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Chapter 7 by BronzePlaceWriter BronzePlaceWriter

Where specifically does he take her?

To a Tattoo And Piercing Studio

Elana couldn't believe it. Even as her legs moved, carrying her through the streets that she walked every day, she felt the gaze of the world upon her body. She blushed, shut her eyes, but that only made it worse, the gentle touch of the wind against her skin was a teasing ****, and the kidnapper behind her would simply shove her forwards if she slowed for too long. She was made to walk passed shops she used and knew, with her hands bound and her chest exposed. Her nipples were engorged, and her lower self was a soaking ball of desire. Her pussy ached, and need ran through her veins. She was breathing heavily, not all of it because of fear or nerves. Under all oft his humiliation, a knife edge of joy thrilled through her. Even as she marched, even as she endured the stares, Elana realised that this was what she had hoped for when she had written in the rulebook.

As she had matured, Elana had developed a fetish for powerlessness. For helplessness. She wanted to be captured, to be used, to be taken without her consent. Maybe it was because of how awkward she was usually, maybe it was because the idea of just being unable to decide what to do with her own body made her delight in a deep, dark way. She wanted to be used, the idea of being overpowered made her hot and bothered. The idea of being enslaved made her touch herself at night.

She'd had dreams like this. Dreams where she was marched through familiar streets. But then, she had been totally naked, and there had also been a larger crowd to watch and sneer at her body. In those dreams, she had imagined that she had committed some crime, and was being marched naked to her punishment in the centre of town, where a chamber of sexual torments had been set up for her, right out in the open so all could see. She had imagined being sat down on a wooden chair, leather restraints tightened over her arms and legs, holding her in place as one by one, the tools were laid out, and it was explained to her exactly what was going to be done to her body.

They would tease her and torment her, employing things like ice to her delicate breasts or pussy. Sometimes, she imagined weights would be applied to her breasts, that every move made her gasp, and a bell was tied to her clit, so that she rang as she moved, each step pulling down and back, making her groan and moan right in front of everyone. They would whip her sometimes. Other times, they would write on her body, using permanent marker to scrawl across her beasts, chest and waist. ''Slut'' ''criminal'' that sort of thing. Sometimes, she imagined that they would pierce her breasts, and chain her by them to the ground, so that she could not move far from the stage. Other times, she imagined that they would tie a rope around her clit, chain her to the wall, and gently pull until she wanted to scream in shame and desire.

These were all things she had imagined in the privacy of her own head. But this was more than that. Even though this was so much less - she had not even lost her bra - it felt a hundred times more intense because it was not a fantasy, it was actually happening.

At last, the man told her to stop. Elana snapped out of her fantasies, and realised she was standing in front of an open store. The people were crowding around her, and she could hear cameras snapping, the sound made her blood rush, and her heart hammer in her ears. Her eyes, however, were drawn to the sign that adorned the front of the store.

''Amy's Tattoos and Piercing.''

She felt her heart slow, and her blood turn to ice as the words became clear to her.

"This can't be real..." She muttered slowly. "You can't really expect me to do this...?"

"You don't really have a choice, do you?" The man said. "According to the law, we're not allowed to do serious harm. But tattoos and piercings aren't really that serious, are they? I bet we can get away with it. What do you think?"

Elana said nothing. There was nothing she could say.

"Can..." She said slowly. "Can I please just write in my notebook first? I-it's in my bag."

The man considered for a moment. Elana's heart beat so quickly she felt like it was going to explode. Her pussy was truly aching, and she could feel a warm dampness between her thighs. She didn't know whether she was horrified or excited by the turn of events, but she knew she still had one thing to make sure of.

"Why should I let you do that?" The man asked.

"Because..." Elana said. "I-if if you do, I swear I won't resist. I...I'll get up in the chair and all... let you do whatever you want to me..."

"That's going to happen anyway."

"Y-yeah." Elana said. "But I can make it hard for you. I can resist. I can fight. If you let me do this, I swear that I won't. Please."

"Fine." The man said. "But make it quick. We have an appointment in a few minutes."

Elana gasped with relief as she felt the rulebook thrust into her hands. Asking for it had been a real risk, she had to admit, but she had made the rule that one per day, she would be allowed to have it. She'd hoped - desperately - that asking for it would call in that rule. It looked like it had, but now she couldn't have it for the rest of the day.

She got a pencil as well, the man undid the cuffs, allowing her hands to move freely again. Elana opened the book, and quite.

''Old Rule: Tattoos and piercings take less time to recover from. Instead of weeks, they take only a few hours. They are also not as painful, though the amount of pain can be adjusted by the artist giving the tattoos or piercings.''

That last bit, she wasn't so sure about. On one hand, she found it horrifying. On the other, her masochistic side was excited at the prospect. Before she could properly decide, the rulebook was pulled out of her hands.

"Time's up." The kidnapper said. "In we go."

What's next?

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