eenslaved:

A tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips. “Why..why is she tied up like that?”

“She likes it.”

“Doesn’t it..hurt?” A wavering finger pointed shyly. “There. Doesn’t it hurt her..”

“Doesn’t it hurt her to have her nipples clamped that way?”

“Yes. That’s what I meant.”

“Sure. But she likes that too.”

“How can she possibly?”

“Look at her cunt. You see?”

“Yes. She’s wet.”

“Very. When I have her wear the breast press —”

“What is that?”

“Two pieces of curved wood for her tits. It acts as a vice. Squeezes them. There are wingnuts in the wood that draw the wood pieces together. They can be turned…very tight.”

“It sounds..very cruel.”

“It is, in its way. But she looks glorious in it. Her breasts bulging, her cry each time I turn the screw. Her entire body begins to tremble and she has to fight to keep still, as any movement just worsens the throbbing in her tits.”

“Ohh. How awful. How tremendously awful.”

“And exquisite.”

“Yes. Very exquisite.”

“Maybe later I’ll let you see her wear them.”

“That..that would be lovely.”

“Mmhm.”

“Why doesn’t she talk?”

“We haven’t said anything to her, we’ve only been talking about her. She doesn’t speak unless she’s addressed, and that’s only if she has permission to speak.”

“You don’t let her talk?”

“Mm, sure. I like it when all she can make are sounds. Like a toy. Or an animal. She likes it too. Keeps a bit of her focus.”

Tiny mewls came from the bed. The blindfolded head turned from side to side, seeking their voices, which kept moving around her.

mmphs, just had to include “tiny mewls came from the bed”

Hard to not picture myself in that position, mewing.  I like mewing.