Forced march

It's with exhausted, wobbly legs, and countless loads of cum running down your thighs, that you are reuinted with Penelope. You see that you've been dressed essentially the same way - black high heels, black fishnet thigh highs, black corsets, and black collars. Your wrists are once again tied tightly behind you. Your pussies are left on full display, and you note that while your modest breasts are covered, Penelope's bigger bountiful busom is on full display too, presumably to show off the bruise she's been given on her right hand side. You gulp, and wonder what she did, if anything to deserve that treatment.

Chains are attached to your collars, and you are marched, like chattel, out of the warehouse.{if@ images > 2}

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"Time to rejoin civilized society, cunts."

So that's it, then. You're being released after 24 hours in hell.

You should probably be breathing a sigh of relief that they're not keeping you longer, but it's difficult to feel too happy when you are faced with a walk of unknown length, in high heels, with your genitals on display.

Your legs didn't have any energy to begin with, so as countryside turns to outskirts, and outskirts turns to town, your already fatigued body gets closer and closer to total exhaustion.

By the time you reach a populated street, your feet are on fire.

And now you have to deal with bystanders looking at your shame.