Bound for display ...

Cyndi had been so preoccupied with her inner turmoil, that she barely noticed Marcie's hand slip from her cheek, down along her neck, and then further down till it brushed over her heaving left breast. Avoiding the engorged nipple, Marcie's hand circled under the full orb, cupped it within the palm of her hand and delicately hefted the melon, as if weighing it. Her thumb barely brushed against the tip of the clamped nipple, eliciting an audible whimper, and Cyndi's eyes to temporarily roll back, bringing her back to the present.

Now acutely aware, Cyndi couldn't stop her body from responding to Marcie's well-practiced fleeting touches. Her skin came alive, eagerly seeking to make contact with the exploring digits. Her nipples ached to be touched, massaged, tugged, twisted, tortured. She didn't care. All that mattered was that Marcie continued to tend to the growing ache that traveled from her nipples to her very inner core. A soft moan slipped from between her parched lips. Her eyes fluttered before unwillingly letting the word, “Please,” spill out with her **** breath. Cyndi wasn't even sure if it was meant for Marcie to stop, or for her to continue pushing her closer towards a crescendo that was slowly simmering within her.

Before Cyndi knew what was happening next, she felt Preston's masculine form press snugly up behind her. There was no mistaking his arousal as it pressed firmly between the cheeks of her ass, his flared tip caught between his stomach and her spine. He felt so huge, his warmth surging through her entire body as his arms enveloped her, his hand quickly finding and tending to her aching breasts. Despite his rough handling of her flesh, Cyndi was thankful for the attention, detracting from any painful sensations from the clamps, heightening the amount of pleasure ripping through her naked body. His heavy breathing was hot in her ear, melting away any reservations Cyndi was holding onto. She could feel her legs begin to wobble, her body melting into his, her will vanishing with every beat of her thundering heart.

Cyndi relinquished her grip of the phone to Marcie, as well as the leash connecting all her chains. Marcie began walking backwards towards the drawer that had contained the hidden toys of ****, the slack in the chains quickly growing taut as Preston's grip held her in place. Cyndi yipped as the pain sensors in her brain, once again, gained control, pushing her pleasure back out to sea. Her nipples were pulled at an obscenely long length, her clit tugged to tormenting amounts that drew her hips forward, trying to ease the pain.

“I still don't believe that's the best you can do slut. You need to make us truly believe you. This is what you want! You chose to be here slut. You knew damn well what to expect, slut.” Marcie turned away from Cyndi and opened the drawer once again, rummaging through the contents, looking for what she wanted. “I hope you realize, slut, that we are going to do this all night, until you get it right!” Marcie turned back to Cyndi, now holding a pair of silver handcuffs.

As Marcie returned, Cyndi was relieved that the tension in the chains had abated, yet now she worried about what the evil mistress had in mind. She twirled the cuffs around an index finger, the candlelight in the room flickering off the shining metal. Meanwhile, Preston's aggressive **** on her breasts had been unyielding, squeezing her melons, forcing the blood to, and through, her pained nipples. When Marcie had approached the melded couple, Preston's hands left the tenderized flesh, retreating to Cyndi's shoulders before traveling along her arms, down to her wrists. Preston gripped them tightly and pulled them behind her, twisting them and bringing them together, behind her back as he raised them between her shoulder blades. Taking the cuffs from Marcie, he attached them to her wrists, binding them together. It was Preston, who this time, produced a small length of chain, linking one end to a loop at the back of Cyndi's collar, then drawing Cyndi's wrists as high up her spine as humanly possible, he secured a clasp to the cuffs.

“I like that much better,” Preston beamed. “Look at the way slut thrusts her tits out, practically begging for us to play with them.” Cyndi's face was flushed with abject humiliation. It was true. With her arms bent and twisted the way they were, pulled up between her shoulder blades, the only comfort Cyndi found was to thrust her shoulders back, relieving the strain. What became painfully obvious was that by trying to ease the pain in her muscles, she was ultimately pushing her chest forward, her naked breasts, and clamped nipples proudly on display. Cyndi's mind had been shattered. She realized she was absolutely nothing to her tormentors. She was merely a plaything for them to use and **** as they saw fit. She lost any hope that she would have even the slightest bit of control over the events of this upcoming week of hell. The only worry in Cyndi's mind was if she could withstand the **** and the continual mind fuck they were performing on her.

Preston stepped away from his bound pet, circling around front, joining Marcie's side. Cyndi could clearly see his rigid cock waving freely, practically commanding her attention. He stood there motionless as his stiffened appendage stopped moving, pointing lewdly at Cyndi, as if it were a compass. There was an extended period of awkward silence as he rubbed his chin, his eyes scrutinizing and appraising the plaything that stood before him. Cyndi nervously shifted her weight from one foot back to the other, inadvertently causing her hips to sway ever so slightly.