Bound Voyage - ThatVentiDespresso - Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (2025)

Under almost any other circumstances, Sonia would have been happy to see familiar faces. She recognized Cynthia, Lusamine, and Serena among those already in the room, none of whom she had seen in recent memory.

Considering their shared predicament, there was little joy to be had in their ‘reunion’. The other girls' eyes betrayed feelings of desperation and despair, as did what little of their expressions that Sonia could see around the massive harness dildo ballgags that had become their near-constant tormentors.

She had little doubt that her own distorted features reflected the same emotions; as the dolly she was strapped to was wheeled into formation, she found herself unable to make eye contact with any of her fellow captives.

The dollies themselves had only grown more strict since their initial arrival at the facility; constructed of solid steel, they were too heavy for any of the captives to do anything more than rock a few degrees from side to side. That kind of movement was rare, as the enormous integrated dildos fixed to them were intensely punishing to anyone who dared try and throw their weight around.

Movement of any other kind was essentially impossible. While fixed to the dollies, captives' arms were always trapped in crushing monogloves fixed to the chassis, and their legs were pinned together by similarly-restrictive hobble skirts that ran down to their ankles.

Even if they had managed to get free of the dollies, no captive would have been able to make it far in the ballet heels locked to their feet. Layers upon layers of heavy chains and rubber straps made such escape thoroughly impossible; Sonia had little doubt that to collectively prepare everyone for their gathering had taken hours' worth of work.

Although she heard the occasional muffled moan or grunt, most of the other slaves in training were silent and unmoving. There were at least twenty of them, arranged neatly into even rows that marched from near the front of the room to the back; every one of them trapped was in identical restraints and almost covered from head to toe save for their hair.

If they had all been hooded, Sonia doubted that she would have been able to tell any one person apart from their neighbors. As it was, having this one sign of individuality left visible only made Sonia’s heart sink deeper into her chest as she scanned the ranks in front of her for any sign of Nessa.

While she saw a handful of other dark-haired damsels, none of them looked like her friend. She had not even seen or heard Nessa in what felt like weeks; the last time they had been in the same room, Nessa’s eyes had been practically vacant and devoid of thought or life. Sonia shivered at the memory, and glanced around at the subdued crowd around her.

How many of them are the same way…? Or about to be? I...even I’m…

Her thoughts felt sluggish and hazy, and she had to focus all of her attention on them to avoid drifting into a blank daze. It was becoming harder and harder for her to avoid fading away during training, and even more difficult for her to bring herself back when it was over. Amidst her struggles to even think in the now, she had largely lost sight of the future– and hope of escape.

Still, she was able to distantly wonder about the purpose of the assembly. A flicker of motion at the head of the room drew her attention, and she blinked several times in an effort to focus on its source.

“Khhhghhh…!”

She could hear a ragged chorus of startled noises around her, and found herself joining in with an inarticulate moan of her own. The sharp pulse of vibration deep in her core had been accompanied by a sharp shock delivered directly into her clit; from the sounds of it, the same punishment had been administered to all of the slaves in the room.

“Alright, slaves. I’m sure it’s hard for you scatterbrains, but you’re going to listen up– or you’ll pay for it later. Say ‘yes’ if you understand!”

The sharp voice carried clearly through the room, even though Sonia could not see the speaker through the forest of bodies between them. Fearful of reprisal, she immediately gathered what breath she could suck down through her gag and made an effort to use her long-dormant voice.

“Uhhh– ghhhhghhhh–!”

Clearly unsatisfied with the weak responses, someone triggered the same vibration and shock combination a second time. This time, the pulse of sensation lasted for several seconds, causing every muscle in Sonia’s body to go rigid. The moment she regained control of herself, Sonia sagged in her bonds, moaning as she settled even deeper onto the dildo bolted to the dolly’s frame.

“I didn’t hear you. Say ‘yes’ if you understand!”

This time, everyone answered the man’s call with as much volume as they could muster. While the unenthusiastic and garbled voices did not amount to much more than a low murmur, it was apparently enough for the speaker to withhold further punishment.

“Good enough, sluts. Now that you’re doing wasting my time, we can get to business. You bitches have been selected to go on a…” he paused, chuckling, “...pleasurecruise that we’re running on behalf of some of our benefactors. Some of the passengers who will be aboard have paid a handsome sum to get early access to your bodies, and we expect that they will get their money’s worth.”

“Before any of you get any bright ideas, we’ll be watching you very carefully throughout the voyage,” chimed in another staffer, her words clipped and full of meaning. “If you cause us trouble, you’ll be punished accordingly. Do well, and maybe we’ll sell you off to someone who will treat you...gently.”

Despite the warning, a faint spark of hope kindled deep in Sonia’s core. Trapped as she was in depths of a seemingly-endless facility, she knew that she had less than no chance of escape– the endless sea of staffers, constant restraints, and complete lack of sympathetic people made certain of that.

The staff’s stern warnings implied that the cruise would be very different. The fear that their threats inspired was very real– Sonia had no doubt that most of the others would fall into line to avoid even risking punishment– but so was the possibility of attracting the attention of someone who wasnotaffiliated with the organization that held them all captive.

It was a long shot by any stretch of the imagination, but it was more than she had had since the start of her ordeal. Her personal freedom was tantalizing enough, but the slim odds that she could also get the others out of their endless hell– or at the very least, save Nessa– meant that she had to at leasttry.

Although she was aware that she had missed several instructions and additional warnings during her ruminations, Sonia felt the slightest bit of confidence flare in her heart. As organization members moved into wheel the girls back to their individual training regimes, she tried to catch the eyes of the captives now swirling around her in the hopes of seeing a similar spark in them.

While many still looked disheartened, more than a few seemed to have come to the same realization that she had. It made the return to her tortuous daily routine– at this hour, a vicious deepthroating exercise at the hands of a spring loaded frame– almost bearable.

As she was forced to bob her head up and down on the hated rubber shaft, Sonia allowed herself the briefest flash of a smile– even if it were hardly visible around the fake cock stuffing her mouth.

Being prepared for transit reminded Cynthia that things could always get worse.

Several days had passed since the organization’s sudden announcement, and she had endured enough torment during that time to make her wonder if she had simply hallucinated the entire thing. Now that she was strapped to a dolly and in line to enter a room, the entire thing suddenly felt much more real.

When she finally reached the front of the queue, Cynthia caught sight of a pile of zipped-up suitcases stacked neatly against a wall. By the time that it was her turn to be wheeled in, she had guessed exactly what they contained.

The suitcase waiting for her looked large and cramped at the same time. It was more luggage than she would ever have traveled with on a personal trip, but she could scarcely believe that she was going to have to endure being crammed into its main compartment. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw a trio of thick plugs in an unmistakably familiar arrangement waiting for her, and she choked down a small whine at the sight of them.

Cynthia shuddered. In what now felt like an entirely different lifetime, she would never have been caught dead about to make such a pathetic sound; now, it took all of her concentration to suppress a nearly-automatic plea for mercy.

She was not even certain why she fought to remain silent– if it was to preserve what scraps of her pride she had left to her, or to avoid making her captors angry.

To be the broken and obedient slave that they expected her to become.

As the long dildo buried in her throat was pulled free with a wet plop, Cynthia sucked down a deep, shuddering breath. The short tube holding her mouth in an ‘o’ remained steadfastly in place, but it was still a relief to have her throat cleared for any length of time.

The plugs inserted into her other holes made similarly unpleasant sounds as she was pulled off of them; Cynthia winced as her body tried to adjust to the lack of intruders. She knew that the brief reprieve was not to last; the longer it took for her to be impaled again, the worse she knew it would feel.

The group assigned to handle her seemed to be in no particular hurry as they set about removing her restraints. The strict latex armbinder that had sheathed her arms was the first thing to go, followed by a snarled mass of straps that had criss-crossed her entire body. Cynthia was unable to suppress a slight moan as a painful pins-and-needles sensation erupted all over her body, making her freshly conscious of how long she had been bound.

Weakened and nerveless, she was in no shape to resist as she was immediately laid on the floor and tipped onto her side. The entire routine that followed was vaguely familiar, as she had been ball tied before on several occasions; her back protested as she was curled in on herself, but she submitted to the tie without further complaint.

O-only because it would be useless. Not because I give up.

Long straps were tightened around her body, folding her sharply at the waist and squashing her breasts into her thighs. By the time the last buckle was cinched into place, Cynthia could scarcely breathe despite her airway being unobstructed. Layers of electrical tape were then cinched about her figure, followed by excessive lengths of chain weighing a substantial fraction of her own body.

It all made her dread the inevitable all the more– emotion underscored by her inability to so much as flex her fingers or arms through the bondage mitts and armbinder that had remained securely in place all along.

The world lurched around her as she was lifted and carried to the waiting suitcase, then lowered slowly into its depths. She was guided in at an angle so as to allow the waiting dildos access to her holes. The first duo swiftly penetrated her pussy and ass; the third was guided down her throat, passing between her helplessly open lips.

Every one of the protrusions felt longer and thicker than anything she had taken before. It was difficult for her to even comprehend howfullshe felt– even after everything that had come before, her captors still seemed to have plenty of suffering to spare for her. She choked and writhed as the trio of dildos were forced in to the hilts, but her struggling remained as ineffectual as ever.

Unable to speak and barely able to breathe, Cynthia could only watch out of the corner of her eye as the suitcase lid was flipped closed and zipped shut. The light around her rapidly dwindled until she was plunged into total darkness; the world then lurched as her prison was dumped unceremoniously onto the pile of other luggage she had seen earlier.

The haunting sounds of other captives being packaged for transport– low whines, sobbing, and the occasional garbled plea– were just barely audible through the walls of her suitcase. There was nothing that she could do for them– or herself– other than try to settle in as best as she could.

To settle in, and listen to the unending symphony of suffering that was playing out all around her.

As ever, it had proved impossible for her to keep track of time. A sudden jolt of motion roused Cynthia from her stupor; it might have been several hours since her encasement, or just a handful of minutes. There was no way for her to know one way or the other; for the moment, she simply bit down hard on the rubber lodged between her teeth as her cloth and plastic cage began to rattle unpleasantly.

The sudden shift in gravity and vaguely-regular nature of the vibrations running through her made it clear that she was now being trundled through the facility. She could intimately feel wheels bumping over every seam in the tile floor, the slight shocks carried by the dildos directly into her core. The rhythm of sensation was just irregular enough to keep her off balance, making it impossible for her to try and stave off an unwanted swell of arousal.

An unknowable length of time passed with only the ever-present rumbling sound of travel to keep her company. While Cynthia was able to discern that she had been turned about once or twice and taken up in an elevator, she remained thoroughly disoriented and uncertain of where she was until she felt herself lurching to a halt. A sudden heaviness and jolt signaled that she had been lifted and heaved into a vehicle of some kind; she could dully hear other suitcases landing all around her.

A deep, throaty roar marked the start of a large engine somewhere nearby. With a deep shudder and crunch of tires on concrete, the large truck started to drive with its load of unwilling cargo. Almost immediately, the ground beneath the wheels turned to the uneven dirt of a long-disused road.

For the drivers, the bumpy ride was little more than a nuisance.

For the ‘passengers’, it was anything but. Every dip and rise in the road brought another ragged round of moans and whimpers as restraining plugs twisted and turned inside their victims. Occasionally, a long and drawn-out whine marked an involuntary climax.

Cynthia did her best to resist, her tortured body spasming and clamping down around her intruders with their every move. The haze inside her mind grew deeper and deeper, and the sounds of transit faded into the distance as seconds turned into minutes, then into hours.

After losing track of not just time, but of the number of times that she had been driven to climax, Cynthia had dropped into a near-insensate stupor. Only the sheer volume of noise around her– and the sharper movements of being directly handled by people– roused her from her daze.

Cynthia instinctively tried to shake her head to clear the fog clouding her thoughts, only to choke on the dildo lodged in her throat. By the time that she had recovered, her suitcase had already been dumped onto the bed of a small push cart. A tiny ray of light pierced into her confines, temporarily blinding her until she was able to blink away a thick veil of tears.

Through a tiny gap in the zippers in front of her eyes, she could see a narrow sliver of a bustling port wharf. An enormous crowd of people milled about less than 50 feet away, carrying small bags and pieces of luggage while laughing and talking amongst themselves.

Uniformed sailors flashed in and out of her view as they busied themselves moving cargo and supplies from warehouses towards what Cynthia assumed was the ship that she was destined for. It was not long before she felt herself being pushed along in the same manner, doubtless to be brought aboard in preparation for departure.

The woman’s heart ached at the sheernormalityof the scene in front of her, practically taunting her with how close she was to regular, everyday life. Even though she knew that it would be futile, she still gathered as much strength and air as she could and tried to struggle free, simultaneously doing her best to make any kind of audible noise at all.

It was beyond hopeless; the din and bustle of the busy port meant that even if she had been ungagged, she would have had trouble making herself heard. With half a foot of rubber forced into her mouth, there was no chance that even the person responsible for loading her would notice her cries.

Cynthia froze at the thought.

Wait, what if they’re with the organization? I can’t be caught making trouble this early– they’ll definitely watch me more carefully if they did.

Reluctantly, she settled in as best as she could, wincing as the cart began to ascend a metal ramp, rattling and vibrating sharply every inch of the way. The docks receded from view, replaced by the sleek lines of a modestly-sized cruise ship. She had seen and traveled on several similar vessels when she had been free; memories from before flooded through her, sparking a tiny flicker of determination in her core.

I’ve got to at least try to get out of here. Back to my life, and to save the others.

Lusamine’s body felt tender inside and out; the long drive had been punishing for every part of her. The gratuitous discomfort of being handled at the pier had done little to improve her mood, prompting a mixture of indignation, frustration, and anger to swirl about in her mind.

When she felt her suitcase coming to a halt and heard the sound of the lid being unzipped, she immediately threw her weight towards the opened panel with all of her strength, simultaneously forcing every scrap of air she had in her lungs out of her mouth in an attempt to scream for help.

While the plugs holding Lusamine in place bent and flexed, they remained firmly and deeply lodged in her body. What was intended to be a cry of defiance petered out into a miserable sob as the dildos dragged her back into position.

Her already-sore holes immediately protested her escape attempt, and a sharp slap delivered to the exposed side of her left breast made it clear that she was still firmly in her captors' clutches. The blow was immediately followed by a devastatingly powerful electric shock that coursed directly through her pussy, sending every muscle in her body into rigid strain.

“Don’t bother, bitch. Don’t worry, you’ll get the chance to scream all you want in a little bit...not that it’s going to matter.”

The most unnerving thing about her treatment was how casual it was. Her handler had not raised his voice and there was not much rebuke in his tone; instead, he simply seemed bored, taking for granted that she would be forced to obey. She wanted to growl and thrash, even though she knew it would be futile– but instead, she went still and docile.

It’s just to lull them into a false sense of security. That’s all!

After what felt like an eternity, hands reached around her and began to work her free of her confinement. Lusamine blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the full light of an outdoor sunny day for the first time in what might have been months.

For a brief moment, she was able to take in her surroundings: a shaded deck, spotted with uniformed crew wrangling her fellow captives from their suitcases. A solid partition running off into the distance shielded the proceedings from the view of the assembled passengers that she could hear far below; a chance at salvation just out of her reach.

Before she could see any more, she was abruptly heaved up and into a lifeboat, landing roughly against the hard bottom of its hull with a loud grunt. Briefly stunned by the impact, Lusamine gasped and writhed as she fought to recover herself. Her vision cleared just in time to see a hand descending towards her mouth with a familiar shape clutched between its fingers–

“–ghhhhghhhk…!”

She choked on the rubber cock that was roughly jammed through her still forcibly-opened lips and bored down her throat. Her brief reprieve from its presence had ended as suddenly as it had started; once again, she was rendered largely mute and incapable of breathing freely. Tears of anger and pain beaded at the corners of her eyes in spite of her best efforts at maintaining her composure, sparked in no small part by the feeling that her latest gag was the largest she had ever taken.

“Can’t have you getting too comfortable, you know. And you got theextrabig one for your little stunt back there...and that won’t be all, either.”

The offhanded remark hung in the air for just a moment before more bodies abruptly began to land all around her. Some of them she recognized, others were unfamiliar to her; all of the prisoners joining her in the lifeboat had had their mouths similarly filled and sealed.

The lifeboat rocked and swung disorientingly beneath them as it was loaded further and further, until it was packed nearly to its brim with struggling, whimpering figures. Sweat, tears, and arousal mingled unpleasantly as they were mashed into one another, ensuring that every move came at someone else’s expense.

In addition to the physical discomfort, Lusamine internally reeled at the nauseatingly humiliating sensation of having her firm curves pressed up against those of her unfortunate companions– something she had never gotten used to despite having been subjected to forced joint training on numerous occasions. What lingering pride she had managed to hold on roared inside of her, but she remained just as helpless as everyone else.

A low current of electricity abruptly began to run through her body, immediately setting her to involuntary squirming. Looking around at the others' faces, Lusamine could see that she was the only one currently suffering an acute and active punishment; infuriated, she bit down on her gag as hard as she could manage, even as her traitorous body continued to spasm.

“Go ahead and try to get people’s attention during the drill. Hopefully, you’ll get the picture– that even though you’re near the public, you’re still our property.”

The new voice belonged to another ‘crewmate’, but was equally as nonchalant and matter of fact as Lusamine’s handler had been. There was no further discussion; a second later, she heard several grunts and saw a heavy tarp being thrown over the helpless pile of damsels. They were plunged immediately into suffocating, hot, and humid darkness.

The sounds of the world outside were now dull and distant, and all traces of sight were obliterated as the thick covering was tightened into place. As much as Lusamine wanted to escape, or get slightly more comfortable, her position at the bottom of the heap meant that she was pinned on all sides.

She struggled anyway, drawing groans and yelps of pain and misery from the others around her. Her efforts lasted until she was forced to come to a stop, drenched in sweat and fighting against a familiar burning in her lungs. Defeated, Lusamine allowed herself a low growl of vexation.

Several hours passed, crawling by as though time itself were being strained through heavy cloth. while she knew it was irrational, Lusamine felt anger at the other captives boiling to a head inside of her– at the fact that they would not stop moving, grinding against her in perversely intimate and disgusting ways. Nothing was helped by the constant electrostimulation that she alone was experiencing, which kept her constantly in motion herself and exhausted beyond belief.

If she had had any control of her voice, she would have tried to swear– as it was, she could do little besides suffer.

“...lcome aboard, everyone! Thanks for coming to...mandatory safety drill!”

The words were too muddled for anyone to make out who was speaking, but the sudden sounds of a nearby crowd ran through each and every captive like a bolt of electricity. All at once, the confined space was filled with the pathetic sounds of gagged attempts at speech, at shouts, at pleas for help.

“...event of...assemble on...listen to crew…”

Outside the lifeboat, the speaker’s rehearsed spiel dragged on, only intermittently audible over the combined efforts of the prisoners to be heard. A collective sense of desperate panic was rising amongst the prisoners, even as fatigue sapped their will to keep trying; eventually, exhaustion won out, leaving everyone panting for breath in their stagnant and sweltering confines.

Even as the others around her gradually went still, Lusamine was helpless to stop her own writhing. Despite herself, she found herself regretting her earlier effort to scream as her torment continued unabated; as much as she did not want to admit defeat, the mere presence of remorse meant that she had ‘lost’.

There was no stopping the detestable shocks from rippling through her most intimate parts– and nothing to do besides do her best to bear it all.

When the tarp was thrown back, the sudden rush of fresh air felt like a bucket of ice water had been tossed over them. Simultaneously blinded by the sudden change in lighting, most of the girls froze in uncertainty. Several immediately began trying to scream, only for a series of sharp smacks and the crackling of electricity to rapidly beat them into whimpering submission.

A number of sailors climbed into the boat, grabbing damsels at random and pitching them over the side and into the waiting clutches of organization members. As they were dropped to the deck, every captive was stuffed back into a waiting suitcase, each outfitted with the hated three-plug setup that had become all too familiar to them. The organization members took ample liberty with their hands all the while, fondling and groping their victims heedless of their near-silent protests.

Too drained to fight back, Lusamine remained silent and still while she was packed away. She had spent so much time in disorienting darkness that her brief moments in the outside air now felt like a hazy dream; all that she was left with were the familiar sensations of being wheeled along and crammed to the brim with rubber.

She was accustomed to waking up in bondage. As her consciousness returned, Lusamine knew before even opening her eyes that she was perched on her knees, with her ankles tied to her thighs and her arms lashed behind her in a strict reverse prayer position. Stiff metal rods inserted into her lower holes prevented her from moving her crotch, while something clamped tightly around her neck kept her upright and her head facing forwards.

She could feel what seemed like a steel corset fit tightly around her midriff, holding her against the wall behind her and restricting her breathing. Its crushing pressure on her body was vaguely familiar; she had experienced similarly intense bonds only during the organization’s Pokemon-enhanced training sessions, every one of which she had detested beyond measure.

Fighting the urge to slide back into darkness, the woman forced her heavy eyelids open. The first thing that she saw was a blur of light brown and black right in front of her nose, practically too close to her to focus. She blinked several times, her vision gradually clearing until realization struck her like a thunderbolt.

What she was looking at was the rigid front plate of a strap-on, fixed tightly about a slim figure’s crotch. As her eyes drifted downwards, Lusamine confirmed what she already knew: that an enormous fake cock was buried in the depths of her throat, squelching her ability to vocalize so much as a single word.

Although she wanted to get a better idea of her surroundings, her restraints prevented her from changing her vantage point and the person standing in front of her blocked practically her entire view. She could make out the sound of disturbingly-pleasant music playing from tinny speakers somewhere above her, as well as the sounds of passing conversation from somewhat further away.

“Hello, welcome to the ship’s store! How can I help you today?”

The young woman’s voice startled Lusamine, who had been trying to suck down enough air to try and shout for help. Her eyes instinctively shot upwards in an effort to make eye contact, but she could see little more than the dark underside of a counter and a heavily-shadowed button-down shirt.

“Hi! We’re just looking for some anti-nausea medicine for my husband– he’s filling a little bit under the weather, you know?”

The new speaker sounded as though she were just above Lusamine; having managed a hard-won breath, she tried to pull back and–

“...!”

–a soft choking sound cost her every scrap of air in her lungs as the strap-on lodged in her mouth abruptly leapt into motion, driving forwards until its hilt was jammed firmly against Lusamine’s lips. Stars exploded in her vision, and she reeled mentally even as she fought to get away. What she now realized was a metal band around her neck served as a combination of posture collar and bolt, preventing her from so much as budging her head.

Distantly, she could hear the conversation continuing just overhead.

“Certainly, miss. Don’t worry, sir, this will help you feel better in no time at all.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re a real life saver, you know that?”

Lusamine gagged as the rubber phallus twisted and ground against the inside of her throat, following the motion of her tormentor’s hips as the other woman moved to grab something off to her side. Involuntary tears began to stream from her eyes, born of both pain and frustration. As the ‘cashier’ conversed with the young couple just mere feet away, Lusamine tried again and again to make a meaningful noise or or strike against her confines– anything that might draw attention to herself.

Her efforts came to nothing, and she heard the sound of the couple paying for their purchase and walking away. Meanwhile, the ‘cashier’ began to lean back, drawing several inches of rubber out of Lusamine’s ravaged throat. Just as the woman was about to regain her breath, the fake cock came shooting back through her opened lips. A wet gurgle leaked out from around the phallus, so quiet that Lusamine was uncertain if she had even heard it herself.

There was no semblance of rhythm to her torment; the girl wearing the strap-on simply stepped back and forth as she fancied, pumping in and out of the helpless Lusamine with every move she made. Sometimes she barely shifted in place; occasionally, when no one was nearby, she went for deep thrusts that took her all the way to the hilt.

Although Lusamine was bitterly used to being used as a toy, the frequent breaks to accommodate unaware shoppers made the entire ordeal all the more humiliating and unbearable. The knowledge that she was so thoroughly helpless as to allow her captors to dangle rescue so close– on the opposite side of a single counter– ate at her like nothing had before.

As if to drive the point home, whenever a large group of passengers went by, the ‘clerk’ would withdraw herself all the way, the strap-on coming free with a wet pop. Lusamine might have enough time to draw a single rattling breath, to prepare herself to try and wheeze out a cry for help– but every time, the ‘cashier’ would ram herself home before she had the chance. Whatever cry that Lusamine could manage would be stifled by the thick rubber cock, unheard by anyone save perhaps her captor.

All the while, tears and drool rolled down her face and trickled down the length of her naked body. If anyone could have seen her– once the proud and pristine president of the Aether Foundation– covered in a sheen of her own fluids, Lusamine might have died on the spot of utter humiliation. Impaled and restrained as she was, meaningful resistance was never even an option; all that she had was the cruel hope of eventually being heard, which was presented and snatched away time after time.

Hours passed as the store shift continued, and Lusamine found her awareness fading away from the constant abuse. Her eyes were dull and glazed over, unfocused after an eternity staring straight ahead. Sleep was impossible, but her senses were becoming duller and more distant–

–a sudden shock crashed through her, instantly causing her muscles to go rigid. Instantly roused from her stupor, Lusamine involuntarily tried to shriek in agony as electricity coursed through her abdomen. It took several seconds for her stunned mind to realize that the metal columns filling her holes were now pulsing with electricity.

Immediately, Lusamine felt her body responding to the waves of stimulation. Between her exhaustion and the strength of the currents ripping through her, she found herself completely unable to resist as a muddy heat began to mount in her core. Arousal ate away at her tenuous self control, and she first began to tremble, then convulse as she was rapidly overcome.

Her senses completely blanked out as she reached climax, leaving her adrift amidst a torrent of raw sensation. Without any sense of time or place, the woman bucked and thrashed against solid metal for what might have been an eternity, heedless of its futility.

When she finally began to come to, the first thing that she perceived was a deep, punishing ache in her holes– the result of her wild struggles in the throes of orgasm. Her eyes slid slowly open to the familiar sight of a strap-on, before flying wide as another jolt of electricity lanced through her intimates.

Horror shunted out all other thoughts and emotions in her mind as she realized that her captor had no intention of easing up on her. Now that she had climaxed once, Lusamine’s body was already extra-sensitive and overstimulated, priming her for her most-hated experience of all: a chain of repeated orgasms.

She bit down as hard as she could on the dildo in her mouth, fighting to keep her eyes open, to breathe, to scream, to avoid–

Sonia wanted nothing to do with the contraption lying on the metal table in front of her.

She could recognize the bifurcated device as having a human silhouette, and the purpose of the three enormous plugs installed around its perimeter could not be any clearer. From what the young professor could see, the shell comprised of a hard external case mated to a padded interior lining; the arrangement only further convinced Sonia that she was right about what was in store for her.

There was nothing she could do to prevent her fate. Ever since she had been separated from the others after the lifeboat drill, she had been bound in a strict hogtie that defied her worst expectations. No effort had been spared to keep her from escaping: the moment she had been removed from her suitcase, she had been wrapped in rope, tape, and heavy chain.

There had been too many people working on restraining her for her to have had any chance of getting away, nor had her cramped muscles been up to the task of seriously putting up a fight. To add insult to injury, an intricate shibari harness had been laced around her figure before she had beenseriouslybound, ensuring that her features were on full display.

What had come next was an altogether too familiar ordeal. Her arms had been wrenched behind her and placed into a reverse prayer position, her elbows crushed together before a makeshift monoglove had been fashioned around them out of tight bands of tape. The material keeping her hands balled into fists had been left alone, ensuring that her fingers remained totally immobile despite the fact that she had no ability to even pick at her bonds.

At the same time, her legs had been fused together by coils of rope positioned at her thighs, above and below her knees, and at her ankles. Next had come a full mummification from the waist down, followed by a criss-cross pattern of chain woven over the entire assembly. Only the organization’s signature locking heels and her ankle bonds remained poking free of the monstrously thorough bindings.

The inevitable addition of an anchor rope pulled Sonia’s spine into a harsh curve, completely opposite what she had experienced while balltied in the suitcase. One form of torment immediately gave way to another, every inch that the ropes were cinched together only adding to her personal hell.

Even after being taken into what was clearly a restricted crew area, she had remained completely restrained– helpless to even try to meaningfully relieve the tension caused by her strictly arched position. Though she had been left alone for what felt like an eternity, the weight of her bondage alone was enough to keep her from even standing, much less escaping.

Pain in her back and neck returned her to the present, and the girl bit down on the ever-present dildo in her mouth in an effort to focus. As tight as her bondage was, she had been left a few inches of slack in the anchor rope binding her ponytail to her ankles that allowed her to straighten out by a few degrees– but for a heavy price.

Loops of rope running between her neck and ankles tightened cruelly as her exhausted muscles faltered for a moment. Immediately, Sonia felt tears spring to her eyes as she began to choke, the noose combining with the rubber already in her throat to completely cut off her airway. As she thrashed about, her vision dimmed and her lungs burned ferociously.

Making matters worse was the extreme sensitivity to arousal caused by suffocation. Trying to arch her back was physically difficult enough after having endured her position for so long– the additional mental toll of trying to ward off the wet heat churning in her abdomen only added to her troubles. The thick dildos crammed into her holes twisted and ground about inside of her with every move she made, sending fresh floods of sensation ripping through her.

After several long and agonizing seconds, Sonia at last managed to wrench herself back into a severe bend, easing the pressure on her aching neck. She panted as best as she could, straining for every scrap of air and fighting to resist the urges to give up and climax.

The..there’s nothing good waiting for me, but...but I’ll take anything at this point….

It was not the first time that the thought had occurred to her, or the first time that she had nearly choked herself out in her cruel hogtie. Every cycle had been a little bit shorter, her strength waning faster and faster with each iteration.

Relief finally arrived in the form of two sailors, one of whom deftly cut the ropes that linked Sonia’s neck and hair to her ankles. Immediately, the beleaguered girl collapsed flat on the tabletop like a bow with a snapped string. In that moment, it was hard to desire anything apart from a few more seconds left relatively unbound.

As she laid still, trying her best to recover, the sailors began to strip the thick web of bonds that criss-crossed her body. Chains and tape were peeled away layer by layer, and the tape sheathing her hands was cut away. Eventually, she was left naked save for the decorative rope harness that hugged her curves and bit cruelly between her lower lips.

Despite her relative freedom, Sonia was too weak to try and escape; the deep-set aches in her muscles and continuing lack of breath ensured that she could not resist. Even when the plug was yanked out of her mouth, Sonia only managed a wet, wheezing cough and to roll limply onto her side.

If I...try to scream...they’ll just...tie me up even faster. Besides, who...who’d hear me down here anyway…?

Not even a full day had passed since the ship had set off; that fact withered the little sprout of hope that had initially taken root in her heart. If the organization remained as careful and thorough as they had been that day, Sonia knew that she could be just inches away from an innocent passenger and still be unable to go for help.

As if to underscore the point, the two sailors grabbed her by the ankles and beneath the arms and hauled her over to the human-sized shell. As they did, Sonia distantly heard the two talking to one another.

“...great body, don’t you think?”

“Almost a shame to cover it up for the art class. Still, at least we get to see the real thing first, right?”

Without breaking pace or changing tone at all, the sailor’s hand slid from Sonia’s armpit to her bulging breasts, finding a nipple and delivering a sharp squeeze to the throbbing nub. As Sonia involuntarily tried to shriek, the other crewmember clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling the pitiful, plaintive cry.

“Mouth first?” said the man, twisting Sonia’s nipple back and forth, not even bothering to look as Sonia thrashed hopelessly in his grip.

“Works for me.”

Their casual conversation complete, the duo maneuvered Sonia until her mouth was positioned next to the end of the horrific dildo dangling from the inside of the shell’s ‘face’. While Sonia finally mustered the energy to weakly shake her head, she was no match for the sailors' strength; in one smooth motion, the hand covering her mouth was whisked away and she was thrust forwards onto the enormous dildo.

The feeling of being forced to deepthroat cock never felt any easier, no matter how many times she had been made to do it. Even though she had only just been freed of her gag, her body had already pushed its memory as far away as possible– making her subsequent ordeal all the more intolerable. The new dildo felt large even by the organization’s standards, and Sonia writhed impotently as it snaked deeper and deeper into her.

With her face now pressed down into the shell’s ‘head’, Sonia’s vision was cut to a dim, hazy glow from two eye-shaped holes in the inner lining. If she tried to focus, she could make out what looked like the texture of the tabletop through the small openings–

“...!”

–the feeblest excuse for a moan sounded deep in her chest, practically inaudible even to herself. The plugs in her snatch and ass were being backed out, twisted and turned as they went to ensure that she felt every inch of the process. At the same time, hands were pulling her limp limbs this way and that, pushing and pulling at her until she exactly matched the shape of the waiting case.

Her hands were balled back into fists, then trapped in place by what felt like electrical tape; she had long since learned to identify it by the cruel tightness its elasticity afforded it. Once her fingers were uselessly cocooned, something else was worked over the tape, further pinning her digits until she could not even wiggle them about.

Once she had been fully nestled into the shell, Sonia heard– and felt– countless straps being drawn and buckled tight. The constricting bands bit down above and below her joints, waist, neck, and back; even with all of her strength, the weight of the mold blocked any attempt to rock or rattle about.

They...they’re seriously going to close me up in here? And...and put me out for an art class?! I...no one will even know I’m in here if I can’t even…!

Despair washed over her, intensifying tenfold when she felt the unmistakable presence of the back half of the shell hovering above her. A moment later, she winced as rubber protrusions nosed at her crotch and ass; penetration followed almost immediately afterwards, and she whimpered as thick phalluses sank deep into her core once again. The plugs buried themselves up to the hilt as the case was slowly drawn shut.

Sonia desperately tried to push against the back of the shell as it bore down on her, but she was mercilessly squeezed and squashed into the padding in front of her. The creaking and groaning of straps faded until they were stopped altogether by the clicking of countless locks and latches.

A few seconds later, Sonia’s world lurched and spun as she was lifted and stood upright. Fully encased by the mannequin shell, she was unable to feel the hands that she knew were running all over her body; more than ever before, she had been reduced to little more than an object.

She was spun left, then right, and a dull clunk reverberated through her confines as she was fitted onto a heavy base. With all avenues of movement exhausted, Sonia was left to simply stand in place, filled from both ends and completely immobilized. Even attempting to throw her weight about yielded no movement at all.

Her vision abruptly brightened and sharpened, accompanied by the sound of cling film being peeled off from the lenses fitted over her eyes. Even now, she could only see what was more or less directly in front of her– but at least it wassomething.

The immediate realization that she had only been given sight so that she could see how tantalizingly close rescue was immediately stripped any sense of relief away from her, plunging her into an even deeper despair.

She could see the two sailors standing a few feet away, inspecting her with pleased expressions. One elbowed the other, snickering as she stepped out of view. A moment later, she returned, pushing a small hand truck ahead of her.

“C’mon, help me load her up. Gotta get her ready for class, right?”

“Sure.”

Sonia felt a surge of vertigo run through her as she was tipped back on her heels for the dolly to be run beneath her. As she was settled back upright, she watched helplessly as one of the sailors approached her with a heavy sheet; a moment later, she was plunged into darkness as the fabric was draped over her head.

“Alright, time to get moving.”

As much as Sonia wanted– and tried– to scream, there was nothing she could do as she was wheeled away.

The small, windowless room was modestly decorated with a handful of plants and posters, and the smell of light incense drifted in the air.

Under other circumstances, Serena would have found the space to be pleasant and relaxing. Instead, she could only look about its confines with dread, knowing full well that nothing good was in store for her.

After she had been brought in via suitcase, she had been unceremoniously dumped, still in a strict ball tie, onto a slender table in the center of the room. For several long minutes, she was left alone to balance precariously on the spot, barely daring to move out of fear of falling.

When she heard the door open, Serena craned her neck as best as she could manage from her awkward position in an effort to see who was coming in. The casually-dressed girl who stepped over the threshold looked innocent enough, but her lack of reaction to seeing the bound captive in front of her gave away her affiliation.

With a smirk, she made a beckoning gesture over her shoulder; two large sailors soon joined her inside the room, closing and locking the door behind them. An air of menace filled the enclosed space, and Serena shivered as she felt her odds of escape dwindle into nothingness. Even if she had been free to move, there was little doubt that either of the sailors alone would be more than capable of subduing her.

“Get her onto her back and start unfolding her.”

At the girl’s direction, the two men approached Serena and rolled her over like a Squirtle tipped onto its shell. The ropes fixing Serena’s neck to her knees and ankles were undone, followed by the release of myriad straps and chains encircling her torso. She was then unrolled until she was lying face up on her back across the tabletop.

She let out a tiny, involuntary moan of relief as the strain on her spine and neck eased. Though she was now uncomfortably lying atop her arms, she was more than willing to take what little breaks she could get. That thought was tempered by the knowledge that she would soon be subjected to torture of a different kind– something that as always, she would be helpless to resist.

Her expectations were duly met as the sailors continued to follow the organization girl’s commands. In short order, Serena’s wrists and ankles were cuffed to the table legs, pulling her into a narrow spread eagle that fully exposed her naked body. While she still had some range of motion, she remained still, fearful of provoking additional punishment.

That relative freedom did not last long. More padded cuffs were fixed just above her elbows and beneath her knees, then linked to attachment points beneath the tabletop. After several minor adjustments, Serena was thoroughly pinned in place with her legs and arms pulled even wider apart by the additional restraints.

She shuddered. Though the feeling of being rendered utterly vulnerable was altogether too familiar, it was impossible for her to get used to. That fact was clearly illustrated as the young woman in charge casually strolled up to her and grabbed hold of the dildo still stuffed into her pussy. With brusque, quick movements, she began to pump it in and out of Serena, barely even looking as she began to writhe and squirm.

“Chain her above and below her breasts, then at the waist.”

Three strands of freezing cold metal were soon draped over Serena’s torso, then looped beneath the table and drawn mercilessly tight. Serena’s eyes bulged as her constant battle for breath became even more difficult; the chains constricting her chest were like a heavy steel corset. Despite her best efforts, her vision began to tunnel and her head went light.

It did not prevent her from feeling the sudden withdrawal of the dildos from her holes– or the near-immediate appearance of replacements that were roughly shoved into her sore entrances. Suffocation served only to enhance her suffering as her entire body became impossibly sensitive; as an additional chain was fixed about her neck, Serena could feel herself beginning to spasm and clench down on the rubber members inside of her.

She barely registered the flurry of activity above her, the sailors' motions blurring into a jumbled mess as they undid her gag and swapped with with a tremendous ballgag. The sound of her labored breathing and choked moans sounded strange in her ears– it was the most clearly she had heard herself in what felt like an eternity. The slight concession to her ‘comfort’ allowed her vision to clear enough to focus on the face now looming above her.

“You can moan and groan as loud as you’d like,” the girl informed her, a wicked smile playing across her features. “...but these walls are pretty thick, and you’re in the ship’s massage parlor. There are plenty of people all around us right now...but they’ll never guess that what they’re hearing is from a dumb slut like you.”

Without waiting for Serena to even try to reply, she gave a sharp nod to one side. Serena immediately went rigid in her bonds as the dildos inside of her ground into motion, one sliding deeper into her ass while the other pulled back out of her snatch. A moment later, both phalluses reversed directions, rubbing mercilessly against her raw inner walls.

Serena’s eyes went wide as she realized that she had been speared onto a dual-pronged fucking machine. She had seen them used on other girls before, but had never been subjected to the device; the instantly-recognizable alternating strokes were immediately driving her towards a quick and involuntary climax.

Her torment only mounted when clamps bit down on her sensitive nipples. The sharp flares of pain melted into a constant, white-hot ache as the clamps were pulled outwards, drawing her nipples and breasts to their breaking points. She could not look down far enough to see them, but she knew that stretching clamps had been attached to her throbbing nubs and screwed to their limits.

Serena’s attention leapt back down to her crotch as the machine drilling away at her intimates began to accelerate. The whine of machinery mingled with the girl’s rising cries, both settling into a perverse rhythm when when the cadence reached its peak.

“You know, you’re probably disturbing the other passengers a bit. I’m honestly impressed you’re so loud. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

With a snap of her fingers, the organization girl set the sailors into motion. Additional chains were criss-crossed between and around her breasts, further clamping down on her aching chest and making her battle for breath infinitely more difficult. The chain around her neck was swapped for a tight metal clamp that was screwed directly into the tabletop, then worked tighter and tighter until it was practically fused to her skin.

The tape still around her fingers was joined by thick and heavy bondage mitts, stripping her of even the faintest scraps of motion and eliminating one more avenue of struggle. As she felt herself becoming increasingly immobile, the arousal mounting inside of her stormed ever more turbulently as she was deprived of anything else to focus on or cope with.

It was not long before Serena was pushed over the edge, and her sharp yelps melted into a long, drawn-out wail that petered out as the air left her lungs. She coughed and sputtered, fighting to breathe through her gag and copious drool, but the continuing jackhammer motions of the fucking machine made it almost impossible to achieve even that.

There was no sign that anyone had even noticed her orgasm; her mechanical tormentor had not slowed or stopped, and she could not feel anyone nearby through what hazy senses she had left to her. The realization that she had been left alone– left to descend into a helpless, gibbering mess– shot through her like a bolt of lightning.

Blinking in an attempt to clear some of the fog from her vision, Serena’s eyes desperately darted around for any harbinger of relief, or at the very least a clock: all she saw were the same blandly pleasant decorations as before, without even a window to mark the passage of time.

I...I-I...u-ughhhh…!

Her thoughts faltered as she felt arousal pumping through her veins and nerves, heat and electricity crackling in its wake. Dimly, she knew what was in store for her– knew it from countless iterations of the same plight from her training– but the knowledge that there might be passengers in the rooms next door who would never notice her suffering made everything all the more unbearable.

Her bonds rattled and creaked in response to her increasingly weak struggles, and her efforts to speak or scream faded into piteous whimpers. A second orgasm rocked her battered body, leaving her limp and seemingly sapped of strength; despite that, she continued to jerk and twitch as her holes were pummeled by the twin dildos.

Tears, drool, sweat, and arousal streamed down her body in rivulets of fluid, creating a sparkling mosaic that outlined every inch of her skin. Her chest spasmed in time with her shallow breaths, straining against the chains that crushed her torso in their embrace. Everything conspired to make her third orgasm come even faster than her second– then a fourth soon afterwards.

Serena’s eyelids slid shut, closing over long-since sightless eyes and plunging her into darkness. She had lacked the wherewithal to make sense of her surroundings since her third climax, and her ability to even keep her eyes open had soon followed.

Even the sound of the fucking machine was melting into a continuous drone, a roar that drowned out all else and left her even further adrift. The relentless pumping motion of the dildos similarly blurred in her consciousness, buried beneath the arousal it dragged out of her trembling body.

When she came for the fifth time, Serena’s tenuous grip on reality shattered altogether, and she lost track of everything save for the now-constant storm of pleasure swamping her mind.

The chill touch of sea spray against her skin seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

Serena stirred, her senses still clouded and her mind both groggy and slow. She still had no sense of time or place; though she could now register the smell of salt, she lacked the capacity to put together what everything meant.

It was not until she began to hear faint muffled mewls and feel the familiar tightness of bindings around her body that she started to rouse in earnest. As soon as she remembered that she had eyes, she fought to open them, squinting against bright, blinding sunlight. Blue sky filled her vision, simultaneously unfamiliar and welcome all at once.

Memories flashed through her head, indistinct and hazy but enough to remind her of where she had last been. Confused and uncertain, she looked about in an effort to get her bearings on where she was now, even as she tried to wiggle her body to determine how she was bound.

Familiar faces were looking at her from all directions: Cynthia, Sonia, and Lusamine, among others. All were lashed to reclining deck chairs, naked from head to toe save for what of their bodies were covered by a mixture of rope, tape, and chains. The low buzz of countless vibrators mixed with the sounds of groaning and rattling restraints, just barely audible over the sounds of a ship under way.

Though their positions were simple– arms pinned to their sides and legs clamped together– no effort had been spared to make sure that not a one of the enslaved captives could budge. Above the elaborate rope harnesses that bit deeply into everyone’s bodies were bands of tape that ran horizontally across the girls' torsos and legs, pinning them to their chairs. Chains placed at strategic intervals completed the bondage ensemble, enforcing their pitiless grip through both tightness and sheer weight.

It took little time for Serena to confirm that she was in the same situation. Although the sore emptiness in her snatch and ass was welcome, the absence of dildos did not mean that she was freed from torment. She could both see and feel that her body was festooned with small bullet vibrators, some clamped tightly to her nipples, others stuffed between her lower lips, and two tied on either side of her delicate clit.

All of them were active, and doubtless at their lowest possible settings; enough to spark a feeling of vague and involuntary frustration and to keep her on edge, but not enough to provoke outright orgasm. Serena tried to grit her teeth against the infuriating sensation, and was thoroughly unsurprised to feel herself biting down on something large and rubbery.

A quick glance at the others and then down at her chest made it obvious that her voice was being suppressed by a pump gag, its hose and bulb dangling down between her modest breasts and shimmering with a thin coat of her drool. While the gag lacked the sheer throat-filling capacity of the hated plug gags she was used to, it still had ample ability to fill her mouth and cut off her air supply.

Their brutal efficacy was no doubt why the organization was confident enough to leave so many of their slaves-in-training in such an exposed spot. Now that Serena had somewhat recovered her faculties, she could make out any number of voices coming from all around them; passengers enjoying their own private balconies, separated from the wretched group of captives by little more than thin dividers on and the space between decks.

It was obvious that that was more than enough. Serena could see by the red faces and copious rivers of drool streaming from around gags that the other girls had been trying to call for help for some time– and clearly to no avail. Try as they might, no one was able to produce meaningful amounts of noise; even the deck chairs had been bolted down to prevent rattling or shifting from the slaves' struggling.

The fact that they were apparently completely unattended filled Serena with a blend of desperation, hope, humiliation, and despair. Those emotions only spiked when the wind blew snatches of conversation from the next balcony over to her ears.

“...kinda...noisy, huh?”

“Shameless, really...as well...public.”

“Yeah...let’s get...here. Just uncomfortable to listen to...know?”

The sound of a sliding door opening, then slamming shut made it clear that while the group had been able to make themselves heard tosomeone, their combined efforts had been mistaken for the lewd and wanton depravity of perverted passengers. Serena could see faces fall all around her, and the physical slumping that accompanied their shared misery.

The defeated atmosphere soon morphed into one of active agony as the array of vibrators abruptly roared to their limits. It rapidly became apparent that they were not experiencing a short pulse or jolt of punishment; to a person, everyone was writhing and thrashing about as they were forcibly dragged towards climax.

Recollections of her repeated, helpless chain of orgasms from earlier immediately filled Serena’s thoughts. Despite knowing it was utterly hopeless, she tried to bury the arousal frothing and boiling inside of her, clenching her fists and biting down on her gag as tightly as possible.

It was all to no avail. The precious, nearly-forgotten sight of the open sky began to vanish beneath a thick pink haze that ate away at the edges of her vision. The heavy bondage wrapped around her torso felt as though it were constricting, like an Ekans that had snared prey; her breathing was ragged and shallow as she fought for mere scraps of air.

The dull throbbing of her racing heart filled her ears, drowning out the sounds of struggle and torment around her. As her senses were totally subsumed by unwanted pleasure, Serena’s thoughts began to bend, stretch, then break apart and scatter. It was not long before she could not even remember why she was trying to fight the tide, to resist what felt so good–

Something– several somethings– were brushing against her skin, leaving cold trails in their wake.

Lusamine’s gradual return to consciousness was abruptly kickstarted by an electric jolt as something tickled her swollen and oversensitive clit, its light touch unbearable after the day’s prolonged torment. Instinctively, she tried to shield herself against the intrusion–

–but her legs and arms remained locked in place, her wrists trapped by her shoulders and her ankles held against her thighs. Even before she opened her eyes, the woman recognized the position as a modified frogtie, with her arms pinned above her head rather than behind her back.

With her limbs splayed wide apart, she could do nothing but jerk her head downwards to try and see what was happening to her. The harsh glow of fluorescent lights reflected strangely off of her skin, lighting countless golden stars that sparkled down the length of her body.

When she spotted a man bent between her legs wish a paint brush in hand, Lusamine realized what had been done– what was happening– to her. A coat of metallic paint was being applied to every inch of her skin; the delicate folds of her lower lips were no exception.

She tried to scream in agony as the maddening stimulation to her intimates filled her nerves with static, only to find the hated plug gag back inside of her mouth and throat. What little noise she was able to produce did not even draw her tormentor’s attention as he continued his painstakingly detailed work.

In an effort to distract herself, Lusamine tried to focus on theotherpeople working on her, each methodically covering her pale skin with a sheen of gold. A high, stiff posture collar prevented her from meaningfully turning her head, forcing her to try and follow along out of the corners of her eyes. The resulting headache rapidly drove her to surrender, leaving her helplessly shuddering with every brushstroke.

From what she could tell, rubber belts were wrapped over her uselessly-folded limbs, holding them fast to some kind of cross frame beneath her back. While their purpose as restraints was clear enough, Lusamine could not even begin to imagine what indignity lay ahead of her. Her attempts at concentrating on the thought were repeatedly foiled by fresh surges of arousal coursing through her all over her body; her automatic shuddering fast revealed the thick plugs still buried inside of her.

After what felt like an eternity, the group of organization staffers around her– all dressed as though they were ordinary sailors and waitstaff– straightened up and moved off. For the first time, Lusamine was able to try and catch her breath and survey her surroundings in earnest– at least, what parts of the ceiling that she could see.

The space she was in was enormous, and clearly more ornate than the rest of the ship. Metal chandeliers and plaster decals filled her vision, and by rolling her eyes about she could just barely make out some of the similarly-lavish walls surrounding her. After a few moments, she realized that she was in one of the vessel’s dining halls– likely one reserved for upper-class passengers.

In a flash, she connected the dots between the lighting fixtures hanging above her and her current appearance. As a strong gust of wind began to over and around her– quickly drying and setting the coats of paint onto her skin– Lusamine could only watch as one of the chandeliers began to descend from a heavy chain.

As she predicted, she was flipped onto her front, then lifted bodily over to where the chandelier had come to a stop. The familiar sight of an Alakazam– the organization’s favored psychic working Pokemon– told her what was coming next. Strips of steel quickly lashed her frame to the lighting fixture, followed by additional, thicker bands that were wrapped directly over her body.

Metal groaned as it was bent into form-fitting shapes around her body, circled above and below her bust, at her thighs, then around her arms. As usual, the resulting restraints were tighter than any human could make them, painting contrasting bands over her golden skin. With the setup complete, Lusamine soon found herself hovering a few feet over one of the long banquet tables that lined the room.

Involuntary grunts of pain eked their way around her enormous gag as tight loops of rubber were wrestled over her breasts, snapping taut around the bases of her tender mounds and causing them to bulge into swollen globes. As the dull, throbbing ache in her chest intensified, it was joined by twin bursts of pure fire as severe clamps bit down on her protruding nipples, each sporting weighted pendants that further caused her to blend in with her surroundings.

Gold chains were copiously draped over her figure; some were purely decorative, serving to disguise and break up her silhouette, while others were at leastnominallyfunctional in how they encircled and reinforced her underlying bondage. Sufficient by themselves to have kept Lusamine in place, they were beyond gratuitous in combination with the solid metal and straining rubber already layered over her.

From there, her fate was a foregone conclusion; a mechanical whirring sound filled her ears as she was hauled up towards the ceiling, leaving the deck far below. Even if she had been able to move, she was thoroughly trapped by her elevated predicament– and with no voice left to her, all she could do was watch as well-dressed passengers began to filter into the space through unseeable doors.

Despite everything, Lusamine’s first instinct was to remain still– to avoid being seen in such a shameful state by complete and total strangers. After a few moments of internal turmoil, the woman reluctantly swallowed her pride and started to throw her weight back and forth with all the strength that she could muster.

Immediately, regret, frustration, and anger shot through her as her movements set the heavy pendants fixed to her nipples swinging about. Their position amplified the effects of her movements, ensuring that she was thoroughly punished for her defiance. Her vision swam as tears beaded in her eyes against her will, serving as an additional reminder that she was not even the slightest bit in control of her situation.

The soft tinkling of the swaying chandelier and her muted cries for help were nowhere near enough to be heard over the low hum of conversation and bustle below. The height of the ceiling kept what little movement she had been able to wrangle out of her struggling out of the passengers' collective sight, and it quickly became clear that there was no payoff to be had for her efforts.

Infuriatingly, she could see several people looking upwards to admire and comment on the decorations, with some even pointing at one feature or another to discuss with companions. Despite that, Lusamine knew that the complex shape of the chandeliers, the matching tone of the paint covering her body, and the distance from the floor would prevent anyone from spotting her.

At best they’ll think I’m some tasteless decoration. Me, a decoration!

Occasionally, Lusamine could see droplets of her fluids falling from her suspended figure; each and every one fell uselessly to the deck. The nearest tables were far enough away from her position so as to make it impossible for her to attract any attention– as nauseating as the thought was– from her dripping.

The total absence of hope left only despair and humiliation in its wake. As the meal wore on beneath her, Lusamine could feel her hold on anger and pride slipping away, hollowing out her will to keep fighting. Every detail of her predicament had seemingly been considered and accounted for– and she knew that she would be hanging helplessly for hours to come.

In her previous life, she had organized and attended many such events, and she knew well that she would not be ‘freed’ until long after the dinner was over. After that, nothing could come save for more suffering under different circumstances– and she had little doubt that that would be true for the duration of the voyage.

The plugs inside of her began to twist and throb, driving fresh pangs of sensation through the dull haze that had settled over her thoughts. Unable to concentrate on anything else, Lusamine could do little but await her coming orgasm in full view of the public–

–and yet, totally unseen. Though her position– limbs folded and spread wide, pinned to the metal cross-frame behind her– bared her most intimate spots to the world, no one spotted the ‘chandelier’ as it swayed from side to side and continued to drip sweat and cum on the floor far below.

Lusamine had never known that as she had been being prepared, Cynthia had been undergoing her own ordeal not a hundred feet away.

The former champion had recovered from her earlier orgasm-induced daze in time to see Lusamine atop one of the room’s many dining tables. When the sheet covering the transport dolly she had been mounted on was lifted, the other woman’s plight was the first thing she had seen; for several seconds, she could think of little else.

Her attention rapidly turned to her own troubles as she was wheeled to the opposite corner of the room. The rising trepidation inside of her crowded out whatever empathy she had managed to muster for her fellow victim, leaving her completely– and shamefully– focused on herself. Her eyes darted around, searching for clues as to what was about to happen to her.

A small trundle cart, impractically low to the ground for general use, sat next to a long table that was noticeably set apart from the others. A pile of restraints lay nearby, contrasting sharply with the immaculate white tablecloth beneath it; Cynthia could make out rubber, ropes, chain, and tape, all familiar sights after her long captivity.

She could also recognize a set of piddlefours sheaths, already carefully laid out in anticipation of her arrival. The moment that she was removed from the dolly and thrown onto the isolated table, several ‘staff’ members descended upon her to force her into the restrictive binders.

Even by the organization’s standards, the restraints felttight, pinning her in a vice-like grip. Try as she might, Cynthia could not budge or unfold her limbs once they had been fit into their respective sheaths; after a few short seconds of struggle, she gave up, her ample chest heaving with exertion.

As she lay on her back, panting, Cynthia started when a set of hands abruptly yanked out the three plugs that had been lodged inside of her; cold air immediately rushed in to nip at her now-empty holes. She was not in the least bit surprised when she felt intruders immediately being shoved back into her snatch and ass, thick metal shafts plunging deep into her core without mercy.

Electricity slammed through her, instantly causing her to go completely rigid. A wet, warbling shriek erupted from her mouth, stopped only after a staffer slammed her hand over the now-empty plug hole in Cynthia’s gag. When the shock finally faded, the woman was left convulsing in its wake, her muscles weak and jittery.

“This is rare, so listen up, slut. You’ve got a choice ahead of you for how this next hour’s gonna go.”

A man was speaking from somewhere above her, but the cross-eyed and groggy Cynthia was unable to focus on his face. Heedless of her clear distress, the staffer continued in the same casually commanding tone that the organization universally employed to belittle its captives.

“You’re going to be servicing some very special guests. It’s a quiet, under-the-table sort of thing, so don’t get any thoughts about trying to get attention or help. So, here’s the deal: you can do this voluntarily, and we’ll leave you ‘just’ tied up. Or, if you’d rather cause problems now or later, we’ll simply inject you with a paralytic toxin and you’ll serve that way.”

As the words filtered through Cynthia’s hazy consciousness, she could feel a thick posture collar being fit about her neck, unnaturally bulky even for organization use. She was pushed to the edge of the table to accommodate the new backward tilt of her head, enforced by the stiff material cruelly digging into her chin.

“That collar contains an injector for the paralytic, so we can put a stop to any tricks you might try instantly.” A short pause followed, ostensibly to allow Cynthia the time to think the proposal over. “So...what’s it going to be?”

“...uhhhghh…”

A weak and inarticulate gurgle was all that Cynthia could manage, but it seemed to be enough for the man. Satisfied, he nodded above her, then moved off to fetch additional restraints. Over the next few minutes, tight elastic bands were fit around her breasts, and cold gel was applied directly over her nipples and clit; the latter was followed by the application of additional shock pads that adhered directly to her skin.

A heavy belt with a crotch strap was then fit about her waist and buckled into place, jamming the electrified metal dildos even deeper into Cynthia. She tried to choke down a moan as both the dildos and pads were briefly tested, causing her to involuntarily jerk against her bonds.

With her initial bondage complete, Cynthia was rolled over onto her stomach, then carried over to the small trolley that she had seen earlier. As she was brought over to it, she could now see a small motor and electronics package strapped underneath it; there was little time to contemplate it before she was bodily draped over the cart.

Additional straps soon had her lashed into position; a healthy application of electrical tape followed, plastering her against the hard plastic surface and mashing her large breasts painfully into the unforgiving material. Chains were cinched around her until she was mummified in metal, crushed by their weight and trapped by their tight embrace.

It was rapidly becoming clear to Cynthia exactly what kind of ‘service’ she would be providing over the course of the evening based on her height and pose; she could feel her throat clenching in trepidation and disgust.

After a few additional tweaks were made to her bondage– ensuring that she could not budge so much as an inch in any direction– Cynthia felt the cart lurching into motion beneath her. A soft mechanical whine marked her slow progress as she was trundled beneath the center of the long table. The space under the tablecloth was wide enough for the cart to spin on the spot and run the length of the table; otherwise, it was claustrophobic, hemmed in by chairs on all sides.

There was little choice for Cynthia but to wait, stewing in her own anticipation and disgust. As best as she had been able to tell, the organization’s slave training procedures did not involve ‘live’ practice unless it was specifically requested by a buyer– doubtless so that those who wanted an ‘unspoiled’ and ‘first’ experience could get what they were looking for.

That fact had provided a cold, twisted sort of comfort during her long ordeal. Her protection had now clearly come to an end, and the stage for her ‘debut’ was even more humiliating and horrifying than she would ever have expected. Thinking about how much she must have been ‘worth’ to despoil was nauseating.

The nightmare soon became real as she heard the sounds of passengers entering the dining hall. The dull drone of conversation set her heart racing, and as she heard footsteps circling closer and closer to her she could feel the desire to escape her predicament growing to practically uncontrollable levels.

Fear– and the knowledge that she would simply be paralyzed for noncompliance– kept her from doing anything besides slump in defeat. The passage of time, each second dripping by like cold honey, was beyond agonizing. Even still, the moment that she saw someone sitting down a few seats away, Cynthia found herself wishing that the wait had gone on for longer.

Inevitably, the trolley began to crawl forwards, simultaneously moving at lightning speed and at a Torkoal’s pace. Ahead of her, she could see a male passenger’s hands working to unzip the fly of his pants and pull himself free of its confines. Much to Cynthia’s abject disgust, she could see that the man– who was completely and totally anonymous to her– was already thoroughly erect, his large member jutting out from between his slightly-spread legs.

As she drew closer and closer, Cynthia fruitlessly redoubled her struggling, despite her inability to do anything save rotate her head the slightest bit. She knew it was futile– that her restraints were too thorough and her position too awkward to avoid penetration– but the prospect of having a total stranger inside of her as her first time was simply too much for her to accept. Her throat stirred as she made to moan in protest–

–and she spasmed as a warning jolt of electricity sparked inside of her snatch, making it clear that she was being monitored more closely than ever. She bit down hard on the short tube that still held her mouth wide open, choking down a mixture between a sob and a frustrated grunt.

The inevitable moment of contact managed to be even worse than she had imagined. As the passenger’s cock slid between her parted lips, its warmth and foul taste immediately set it apart from even the worst dildos that Cynthia had throated over the course of her training. The cart did not stop moving until Cynthia’s protruding head was practically buried into the man’s crotch, forcing her to swallow his entire length.

While bitter prior experience meant that she was still able to breathe around the throbbing member, she still had to fight against the instantaneous urge to retch and gag. Given the relatively slow speed of the trolley and the passenger’s seated position, she was being forced to hold him inside of her rather than to pump and down his length.

“Not bad for someone so inexperienced. But could you get her to use that tongue?”

The words seemed as though they were spoken to the empty air, sounding somewhat muffled and distant through the tablecloth. A sharp shock delivered to her nipples made it obvious that she was to treat the offhand comment as an order; with extreme reluctance, Cynthia began to slide her tongue beneath and about the man’s throbbing shaft, which quickly began to quiver and shift as the man responded to her forced ministrations.

Dimly, Cynthia was aware of other people joining the first passenger at the table. What snatches of conversation that she could hear confirmed her worst fears: she was surrounded by people who were in on her torment– and expected to have a turn with the once-famous former champion.

Her attention was yanked back to the cock in her mouth when it abruptly erupted deep into her throat, spurting what seemed like an endless stream of thick and hot liquid that she had no choice but to suck down and swallow in order to simply keep breathing. A shuddering, shaky breath above her confirmed what she already knew: she had been made to service her first ‘master’ to orgasm.

That demeaning fact had barely registered in her mind before she was slowly backed away until the passenger’s tip was resting on her tongue. For a few seconds she simply laid there in stunned stillness, unable to comprehend what had just happened or what might be further expected of her.

“Go on, clean me off.”

Again, a jolt of static spurred Cynthia into motion; she was permitted a tiny moan as she swirled her tongue over and around the passenger, catching stray drops of his salty cum that she was now forced to meaningfully taste as well as take. She could feel her stomach churning violently in protest, but the prospect of what would happen to her if she allowed herself to be sick kept her in meek submission.

Once she heard a sound of satisfaction above her, the cart backed her fully away, then wheeled sharply to one side with a new destination locked in. Panting for breath and furiously trying to rid herself of the foul-tasting remnants of semen, Cynthia was caught completely off guard by the appearance of a clean-shaven pussy directly in front of her nose.

Inwardly, she groaned– it should have been glaringly obvious from the beginning that her services were for sale to people of all persuasions. While she had an idea of what to do to pleasure another woman, the prospect was just as nauseatingly humiliating as what had come before.

“Let’s see how good she is at being a bit more...delicate, shall we?”

The new voice was laden with meaning; as she was eased forward, her cheeks soon were clamped between a slim young woman’s thighs, shielded from public sight by a combination of her legs, a short miniskirt, and the tablecloth. After a moment of hesitation, Cynthia resignedly stuck out her tongue to its full length, her eyes clamped shut as if that could stop her suffering.

She flinched as soon as she made contact with the other woman’s lower lips. Knowing what she had to do did not make things any easier for her, but she began to flick her tongue up and down until she felt it brush against an unmistakable nub near the top of the woman’s slit. Her aim was confirmed by a soft exclamation and the renewed crush of thighs against her cheeks.

Having found her target, Cynthia cautiously brushed her tongue over the passenger’s protruding clit, feeling what scraps of pride she had left flickering and dying with every stroke.

“Slut, I o-order you to get in there. Get that tongue into my pussy and get me off.”

The coarse words were at odds with the otherwise-refined tone of voice; the command left no room for misinterpretation, and Cynthia begrudgingly thrust herself between the woman’s lower lips. It was not long before she was intimately aware of the effect she was having on her target– the taste of arousal quickly mounted until Cynthia found herself cleaning up the aftermath of the passenger’s climax.

There were no thanks or gratitude offered to her as she was carried back to her initial position– only the sight of bared crotches on all sides of her, every one of which she knew she would have to pleasure before her night was over.

A fresh gout of tears streamed down her face when she felt an electric current begin to course through her aching nipples and pussy. As she was directed towards another passenger, a single thought ran through her near-blank mind.

They can always make it worse.

Quiet, nervous murmuring and awkward laughter were the first things that Serena heard as she slowly regained consciousness.

After what were likely months of being subjected to orgasm- and Pokemon-induced blackouts, she was no stranger to waking up in new and awful situations. Typically, by the time that she opened her eyes she would have at least some idea of what was in store for her– or at the very least, how she was restrained or being toyed with.

As her senses returned to her, a feeling of surprise and deep unease rippled through her clouded mind. As best as she could tell, she was lying on her back on something soft; by itself, that would have been nothing unusual.

What caught her attention was the total lack of pressure on her limbs and body. She felt light and warm from head to toe, with none of the familiar chill of restricted blood flow or constricted breathing– or even the hated fullness of being stuffed with toys. She could feelsomethinglodged inside of her, but it was clear that she was free of the usual dildos.

Her first, involuntary reaction was one of relief. While she immediately knew that it would make the inevitable reveal all the more painful, Serena was unable to stop herself fromfeelingfree, as though she had awoken from a long-running nightmare.

Just as she had expected, her initial elation was eclipsed by a rush of fear as she tried to open her eyes and sit up. Her body refused to respond in any way, her muscles not even so much as twitching in response to her attempts to move. While she was absolutely certain that she was free from bondage, the organization was still clearly firmly in control of her every move.

That idea was confirmed a few moments later, as an eerily-friendly voice followed the sound of sharp-heeled footsteps.

“Open your eyes.”

Instantly, Serena’s eyes opened– not in the bleary, lidded manner of someone who had just woken up, but as quick as if she had simply blinked. There had been no hint of thought or intent behind her actions; her body had simply movedautomaticallyin response to the command.

The girl’s stomach lurched as she connected the dots. The combination of her inability to voluntarily move along with her completely automatic obedience pointed to something that she had only experienced once before: the power of Pokemon-assisted hypnotic suggestion.

While it was something that the organization had apparently still been experimenting with, it was evident that they were now confident enough in the technique to use it in the field. That knowledge left Serena feeling cold as she was directed to stand up from the cot that she had been lying on and present herself for inspection.

As she felt herself– a helpless bystander trapped in her own body– coming to attention, Serena caught sight of a nearby mirror. In its reflection, she could see that she was in a small and windowless room, clad only in a racy swimsuit that barely qualified for the title. She could not turn away or avert her eyes from the view the tiny red bikini afforded the world; a fiery blush rose to her cheeks at the thought of being seen as she was.

Strangely enough, she could see that she had been fitted with a pair of half-rimmed red glasses and colored contacts; additionally, her hair looked to have been dyed a deep, chestnut brown. She could barely recognize the face and body in the mirror, despite the relatively simple additions that had been made while she was out.

The sound of footsteps circling around her drew Serena’s attention to the young woman who had been speaking; her eyes sparkled with malicious mischief, and she pointed meaningfully at a door that Serena could barely see out of the corner of her immobile eyes.

“Hope you’re ready to give our guests a little demonstration, slut. I expect you to do everything I say out there– oh, but I suppose that’s a given, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ve been trying to move this entire time, so you already know that it’s totally pointless.”

A wicked smirk stole across the girl’s face as she straightened the tie of a schoolgirl ‘uniform’ and smoothed out its short skirt. It was obvious that she had dressed solely for sex appeal, leaving Serena wondering what kind of show she expected to put on.

She was given no more time to wonder as her captor turned to walk out of the door and motioned her to follow. Serena obediently trailed behind her, mentally straining against her psychic compulsions all the while. Her every muscle felt as though they needed to stretch, but she was powerless to so much as twitch a finger.

Whatever little frustration had kindled inside of her guttered and died as soon as she stepped through the doorway. The room that they had entered was moderately crowded with passengers seated in neat rows, clearly awaiting her arrival. As the duo walked to the center of the raised platform at the front of the room, Serena could hear murmurs of interest– and could see and feel the gazes of the audience roving over her nearly-bare figure.

“Thank you for coming to today’s very special class! Now that the kids are all in bed and it’s late in the evening, I’m sure everyone’s ready to enjoy a little bit of…adultentertainment. Remember, no photography or recording during our little lecture...or during thehands-ondemo at the end.”

Understanding flooded through Serena; the changes to her appearance and hypnosis were to prevent the unwitting people in front of her from realizing that she was an unwilling participant in what had been presented to them as an after-hours attraction. No one would know that she had been kidnapped or abused for months on end– and she would have no opportunity to get help despite being surrounded by innocent strangers.

Despite the fact that she was physically unbound and free, Serena felt as though her chest were being squeezed in iron bands. Even the ability to sob or cry had been stripped away from her; all she could do was stand with a blank expression as the girl next to her produced a large pile of ropes from a box down on the floor.

“Now, this is the first class in a two-parter. Today, I’ll be showing you the ropes– pardon the pun– using my submissive here. Tomorrow, you’ll get a chance to try your own hand at some ties based on what we’ll be showing today.” After an exaggerated pause, Serena’s captor continued with a smirk and a wink. “Don’t try this one at home though– at least, until you’ve got a lot more experience.”

What followed was the most nauseatingly humiliating experience of Serena’s life. The powerful hypnotic suggestion entrancing her mind had turned her into a poseable doll, one who spun, turned, and moved at her captor’s beck and call. Silk soon criss-crossed her body in an intricate karada tie that served no function other than to emphasize her body for the audience’s readily-apparent pleasure; she could see several people crossing their legs or folding their hands over their crotches as every knot was drawn tight.

At each step, Serena was made to adopt one exaggerated position after another– well beyond what was necessary to complete each part of the tie. Directed to spread her legs wide and place her hands behind her back, she could not even flinch as her captor made a show of drawing a rope between Serena’s lower lips and cinching it tightly until the cord cut deeply into her cleft. The bikini bottom offered no protection or concealment for her sensitive slit, which immediately began to throb as even her breathing caused the crotch rope to chafe.

When she was directed to face the back of the room, she could immediately feel the back of her neck beginning to crawl; not being able to see the hungry gazes she knew were roving her vulnerable body made her feel them all the more intensely. It was almost enough to distract her from the pain in her shoulders as her arms were wrenched into a strict reverse prayer position– something that she had only slowly learned to accommodate over months of training.

Bindings about her elbows and wrists secured her arms rigidly behind her, before a gratuitous amount of twine was wound between her fingers to fuse them together in a useless tangle. Even if she had been free to move, there would have been no hope of ever escaping what bondage had already been applied, much less what she knew was still to come.

“Is that tight, slut?”

“Yes, mistress.”

The words were out of Serena’s mouth before she even had time to process the surprise question. If she had been able to move, her jaw would have dropped in shock and dismay at the revelation that she was being made to evenspeakagainst her will. The sheer extent of the behavioral modifications that the organization had wrought on her was horrifying beyond measure– all the more so because she had no idea how much further they went.

A number of degrading follow-up questions– ranging from whether or not she was feeling arousal to misleading questions about her prior experience with bondage– made it obvious that Serena’s vocabulary had been stripped down to ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘mistress’. Even those words were beyond her voluntary control, and served only to further underline her lack of agency.

As she talked, the organization girl had Serena move to lie face-down on a long table, squashing her bulging and darkening breasts uncomfortably into the wooden surface. From there, it should have only been a matter of minutes in order to put Serena into the hogtie that she knew was looming.

Instead, the process took an agonizing half an hour. With great flair and merciless cruelty, Serena’s captor slowly lashed Serena’s legs together at the thighs, above and below the knees, then at her ankles; they were subsequently folded in half and her ankles bound to her thighs, fixing her limbs uselessly in place.

“Open that mouth wide, slut. You know what’s next.”

Unable to disobey, Serena felt her mouth open as wide as possible. An enormous harness ballgag was quickly worked into her mouth, grating against her teeth before finally popping snugly into place and inescapably pinning down her tongue. Streams of drool immediately began to leak from the corners of her lips, dribbling down her chin in bubbling waterfalls that she could not even try to wipe away.

The constant, low hum of chatter from the assembled crowd made the entire experience all the more unbearable. Being tortured in the bowels of the earth had been bad enough, but to be so thoroughly humiliated in front of strangers filled her with mental anguish. She wanted so desperately to speak, to flee– or if nothing else, to at least cover herself from view.

There was no relief for her; the organization member was now looping ropes through rings set into the harness gag and looping them into the bonds about Serena’s ankles. As the other girl began to pull the anchoring rope tight, she hummed maliciously to herself, grunting softly with every tug. The earlier aches and pains that had long since set into Serena’s back returned in full force as she was drawn into a severe arch– unable to even moan as her body was strained further and further.

Eventually, Serena could feel her breasts lifting clear off the table, and she began to wobble about on her stomach as her legs followed suit. Her bondage was now so strict that only her midriff remained in contact with the tabletop; the loss of stability left her feeling even more vulnerable than before.

Her fears were soon justified when she saw her captor retrieve a pair of clothespins from her box. Knowing exactly where they were going, Serena tried to flinch away, only to remain as stock still and immobile as she had been since waking up. The pain that spiked through her chest as the clothespins were clamped about her nipples was familiar, but still visceral in its intensity.

A moment later, she saw a flash of pink in the other girl’s hands as she deftly flicked a switch on a small remote. The next moment, Serena felt her thoughts falter and scatter as a large egg vibrator buried in her snatch came to life, buzzing deep in her core with ferocious intensity– but doubtless still inaudible to the watching passengers.

“Are you feeling aroused, slut?”

“Yuhhh, muhhruhh.”

The honest, but misleading answer that was drawn from Serena’s gagged mouth made her sick to her stomach; she could hear awkward laughs and chatter from the audience at her ‘admission’. At that moment, she wanted to curl up and die more than anything else– even thoughts of escape had been thoroughly dashed from her mind.

“Are you used to even more bondage than this?”

“Yuhhh, muhhruhh.”

With a theatrical gesture, the organization member spread her arms wide and smiled brightly at the onlookers.

“Well, you heard her, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s kick it up a notch and give her what she wants, alright?”

As the other girl began to rummage around in her box, Serena could hear– and see– rolls of tape, lengths of chain, and coils of still more silken rope.

It was all so gratuitous and humiliating– but even the simple reprieve of unconsciousness was totally beyond her. All she could do was watch, completely trapped in her own head, as more bondage gear was neatly arranged on the table in front of her.

The entire time, the vibrator that continued to drone away inside of her nethers exacted its punishing toll on her mind, filling it with a thick pink fog that prohibited much in the way of cogent thought. It felt as though she could orgasm at any moment– but every time she was brought to the ragged edge, she couldfeelsomething mentally blocking her from climax.

Despite everything, she almost wished that she could finish– being forced to endure arousal and pleasure that should have been enough for her to cum immediately was agonizing.

From the look of things, the night was nowhere near over– and she could not even whimper in protest. Even when the ball in her gag was popped free from the ring it had been set into, she could only bleat out the answers that had been programmed into her on cue.

“Do you want more, slut? Heavier bondage? Tighter restraints?”

“'uhhhh, m’uhhhuhh.”

“That’s the last we’ll need to hear out of you for a while, then! Let’s go ahead and get this in you…”

Serena heard several gasps come from the audience when her tormentor came up with a large dildo topped by a familiar, perforated sphere and positioned it in front of the ring gag. Impressed and embarrassed chuckles followed as inch after inch of thick rubber slid down her throat, producing a visible bulge that pushed deeper and deeper with each passing second.

When the plug finally latched into place, Serena could feel her body laboring for breath, yet still totally beyond her control. Her consciousness was beginning to go hazy, but she was still more than aware enough to feel her captor’s hands roaming over her curves– and to feel shock as fingers abruptly dug into the frail scraps of cloth clinging to her body.

N-no!

With an anticlimactically quiet ripping sound, the swimsuit was torn free, baring her nipples and lower lips to the world. Though her bondage was severe– consisting of layers of electrical and duct tape slathered atop of an intricate and thorough body harness and hogtie– enough of her pale skin still showed through as to leave Serena feeling completely naked.

She was rolled onto her side, her bulging breasts and throbbing lower lips presented to the audience– whose interest and arousal she was forced to see in horrifying detail.

The sound of snapping fingers startled Serena, the noise sounding oddly loud and clear amidst the haze of suffocated arousal shrouding her mind. The girl’s eyes went wide, and she immediately began to squirm and thrash against her bondage as she regained control of her own body–

–just in time to feel it being ripped away from her by the orgasm she had long been denied, forcing her to act on her forced and overwhelming pleasure in front of total strangers until her mind went completely blank. The crowd watched with rapt attention as the helpless girl rocked wildly on her belly, the only part of her strictly-arched figure still in contact with the table.

When a modicum of awareness returned to her, Serena could only feel a mixture of utter degradation and despair. Held in her brutal hogtie, she could not even slump or unwind in the wake of her shattering climax.

She could only wait for what was surely to come next.

At some level, Cynthia had almost welcomed the familiar plug when it had been shoved back into her mouth.

If nothing else, it at least marked a temporary end to the forced use of her mouth and tongue. She had briefly hoped that the rubber cock would cleanse or at least absorb some of the foul aftertaste of cum and cock, but both remained nauseatingly strong.

The helpless woman felt her stomach roiling and churning as she was trundled out from beneath the table that she had been imprisoned under for what felt like hours. As she had expected, the dining hall looked to have been empty for quite some time, save for a number of cleaning staff who were busily gathering up used plates and utensils. None of them spared her a second glance, save for the man who had gagged her a few moments ago.

Her body ached from its awkward, bondage-enforced position; she feebly tried for the umpteenth time to wriggle her way free, or even slightly loose. Her weak efforts were utterly futile, and she soon gave up on them altogether. Slumped over the little motorized cart, she winced as the device lurched into motion and set off towards one of the small service entrances set against the back wall.

The moment she was through the swinging doors, she found herself in the bustling back halls of the ship. Countless sailors and staff swept past her in every direction as they tended to their duties, few of them paying her any mind as she was wheeled deeper and deeper into the bowels of the vessel.

The fact that so many people were completely indifferent to her plight only further underscored to Cynthia how foolish her ideas of escape had been. Even if she managed to free herself from her bondage, it was obvious that so many people aboard were in on the true purpose of the cruise that she would have nowhere to hide.

For what felt like an eternity, the only attention that Cynthia received was the occasional slap on the ass or a sharp grope of her breasts by the occasional crewmember as she went by. It was clear that she was being taken to somewhere specific, but with little idea of the ship’s layout and the collar preventing her from looking anywhere but straight ahead, she had no idea as to where she was headed.

That question was only answered after she had been maneuvered through countless narrow corridors and up several small lifts. Several people fell in beside her as she was brought up to, then through an ornate doorway.

The dimness of the room, lit primarily by the setting sun through a large bank of windows, was a sharp contrast to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the crew corridors. After her eyes adjusted, Cynthia could make out a number of green felt-covered tables and comfortable chairs scattered throughout the currently-unoccupied room.

As the crew around her set about undoing her bondage, the woman slowly became more and more able to look around at her surroundings. It soon became obvious that she was in a fancy parlor of some kind, lined with gaming tables and luxurious furniture for well-to-do passengers to lounge in.

The thought filled Cynthia with dread, as she remembered what had felt like hours spent ‘servicing’ people who matched that exact description. It was apparent that she was in for another round of debauchery and humiliation; she could only move her eyes as she helplessly and automatically searched for signs of what was to come.

Her gaze soon landed on an ominous metal shaft that rose from the deck, next to a large and well-stocked liquor bar. Its height, girth, and the unambiguously phallic shape of its tip made it unmistakably clear that she was destined to be mounted atop it; memories of being installed onto similar devices during training paraded through Cynthia’s mind.

After several minutes of restraints being undone, the world lurched around her as she was extricated from the cart and roughly deposited onto one of the game tables. A tiny moan of discomfort dribbled around Cynthia’s gag, and she recoiled as best as she could from the scratchy felt rubbing tortuously against her oversensitive nipples; the deeply unpleasant sensation left her wishing that the shock pads from before had not been removed.

Affording her no opportunity to so much as twitch, Cynthia felt her arms being wrenched roughly behind her back. The piddlefours sheaths were whipped off and immediately replaced with coils of rope that soon had her pinned into a strict reverse prayer. As she had come to expect from her captors, the binding process kept going, progressing to layers upon layers of duct tape that were wound about her forearms until they were practically fused together.

Even her hands were encased in tape, trapped palm to palm with her fingers plastered against each other with no room to even wiggle independently. A restrictive rubber sheath followed, tugged down inch by excruciating inch over the silvery sheath binding Cynthia until her arms were completely immobilized.

The activity focused on her upper body kept Cynthia preoccupied; she did not realize her legs had been freed until she was roughly hauled to her feet. Her numbed and weak legs immediately folded beneath her, giving way at the knees until she was being held off the floor only by the combined grips of several crewmembers.

The woman was completely unable to find her balance in the impossibly tall ballet heels that had been locked onto her feet for what felt like forever; her feet dragged heavily on the plush red carpet as she was hauled over to the waiting one bar prison.

She hated that she could tell at a glance that the device was thicker than the one already buried in her snatch; another low moan escaped her as the shock dildo inside of her was yanked out to make way for the new intruder. Helpless to resist, Cynthia could only squeeze her eyes shut in anticipation as she was lifted bodily into the air, then lowered slowly onto the waiting pole.

The moment that she made contact with the metal, electricity and cold shot through her body, radiating outwards from her parting lower lips. The familiar and hated fullness that followed as the pole inexorably bored into her core made her eyes roll up in her head. The only modicum of relief came when she felt her heels touching the ground, marking the deepest point of her agonizing penetration.

While she knew she was inescapably trapped by the combination of steel rod and heels alone– her already-arched feet unable to lift her up and off of the enormous intruder– it came as no surprise that the crew was not finished with her.

Three pieces of black and white ‘clothing’ were brought over and clipped onto her otherwise-naked figure. First was a choker, deceptively delicate and lacy in its appearance but mercilessly and suffocatingly tight about her neck.

Next came a frilly crop top, styled after a maid’s uniform but covering little more than her shoulders and serving only to highlight and emphasize her bust via a large cutout. With her breasts already protruding obscenely from the severity of her reverse prayer, the presence of additional wired shaping fabric around her tender mounds was unbearable.

Finally, a pathetic excuse for a skirt that was scarcely thicker than a belt was draped over the top half of her buttocks and the uppermost inches of her crotch. As with the stylized top, the garment was patterned to evoke the image of a dutiful and submissive maid without hiding her most intimate spots from even the most casual inspection.

It was all so nauseatingly humiliating that she nearly failed to notice the familiar trio of rope, tape, and chains being laced and pulled tight about her legs until the combination bondage had reached her thighs. Looking down– choking as the deep dildo plugging her throat resisted the movement– Cynthia could just barely see that her legs had been lashed together from the ankles up the tops of her thighs. The restraints ended in time to showcase her parted lower lips, in line with the clear aim of keeping her penetration on full display.

When she had been fully immobilized from the waist down, the organization members' attention turned back to her upper body. Twine was wrapped around the base of her already-protruding breasts until they became nearly-perfect globes, crested by her now-engorged and puffy nipples. The sight of heavy metal clamps being borne towards her sent Cynthia into a panic; all she could think about was how oversensitive her abused nubs were after so much time and torture.

Even through her gag, Cynthia still managed a somewhat-audible wail as steel jaws bit down on her nipples. Digging deep into her soft skin, the pair of clamps were swiftly attached by short lengths of fine chain to a serving tray. The small platform was secured about her midriff by a series of straps, then tested for stability by several firm presses of merciless and uncaring hands.

Cynthia tried to howl, but her lack of breath and clogged throat stifled her anguished protests. Tears streamed thick and fast down her face, mixing with the ever-present drool that foamed out from around the seams of her gag; the resulting froth cascaded humiliatingly down her chest until it began to seep into her top. In moments, the thin fabric was soaked through.

Utterly indifferent to her suffering, someone delivered a pair of stinging slaps to Cynthia’s ass. Her involuntary jerk away from the impact was immediately punished by the intruder buried inside of her, and Cynthia’s torso spasmed and sagged forwards at the renewed torment.

She was abruptly hauled upright by a firm hand gripping her face by her cheeks, and she could see a stern man’s face looking at her through her swimming and hazy vision.

“Some very expensive cocktails are being placed on your tray. If you spill any of them tonight, you will regret it.”

Without waiting for even the barest hint of acknowledgement, the sailor stepped back and gestured at two uniformed waitresses. Working together with quick and dainty hands, the duo soon had almost a dozen slim glasses arranged in neat rows directly in front of Cynthia’s ample and enlarged breasts.

Every part of Cynthia that could move trembled with suppressed agony as she fought to keep her back straight and her breathing to a minimum. Between the rolling of the underway vessel beneath them and her own involuntary movements, trying to keep the tray stable was an immediate nightmare.

As the precariously-balanced drinks sloshed about, Cynthia’s constant corrections caused the tension on her nipples to fluctuate wildly as the clamps bounced and tugged at her aching breasts.

The ominous tinkle of teetering glass filled her thoughts, leaving little room for her to do anything but fixate on remaining still. Her mind soon went numb between the arduous task of maintaining her posture and trying to keep her breathing shallow and steady. She quickly became absorbed by the task, nearly failing to notice as several passengers began to trickle into the space.

As she had expected, the people entering the game parlor were completely unfazed by her presence. Though they looked at her with hungry eyes and groped her with questing hands, all ultimately took a drink from her tray and moved to take places at various tables and lounge chairs throughout the room. There was little doubt that she had already ‘encountered’ some of their number at the dining table; the thought made Cynthia’s tongue tingle, and she choked down a retch.

The room continued to fill until the air hummed with the sounds of low conversations and subdued laughter. Cynthia could do nothing other than endure being ogled and fondled by what felt like every single entrant as they came up for a cocktail; the drinks were replaced almost as fast as they were taken, ensuring that there was never lasting relief for her aching nipples.

Trying to keep her focus on avoiding spills became worse and worse as the sun began to set. She could see the ocean swell picking up through the large windows, and feel its motion in the rolling of the deck beneath her. Every movement was intimately communicated by the pole penetrating her snatch; the rod was buried deeply enough that even moving her upper body was deeply uncomfortable.

The constant stimulation took its toll on Cynthia, and the low lit room gradually faded around her into a dim colorless haze. The woman blinked repeatedly in an effort to keep sight of the tray hanging beneath her breasts, fighting the implacable resistance of the plug in her throat as she tried to keep her head tilted forward.

It was only a matter of time before her exhausted and overstimulated body finally faltered. As she descended into an arousal-filled stupor, a moment of weakness was all that was required to send her lurching forwards at the waist. By the time that she was jolted back to awareness by the pain in her crotch, the drinks that had been precariously balanced in front of her were tumbling through the air.

The sound of breaking glass instantly caused the entire room to go silent, and all eyes turned towards Cynthia. There was no time for her to feel anything other than a surge of panic before electricity slammed through her, driving every scrap of air from her lungs and sending her ramrod straight on the spot. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she spasmed and convulsed; distantly, she could just barely hear the sounds of glass fragments being swept away, but the noise was soon lost in the unending shocks radiating out from her snatch.

All sense of time and space slipped away from her; snatches of laughter and animated conversation went completely unheard as passengers gawked at Cynthia straining against her layered bondage with every bit of strength left in her wrung-out figure. The combination of materials left her with no room to move anything beneath her waist, and even her most violent struggles produced little more than quiet creaks and rattling.

Her upper body teetered back and forth, her torso jerking about as her punishment continued unabated. The tray hanging from her nipples bounced about with Cynthia’s every move, the clamps showing no sign of weakening their grip in spite of her wild thrashing.

All the while, other than muffled huffs of air, the bedraggled former celebrity was unable to produce so much as a sound. She could not breathe, could not control herself, could not stop the fluids leaking from her holes and running down her skin.

After a seeming eternity, the electric current finally came to an end, leaving Cynthia panting for breath and leaning as far forward as her bondage would allow. Distantly, she could hear the sounds of people moving and talking; at the moment, she was almost beyond caring.

Still, instinct beaten into her after an eternity of training snapped her back to attention the moment she felt hands grabbing the skimpy top and skirt clinging to her sweat-stained skin and ripping them away. Simultaneously, she heard the sound of several duffel bags being unzipped nearby.

“Ladies and gentlemen, since our cocktail stand has failed in her one duty, you are all welcome to have at her however you’d like using the provided equipment. Please consult a staff member if you have any questions about how to use any of the devices or if you require a demonstration.”

Blearily blinking through dazed tears, Cynthia could see a wide assortment of bondage toys and gear being laid out on the bar beside her. Dildos, crops, vibrators, clamps, ropes, rubber bands, and more that she could not even see crowded the narrow surface as crew diligently emptied their bags.

Something between a shriek and a moan leaked through her gag as the tray clamps were released, allowing blood to flood back into her aching nipples and igniting them in flame. The pain was so overwhelming that she barely felt being lifted off of the one bar prison– or being tied spread-eagle across one of the gaming tables.

Shedidfeel the hands descending on her from all directions–

–the toys poking and prodding at her intimates–

–the familiar and irresistible arousal coursing through her strained body.

She could not even hold the idea of escape in her head as she was lost in an infinite stream of moments filled with pure suffering. Her wide-splayed limbs strained against the cuffs pulling at her wrists and ankles, but the sturdy table beneath her held firm, preventing her from doing anything more than writhing with her torso as her consciousness dissolved.

“Unbelievable!Restrictedevents, huh? What’s the point of winning a ticket if it’s second-class?”

The pink-haired girl’s angry muttering drew the occasional judgmental glance from the other passengers traversing the ship’s long hallways. As Klara stalked her way towards the bow, she kept her frustration and annoyance stoked with a steady stream of invective and self-indulgent whining.

“What a load of...I mean, turningmeaway when I just wanted to see what kind of posh nonsense was going on in that room– hey! Hey, you!”

Klara’s voice rose sharply when she saw the tail end of a sailor’s uniform shirt rounding a corner ahead of her. Not waiting for a response, she picked up her pace and darted forward until she was standing in front of a solid steel door. Before it could fully swing shut, Klara shot out a hand and threw her weight against the heavy metal, allowing her to slip past it and into a narrow corridor beyond.

The harsh fluorescent lighting and industrial fittings made it clear that she was somewhere that passengers were not meant to be; despite her earlier bluster, she could feel trepidation swelling in her chest at her trespassing. Trying to push her worries aside, Klara wheeled back and forth to look for the sailor she had seen a moment ago.

“Maybe they can take me to someone who can do something about my ticket…”

Her sudden lack of confidence was betrayed by the subdued volume of her voice, now nowhere near as strident as it had been just moments ago. Moving with much more caution and care than before, Klara picked a direction at random and made her way down the passage.

It was not long before she was thoroughly lost; the hallways were only sparsely labeled, and what signs she did find were incomprehensible to her. What she had thought were brief detours and turns down side routes had led her somewhere deep within the bowels of the vessel, and there were no portholes anywhere to help her orient herself relative to the hull.

Stepping through a doorway that looked just like the last three that she had traversed, Klara abruptly came to a full stop, freezing midstride with one foot still suspended in the air. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head as she stared at the naked mannequin sprawled out on a large table at the center of the room she had just entered– a sight so eerily out of place that she could not help but gasp.

“Wh...w-what the hell is this creepy thing doing here…?!”

The life-sized mannequin, lying on its back, depicted a strikingly beautiful young woman who would not have looked out of place in a fashion magazine or runway competition. The entire affair was startlingly realistic; Klara felt herself flush in embarrassment as her eyes trailed over its breasts and crotch, both of which were far more detailed than any clothing display would need.

“Some...s-some kind of p-perverted...what the hell…?”

The girl trailed off mid-sentence, her body rippling with tension as she struggled to determine if the sound that she had just heard had come from the doll in front of her. Before she could decide one way or another, another tiny noise– practically at the threshold of her hearing– answered one question, only to present her with a new mystery altogether.

As if in a trance, Klara reached out with trembling hands towards the mannequin as she took a few hesitant steps towards it. Once she was standing practically on top of it, her eyes caught sight of a narrow seam running down the length of its plastic shell, along with several opened clasps spaced along the opening.

Moving on dazed instinct, Klara found, then opened the last two clasps that still held the doll’s shell in place. Before she could think better of what she was doing, Klara pulled the top half of the mannequin up and–

–stumbled backwards until her back struck a wall. Abject shock blasted all thoughts from her mind as she stared at the young woman trussed up inside the newly-opened enclosure. Wide eyes looked back at her, filled with a mixture of desperation, surprise, and panic; Klara could feel her heart beginning to jackhammer in her chest as she registered the intense emotion that she saw in that gaze.

A moment later, she physically recoiled as she took in the extensive bondage that held Sonia in place, unable to so much as lift a finger despite her unexpected closeness to freedom. The sheer mass of rubber, ropes, tape, and chain that crisscrossed Sonia’s entire body was daunting on its face– Klara had never seen anything like it before.

While it was clear that the mannequin shell had been more than enough to trap Sonia in place, no efforts had been spared to ensure that she had been forced into total immobility beneath its plastic exterior. Decorative ropes dug into Sonia’s body from all angles, squeezing her breasts into purpling spheres and running over her clit and around the base of enormous plugs fit into her holes.

A dizzying web of straps were spaced every few inches up and down the length of Sonia’s figure, each one buckled so tightly that Klara could practically hear them straining against the trapped girl’s renewed struggling. Enough encircled the former professor’s torso as to form a kind of makeshift corset that restricted her panicked breathing; in tandem with bands of rubber pinning her neck back into the shell, it was clear that Sonia had been on the ragged edge of suffocation for some time.

It was also impossible for Klara to ignore the obvious lewdness of it all, as Sonia’s bare breasts heaved up and down as she fought for breath and her arousal- and sweat-stained crotch glistened beneath the pitiless lights. The sight left Klara so taken aback that she could only stare for several long seconds before she realized that the person in front of her was trying to scream.

“...!”

The inarticulate, barely-audible noise was still enough to convey an unmistakable message, and Klara tried to wheel about towards the doorway when–

“Thunder wave!”

A short, barked order echoed off the metal walls, an instant before a ferocious staticky sensation flooded through Klara’s entire body. She immediately collapsed to the deck in a boneless heap, all strength instantly leaving her arms and legs. Her paralysis was so complete that she could not even manage a shriek on impact– or devote enough thought to the matter to try.

By the time her mind rallied enough for her to regain her bearings, Klara found that she had been lifted off the floor and dumped unceremoniously onto the table. While her extremities remained numb and unresponsive, she could distantly feel her clothes being cut and torn away until the dull bite of cold air nipped at every inch of her skin.

Embarrassment flooded through her as her sense of awareness and self returned; although she could now think about what was happening to her and wonder about what it meant, she was thoroughly helpless to actually do anything about it. Automatic fury curdled rapidly into fear as she saw blurry shadows circling around her and heard faraway words ring in her ears.

“...dumb bitch actually served herself up…”

“...mean, she’s on the list…?”

“...h, Klara something or other. Upstart little twat who…”

Horror joined the other emotions swirling muddily inside of her as it finally became clear that the ticket that she had ‘won’ had been a setup from the very beginning. Seeing Sonia had made the shape of her captors' intentions obvious even if the specifics remained murky; she struggled to move and fight back as the indistinct figures around her began to bind her.

Tears of frustration and terror sprung from her eyes as she felt ropes biting down all over her immobile body. It was immediately apparent that cruelty was a priority over simple efficacy; her bondage had already progressed well beyond what was needed to prevent her from meaningfully resisting, and included a decorative harness much like the one she had seen at the base of Sonia’s bondage.

In particular, she could focus on little more save for the ropes wrapping her modest breasts in a crushingly tight hold– and the dual strands of rough hemp slicing into her now-vulnerable mound. The vicious crotch rope was yanked tightly over her clit, sending a surge of unfamiliar sensations rushing through the now-helpless girl.

Her continuing stun did nothing to stop the crew from cinching ropes around her ankles, shins, above and below her knees, then about her thighs. Once her legs were thoroughly handled, she was rolled onto her side and her arms wrenched behind her back and forced into a brutal chicken-wing position, bent and brought together at the elbows and with her palms forced against the small of her back.

It was a position that Klara had never even known her body could take, and her muscles screamed in pain as they were forced to stretch to their very limits. A combination of hemp and twine soon lashed her arms thoroughly in place, before her hands were balled into fists and wrapped in a sheath of tight electrical tape.

Her control over her own body was largely gone even after modicum of motion returned to her control. While she could feel her muscles straining against their bonds, gestures as simple as wiggling her fingers were now beyond her. She still lacked the strength to do anything further, and remained locked in her own body as she watched the ‘sailors’ continuing their work.

Klara was sat up so that electrical tape could be wound about her arms from her wrists down to her elbows, stringently enforcing their bound position. More adhesive was then wrapped around both of her arms, cinching them closer and closer together until her elbows were touching and her shoulders screamed in pain.

The last steps went by in a blur: Klara was pushed down onto her front, squashing her small breasts against the metal table beneath her and letting her lock eyes once again with Sonia, whose expression shone with despair even behind her massive gag. An anchor rope was wound into Klara’s ankle bindings, then knotted into a fistful of her pink hair and drawn tight.

If she could have, Klara would have shrieked as her scalp and back erupted in pain. Inexorably, she was forced into a stricter and stricter arch, until her inexperienced figure was trapped in a hogtie that would have put many professional riggers to shame. Tears were now leaking from her eyes in earnest, and the overwhelming humiliation that had been welling up inside of her gave way to simple desperation.

When she saw a slim girl approaching her with an enormous dildo ballgag, Klara managed to open her eyes a hair wider in disgust and disbelief– but she was unable to clamp her mouth shut or stop the huge rubber cock from being jammed down her throat. She could immediately feel her airflow being cut off, reduced to a trickle of oxygen that whistled through small holes cut into the dildo’s length.

The burning feeling of near-suffocation only contributed to the overwhelming panic scattering her thoughts, and she began to feebly rock back and forth as she finally regained enough control to shift her weight about. No one commented or even seemed to take notice of her pathetic struggling; after the tightness of her restraints were double checked, a large shadow loomed over her, and she felt an enormous hand grabbing hold of the center of the anchor rope hovering above her elbows.

Instinctively, she tried to crane her head upwards to see the person towering above her, only to instantly choke and gag as she felt the thick rubber in her throat resisting and grinding against her movements. Stars exploded in her vision, only redoubling when she felt herself being sharply hauled into the air by her bondage. As the arch of her back took her full weight, she at last managed a tiny, muffled shriek of dismay.

Next to her, she could hear a soft huff of protest from Sonia as she was prised out of her plastic prison and tucked beneath an enormous sailor’s other arm. Carrying both helpless damsels with him, the hulking man set off with several other organization members in tow, bearing the two captives deeper and deeper into the depths of the ship.

The long trip had given Klara plenty of time to stew in fear– thick, heavy, and debilitating in its extent.

Ordinarily, she would have tried to cope with her distress by physically or verbally lashing out, using abuse as a means of venting her own emotions. With her mouth thoroughly stopped and her body completely restrained, she was left without any means of fighting back– not even symbolically.

Uncharacteristically silent, Klara drooped in her bonds as much as she could, moaning internally at the continued strain on her back and hair. For what felt like an eternity, she was aware of little other than the regular back-and-forth motion of her body swinging in time with her captor’s steps; her eyes stared vacantly ahead, and she perceived little else of the world around her.

A faint chorus of muted, pathetic whimpers broke through her stupor, just in time for Klara to see herself being carried through a doorway and into a cavernous space that dwarfed most of the rooms that she had seen during the voyage. The massive cargo hold was dotted with containers and piles of luggage, all of which had been pushed away from the center of the room to make way for a crowd of people in various uniforms.

The crewmembers were arranged in a loose circle, and as she was borne towards the assembly Klara felt a surge of abject horror run through her as she saw what was at its center.

A literal pile of captive girls and women writhed and whimpered in a pitiful display. Some of the faces that she could see were vaguely familiar from news reports and bulletins– stories about a string of disappearances of high-profile female trainers. The coverage had never lasted long, and Klara had never paid much attention to any of it.

Fuck, is this karma?

There was little time for her to contemplate the thought; in what felt like an instant, she had been casually tossed into the midst of the captives whose fate she now shared. Immediately, she shrank in on herself at the repulsive feeling of naked skin pressing against her own from all directions. Heat and wetness surrounded her, rapidly leaving her feeling filthy beyond comprehension.

A loosely coordinated flicker of motion caught Klara’s attention, and she strained her neck to try and follow the combined movements of the crowd ringing them. Out of the very corner of her eye, she could see someone dressed in a commanding outfit, cloaked in an air of ironclad authority.

“Good work today, crew. All events were carried out without a hitch. Make sure that you familiarize yourself with tomorrow’s schedule– after your allotted R&R.”

An upbeat murmur swept through the assembly, with many crewmembers glancing at the helpless captives at their feet with not-so-subtle purpose stamped on their faces. Klara shivered, despite the sticky warmth draped over her.

Again, the apparent officer’s voice cut through the air.

"If you have any questions about what’s allowed with who, check the list posted by the door. Remember, you can use the restricted slaves' mouths however you want, so long as the gags stay in– and for everyone off the list, you can do absolutely whatever you want. You’ve got an hour until it’s the next watch’s turn, so get to it."

Klara felt her heart leap into her throat. The malevolent intent swirling through the room was palpable; she was by no means too innocent to not see what was about to befall her.

And...fuck, if I wasn’t supposed to be here yet, then...then I’m not gonna be on the fuckin' list!

She flinched as she saw a handful of fingers pointing in her direction, and watched with tortured attention as the throng of onlookers drifted towards the doorway to look at a notice pinned to the wall. Instinctively, she knew that she had been ‘selected’ when she saw a first sailor– then a second– lock eyes with her and advance with purposeful steps, a third falling into line behind them.

Before she could protest, she was already being dragged away from the others towards an imposing metal horse. The heavy workstation was made from dark steel and looked to weigh more than Klara did; she could only look at it in trepidation as she was deposited at its feet.

One organization member worked at undoing her bondage, while the other two kept their hands firmly encircling her wrists and ankles. Even when her arms and legs were freed from their restraints, Klara was still helpless to do anything besides futilely squirm in their iron grips. Tears of frustration and hopelessness spilled from the corners of her eyes, trailing smudged makeup down her cheeks.

The young woman who had been untying her straightened up and backed away. Her compatriots hauled Klara to her feet, then slammed her down over the horse– which Klara only finally noticed had cuffs attached to its four legs. Before she could so much as blink, her ankles and wrists were locked into cold steel, pinning her atop the stout crossbar.

The frigid metal seemed to burn against her bare skin, and the helpless girl instinctively tried to buck up and away from its touch. Save for the rattling of the cuffs, her efforts accomplished nothing– and when she saw the first girl returning with fresh rolls of tape in hand, Klara knew that she was in for far worse.

The ropes that had previously held her in a strict hogtie were quickly repurposed and wrapped inch by inch up the length of her arms and legs. Even throwing her full weight back and forth produced little more than a faint creaking in her bonds, and with her hands still taped and wrists pinned there was no chance of her picking at the smooth silk.

Black electrical tape followed, contrasting sharply with the white ropes already holding Klara in place. She tried to moan around her gag as she felt the crushing pressure bearing down on her limbs, but was able to produce little more than a fresh fountain of drool.

Blinking rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes, Klara looked up at her tormentors with a pleading expression, her face stained with running makeup and red from lack of air. Laughter was her only response, and after a short pause the three crewmembers descended on her torso with a vengeance. In what felt like an instant, her body was fused to the crossbar by the same combination of rope and tape, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe.

One of the men flanking her produced a Pokeball and tossed it casually to the deck, summoning an Alakazam in a flash of light. At the same time, Klara could see the other man dragging five sheets of pink-hued steel towards her from some stockpile, dropping them in a clatter once he had arrived right in front of her.

She could only watch in mute alarm and horror as one by one, the metal plates were levitated off of the floor, then bent into slightly-open cylinders by the Alakazam’s frightening psychic power. As one of the tubes was maneuvered around her left arm, Klara’s eyes shot wide open and she began to try and scream in shock and realization.

There was no way for her to escape or delay as the Alakazam began to fit one metal sheath around her limbs after another, bending the solid steel into form-fitting tubes that completely encompassed the bondage beneath. The process was repeated with her torso, leaving Klara sputtering and fighting for every scrap of breath.

“Almost done,” one of the men remarked, glancing over at the girl. “You should go grab your thing while I swap out this whore’s gag.”

So saying, he reached behind Klara’s head and deftly undid the buckles holding the long gag strapped in place. Much to Klara’s embarrassment, even after the gag was unfastened, the length of the dildo prevented her from pushing it free from her mouth. It was only when it was withdrawn with a wet pop that she was able to suck down a pained gulp of air and–

“–p-please, ju– ghhhhhk!”

The single word was all she was allowed before a wide cylinder was jammed between her opened lips and rammed deep into her mouth. Klara continued to sputter and gurgle in protest as the tube gag was fastened about her head, leaving her jaw helplessly parted for what she knew was coming next.

“Thanks for handling that. Do you want the front or back first?”

Klara’s eyes snapped towards the girl’s voice, and she blanched upon seeing that the young woman was now sauntering towards her with something enormous swinging between her legs. Klara felt her core muscles clenching hard as she stared at the comically large red strapon hanging from the crewmate’s pelvis; knowing where it was going and haddving the experience to take it were two altogether separate things.

“Uhhh-ughhhhh! 'oooo 'aaaaay!”

“I’ll take the front,” answered the first man, who had seemingly not even heard Klara’s garbled exclamation. “Gotta get warmed up, after all.”

“Sounds good,” came the girl’s reply, the sound of her voice beginning to circle back behind Klara as she took up position behind her raised and exposed ass. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s nice and wet for you.”

An ominous metallic sound drew Klara’s attention back to the the man still standing next to her head, who was busily undoing the fly of his uniform pants. Behind him, she could see the third crewmate raising a baton into the air and pressing a button on its haft. The crackle of electricity pierced the air, and Klara flinched at the obvious implication of what was to come.

The moment that Klara felt firm rubber prodding at her slit, she inhaled a deep breath with the intent of screaming for help. She never had the chance to try, as both a throbbing cock and a huge dildo simultaneously slammed into her from both ends. Neither of her tormentors seemed to consider that she might be inexperienced– and at the very least, was completely unlubricated– before they rammed themselves home.

The pain was excruciating, and she tried to leap up and away from her restraints and the overwhelming feeling of fullness in her throat and snatch. The metal horse beneath her– and the layers upon layers of bondage fixing her to it– kept her from budging so much as an inch.

As the duo railing her settled into a steady rhythm, alternating pumping in and out of her, Klara’s eyes slid shut as she dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing– only to fly back open when a tremendous shock ripped through her left breast. A white-hot spark seemed to have ignited directly in her nipple, and what air she had managed to obtain from around the cock in her mouth instantly fled her body in a muffled rush.

She could only watch as the third crewmember switched to her right side, and could only bite down futilely on her gag as a symmetrical pain erupted from her other nipple. All around her, she could distantly hear the sounds of wet slapping, tortured moans, and the crackling of electricity as the other captives were subjected to similar ordeals.

All semblance of her normal abrasiveness was gone, with no trace of her typically brash demeanor remaining to her. In just an hour, she had been reduced to a pathetic, crying wreck, stained from head to toe with her own fluids and running makeup.

Even amidst her own torment, Klara retained enough lucidity for a haunting thought: the girls around her had plainly been suffering long before she had ever boarded the ship, and were part of some much larger and darker scheme.

And Klara knew that she was now just one more helpless set of holes consigned to the same fate. One more missing girl, likely never to be seen by society again.

“Hey, don’t you think she’s squirming a bit too much?”

“Yeah. Let’s get her a collar and some chains.”

Although her dual-sided onslaught came to a sudden end, it was impossible for Klara to feel even the slightest tinge of relief. Fearfully, she tried to keep her focus locked on the sailors as they directed the Alakazam to retrieve another band of pink steel and an enormous ball of chains. Periodically, her eyes were forced up into her head as her last tormentor zapped her with the stun baton, taking advantage of her now-free state to electrocute her clit and lower lips.

In between shocks, Klara could see her coming restraints getting closer and closer, until she could feel metal clamping around her neck and squeezing. A fresh spurt of tears rolled her cheeks as she felt her breathing grow labored despite her unplugged mouth; the thought of having to throat cock while so collared was beyond unbearable.

Once the enormous posture collar was fused into place, the still-levitating chains were maneuvered over her torso. One strand after another was looped around Klara body, completely covering the ropes and metal case already binding her. As each length was drawn tight, aided by psychic strength beyond what any human could muster, she could hear the heavy click of a padlock securing the metal loops around her.

The sheer weight of it all compressed her down onto the horse, its crossbar now digging into her sternum to further constrict her airflow. Klara’s vision faded as the sailors took up positions on either side of her, switching places so that she was now being fucked by a real cock and throating the enormous strapon.

By the time her captors were done rotating amongst themselves, Klara was barely conscious. Completely against her will, her body had responded in the only way that it could to her suffering; on several occasions, she had been swept away by orgasms, all the more shattering due to her lack of prior familiarity.

Exhausted beyond measure, the battered girl was only dimly aware of the pause in her pounding– too tired to even feel relief. Her senses only finally returned to her in time for her to feel something sliding into her sore holes from both ends, large intruders boring down her throat and into her pussy without mercy.

Klara looked up, desperately hoping to catch her latest tormentor’s eyes and plead for mercy– only to fly wide open in shock upon seeing the former champion of Sinnoh looking down at her through reddened and glassy eyes. She could see the straps of a monoglove crushing Cynthia’s arms behind her running over the woman’s shoulders, as well as an intricate rope harness tracing her every curve.

What caught her eye most of all was the thick column of metal that rose between Cynthia’s legs. While its top was hidden by the girth of the strapon and its supporting pelvic plate, Klara could see just enough to guess at where the steel protrusion ended. Cynthia writhed on her one bar prison, unable to back away from the helpless Klara. All she could do was twist from side to side, which served only to torture Klara as the dildo twisted and turned in her throat.

A familiar sound behind Klara made it obvious that Sonia had been positioned by Sonia’s rear, and was likely the one penetrating her from behind. Restrained in the same way as Cynthia, the once-professor’s swayed about as much as her perch would allow, resulting in pure agony radiating through Klara’s crotch.

“Alright, let’s get them all ready to show to the next watch!”

None of them could clearly make out the jeering voice that prompted the next phase of their torment. They were only aware of the sudden rush of movement as hands and psychic energy wrapped a mixture of rope and tape around Sonia and Cynthia’s legs, mummifying them from the waist down to their ankles so that neither could fall from their steel prisons.

Coils and coils of rope were then cinched around Sonia and Cynthia’s waists and midriffs, lashing them tightly to one another– with Klara squarely in the middle. Both strapons buried themselves to their hilts inside of the immobile girl, who gave a wet and choked whine of protest.

Six huge steel weights– the size of large bowling balls– were brought over to the struggling trio, split evenly between the captives. Lengths of rough hemp were then lashed about their breasts, squashing their tender mounds in a cruelly rough and chafing grip. The breast bindings' trailing ends were then looped into waiting rings atop the weights, then doubled back until all six were suspended off of the ground.

The resulting pain was unlike anything any of them had ever experienced before. Immediately, Cynthia and Sonia sagged atop their one bar prisons– only to jolt back upright as the huge dildos dug painfully into their cores. Klara could do little but try to wheeze for air, unable to so much as rock back and forth while restrained atop the horse.

Harsh nipple alligator clips were then clamped atop the bedraggled group’s nipples, sending fresh pangs of agony surging through them and further setting Cynthia and Sonia off balance. Though they were unable to tip the heavy pedestals securing them upright, they– and Klara– keenly felt every second of their instability.

Amidst it all, the organization members worked to make Cynthia and Sonia’s upper bodies match Klara’s in weight of bondage. Soon, nothing was visible beneath either woman’s neck save for their bulging breasts. The mountain of chains draped over all three rattled quietly as they trembled and shook, but no other movement was allowed them.

And little more would ever be again. The trio struggled and strained– Cynthia and Sonia trying to twist and lever themselves up and off of the barred prisons holding them upright, and Klara against the devilish metal horse keeping her on all fours– but linked together by belts, chains, rope, and dildos, there was no hope of extricating themselves from one another.

They were all in this together– forever.

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