Chloe and the Agency Pt. 01

After a moment he speaks on the intercom;

"Girls, bring a pink satin full restraint set for the pretty gift."

She is all but naked! Presenting herself, quietly, but as sexually as she can, to three strangers – strangers who keep upping the ante on the depth of her submission – because that's what it is, she realises, echoes of what little porn she has come across resounding in her mind. Submission.

She wonders if her feet are far enough apart, moves them a little further out, catches a small approving nod from M, and closes her eyes in satisfaction and commingled shame. She has submitted to M and D. Will submit to Lord K. She knows she will.

Her nipples are like stones now, her skin taut with excitement, her pussy tingling. In any case she is about to be 'restrained' – even if it is with pretty satin. Her submission will be enforceable then. Lord K, to M and D;

"The tits are really rather good, and I think a well formed cunt, under all that hair. Obviously no virgin."

"No, but her arse is untouched, and she's never been restrained, or punished."

The word punishment opens new doors of fluttering speculation. Of course; of course, how could she not have understood before – especially given D's manner. She has submitted, to Dominants; and Dominants whip submissives – it's a cliché, but obviously a true one. She is going to be whipped!

Now she really does taste fear at the back of her throat; her heart thuds. But she does nothing. Nothing that is, except try her hardest to look desirable; show her lovely breasts, her long, svelte legs, her smooth, firm arse, her slim belly, her long neck to their best advantage. Because that's all she can be, here – a sexy toy. If she can't be that, then she is pointless.

She is so happy that he likes her breasts. She is proud of them, likes to wear low cut blouses, thin tops. But now here she is deciding that a little toss of her head will set them swaying a little, and show off the stiffness of her proud nipples. Maybe if he's playing with her nipples he won't be whipping her. But maybe he likes to whip 'rather good' tits – she's heard of this. Her eyes close as her heart trip hammers.

"Do you judge her responsive?"

D laughs, speaking now for the first time;

"Helplessly so – she's born to be used. She's dripping; test her yourself."

He turns back to C, looks her in the eyes again;

"Until those useless girls get here, will you restrain yourself for me?"

This IS a direct question. There is only one answer, and she gives it nervously, but willingly;

"Yes my Lord, of course my Lord"

"Hands at the back of your neck, then; chin up, grasp each wrist with the opposite hand, and don't let go, whatever happens." He waits until she has obeyed, her breasts lifted and set moving deliciously.

"Now you are to pretend you are restrained with strong steel chains – you can't let go even if you want to. Understand? You won't disappoint me, will you, pretty?"

"No, my Lord".

When he smiles at her she melts inside. And his hand is at her sex. She had expected crudeness, but for now his touch is nearly as subtle as D's. She mews softly with helpless pleasure as he slowly insinuates two fingers into her soaking slot – she has never been so wet, so open, so shamed. The fingers move backwards, to her ass. Feeling a constriction, she leans forward slightly, swivels her heels outward. She is helping him to penetrate her ass! And then a finger pushes into her tight little ring, at the same time as his thumb slots into her pussy.

"Gnnn. Aaaa- aah"

She nearly comes – just from the intensity of the situation. She is nearly in tears with the pleasure and the shame; the utter exposure of her wantonness, all mixed up into a wicked drug.

He steps away from, eliciting another mew, this time of disappointment. Her groin bucks, reflexively. M and D exchange cool, but satisfied looks. C is almost panicking with shame. Once again he lifts her chin, commanding her attention;

"You're a very lovely girl; you're also a helpless slut. If you allow me to restrain you, I have a fancy to using you rather ... how shall I say .. yes .. 'harshly' – there really is no other word for it. Now would be the time to say that you wish to leave. You will not have another chance."

Her head hums, her brain is too cloudy She says the only thing she can think of – the truth again;

"I .. do whatever you want to me, please. .. My .. My Lord"

Something in her relaxes then. It is over; she is no longer responsible, except for looking pretty, and being obedient. Also, it is clear from the atmosphere between the three that she has said the right thing, that they are pleased with her, and she wants that so much, because her opportunity to do anything independently has been gradually reducing over the last few hours, until now it is simply to do her best to submit prettily, and to display herself wantonly.

She is desperately vulnerable. Some sort of crude comment about her is made, that she doesn't understand, some sort of in-joke, and they all laugh. An hour ago she would have wanted to know what it meant, felt left out, but she understands somehow that she has ceased to be a player on their stage. She has become a prop, a mechanical.

She blushes, deeply, ashamed, but somehow calm. Lack of responsibility for seeming intelligent, or witty, or well informed means more time to concentrate on what has become a fascinating subject for her: how to hold herself, display herself so that M will want to have sex with her. Because somehow M is the pivot of all this. The most beautiful, the most fascinating person she has ever met. And no, she doesn't fancy herself in love. Just possessed.

Idly, she wonders what it will be like to be whipped. She doesn't want it .. but, there again, she is suddenly aware that she will be disappointed if K doesn't do something like cane her, that there will be something missing from the experience. And once she has thought that, she realises that she would like to have D take something – a belt perhaps, to her breasts. Not that she likes pain, but because she would like to see whether D's marvellous cool would be altered in such circumstances. And then she thinks that anything D has from her, she wants M to have too – so now she is hoping that all three of her will beat her at least once.

She is lost in fantasies, as the two lovelies from the outer office enter: she is required to kneel, she is softly, even helpfully obedient, embarrassed little giggles at her own clumsiness, blushing delightfully – then they begin to attach the slinky restraints; first, a collar; fully three inches wide, the pink satin backed, as it is throughout, by fantastically pliable white leather, and decorated with sophisticated little lace trims – pretty, but obviously strong.

The collar is adjusted to fit very snugly – it will be impossible to forget she is wearing it – partly because she can now only move her head in a limited way, but secondly because each breath has to come consciously. Next, the cuffs, slightly less tight; immediately linked, first to each other, and then pulled up and back over her head; linked to the collar behind, her lovely breasts rising and swaying; their vulnerability an invitation, the proud nipples an advert of her arousal. The sensation of vulnerability is powerful and effective; she whimpers a little; the girls giggle.

The ankle cuffs are looser still, heavy, and joined by a short length of gleaming chain. Then a quarter cup, strapless, uplift bra, snugged up to the undersides of her unfettered breasts, subtly tailored to provide support and uplift, connected front and back with taut chain to the collar, making her tits appear to defy gravity, moving with exaggerated freedom.

A belly chain and a loop of chain from the collar at the front, taken between her legs and up to the belly chain at the small of her back – the feel of chain on her soft and sensitive sex lips affects and shames her almost unbearably, and she quivers helplessly, obviously, blushing as the girls giggle again.

The matching shoes are a little too small, and have what must be 4" heels, but C is in love with them as soon as she sees them. In fact, she is in love with the whole get-up, entranced with the way every part makes her feel like a living doll. She shyly raises her eyes to meet M's, loving the look of approval she reads there, her heart fluttering madly. M smiles at her, a satisfied, saturnine smile, and says;

"C, why don't you thank Lord K for your pretty clothes, and tell him he was right to have you restrained?"

C's heart flips. She didn't think she had to speak! Now they want a little speech from her! And to say such things in front of the two bimbos! But she must! and again, the truth of her feelings makes itself clear;

"My .. My Lord. I .. I thank you so much for .. for these, lovely, lovely things. I .. I hope that you like me in them even half as much as I like wearing them. And .. and I am happy to be restrained"

And its true- there is something relaxing about having her wrists linked as they are – again, a freedom from responsibility – enforced acceptance She cannot blame herself for not struggling, not resisting, as it, as it is simply no longer possible. There is muffled tittering from the bimbos, and a lopsided smile from Lord K, but again C gets the impression she is saying the right things.

Which is good, because these people now have her chained up and are really quite scary. And also because when she gets that feeling, she gets a warm feeling in her belly which is like a drug to her. Its the same feeling she had earlier, when parading herself to M and D in the bar; a warm, sexy, heady feeling, which centres in her pussy, and as she feels right now, makes her want to be fucked.

All of which makes it extremely easy for Lord K, approaching, to bury two fingers unceremoniously into her soaking sex, and for her to keep soft, and even thrust her hips a little, making it easy for him, knowing M can see how how completely she opens herself, overwhelmed by the feelings of surrender, of shame, and the pleasure of being penetrated. And the surrendering itself makes her hotter, and she begins to go deep into a loop of ever greater arousal until she realises she is getting close to climaxing; her hips thrusting hotly, helplessly, her lips mumbling please for more, her cheeks hot as she realises that, however ashamed she is, she doesn't want him to stop.

But he does, stepping away from her, leaving her writhing in disappointment and shame, hearing them laugh at her helpless arousal, and having no choice but to accept it.

"Interesting. Well, ladies, we have business to discuss. May I suggest that this little lovely will be all the better for a more prettily trimmed pussy and an encounter with Miss A's cane – she can be brought back in half an hour or so."

"But of course" purrs M – "Just as you wish"

And without more ado, C is led, shaking, from the room, by means of firm pressure on the chain that runs between her legs, the links finding their way between her well lubricated sex lips. She is too overwhelmed by the speed of events to do anything but obey – which is, after all, what she has agreed to do. She wishes she could think of something else to do other than simply go along with them, with the threat of the cane. But in fact, doing what he wants - pleasing M, is exactly what she does want.