Elana becomes Honeycunt.

The woman shuddered as Mr. Ferro's fingers gently explored her wet snatch. She was unbelievably wet, and more sensitive than she'd ever thought possible. Each brush of his fingers sent a jolt down her spine and an orgasmic pressure built quickly within her. She tried to ignore the handful of patrons who remained in the little cafe as she gasped and moaned shamelessly.

Mr. Ferro sank two fingers into Honeycunt's dripping fuckhole, making a lewd squelching sound as more fluids rushed out and down her thighs. "Very good response. You're producing nicely."

Throwing her head back, the girl let out a strangled cry as an orgasm shook her world, knocking around what little thought remained in her brain. The man's words meant nothing to her. Everything melted out of her awareness for what was probably less than a minute but felt agonizingly long. Suspended in that ecstatic void, every nerve on fire, the lines between pleasure and torment faded away and she simply accepted both. She loved and hated that moment and then it was gone.

When she returned to her senses she was lying on her back staring at the ceiling, breathing rapidly. Her whole body was hot and slicked with perspiration. Mr. Ferro had gathered all of his ****'s former belongings into a simple drawstring bag that he threw over one shoulder. She wouldn't own anything while delibertized; she had no rights, after all. It wouldn't make any sense. Honeycunt blinked, trying desperately to remember something important...

"My notebook!" she called out weakly. That's it! The magic notebook must not be lost; it was the key to everything that was happening.

Mr. Ferro shook his head. "I have Elana's things, Honeycunt. She will be able to retrieve them when her period of active status has expired. Now you will be punished for speaking without permission. Stand up."

Head reeling, Honeycunt nodded. That's right. Elana's notebook. She wasn't Elana, she was Honeycunt. Elana was a good girl, not some naked slut.

Most of her brain was still a fuzzy puddle of mush from the **** and the orgasm but she definitely remembered it was important to obey Mr. Ferro. Shifting to stand up, she realized she was laying in a slick puddle of what her nose informed her was her own juices. That was certainly not normal, but she didn't have the luxury of time or brainpower to dwell on it. With some difficulty she managed to climb to her feet in front of her handler.

"Good. Spread your legs more." Mr. Ferro had produced a small item from somewhere while Honeycunt had labored to stand, which he then proceeded to put on the girl.

It was like a belt with an extra strap that ran down between her legs to connect securely in front and back. Mr. Ferro pressed a button on the front latch and everything cinched up very snug.

Honeycunt gasped as the cord between her legs drew tight. It nestled deep between her ass cheeks and bit into the folds of her pussy, biting down onto her hypersensitive clit and forcing a startled cry from the woman's lips. She nearly fell to her knees on the spot.

"Come on, ****. We're going for a walk." Mr. Ferro opened the door to the cafe and looked at Honeycunt expectantly. "And no, you still may not speak. Let's go!"