The other end of the chain was attached to a runner that rode on a trolley wire down the center of the main hall.The other end of the chain was attached to a runner that rode on a trolley wire down the center of the main hall. It was long enough for me to dust the antique tables with their sculptures and vases using my long-handled duster, but not so long that I could rest my poor feet by sitting in one of the lovely pink satin brocade chairs. Of course, any guest could release me at any time. For any purpose. Now, to be completely fair to the reader, I suppose I should reveal a couple of little secrets. Firstly, and just between us girls, my breasts were not strictly my own real flesh; they were thoroughly convincing prostheses, so cleverly constructed they not only looked, but even felt real! Secondly, down in the black lace nest between my legs, was "a little something extra." Well, to be perfectly honest, a pretty big something extra. Firmly trapped beneath all the lycra and nylon and leather was my thick, meaty cock, embedded in a silken prison and strapped firmly to my thigh! With every precarious step I took, its effeminate confines generated a delicious friction. At the least excuse, it started to swell, coming up painfully against the limits of its restrictive sheath. The exquisite sensations overwhelmed me on that first morning, as they would again and again as the months passed: the pains in my stilted feet; the cool breeze playing over my almost-naked fanny; my long, feathery lashes fluttering before my eyes; the quiet clatter of the chains at my wrist, waist, and ankles; my inability to draw a deep breath against the unforgiving strength of my corset; the slither of my tight skirt over my sheer hose as I walked; the ache of my jaws stretched over the gag. |