand and knots it with the long end on the forearm side, leaving over two feet on each of two ropes. Though Sammy's circulation isn't cut and she can spread her elbows, her wrists are tied so firmly she can't bring her hands together.
x
To Sammy, who in the first seconds had been frightened, this is a thoroughly familiar situation - though not with this partner. Naked, tied, helpless to 'defend' herself against someone who doesn't want to hurt her, this is something she's experienced hundreds of times, though never with Abby, and she feels a thrill flash through her bare body.
"If you wanted me helpless," she says with a smile she hopes conveys all her lustful pleasure and anticipation for an evening they've denied for so long, "you only had to say so."
"Don't fight me," the tall woman commands.
"No, Mistress," she says, her voice soft. "You can do anything you want to me."
x
Abby, whose eyes reflect surprise at her slipping so immediately into the Submissive manner, pulls the scarlet silk upward, Sammy's arms pulled high. The eight inches between their heights create a major difference. Abby doesn't have to reach for Sammy's trapped wrists to be pinned high, her hands cupped to the ceiling. "Who am I?"
"You're my Mistress, Ma'am," she admits, her voice very soft and quiet. Just saying it, just admitting it, sends such a hot thrill through her and she feels herself grow moist.
"Then who are you?"
"I'm what you want me to be, Ma'am," she promises.
"What?"
"Your Sub, your bottom, your play girl, your obedient property, your bitch; tell me what you want me to be." Her voice is hushed, her breath heated and her body growing hotter by the moment as she gives over to the familiar and the long anticipated. She can feel her nipples giving her arousal away and presses her legs together, the thrill in her labia driving a quiver through her body. "You control me. Tell me how to please you, how to make you happy. You've never had a woman service you, but I know how to please a woman. I'll do anything you say."
Abby runs her fingernails very gently down Sammy's left breast and the sensation flies down to her toes, nearly makes her hair tingle. Her breath quickens, her breasts rising and falling faster, more heavily under her nails. She wishes Abby would give a squeeze, with or without nails as she chooses, but it's not a Sub's place to ask.
"You're getting excited."
"Very excited, Ma'am," she can't speak aloud, the heat in her coming out in a passionate sigh.
Abby runs her fingernail over Sammy's erect right nipple, already sensitive as proven by her hot gasp. "Are you starting to get wet?"
She makes herself look up into her Mistress' eyes, tries to convey everything with that look. "Yes, Ma'am. Very wet."
Abby smiles down to her. "This is going to be easier than I thought." She lowers her hand, lets Sammy's bound wrists down and tugs the rope for her to follow.
x
Sammy, though hugely surprised because months ago, when they'd agreed to share the apartment, Abby had made her position absolutely clear: there would be NO sexual nor Dominant / Submissive relations between them. Abby is Straight, and though not narrow her friend wants nothing of the lifestyle that she enjoys. The Scientist had made it clear that she's free to pursue her own pleasures and inclinations - elsewhere - and she's accompanied her to Social evenings at LGBT gatherings, but neither of them is to bring a date home without warning the other to make alternate plans. They have a free and open understanding, but she has never involved Abby - would never involve her - in any BDSM Scene or any sexual contact whatsoever.
That's one of their first Living Agreements.
When she's pulled by the scarlet rope past the coffin room (so that device won't be part of tonight's kinkiness - too bad) into the living room and sees the long coffee table covered with the missing towels and a towel wrapped pillow strategically placed two thirds of the way down the wooden table, she feels the moisture grow to a near boil between her labia and realizes that their agreement has been blasted into a billion pieces.
Though action had been long ago forbidden, she hadn't been forbidden her fantasies. Many of them had been volcanic and they'd curl Abby's hair if she knew.
And now she feels the flare explode deep within her because, at her Mistress' command, a fantasy is finally going to come true!
x
Standing before the prepared table, which she notes the right end has been pulled away from the black convertible, almost pointing to the door, she tries to speak aloud but years of submission still hushes her voice and she stares downward, not daring to meet her Mistress' eyes. "May your Sub ask a question?"
Abby considers for a moment. "Yes."
"Why did you change your mind?"
After a long moment of silence, Sammy forces herself to look up.
"I said you could ask."
She looks back hurriedly to the black carpet. "Yes, Ma'am."
But every time she addresses her friend as 'Ma'am' or 'Mistress' she feels it in the way her breasts tingle in anticipation of Abby's touch and the way everything from her ovaries to her labia jump to increasingly greater thrills.
She squeezes her legs together and can't quiet the sharp exclamation that breaks through her lips.
x
Using the rope that holds her wrists firmly to give directions, Abby makes her turn her back to the table, spread her legs to either side of it and sit down upon the pillow, then lay back onto the towel covered wood, knees off the end. Abby signals her and she raises her hips so her friend and new Mistress can position the pillow properly. It's the extra firm one she uses to support her back when she rehearses on the couch, so it raises her quite high, emphasizes her vulnerability.
Her head reaches the table's end, the other end just an inch beyond her knees so she can lie upon it with her feet on the floor, her knees on either side. Abby uses the rope to raise her hands over her head and makes her reach down, the edge at the bends of her elbows, her full breasts pulled high as though on display. Taking one rope to each of the wooden feet below a shelf, Abby ties the ropes firmly so her trapped hands reach down, pinned quite securely.
She's gasping and doesn't try to control her breath, her breasts rising and falling and Abby trails her fingernails over her heaving mounds, teases her hard nipples.
"Really getting excited now, aren't you?"
"Yes, Mistress," she gasps, every sensuous sensation tearing at her body. "I'm so excited I could explode right now."
"You may not. I forbid it."
"Yes, Ma'am," she says, having to bite her lips to distract herself. Forbidden an orgasm, she can only obey. Rather, she can try to, but much more of this, or else the right touch and...
"I've got a lot of surprises for you. I'll tell you when I'm ready."
"Yes, Mistress."
x
Abby straightens and goes to the couch, comes back with three scarlet silk cords, one over twelve feet long and the other two two feet long. At a press at her knees, Sammy spreads her legs wide, her knees now far beyond either side.
"I didn't know you shaved." It had been apparent from the moment the door had opened but Abby had waited until now to mention it. After the unveiling?
"It makes me more sensitive, Mistress. I do it ever since one time someone tricked me."
"How could someone trick you?" she asks, sensing a good story.
"He had me tied on a bondage table, one of the padded leather ones with rings along all the sides for ropes. He tied my knees wide apart, feet drawn back up so my ankles were bound through the rings too, elbows and wrists also roped through the rings. He had me lashed down so thoroughly I couldn't move."
"Sounds like just your fun," she decides, but Sammy's not smiling with the memory of a really erotic night.
"And then he started pulling my pubic hairs out with a pair of needle nose pliers."
x
The smile falls off Abby's face. "God."
"I gave him 'Yellow' after the second hair - it hurt like a bitch - but he didn't ease up. I gave him 'Red' and screamed when he pulled out one right by my clit. He clamped his hand over my mouth and kept at me. He kept pulling them very, very slowly so it really hurt until each finally came out and he moved to the next one. I was screeching 'RED' into his hand and he shoved a ball gag into my mouth, tied it too tight and spent more than three more hours pulling all my hairs out one by one while I screamed my head off and no one could hear me. "
"Bastard!"
"He didn't even untie me. When he was done he left and one of the staff came in to check the room for the next member and found me. I complained and got him expelled, banned from both Clubs. After that, it was self defense, so no one could ever do it to me again."
Abby pats her breast. "You're not going to be hurt by me."
"I know, Mistress. I like a bit of pain; suspension, nipple pinching, nibbling, breast slapping if I like the Dom or Domme, spanking when it's mingled with petting. I like to be dominated, to surrender to a Master or Mistress, but not that kind of pain."
"Not sexy at all."
"No, Mistress. He didn't care about me; he only wanted to hurt a woman as badly as he could, and he dragged it out for hours. I could breathe but the ball gag filled my mouth and no one could hear me screaming my head off."
She strokes her cheek. "This will be something you'll enjoy."
x
Abby takes the long red rope and ties one end snugly around her upper thigh, being careful not to hinder circulation. Her friend and new Mistress tosses the other end under, goes around to collect it and pulls steadily and firmly until she's spread wide, all the way off the edges of the table, then Abby wraps it about her other thigh. The result is that, though the table isn't especially wide, her legs are spread much more than if her knees were trapped. The pillow under her displays her to full effect. She's been tied more tightly and thoroughly before, but that this is Abby adds tantalizing spice.
More than tantalizing spice; she feels like she's boiling between her widely spread legs and every thought that it's Abby that she's submitting to increases the temperature to where her friend must be burnt by any touch.
The rest of the rope then secures her ankles to the feet of the table. She's helpless, utterly vulnerable, totally at Abby's mercy.
She's jumping about in her skin, her nerves on fire, panting so hard her breasts rise and fall like there's an earthquake inside her chest, so excited that if Abby breathes on her wrong she'll climax regardless of her friend's order. She wishes her Mistress hadn't forbidden her; even a little orgasm would feel great - but she must obey.
But there's nothing that says she can't beg. Looking up, she sees Abby with the two shorter red cords. "Please, Mistress, please!"
"Please, what?"
"A little O-G. Please."
"You're not going to have a little orgasm. You're going to have a Supernova. Just wait."
"Yes, Mistress." The frustration tears at her. She'd hoped for at least mercy if not fulfillment, but her friend is relentless - or merciless - and she's given her total control.
She stares at the two foot long scarlet ropes Abby brandishes. "What are you going to do with those?"
"That's a surprise."
x
Abby drops one scarlet cord on her stomach, holds the other by the ends and puts the middle under her left breast, brings the rope up and around, encircles her breast and traps the firm and heaving mound. Abby pulls firmly, tightens the cord one cross above and then one below before she brings it back up and ties it above, tight but not painfully tight. She's as endowed as her new Mistress is but the difference in height always makes her look bigger, so even with her arms restrained she's a perfect size for the rope. Sammy groans as new lusts burst through her. Abby pulls firmly, doesn't hurt her but her breast is squeezed extra full when Abby finishes with an ornate bow at the top.
Sammy gasps hard but she can barely fill her lungs.
"Does it hurt?" her captor asks.
She has to fight through the thrill. "No, Mistress. It feels... Oh God!"
She's not ready when Abby ties her right breast as firmly, both breasts now high, full and triple firm. Abby runs her fingers along them and it feels like her breasts are having orgasms on their own.
"You okay?"
It takes several seconds for Sammy to adjust to the maddening sensations that flare under her skin. "Yes," she finally gasps. "I feel great." Her vagina throbs to the pounding of her heart. "Thank you, Mistress."
"Can you move?"
She tries a wiggle, pulls at the ropes binding her wrists and legs. "No, Mistress."
Abby smiles. "You're helpless?"
"Yes, Mistress. Completely. I'm yours. You can do anything you want to me." The words fly though her, lightning stabs her breasts and vagina. "I'm yours," she says in a long, grateful sigh.
x
Abby bends down until her face is very close and her voice is firm. "Good, because I'm planning a very special night, so when I give you an Order I want your absolute obedience. I'm only going to say this once so I want to be sure you understand completely. Do you?"
"Yes, Mistress," she whispers, voice stolen by lust. "I'll obey every order you give me." Just saying those words makes her vagina clench.
"Good." She pats her cheek and stands up. "Don't go away."
Despite herself, Sammy can't help but giggle. But Abby walks to the kitchen behind her and Sammy must tilt her head up to see her upside down. "What's going on?"
"A surprise birthday party."
"Birthday Party? My birthday's the end of next month."
x
Abby ignores her and walks out of the room. Sammy tugs at the ropes, but like the ones that squeeze her breasts into high, triple firm mounds they're very secure. She looks up high as Abby - again upside down - comes in from the kitchen with a small white ceramic bowl and a can of Reddi-Wip and steps around to stand above her.
"Abby, what are you doing?" she asks when she can see her again without the strain.
"I told you. Getting ready for a birthday party."
The words are innocent, her expression is innocent, but something about the scene makes it not at all innocent. "Abby, remember you told me how Tim hit his head and acted totally weird? Did you hit your head?"
"No," she says, putting the equipment on the floor and kneeling beside her.
"Then what are you doing? It's not your birthday, it's not my birthday."
"Date's not here yet."
"Wait! There is a date?" She'd decided it had been only a ruse to get her prepped for this Scene.
"Uh huh. And it's going to be one heck of a party."
"Wait! You invited someone here? In the middle of a Scene?"
"Don't be silly. I invited him hours ago."
"That's Against the RULES!"
"Don't worry, you'll like him. He's the birthday guest, I'm the hostess."
"Well what am I? The sacrificial virgin? I'm not a virgin!"
"Not to worry. You'll survive this."
x
Unable to process the massive betrayal, she further can't believe when Abby pops the top off the can of Reddi-Wip, shakes it with her right hand while with her left she reaches for and gently spreads her moist labia. "Abby, what are you–?" her friend brings the upside down can to her pillow raised crotch, spreads her lips wider. "Abby, you are not going t GEEZ THAT'S COLD!" drowns out the drawing of a long line up her labia to her clitoris, and though she struggles she can't prevent Abby from pressing the nozzle to her clitoris. It's like she put the fire out in her cat. She bites her lips to withhold a scream as her captor creates a star-like pattern, then a flower top.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW COLD THAT IS?"
"Well, I wanted to make sure the flower kept its shape so this morning I stuck the can in the freezer." She brings the nozzle back again. "Wait. Have to fix the stem." She gently respreads her labia.
"Be-YAAAAAATCH!"
x
Abby brings the can up to her left nipple, still firm and tall from the pressure on her breasts and the intimate manipulation. She puts the nozzle to the tip of her nipple and lightly presses the side. Sammy's scream drowns out the fizz of the cream as the nozzle spreads a near frozen star out from her nipple and she screams again as a flower head is drawn upon the star.
"You're out of your BIRD!" she cries as Abby attacks her right breast, drawing another spread star topped with a flower.
As Abby positions the nozzle beside the right flower and draws a long spiral down and about her breast, the frigid curls icing her cooked flesh she cries "WHAT THE HELL DATE DO YOU HAVE?"
Abby puts the device at her left nipple now and redraws the spiral about and about out and down her breast as Sammy screams. The nearly frozen cream makes her long to be back outside.
When the scream fades and Sammy lies gasping, the cream that pinwheels each breast gradually becoming tolerable, Abby gives her a saucy smile. "I never said he was my date. He's yours."
x
Sammy feels the world flip over as she looks up into Abby's eyes and understands her friend's scheme. "Oh my God!" She struggles at the ropes. "OhMyGodOhMyGodOHMYGOD! ABBY LET ME LOOSE! GOD ABBY LET ME LOOSE! GOD PLEASE LET ME LOOOOOSE!"
"Calm Down and Shut Up."
x
Whether it's years of submissive obedience while tied up or some lingering trust in her friend, Sammy doesn't calm down but she does shut up.
"Now I'm your Mistress so you have to listen to me."
She can barely hear her over her pounding heart but "You are not my Mistress! A Mistress doesn't betray and remain a Mistress – ever!"
"Good enough. But I am your friend. I know you and this is what you are." She glances at her decorated breasts. "Well, maybe not the whipped cream but you've kept no secrets from him, but neither have you been yourself. You said you'll only do Vanilla sex with him because you weren't sure how he would react to the real thing so you decided not to try.
"But I know you. For you Vanilla isn't a lifestyle, it's a vacation. And we've both seen a couple melt down because they kept things from each other - and they're more than just dating for a few weeks."
x
As Abby reaches into the white ceramic bowl at her knees Sammy's still not happy. "So you decided all on your own to do this."
Abby starts to put rings of sliced strawberries between the spirals of cream on her right breast. "You can thank me later."
"I'll more likely dent a fire extinguisher on your head!"
"Then it's a good thing you're tied up," she quips, continuing to decorate, dealing the tall thin slices about each full mound like sexy cards.
"What the hell is with this?" she demands, looking down at her high, decorated breasts. The strawberries are almost as cold as the whipped cream but she's too mad to care.
"You said his favorite desert is strawberry shortcake."
"So?"
"You're the shortcake."
"Very punny."
x
A knock at the door makes Sammy's face go as white as the whipped cream as Abby takes a cherry from the bowl and sets it in the cream flower petal that decorates her labia. She looks down between her high and decorated breasts past her pillow raised hips to the door and realizes this cherry topped flower between her wide spread legs is the first thing Bill is going to see.
"Abby, no! Please. I'll BE your Sub, I'll do everything you want." Abby leaves her, heads to the door. "I'll be your Slave forever! I beg you! Please don't do this! I'm begging you! Abby I'm begging you! I'll–"
She pulls it open. Bill is on the other side, dressed for a date. "Hi. Come on in."
He does, gets a foot into the room and freezes.
"Happy Birthday, Bill," Abby says to the stunned man.
"His birthday is in TWO WEEKS!" Sammy cries, her red face as much blush as outrage.
"That's what makes it such a Surprise Party. Now Bill," she tells the stunned man, "I know you're surprised but I also know you discussed this ad infinitum but that was discussion. I now introduce you to the real Samantha Sky. Sammy, I've got a ton of work at the Lab to catch up on eleven cases so I'm going to spend the night there. I'll see you in the morning. And if I don't... well, I'll know you're tied up."
xxx
Debbie Devlin stands in the middle of the vacant basement room, trembling, naked. The thick pads that line walls, floor, even the ceiling, not only prevent sound from penetrating but will prevent broken bones. Her arms are pulled so far behind her that her elbows touch and the leather strands bite into her flesh and force her chest forward for whatever pain he wants to inflict. She's thoroughly bruised from upper chest to thighs, never where anyone can see, though she must be careful when she dresses. Her breasts, dark with fresh bruises in some spots and healing in others, are thrust outward, so swollen she hasn't been able to wear a bra in longer than she wants to remember.
Wherever she isn't bruised the welts from whips across her torso and thighs remain even when the livid wounds fade. Pain is her constant companion, yet the perforated red ball gag that holds her mouth too widely open, that's tied behind her head under her hair, doesn't allow her to express it other than in moans, crying and screams.
He opens the padded door and she wants to back away, but there's no place to go. He presses the door closed and, to re-enforce her helplessness, he moves the hasp into place, threads the padlock through the ring and pushes it closed. Now, even if she could get her arms free, the pressure of the thin strap on her touching elbows enough to make her cry, she has no hope other than if he were to have mercy.
He strides across the padded floor and in his eyes she sees her fate.
His right fist slams into her left breast and she screams into the red ball, staggers backward but she doesn't have time to finish the scream before her right breast explodes in agony.
Debbie staggers back further and tries to breathe, but the excruciating pain steals her air. Legs braced apart on the padded floor, she fights for balance, her smashed breasts two centers of mind tearing agony. She senses more than sees his fast approach. The boot that rises fast to slam between her legs launches her bare feet six inches from the floor a moment before she crashes.