The White Room

Maria looked at Lois, who laid in the stall, eyes half-closed, one hand on her midsection as the contents diffused through her system. "Wait right here."

The barmaid returned in a minute with white towel tucked under her arm, and a plastic bag. She loaded the enema gear into the bucket, and then placed Lois' discarded clothes into the bag.

Lois was feeling very relaxed as Maria helped her out of her shirt. Her bra unclasped and came away—a black satin number, just enough support to give Lois some cleavage. Her breasts hung free on her chest, healthy handfuls with pointed nips that hung proudly, just that touch of sag to give them fullness. Maria didn't turn away, but admired Lois impassively. Lois felt self-conscious at her nudity, but wasn't scared...until Maria brought out the tape-gun.

It was some sort of broad, white masking tape. The barmaid ran a few loops around the reporter's wrists, nonchalantly, and then another couple of loops around he elbows, to bring her harms together in front of her. Lois considered struggling, but the heat of the eggs dissolving in her stomach almost left her in a daze. It was like she was watching herself from afar as Maria taped her ankles and knees together, then picked the nude reporter up and slung her over her shoulder, ass in the air.

Maria took through a maintenance door in the bathroom—which, drunk as she was, she noticed was newer and sturdier than the rest of the fixtures, and had a biometric keypad. The barmaid laid her palm flat against the electronic rectangle next to the door, and the bolts unlocked with a heavy thunk.

They traveled along a back corridor; doors led off to offices, storage closets, a breakroom. A large man with a bald head, black glasses, and an earpiece stood in front of a door at the end of it, a heavy pistol visible in a shoulder holster—the lack of concealment alone let Lois know they were close to something big.

Lois' cheeks burned when she considered the sight she must be presenting: her pussy and ass just below eye-level, the black circle of the plug's flared base against her pale skin, the wet, pink line of her slit...

She felt a slight tap on the plug in her ass, one that sent a shiver up her spine and made her knees quake.

"What's this?" Terry rumbled. Lois shuddered.

"I'm just breaking her in a little. Big man's orders."

There was a tug on the plug, and Lois yelped. Her cheeks clamped down as she felt the liquid in her guts shift, that too-full feeling **** for release...but then the tug stopped. "Alright. Go on in."

The door clinched shut behind them.

"Don't take it personally," Maria whispered. "I think Terry's into buttplay."

The White Room was a cube of shiny white tile, with industrial-looking vertical lamps on every wall and the ceiling, along with small dark flatscreens. There was a little platform in the center. That's where Maria laid her down. She could feel the **** or whatever that she had been filled with take effect, and the room swam. The barmaid ran a hand over Lois' sweating face, then leaned down to kiss her mouth.

A fist thumped on the door.

"Shit," the barmaid said.

"Maria!" A female voice called, deep but naggingly familiar to Lois. Fuzzy-headed, she decided the best thing to do for the moment was to assume her position on the pedestal.

Then the door clicked shut...and there was the thump of a bolt as it locked.