Walking like this is instinctual now.

And so it continues.

You walk across the room, standing upright, head held high and forward by the collar, taking small steps thanks the cord, feeling your breasts bounce, with a sway in your bottom, your arms gently swinging back and forth, wrists up to press a button.

Then you walk across the room and sit down on a shelf. You make sure your legs are crossed and hands folded properly. You stand up quickly when you hear it say "Time to get up."

Sometimes you get to rest for a good long time on the shelf, sometimes it's only a few seconds.

"It's training me to jump when it tells me to," you think to yourself. "Like Pavlov's dog, I'm being trained to obey. And it's training me to seek its approval. To long for it to tell me, 'Good girl.' "

For a long time, all it had you do was walk back and forth across the room, sit down (correct posture, crossed legs, folded hands, smile at the camera), and then (Time to get up.) you immediately stand up to cross the room again to sit down on some other shelf.

Shelf, after shelf, after shelf.

You find that things go smoothest when you don't fight it.

By now, your body has begun to move with the most correct, most lady-like posture all on its own. After a while, you begin to gauge the proper distance of a step, without having to be reminded by the cord. And so your motions began to feel more and more natural and fluid, even as you are, inevitably getting more and more tired and achy.

After what must have been hours you are finally done.

You have done very well. You are a natural woman. Return to the starting position.

The speaker says.

You return to the place where you had first stepped into the shoes and had first slipped on the corset.

Stand with your back to the wall.

As you do, you feel the corset, collar, and shoes become re-attached to the wall. They loosened up and you are able to slip out of your posture-training clothes.

While you are happy to take some unrestricted deep breaths, for some reason it is also something of a letdown to be free. You feel less... special, somehow.

The exit door opens.