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I feel my nerves start to crawl. Did I really want to do this? Before I can back out, I knock on the door. They are expecting me and it is too late now. I couldn’t even run to escape. They know. The door opens and I am asked in. Is it the last question I will hear for the day. The logistics and specifics are discussed; then fun begins.

I notice there are 3 really large men standing behind me. Before I can even think of what to do next, a pair of handcuffs and leg irons are slapped on me. Next comes the leather hood with inflatable bladders. Sound and vision are lost and the bladder forced into my mouth is also inflated. Two tubes inserted into my nose allow me to breath. Four sets of hands thwart any thoughts I have of running off. Stumbling I am led to what I assume is the dungeon.

All my clothes are removed and I can feel leather thigh, wrist and ankle cuffs, belts, a posture collar, and a corset being put on me rather tightly. Some leather tube top is fitted on me that “shelves” my breasts and makes them stand out. I am sat in a sling and my arms and legs are spread wide and secured so moving is not an option. I am leaned back but not too much so I can still see when the eye covering on the hood is removed. Before me is a large mirror. The sling leaves the entire area from my waist down, which is exposed to the world, accessible for anything. There are 3 large, handsome men moving about. All I can hear are muffled sounds. One “gentleman” has a large sized, ribbed butt plug in his hand and he is moving towards me with a smirk on his face. In it goes, subconsciously accepted rather easily.

For the first time I try out my restraints. They turn from their duties and watch me attempt to move. They are professionals and I am totally immobilized. I turn my attention to the mirror. The leather corset has my small breasts lifted and since I am not cold, my nipples betray my excitement. The men are moving about preparing my other events. Two nipple clamps are produced with bells on them. They are clamped to my breasts and he even gives them a flick so they jingle. The embarrassment is beginning but by no means complete.

Now starts the shaving. A pair of battery operated clippers is buzzing in the hand of another “gentleman”. The muffled sound of the clippers is getting louder as bits of my pubic hair start to hit the floor. I can see everything in the mirror. I am beginning to look like a little girl. Quickly he finishes and out comes the shaving cream and a razor. I can imagine the rasping sound of the razor as he shaves me clean. I try my bonds again but to no avail. They just smile. A woman enters the room carrying a case. She comes over, fingers my labia and says something I cannot hear. She then gets the shaving cream and razor and shaves me again. Just when I thought that was over! She then opens her case and produces a jar of black ink and other tools. She also smiles as she approaches me. She pulls up a chair and begins to paint my lips with a tribal design. The paint is cold and she takes a long time. Thrashing about is not producing any results so I just take it. Finally she stands up and is finished. From the butt plug to my belly button, I have a large, black tattoo. Just as she clears my sight, another “gentleman” appears with another clamp. This one is for my newly painted clit. It has a chain that connects to my nipple clamps. There isn’t any slack in the chain and my hood is pulled up as my nipples are pulled down. What a sight. But they aren’t quite finished with that area of my body yet. There is an open hole, they can place something into! Out comes a large vibrating dildo and it is placed into the only place they can put it. Plugged and painted.

The 3 men now place the other half of the sling across my chest and undo my right leg and right arm restraints. Before I can break free, they flip me like a pancake and re-secure me so I once again cannot move. So now, I am spread eagle, on my stomach, suspended from a sling, with my butt in the air, and my painted vagina still in full view. I hadn’t realized, but the sling was attached to rails in the ceiling. I am slid down the rails like a side of beef. They move me to a bench type piece of furniture. This isn’t looking good. I am lowered over it and re-secured again. My new position has me kneeling, with my ankles, calves and thighs restrained in heavy leather cuffs that are buckled and locked to the bench. My waist and chest are also secured. There are arm extensions built into the bench so my arms are out 90 degrees from my body, and my wrists, elbows and upper arms are secured in the same manner as the rest of my body. For my head, which is still hooded, there is a hole in the bench. They push my head into the hole and it is likewise secured by heavy leather straps. Needless to say, my 3 clamps are not happy with the situation and I am feeling that also. What next?

The air is released in the ear portion of my hood and I can hear. Everything sounds so loud now. Then WAP. My butt plugged ass is on fire. It seems as if I had been a bad girl and am getting spanked. This doesn’t last too long though. The plug and dildo have a mind of their own and are trying to work their way out. The guys see this and out comes a belt with more buckles and locks. Now I won’t have to worry about losing a plug or dildo. They are securely fastened, not going anywhere and even pushed in further. As a matter of fact for good measure they remove them and replace them with even larger toys.

My legs are now loose but only long enough for fish net stockings to be slid on and secured to a garter belt. Who would have guessed, but there are stiletto heels out there in size 12.

Time for a new position. Heavy chains are attached to my ankle and wrist cuffs and I am taken to a seat that looks like a saddle but there is a large hole in the middle. I am spread eagled again, and that damn butt plug and dildo are removed! My joy is quickly replaced with fear when 2 even larger dildos are positioned even with my anus and vagina through the hole in the saddle. They are attached to some type of machine that repeatedly bores me like a drill, alternating in and out, in and out, in and out. The machine is started and I am poked first in the ass, then in the vagina- over and over, faster and faster and deeper and deeper. Mitts are placed over my hands- as if I could do anything with my hands at this point. The mirror is repositioned in front of me so I can see what they are going to do next. I thought it hard for me to worry about anything else but I was wrong. Plus let’s now forget about the bells and chains attached to my nipple and clit clamps. With the rhythmic drilling expedition going on in my ass and cunt I am jingling like a Salvation Army kettle ringer. A stockade device is wheeled up to me as I sit on the fucking saddle. It has a hole for my head including the posture collar. The block of wood is at least 6″ in height to accept the full length of my collared neck. It comes apart and the front half is wheeled in front of me and the back part is wheeled to my back. It is designed to fit in conjunction with the saddle. There are rings on the top, so the posture collar can be secured to it, rendering the person’s head and neck totally immobile. A bad situation is going to get worse. The front and back pieces are brought together and secured.

My hood is now removed, but another inflatable gag is brought out, stuffed into my mouth and inflated before I can spit it out. I have a tube sticking out of my mouth connected to an inflating bulb.

A nose ring is brought out and squeezed together on my septum so I look pierced.

My “artist” comes back and with her case, begins to apply makeup to my face. Of course I can see everything with the mirror close by. She starts with the lipstick. Red of course. She paints my lips and they look pouty and full, especially with the gag tube sticking out of my mouth. She moves to my eyes. Black eyeliner, red rouge, red eye shadow, false eyelashes all make me look like a cheap slut now.
She grins as she moves away from me but says “don’t worry Honey; I’ll be back in a bit. Wait until you see what’s next.”

I love my hair. Or I did. The men start to comb it. Then they braid it so tight, it feels like my eyes are pooping out of my head. I close my eyes for I know what is to come next, but I don’t hear it. The pressure on my eyes is slowly released as my braid is separated from my head. All I hear is a shrink-shrink. The electric clippers were temporarily abandoned for the good old fashioned hand clippers. But once my braid is free from my head, though, out come the power clippers roaring to life. Each of the guys takes a turn making pathways across my head. They are careful though, to avoid the mohawk which is now taking shape in the mirror. My shorn head is appearing, along with a 4″tall strip of hair that is 2″ wide from neck to forehead. They seem intent on having the mohawk stand out, so they bring out a new, higher pitched sounding shaver. A Remington. Now, my entire head, minus the Mohawk, is being cleared of any remaining bits of hair. Let’s not forget the shaving cream and razor! The temporary white creamed looking helmet is scraped off bit by bit. This time it’s a straight razor and deafening. A slut with a mohawk. But the hair games aren’t over. After my head is shaved, the mohawk is rolled in red perm rods as tight as it can be, then the strip of hair is dyed bright pink. A slut with a clown mohawk. For the first time, I see the video camera.

The woman appears with her case again. A new canvas for my artist- my shiny head. She pulls a chair over to my stockade, starts rubbing my shaved head and says “told you I’d be back. How do you like your new do? I just love the shaved look!” She takes out brightly colored dyes and starts working on my head. Trapped in the posture collar and stockade, I can again only watch as she works her way around my head. Colored images appear on my bald scalp. She asks the men if she can shave off my mohawk and they approve. She makes quick work of my row of hot pink curls, and for good measure, off come my eyebrows. She shakes her head and says “how careless of us to forget your brows! I can paint you some better looking ones!” She starts up on tattooing my head again. It seems like an eternity but she finally finished. She it pleased with her work of art and takes out a camera to capture the images.

One of the guys then moves towards with me with what looks like a gun. A piercing gun. He smiles as he grabs hold of my right ear and places 4 new studs up my ear. He then moves over and grabs my left ear and adds 6 new studs to that. Almost done he says!

Slowly I am released from my stockade, chains, clamps, belts, dildos, bells, collar and gag. The nose ring stays, the dildos stay (still belted but hidden now), and the clit and nipple clamps stay. They are careful to keep me cuffed though. They dress me in shorts that couldn’t be any shorter, and a shirt that says “Yes- THAT’S shaved and tattooed also, and I loved it.” We leave the dungeon and they put me in a car blindfolded. The car stops and I am told, if I want to be released and allowed to return home, I must follow them as they shop and stop for lunch. What choice do I have? I have no idea where I am. I follow them for the next 3 hours as people stare and point at me. Public humiliation. The final step. Life doesn’t get any better.

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