Title: Miss Prim & Proper, or what goes around, comes around

Codes: MF, torture, humiliation, nc, drugs
Outline: Cynthia gets some payback when a rebuffed suitor from her youth finally takes what already should have been his years ago (and then starts handing it out to every one...)
Suggestor: likes to be unmentioned


Chapter 6 - Tit-press


Cynthia woke up with a strange combination of feelings. The hit of Z had given her the second mind blowing (and mind altering) high of the day.
But through the slowly disappearing colorful vortex, that had disconnected her from reality during the last half hour, the humiliating events, that she experienced before George.... no, Fred had sent her again spinning away, slowly flooded back into her mind.
She had been fucked like a cheap street prostitute, simply laying there and let her cunt squeeze the cum out of Fred's long and thick cock!
The most awful part had been that part of her had liked it! While the biggest parts of her felt violated and abused by the treatment, another small parts had welcomed the treatment and actually wanted it to prolong and intensify.
And that even scared her more.... She, who always rebuffed any (incorrect perceived or not) minor sexual advances towards her from the start, now actually wanted a real event to prolong and intensify. To put if blunt, she wanted the cock to fuck her! Not just being stuck inside and let her do the work, but being pulled out and shoved back inside. Repeatedly and forcefully!
But now, after her orgasm and with the receding feeling of drug induced happiness and contentment, the guilt and humiliation about her behavior came back with a vengeance.

Crawling into a fetal position she started to sob. Cynthia noticed that during the last blackout her red latex body stocking had been removed. Her sobbing grew to a full blown crying fit.
Even the decency of being dressed (no matter how scantily or provocative) had been removed from her and she had to suffer the indignant situation of being totally naked. Still crying she silently cursed the day that she got involved in this whole BDSM-5000 project. And with the arrangements made at work before she left, she could not expect anyone to report her missing during the first 5-6 weeks.
Cynthia sat up and took a good look around the room she was being kept in. As she noticed before the wall and floor were of some rubber/plastic material in an off-white color. It measured some 20 by 20 meters and the whole room was lit by soft indirect lighting from above.
Despite her first impression of an empty room, she now noticed several chairs, tables and some other furniture whose purpose wasn't exactly clear. But given her recent treatment she gathered that this probably would change soon.
Some of the stuff looked really wicked with ropes and chains. Cynthia shivered when she thought about the possible applications of all this.
She stood and walked naked around the room. Each wall had several doors, but all of them were locked, but none had locks. Same with the drawers she encountered. Even while the room was comfortably warm, she shivered at the thought of the horrors that could be kept inside.

Fred saw Cynthia walk around and examine the room. Of course, she had nowhere to go. Not before she realized and accepted her ultimate fate. And not before she had run through the complete process of turning her into one of the ever compliant (no matter how repulsive or humiliating the act she had to perform was going to be) prostitutes that he had working for his organization. And for now the process went fine.
Most of the women who underwent the addiction process to Z fell into apathy for the first two to three weeks. Only after that time they usually regained their original level of activity. Of course, as with everything a few failed and simply stayed in their apathetic state. But even those had their use. Remarkably there were always men (and women) prepared to pay serious money for a docile. everything accepting, never complaining, fuckdoll.
He himself liked his women a bit more lively, so he was pleased to see she adjusting well to the new situation.
But then again, no need to let her think she was even in the least way in control... so as she kept on walking and examining the room, he decided it was time for her next experience and after activating a few controls on the computer, he made his way back to the training room.

In that training room Cynthia noticed that one drawer had opened out of the wall. Looking into it, she looked at a device that she never saw before.
Two slim pieces of some sort of dark brown, well oiled wood, but being kept together by three sets of thumbnuts and bolts of about 8 inches.
One set at both ends and the third straight in the middle, neatly dividing the wooden strips in two. In a weird sort of way it looked like one of those flower presses that she used as a kid. And in a weird sort of way she was kind of right, but before she had more time to think about the device, Fred entered the room again.

Pointing at one of the chairs, he indicated her to sit.
Fuck that bastard, was Cynthia's first thought. He does not even consider me worth talking too... In a fit of anger she grabbed the wooden device, jumped at Fred and tried to hit him.
When her right hand came down to deliver the blow, Fred caught it in an iron grip with his left and he simply kept her arm stretched above her head.
As she was stretched out and needed her right arms to keep her balance, her tits were now completely exposed and Fred smacked her several times on the sensitive globes.
Tears jumped in her eyes as the jolts of pain coursed though her breasts and fanned out all over her body.
Fred had no problems in pushing her backwards to the chair and make her sit on it. Still adjusting to the brutal treatment that her tits had just received, she hardly noticed that her wrists and ankles were cuffed to the frame of the chair.
"Sweetie.... don't EVER do that again!" he hissed at her. "Maybe you did not get it yet, but this is not a joke... your life depends on being able to comply with following orders. Your whimsical and self-centered behavior of doing whatever YOU want is not acceptable any more! And least of all trying to attack the people who in the end decide whether you'll live or not!"
And he continued as Cynthia looked dazed and confused at him, "Do you understand me?"
With two bitch slaps on her cheeks he finally got her attention. "Ye-e-es," she stuttered, still dazed by the ruthless force and strength that Fred used to subdue her.
While he moved behind her she noticed that she had been secured to the chair, her legs slightly spread, so her cunt was exposed and easy reachable.
With her back straightened against the seat, due of the odd position of the shackles around her wrists, her tits stood out straight.
Again the humiliation and shame flooded her mind, to be bound like this, with everything exposed for all that might be here.
For now it was only this brutal Fred, but what if....
"Don't resist or scream, because it will only make it worse," Fred whispered in her ear.
He then reached around her and squeezed first one tit and then the other as he slipped them both between the two pieces of wood.
He had opened the thumbnuts enough to create enough space between the two parts.
Cynthia relaxed as the wood actually felt quite good as it touched the soft underside of her tits. The device did not slide of as Fred released the firm tits and they expanded again to squeeze against the wood. She looked down and saw just the front of her tits, with the pink/brownish nipples, sticking out of the dark brown wood.
Now Fred started to turn on each thumbscrew one by one, pressing the wooden strips slowly but surely closer and closer together and Cynthia recognized in horror what was going to happen! Her tits were going to be squeezed. In the beginning the pressure even felt good, but even that was nullified by the shame and the fear abut things to come.
Soon the wood started to press deeper and deeper in the soft fatty tissue of her tits. The front parts started to bulge more and more, as blood was being pumped in, but not being able to leave.
Despite the growing pressure and pain, her nipples became rock hard and very sensitive (this she noticed as Fred flicked his finger every now and then across them).
Each caress send an electrical stream from that nipple straight to her clit and she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. How awful to sit with her legs open so that her fluids could just drip on the chair. She could not even deny that this was turning her on!
Fred took a few steps back and admired his work. The base of Cynthia's tits had now been reduced to about half its normal size and it looked as if most of the tissue had been pushed outwards. The front parts now looked like purplish balloons, ready to burst and topped with red cherries.
Looking lower, he noticed the expected wetness between her lips. Closing in again, he rubbed her twat a few times and Cynthia bucked her hips against his fingers.
Good... she was getting horny again due to the withdrawal from Z and instinctively felt that she needed to cum. Even if her conscious mind did not (want to) realize this, her autonomous system was already adjusting to the situation.

Fred now continued with turning the thumbnuts. Where Cynthia until now only felt a slight discomfort, even if she saw her tits bulging more and more with horror, she was now treated to the full effect of the titpress. The skin and tissue between the wooden sticks started to become sensitive and painful from the continued pressure and lack of blood.
Each turn now caused her more and more pain.
"Ngg..." she tried not to groan, but after two quick turns by Fred it became to much.
"That's a good girl.... moaning is ok, just no screaming" he spoke to her and rubbed her cunt again.
That felt so good that it almost canceled out the pain in her tits...
"NNNGGG" Cynthia moaned again, but this time from real pleasure as Fred sucked on one of her oversensitive nipples. The sensations were just awesome.
But then the pain came back just as much when he continued turning the thumbnuts and moving the two parts of the titpress closer and closer together.
He now had to use real force, as both tits had been flattened to not even one quarter of their usual thickness at the base.
The only thing that kept Cynthia from screaming her lungs out from the excruciating pain, was Fred's hand fingering her soaking wet cunt.
The combination of pain and pleasure made her feel so strange, the humiliation of being tied, tortured and fingered against her will on one hand,
and on the other hand, she bounced her slippery and wet pussy with all her might against the thick and straightened fingers from Fred.
Again he sucked her nipples that were about the burst open from the pressure. This time Cynthia could not hold back.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" and her cunt clamped down on Fred's fingers as she exploded in an unbelievable orgasm. The electricity now flowed in both directions between her pussy and her tits. Three, four times she bucked her hips forward to prolong her climax, but eventually it ended and she slumped down, exhausted, on the chair.
As she came back to reality, the pain and pressure in her tits also returned. How long was she to endure this? A thousand needles stung every square inch of her udders.
Looking for Fred, she saw him at one of the drawers, again taking one of the syringes that she started to hate and like. She now knew she was being drugged and made an addict, but the rush felt so good....  God, she really was loosing it. No one in his right mind should enjoy this, she corrected herself sternly.

Not that it really mattered. She was going to be injected by Fred anyway.
The last thing that mattered to Cynthia, before the vortex of joy and colors engulfed her post-orgasmic mind again, was the sudden sharp pain and shame as Fred pushed the needle an inch deep in her still oversensitive left nipple! As if she was a cow that needed udder treatment!
But almost instantly the pain was pushed away by that almost welcome vertigo of colors...

