The chain

'Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.'

Every thug makes you moan. It's pain, no pleasure, as gwen gently pulls the silver chain through the hoops on your body. If you weren't so afraid of her touching your hurting nipples, you would have begged them to stop.

Your arms and legs are still locked to the corners of the bed, and now more chains immobilise your body. Only these are connecting your sensitive areas to each other. Your clit to your navel, and your navel parting to your sides, crossing behind your back, over your shoulders and then down to your nipples. Pulling them up instead of down.

'Are you sure you don't want any on her face? I think the girl would look really pretty with some through her nose, or eyebrows, or...'

'Henry please. We talked about this. Just do her ears.'

You are still blindfolded, and squirm when henry pulls and inspects your earlobes.

'Only one? Are you sure.' There is the smell of dairy again. You shiver as you feel his breath on your cheeks.

'Maybe later Henry. Not today.' Gwen answers him. Her hands glide over the lower chain. It puts a soft pressure on your newly pierced navel and clit.

It's actually not painful compared to what you just went through. Only your nipples hurt. And then that man Henry pins the hoops through your lobes. They hurt too. But just like with your navel, the pain fades as soon as he lets go.

'And that was that.' that man Henry pats your head. He must see the tears streaming from underneath the mask. What kind of creep pierces a crying girl, barely of legal age? He must be mad. They were all mad.

And they had you utterly under their control.