Bella slowly opens her eyes, feeling groggy and disoriented. She blinks a few times, trying to focus on her surroundings. The room is unfamiliar, lavishly decorated with expensive furniture and artwork. Soft sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room.
As Bella sits up in bed, she realizes she is completely naked except for a heavy metal belt locked tightly around her waist and between her legs. Panic begins to rise within her as she runs her fingers along the smooth, cold surface of the chastity belt, feeling its unyielding grip on her body.
Her panic level rises as she examines the sturdy metal chastity belt secured around her hips and crotch. Trembling fingers trace the lines of the belt, exploring its contours and finding no way to remove it.
Confusion wars with terror as she tries to piece together what happened after arriving at the exclusive club with Bridgette. Images flicker in her mind… the luxurious setting, Bridgette’s piercing blue eyes, that awful wine burning down her throat. Then…nothing. Just blackness until waking here.
A choked sob escapes her as the full implications begin to sink in. Kidnapped. Drugged. Trapped in a stranger’s home, at the mercy of a woman whose true intentions are becoming chillingly clear.
Curiosity and fear mingle within Bella as she slides off the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The room spins briefly as the residual effects of the drug make themselves known. Steadying herself against the bedpost, she takes a deep, steadying breath before tentatively moving toward the window to try and see where she is being kept. Halfway there, however, something catches her eye.
Reflected in a full-length mirror mounted on the opposite wall, is her own image. Stunned by the sight, Bella approaches the mirror, reaching out with trembling fingers to touch her reflection.
She stares at herself, noting the way the steel hugs her curves. The belt is both beautiful and terrifying.
Tears begin to form in her eyes, but she blinks them away furiously. Now is not the time for tears, she tells herself sternly.
She looks around frantically, searching for any clue as to where she might be. Her gaze lands on a large wooden door, presumably leading out of the room. Across from the bed, there is another doorway leading to what appears to be a lavish en-suite bathroom. She enters cautiously, marveling at the white marble tiles, gleaming brass fixtures, and large claw-foot tub. Next to the bathroom is a spacious walk-in closet filled with clothing that seems both elegant and incredibly risqué… tight corsets, sheer negligees, silky chemises, and an array of impossibly high heels.
She is naked and needs something to wear, but there is nothing normal anywhere. No jeans, no t-shirts. Not even any panties.
Taking a deep breath, she steels her resolve. If she’s going to have any chance of escaping this predicament, she needs to play along and submit to her captor… for now.
With renewed determination, Bella begins perusing the racks of revealing clothing once more. What kind of outfit would please someone like Bridgette? Something sexy and submissive, Bella figures.
Finally, she settles on a sleek black latex minidress with cutouts strategically placed to show off her cleavage and a hint of underboob. She struggles to squeeze into the skin-tight material, tugging and wriggling until it clings to her curves like a second skin. The dress leaves little to the imagination, barely covering her ass and showcasing her long legs.
Next, she chooses a pair of gleaming patent leather stilettos with 6-inch heels.
As she steps out of the closet, the sky-high heels make Bella feel wobbly and unsteady. She grips the doorframe, struggling to find her balance in the crazy heels. Each step sends a thrill of nerves mixed with unwanted arousal through her body.
Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror, Bella gasps at the transformation… gone is the conservative, studious girl from yesterday. In her place stands a sultry, tempting vision of latex and exposed skin. The clingy latex dress accentuates every dip and curve of her body, making her look like a walking wet dream. Her full breasts strain against the material, the outline of her pert nipples clearly visible.
The image is startlingly erotic, making Bella feel like she’s staring at someone else.
She watches her reflection sway its hips experimentally, then bites her lip in mortification. This isn’t her, yet the fantasy stirs something forbidden deep inside.
Blushing furiously, she turns away from the mirror, determined not to lose herself completely. She needs to find Bridgette, demand answers. And deep down, though she refuses to acknowledge it fully, part of her craves to see the effect this outfit will have on her captor.
Breathing heavily, she steadies herself against the antique wooden vanity, trying to regain her balance on the torturous stiletto heels. She can’t help but notice the heavy metal collar resting beside her hand. It’s thick and substantial, crafted from what looks like solid steel.
Almost trancelike, she reaches out to pick it up, cradling the weighty circle of metal in shaking hands. It’s cool to the touch, unyielding and final. A shiver runs down her spine.
Impulsively, almost against her will, Bella raises the collar, bringing it up to her own throat. In the mirror, she watches wide-eyed as she slots the circle into place against her fair skin. The image is striking – shocking in its eroticism. Paired with the rest of her indecent outfit, the collar completes the look, transforming her fully into an object of desire and submission.
Something about the way it sits there, flush against her skin, feels terrifyingly right. As if it was made specifically for her. Designed to fit the exact dimensions of her neck.
She looks… like she belongs. Like this was meant to be. Fear wars with dark curiosity as she imagines actually wearing this…
Panicked at how turned on and horny this fantasy makes her, she quickly releases the catch and practically tosses the collar back onto the dresser.
Heart pounding, face flushed, she turns away from the mirror and takes a few unsteady steps towards the door. Her whole body feels heated, alive, pulsing with forbidden desire. It’s wrong, so wrong, but god, if this is how the mere idea affects her, what would actually having that collar locked around her neck feel like?
Shaking her head roughly to dispel the traitorous thoughts, Bella focuses on the task at hand: finding Bridgette. Or anyone. She can’t just sit in this room and wait for her fate to be decided. Though her belly flutters with anxiety, a new boldness rises within her, fueled perhaps by the erotic outfit and lurid fantasies… or perhaps by the realization she has absolutely nothing left to lose.
Taking a fortifying breath, Bella straightens her spine, throws back her shoulders, and strides as purposefully as she can on those ridiculously high heels to the bedroom door.
Bella creeps down the hallway cautiously, listening intently for any sound that might reveal someone’s location. Reaching a grand staircase, she peers over the railing to survey the ground floor below. All seems quiet for now.
She descends the stairs one careful step at a time, clutching the banister for balance in her precarious heels. At the bottom, she pauses, unsure which direction to go. To her left, she spots a massive set of double doors, likely the main entrance. Perhaps if she can slip outside, she could find help.
Moving as quietly as she can over to the doors, Bella gently tries one handle. Locked.
Disappointment hits her, but she remains determined. Moving further into the expansive entryway, she discovers a large window offering a view outside. Eagerly, she leans close and gasps at the sight.
In the distance, Bella spies a sprawling horse stable and riding arena. Even further away, near the horizon, she thinks she can make out glints of sunlight reflecting off water – perhaps a lake or small bay. Suddenly, realization dawns. She must be on some sort of estate, possibly an island judging by the coastline visible far off.
Bella backs away from the window, her mind spinning with this newfound knowledge. Trapped on an island, surrounded by nothing but ocean…the scope of her predicament sinks in. Where could she possibly run to? Who could help her? Her heart drops, is escape even possible?
But underneath the spiraling panic, something else is growing. An insistent, urgent heat gathering between her legs. The constricting chastity belt presses snuggly against her pussy, reminding her constantly of her helpless state. Combined with the scandalous clothing and the humiliation of her predicament, it creates a toxic cocktail of shame and arousal.
Trying to ignore the dampness building between her legs, Bella resumes her search, opening doors and peeking into rooms as she passes by. Eventually, she hears muffled voices coming from the rear of the house. Following the sound, she finds herself standing outside a slightly open door. Inside, she recognizes Bridgette’s commanding tone intermingled with a masculine rumble.
Pressing her ear to the wood, Bella strains to listen.
“Yes ma’am, understood,” a gruff male voice says. “I’ll inform the staff to prepare for the auction tonight.”
“Excellent,” replies a commanding feminine tone – Bridgette. “See to it our special guest is kept secure until then. I want her looking absolutely irresistible when the bidding starts.”
Blood draining from her face, Bella sways unsteadily on her feet as the implications hit her. Auction? Special guest? Oh god, they intend to sell her like livestock! Fear mixes with unwanted arousal as she pictures herself paraded in front of lecherous strangers, bid on and bought.
Pulse racing, she fights the urge to bolt as she realizes how vulnerable she is, practically naked and sneaking around.
Overwhelmed with terror, Bella stumbles backwards, forgetting to keep silent. In her haste, she knocks over a decorative vase resting on a side table. It crashes to the marble floor, shattering into a million pieces with a deafening clatter.
Heart in her throat, Bella whirls around just as a burly man in a black suit comes barreling out of the room. He stops short at the sight of her, eyes widening briefly before narrowing suspiciously. “Who are you?” he demands gruffly. “What are you doing wandering around?”
“P-please, don’t sell me!” Bella blurts out desperately, clasping her hands together imploringly. Tears prick at her eyes as the gravity of her situation sinks in fully. “I don’t belong here, there’s been a terrible mistake!”
To her shock, the guard actually chuckles – a low, rumbling sound. “Calm down, sweetheart. Nobody’s selling you.” When Bella just gapes at him in confusion, he elaborates impatiently. “I recognize you now, You’re Ms. Short’s personal guest. She’s got big plans for you, apparently.”
Bella’s knees nearly buckle in relief.
Bella takes a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “So…so when Ms. Short mentioned the auction and keeping someone secure…” she ventures hesitantly. “That wasn’t about me?”
The guard shakes his head, looking mildly amused by her distress. “Nah, she was referring to some chick we picked up last week. Real feisty one – gonna fetch a pretty penny, I reckon.” His eyes rove appreciatively over Bella’s scantily-clad form. “Not that you wouldn’t too, dressed like that. Damn, girl.”
Blushing furiously, Bella crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. “Ms. Short chose these clothes for me,” she mumbles, not wanting the guard to think she willingly selected such a provocative outfit. “I didn’t have anything else to wear.”
“Hey, I ain’t judging.” The man holds up his hands defensively. “Just stating a fact. Anyway, come on – the boss lady’s waiting.” Gesturing for Bella to follow, he strides purposefully down the hall without looking back.
With no other choice, Bella totters after him on unsteady legs, anxiety warring with trepidation in her gut. What exactly does Bridgette want with her?
The guard leads Bella down the opulent corridor to a set of imposing ornate double doors.
Without knocking, the guard simply swings them open and ushers Bella inside. “Your guest, boss,” he announces brusquely before retreating and closing the doors behind him with a resounding thud.
Bella finds herself standing in what appears to be a luxurious study or library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes. A crackling fireplace casts dancing shadows across the rich mahogany floors. And seated behind an enormous desk…is Bridgette Short.
The statuesque redhead rises gracefully to greet Bella, a predatory smile playing on her lips. She’s clad in a form-fitting crimson gown that hugs every sculpted curve, her fiery hair cascading over one shoulder. “Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens at last,” she purrs, eyeing Bella hungrily.
Bella trembles slightly under Bridgette’s intense scrutiny, acutely aware of her own vulnerability. The dominating woman’s casual reference to this evening’s event sends a chill down her spine. What sort of gathering requires dressing like a sex object?
Before she can voice any of the myriad questions swirling in her mind, Bridgette waves a dismissive hand.” I’m sure you have a few questions, but we don’t have time to chat now. I still have preparations to finalize for tonight’s festivities.” Her blue eyes flash mischievously as they travel over Bella’s curvaceous form. “Again, love the outfit. I knew you would find the perfect attire.”
Bridgette’s melodic laughter rings out, somehow both enticing and unnerving simultaneously. “The perfect outfit for the soon-to-be perfect doll,” she quips. With a flick of her wrist, she summons the guard. “Please escort our guest back to her quarters until its time for the event tonight”
Too stunned to protest, Bella allows herself to be led out, head spinning. Perfect doll? What on earth could that mean? Dread coils in her stomach as various unsettling possibilities race through her imagination. Yet amidst the swirling uncertainty, Bella can’t ignore the persistent heat simmering in her clit, fueled by the forbidden thrill of Bridgette’s approval.
Head bowed meekly, Bella follows the hulking guard back through the maze of hallways, her mind reeling with worry and confusion. Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice her shoe catching on a loose carpet thread until it’s too late. With a yelp, she trips and pitches forward…
…straight into the guard’s strong arms. Instinctively, he catches her, pulling her firmly against his broad chest. Bella finds herself crushed against his muscular frame, her soft breasts pressing into his torso. Mortified, she starts babbling apologies.
But then she feels it… the guard’s growing erection prodding insistently into her belly. Shock renders Bella speechless. The heat of his arousal sears through their clothes, sparking answering warmth in her own traitorous body despite the circumstances.
The guard reacts instantly, roughly pushing Bella back against the nearest wall. One meaty hand wraps around her throat, pinning her in place. She gasps sharply as he squeezes just enough to remind her of his physical dominance. Helplessly, she looks up into his lust-darkened eyes, her own widening in alarm.
“Damn girl, you’re asking for trouble walking around dressed like that,” he growls, his hot breath washing over her face. “Got me rock hard already.”
Bella whimpers, suddenly all too aware of the large bulge digging into her hip. Nausea churns in her stomach as she realizes his intentions. Oh God, is he actually going to…?
With that somehow sanity seems to return. The guard releases Bella with a derisive shove, causing her to stagger unsteadily in the outrageous heels. Adjusting his crotch with an audible grunt, he levels her with a severe glower. “But I value my balls too much to piss off the big boss. So count yourself lucky, princess.”
He strides quickly to her and wordlessly grasps Bella’s bare upper arm, fingers digging into supple flesh. Heart pounding, she allows herself to be manhandled, too stunned to resist.
Opulent art and antique furniture blur past, opalescent chandeliers overhead casting fractured rainbows. Wherever this grand mansion may be, wealth and power radiate from every corner a stark contrast to the guards crude actions. Reaching an ornately carved wooden door, the guard releases Bella’s arm. Blood rushes back into the abused limb, sparking pins and needle sensations. Rubbing gingerly at the sore spot, she shoots him a wary glance. He pays her no mind, simply twisting the brass knob and ushers Bella inside.
Pausing at the threshold, he fixes her with a stern gaze. “Clean yourself up, put on some makeup, and be presentable before dark,” he orders brusquely. “Or else.”
Bella’s stomach lurches at the vague threat. “Ready for what?” she demands, finding a scrap of courage. “Where am I going? Please, just tell me!”
The man’s expression remains impassive. “None of my concern. Ms. Short has business tonight,” that’s all I know. Now stop asking questions and do as you’re told. With that, he exits swiftly, locking the door behind him with an ominous click.
All of a sudden too tired to deal with anything else, she collapses onto the velvet stool in front of an ornate vanity.
Staring at her reflection, Bella traces a fingertip along her collarbone absentmindedly. Memories flood back and her thoughts drift to her older sister and the events of the past few days….
Always the rebellious free spirit, her sister loved adventure and pushing boundaries. Their parents despaired of her wild antics. Three years ago, she vanished without a trace during a supposed backpacking trip through Europe. The family searched tirelessly but found no answers. Despite their differences, Bella idolized her bold sibling. So when she discovered her sister’s hidden journals filled with tantalizing tales of kinky exploits and BDSM clubs, Bella became obsessed with retracing her steps in hopes of solving the mystery. Months of discreet investigations finally led Bella to HBC (also known as Heavy Bondage Club) a rather seedy bondage club, infamous for illegal activities. Naively donning one of her sister’s old dominatrix outfits, she ventured inside… thinking herself safe dressed this way… only to realize how woefully out of her depth she truly was.
That ridiculously tight latex bra… she winced at the memory of it biting into her soft flesh, the underwires threatening to snap under the pressure of her larger breasts. It had been designed for her leaner sister, not Bella’s softer, fuller figure. The latex pants weren’t any better.
Looking back on meeting Bridgette at the club, Bella knew how naive she’d been. But still, remembering her interaction with the powerful woman sent a confusing thrill through her, especially now, sitting naked and caged before her own reflection. Her cheeks burned recalling how Bridgette had taken command of their encounter with such ease.
Bella could still hear her huskily whispering conspiratorially in her ear. The words rang in her mind, crystal clear: “This world isn’t meant for sweet little things like you. There are predators here who would tear you apart and delight in the taste. You’re out of your depth, dear.”
Even then, she’d recognized the truth in Bridgette’s warning. Out of her league, way over her head… a thousand other idioms couldn’t adequately describe how utterly mismatched she was for the debauched scene surrounding her. Yet she’d persisted stubbornly, driven by the desperate need to uncover her sister’s fate.
And now, here she was – Bridgette’s prey after all. The ultimate irony… the woman who had warned her of the dangers lurking in this world was the biggest monster of all.
Lost in contemplation of her past actions, Bella absently touches the cool steel of the chastity belt encircling her waist. The reminder of her utter helplessness sends a fresh wave of panic through her.
Glancing back up at her mirrored image, she sees the transformation her captivity has already wrought. Her once soft, innocent features now hold a haunted quality, shadowed by uncertainty and fear. Yet, there’s also a flicker of something else lurking beneath the surface… an unwanted curiosity about what else Bridgette has planned.
Rising from the vanity, Bella steps out of the too tall heels and begins pacing the room, her now bare feet padding anxiously on the plush carpet. The opulence surrounding her only heightens the surrealness of her predicament. She’s a captive in paradise, a pawn in some twisted game devised by Bridgette.
Her pacing brings her to the French doors leading out to the balcony. Without thinking, she throws them open, stepping into the balmy pre-evening air. Below her lies an expansive garden, meticulously landscaped and illuminated by soft ground lights just starting to flicker on. Beyond that, the setting sun glimmers off the restless ocean waves, extending as far as she can see. The sheer vastness of the sea reinforces her isolation.
Leaning heavily on the stone railing, Bella fights back tears of despair. Her life has spun completely out of control since entering HBC. She’d sought answers about her sister, but instead, she’s become entangled in a nightmare from which there seems no escape.
Determined to avoid further punishment, Bella decides her best course of action is compliance…for now. With a resolution she barely feels she heads into the lavish ensuite bathroom, stripping off the constricting latex dress as she goes.
Bella finds herself facing an immense clawfoot tub already filled with steamy, fragrant water. Beside it rests a bottle of luxury bath oil and a plush towel. Clearly, Ms. Short thought of everything.
Thinking she is alone… she starts to relax and feel safe. Even if she knows its the imagined safety of a child hiding under their blankets.
Slipping off the rest of her clothes, Bella winces as the tight latex snaps against her sensitive skin, leaving behind faint marks.
Completely nude save for the chastity belt, she regards her reflection in the bathroom mirror critically. Despite her ordeal, she has to admit she looks good… better than ever, even. The confining metal accentuates her curves, forcing her waist in and thrusting out her ample bust and ass.
Chiding herself mentally for getting turned on from her own reflection, she climbs into the inviting bathwater, sighing blissfully as the heat envelops her. She uncaps the bath oil, breathing in its heady aroma… vanilla and sandalwood with an underlying note of something sharper. Slowly, she drizzles it into the tub, watching mesmerized as it diffuses into shimmering clouds.
Sliding deeper into the tub, Bella lets out a contented moan as the slick oil caresses her skin. Its exotic scent fills her nostrils, mingling with the steam to create an intoxicating atmosphere. Closing her eyes, she surrenders to the sensual experience, allowing her concerns to drift away temporarily.
The hot water and the steam filled room act like a drug… letting her drift to a dream like place…
Almost instinctively, her hands begin roaming over her slick flesh… stroking along her arms, grazing the sides of her breasts, trailing down her flat stomach. Each touch ignites sparks of pleasure, her nerve endings hyperaware and responsive. As she relaxes into the silky depths, her mind wanders back to Bridgette. She imagines they are not her own fingers exploring but Bridgette’s… strong, assured, masterful.
In her mind’s eye, Bella conjures an erotic vision. Bridgette looms over her, blue eyes burning with lustful intensity. Water droplets bead on her ivory skin, tracing rivulets between her generous bosom. Lowering herself into the tub opposite Bella, the fiery vision parts her mile-long legs, exposing glistening pink folds.
“Come, pet,” phantom Bridgette purrs huskily, crooking one finger in beckoning invitation. “Let me show you true ecstasy…”
Startled out of her reverie, Bella sits bolt upright in the cooling bathwater, splashing noisily. Face flushed and heart hammering, she feels both embarrassed and intensely aroused by the vivid fantasy. God, what is happening to her? How can she entertain such lurid thoughts about her own captor?
Flushed with arousal and lingering shame, she scrambles out hastily, nearly slipping on the slick tiles. What is happening to her?! Daydreaming erotically about her kidnapper…the same woman holding her captive for sinister purposes. Bella ought to feel disgusted with herself, yet can’t shake the insistent throbbing between her legs, trapped cruelly within its chastity cage. Wrapping the plush towel around her trembling form, she tries desperately to compose herself.
Gathering her courage, Bella steps out of the bathroom, dripping slightly onto the lush carpet. The bedroom seems smaller now, walls closing in as reality presses upon her. Swallowing hard, she wraps herself tightly in the soft terry cloth towel, tucking the edge between her breasts.
Making her way to an elaborate vanity, she perches herself back on the plush velvet stool. Staring into the large oval mirror, Bella hardly recognizes the wide-eyed waif peering back. Steam from the bath still emanates from her flushed skin, giving her an ethereal glow. Droplets of water trickle from her tangled damp hair, tracing slow paths down her neck and shoulders. Her lips appear unusually plump and reddened, as if recently well-kissed.
But it’s her eyes that capture her. Large and luminous, they shine with a foreign intensity. Gone is the timidity, replaced by a simmering boldness.
The girl staring back at her is a strange version of herself she never knew existed… this naked seductive thing who dreams of women. Staring blankly at her own wide eyed reflection, Bella’s mind races with unanswerable questions. What really happened to her sister? Was Bridgette telling the truth about knowing her sister? Or had it all been a calculated lie designed to ensnare naive little Bella in this twisted web? The thought makes her blood run cold.
Eyes stinging with unshed tears, she grips the edge of the vanity until her knuckles turn white. Dear god…was her sister sold at some auction like those poor girls the guard mentioned earlier? Is she suffering as a helpless plaything to some depraved monster’s sadistic whims? Nausea churns in Bella’s gut at the thought. Or worse, Bridgette could have been lying altogether. Maybe she lured Bella here under false pretenses, inventing stories just to gain her trust.
Try as she might, Bella can’t shake the erotic images flooding her brain. Visions of Bridgette’s voluptuous nude form emerging from frothy bathwater like a goddess fill her mind’s eye. Those firm, generous breasts gleaming with moisture… that sultry smile promising untold pleasures… the insistent throb between Bella’s thighs grows stronger.
Guiltily, Bella squirms on the vanity seat, torn between revulsion and reluctant arousal. How can she lust after her own captor? The same woman potentially responsible for her sister’s unknown fate? This woman who employs men like the guard who get paid with sex from her captives?! It’s beyond wrong. Perverse. Depraved.
And yet… deep down, a treacherous part of her yearns to surrender control entirely. To kneel at Bridgette’s feet, naked and subservient, begging for her touch. The thought of those elegant hands caressing her quivering flesh sends electric shivers through Bella’s bound pussy.
Shaking her head vigorously, Bella fights to clear her mind. Whether she likes it or not, the harsh reality is that she remains Bridgette’s prisoner. Her only chance of surviving this ordeal lies in appealing to the mysterious redhead’s mercy…which means making herself as desirable as possible.
And so, she takes a good look at the array of cosmetics laid out on the vanity. Lipsticks in varying shades of red, dramatic eyeshadow palettes, falsies, and enough foundation to conceal any imperfection.
The memory of the guards warning echoes in her mind… be presentable before dark, or else. The sun is starting to fade and so swallowing hard, she picks up a bottle of foundation and begins applying it to her pale skin with quick, jerky movements.
As she works, her thoughts spin frantically. Who will be at this mysterious event Bridgette mentioned? Will she be paraded around like some prize pony? Sold off to the highest bidder? The mere idea makes her stomach churn with revulsion and fear. But she knows she has no choice but to comply, to play along until she can find some way out of this nightmare.
She forces herself to calm down, steady her hand and with a deep breath starts selecting items carefully.
As she darkens her lashes and dusts rouge across her cheekbones, Bella’s mind wanders back to the vivid fantasy that consumed her in the tub. The memory sends fresh heat flooding through her, making her squirm on the velvet cushioned bench. She starts to condemn herself again… God, she’s sick…twisted…wrong to be thinking such things.
Bridgette abducted her, stripped her, locked her in chastity. She should hate the woman, not pine for her forbidden touch. Those sultry blue eyes commanding silent submission. And yet…. The phantom sensation of soft skin sliding against hers in the heated water… No matter how much she tries… its all she can think about.
Finally, she lines her lips carefully before filling them in with a siren red shade… the exact hue Bridgette wore earlier. Gazing at her transformed reflection, Bella hopes that this look will please Bridgette immensely. By the time she finishes, the demure college grad gazing back at her is gone, replaced, reborn. She now oozes sultry seduction… crimson lips begging to be bruised, smoky eyes promising untold debauchery. Every stroke of the brush is calculated to maximize her appeal, to present herself as the perfect living doll.
Standing up slowly from the vanity, Bella turns to face the discarded pile of black latex on the floor. The skintight mini dress represents everything she should despise… lewd exposure, objectification, perversion. And yet, staring at the scandalously tiny garment, all she can think about is the raw hunger in Bridgette’s eyes as she drank in Bella’s revealed curves. She wants to feel that hunger again.
And so, after gathering the pile of clothes, she walks back into the closet and puts them down on a nearby dressing table. Seeing her reflection in the full-length mirror forces her to take a deep, steadying breath. The alluring stranger reflected back at her steals her breath away. Sultry, inviting eyes gaze out from behind expertly applied shadow and liner. Plump scarlet lips glisten provocatively. Flawless porcelain skin practically glows under the lighting. She hardly recognizes herself anymore.
With trembling hands, Bella reaches for the discarded latex minidress she wore previously. Slipping it over her head, she shimmies and tugs until the restrictive material encases her body like a second skin. The garment leaves little to the imagination, cutouts strategically placed to highlight her most enticing assets. Her full breasts strain against the low neckline, threatening to spill out at any moment.
Then she slips her feet into the towering 6 inch stilettos. Teetering slightly, Bella takes a tentative step, then another. Each click of the heels on the hardwood floor fuels both anxiety and perverse anticipation in equal measure.
Returning to the vanity, Bella studies her appearance critically in the illuminated mirror. While the makeup and outfit certainly meet the criteria for ‘presentable’, her damp hair hangs limply around her face, detracting from the overall effect. Knowing Bridgette expects perfection, she cannot afford to overlook any detail. Normally she styles her hair minimally, opting for simplicity over glamour.
But these are hardly normal circumstances. Nothing about this insane scenario merits understatement.
Bella retrieves the hair dryer and round brush from the bathroom and she patiently sections her long locks and begins the laborious task of blow drying them into sleek submission. Strand by strand, she wraps the tresses around the barrel, tugging gently as she aims the hot air to smooth out any frizz or tangles. With each stroke, fantasies flood into her head. Images of Bridgette running her own fingers through those silken strands during some intimate encounter… imaginary scenarios where this isn’t a gilded prison cell but a decadent lover’s nest shared willingly. Heat pools in Bella’s belted pussy as forbidden fantasies assault her vulnerable psyche. She shakes her head, focus she tells herself focus…
Once satisfied with the silky results, Bella plugs in a large curling iron and waits for it to heat up. Starting at the base of her neck, she carefully winds thick chunks of hair around the sizzling rod, holding each curl in place until it cools sufficiently to retain its shape. Meticulously, she repeats the process until her hair looks perfect.
With her styling complete, Bella looks out the window anxiously. Its almost dark and so determined not to waste a single minute she stands up and starts to practice walking in the 6 inch heels. On her circuits around the room, she spots a crystal bowl overflowing with ripe fruits – plums, berries, and sliced melons. Her stomach growls insistently, reminding Bella she hasn’t eaten since yesterday. Seems her captor wants to keep her fed…for now anyway.
Snagging a succulent strawberry, Bella savors the burst of juicy sweetness on her tongue. Next, she pops a fat purple grape into her mouth, relishing its tartness. Mindful of the ticking minutes, Bella keeps circling the spacious room, munching thoughtfully as she tests out her footwork. Little does Bella know… but the fruit contains something… extra…
Each step in the insanely tall heels proves challenging. Teetering unsteadily, Bella forces herself to focus on maintaining poise despite the awkwardness. She can only imagine the punishment awaiting if she stumbles or wobbles inappropriately later. Bridgette strikes her as the type to demand absolute elegance and grace in every facet of behavior.
Absorbed in her attempts to master walking seductively in the towering heels, Bella doesn’t notice the door swinging open behind her. Startled by the guards gruff voice suddenly cutting through the room, she whirls around, nearly losing her balance in the process.
“Time to go, princess,” he states, eyes roving unabashedly over her curvaceous form. “Boss lady’s expecting you ASAP.” Under the man’s intense scrutiny, her latex clad figure feels even more exposed than actual nakedness. A slow grin spreads across his rugged features as lecherous eyes roam freely over Bella’s scantily clad form. “Damn, you clean up nice,” he drawls approvingly. “Boss lady’s gonna flip her shit when she gets a load of this.”
Heart hammering, Bella nods meekly and teeters over to join him. Up close, the guard’s imposing size intimidates even further… easily over six feet tall with muscles bulging beneath his tailored black suit. Masculine cologne mixed with testosterone emanates from his heated skin.
Abruptly, he seizes Bella’s upper arm in an iron grip, yanking her roughly against his side. “Time to go. Your carriage awaits, princess.” She gasps at the sudden contact, acutely aware of his strength compared to her relative weakness. Hot shame floods her cheeks as an unmistakable bulge prods insistently into her hip.
Desperately clinging to her composure, Bella tries to pry information from the stoic man as he leads her forcefully through opulent hallways toward some unknown destination.
“Please sir, you have to tell me…” She keeps her voice low and beseeching, eyes downcast in a show of deference. “Am I…am I to be auctioned off as a slave?”
The guard barks out a harsh laugh at her quavering question, roughly yanking her arm. “Jesus, enough with the damn slave nonsense. Look around you, princess. Does this look like some cheap brothel or back alley bazaar to you?” He gestures expansively at the lavish surroundings… gilded moldings, crystal chandeliers, priceless art adorning every wall.
“The boss lady doesn’t allow the common merchandise in her private home, understand? They’re kept at her facility down by the dock, processed and prepared for sale in the proper channels.” His grip on her tender flesh tightens painfully as he continues derisively, “Why a prime piece of ass like yourself ended up here in her private residence is beyond me. Could bring top dollar easy if auctioned to the right bidder… Far as I’m concerned, broads built like you have one purpose and one purpose only.”
As if to illustrate, his free hand drifts down to adjust the prominent bulge tenting his pants. “Have to say though… in all my years working these sales, never once seen a slave rocking a purity trap. Usually buyers wanna sample the merchandise before they shell out the big bucks. Hard to check out the goods when they’re all locked away, ain’t it?”
Emboldened by desperation and morbid curiosity, Bella dares to ask the looming guard directly. “But.. Bridgette…Ms. Short, she called me a ‘perfect doll’ earlier. Why would she call me that if she wasn’t going to… oh god… why am I here?”
For a fleeting moment, something almost sympathetic flickers across the burly man’s harsh features. Then it’s gone, replaced by the familiar mask of cruel indifference. He shrugs one massive shoulder dismissively. “Hell if I know, princess. Maybe the boss has got a private buyer all lined up, waiting to snap up her custom made bimbo the second she’s done breaking you in. Could be she just gets her rocks off messing with pretty little girls like you.” Leaning in close, he drops his voice to a menacing whisper. “Either way, none of it matters. Because whatever Ms. Short wants, Ms. Short gets. Period.”
Stumbling out of the opulent mansion entrance, Bella’s jaw drops in utter disbelief at the surreal spectacle greeting her. Parked directly in front of the grand stone steps sits an simple but obviously expensive cart, complete with plush leather seats and polished brass fixtures.
Attached to the vehicle by chains attached to their harnesses are two matching blond women, standing tall and proud. The identical ponygirl tack leaves little to the imagination… cinched waists exaggerate impossibly wide hips and generously sized breasts, all wrapped in gleaming latex.
Matching thigh-high ‘hooves’ shape their calves into solid pillars ending in rounded edges meant for trotting rather than walking. Golden braided manes stream down their backs like spun silk.
Utterly identical down to the smallest detail, the ponygirls wear blindfolds obscuring their eyes and bits wedged firmly between soft lips. They radiate strength and poise. Obvious pride shines through their flawless posture and carriage.
Awed shock yields rapidly to horrified comprehension. These exquisite creatures exist solely as property, human horses trained to serve at their owner’s whim. No individuality, no free will.
Wordlessly, the imposing guard leads Bella to the awaiting cart. Helping her climb up, he guides her to the padded seat. “Stay,” he commands gruffly before sauntering around to the front where the two magnificent ponygirls stand at strict attention. With her 6 inch heels she doubts she could get down on her own without falling even if she wanted to.
From her vantage point, Bella watches transfixed as the burly man deftly removes each girl’s blindfold. Their eyes flutter open, revealing striking blue orbs enhanced by skillfully applied charcoal liner and shimmery shadow. Long lashes flutter delicately, and they blink owlishly adjusting to the change in light. Otherwise they remain motionless as living statues.
Leather reins connect to rings at the corners of their mouths, linked directly to the controlling bits. Seeing these exquisite women trussed up like animals causes conflicting reactions in Bella.
Undeniable awe mingles with her desires from the other night… when she was at HBC and dressed as a dominatrix she envied being in control… and an incomprehensible envy. Some dark, twisted part of her psyche thrills at witnessing such extreme beauty subjected to the basest degradation.
Meanwhile, the guard methodically checks their bonds and harnesses for secureness before climbing up beside Bella. In one fluid motion, he seizes the reins like he has done this a thousand times before.
With a sharp flick of the reins, the guard signals their departure. Immediately, the ponygirls spring into synchronized action, hooves clicking rhythmically against cobblestone. Bella marvels at the fluid grace of their coordinated strides, muscles rippling smoothly beneath tight latex.
They clip-clop along a winding dirt path leading away from the estate grounds. Though no streetlamps illuminate the route, moonlight filters through dense foliage casting dappled patterns across the trail. Crickets and other nocturnal creatures provide eerie background music to their journey.
As they descend the gentle hillside slope, the salty tang of ocean air grows stronger. Gradually the tree line opens up to reveal a sprawling dock area stretching along the shoreline. Massive yachts bob gently at their moorings, spotlit magnificently against the inky backdrop of water. Laughter and lilting jazz melodies drift on the breeze from the largest vessel, pulsing with activity.
Drawing closer, Bella realizes with mounting dread that THIS must be the venue for whatever event awaits her. Dozens of elegantly dressed figures mill about the expansive deck, champagne flutes glinting under string lights. The ponygirls halt their procession at the gangplank connecting ship to land.
As the cart halts beside the extravagant yacht, Bella’s pulse races anxiously. She barely registers when the guard’s strong hands lift her effortlessly down, setting her none too gently onto wobbly platform heels. Too overwhelmed to resist, she merely stares wide eyed at the opulent floating palace looming before them.
A smartly uniformed young woman materializes seemingly from nowhere, greeting the ponygirls with cheerful praises and head rubs. Producing twin black satin blindfolds, she efficiently re-secures them over the placid mares’ eyes before unhitching the pair. With gentle guidance, the handler leads her charges off towards an unknown destination.
Bella scarcely has time to process the girls’ departure before the guard seizes her elbow, propelling her forwards up the gangplank. Vertigo swamps her as she ascends the swaying bridge, made worse by the teetering stilettos and restrictive latex. One misstep and she’d tumble straight into frigid waters below…
Reaching the deck of the yacht mercifully without incident, Bella staggers slightly as her captor hauls her aboard. Dozens of pairs of curious eyes turn in their direction, appraising the new arrival with keen interest….
Fantasy Doll 