The Annual Bet free porn video

"Ready to lose again?" I asked. "What was that?" Brian replied from the couch. I popped out from behind the TV. "I asked if you were ready to lose again." "Just get the Atari plugged in," he told me. I dove back behind the TV. Connecting a 30-year old Atari to a modern flatscreen TV was not the easiest thing in the world, but Mike and I had an annual bet to settle. 7 years ago, near Halloween, a debate began about which of the two us were better classic gamers. A 3-game tournament commenced: the highest score in Asteroids, the fastest race time on Suzuka in Pole Position II and a head-to-head battle in Combat. Best two out of 3, the winner decides what the loser wears for Halloween. That first year I endured Halloween my senior year of college in a Care Bear costume. The ladies didn't dig it. We had been running the annual competition ever since, rotating the order of the games. I had lost two years ago after a horrid Asteroids showing in the final leg and was forced into a particularly cumbersome Barney the Dinosaur costume. Last year Mike coasted across Suzuka's finish line after time expired, well behind my time and I had selected a similarly limiting costume: Alice in Wonderland with extremely poufy underskirts for Mike, the first time either of us had gone with a female costume. I plugged the gargantuan Atari plug into the power strip behind the TV and emerged from the rat's nest behind the TV. "Okay, we're good. You're up first, as last year's... loser." "I'm not losing again, no way," he said. "Well, you better win the first two, then, because I don't think you've ever beat me at Combat when it mattered." "Maybe I'll use my magic," he said, wiggling his fingers. Mike insisted his "magical studies" were serious business featuring real magic, but I had yet to see any serious business results. "Your sleight of hand has no place here," I told him. "Oh, I can think of at least a few spells that would end this before it started, but I'll play fair." We pitched into the battle. The first leg saw him finish the race at Suzuka with 18 seconds left on the clock. I wasn't able to get into a rhythm and didn't even finish the second lap before time ran out on me. The second leg saw me fail to reach the first extra ship by an agonizing 20 points. As soon as Mike earned his extra ship, he put the joystick down. "All right, let's hear it," I sighed. "What have you got for me?" "An appointment for the morning of Friday's party at this location." He handed me an appointment card that had only an address and the name "Greta's Transformations" above a Friday appointment time. "Whoa whoa whoa, what is this? Some kind of makeover? I didn't even do that last year when I gave you the girl's costume." "Yeah, because nothing would make me," he gestured at his 6'3" frame, "look like Alice in Wonderland, dress and wig or not. You, on the other hand," he gestured at my much smaller 5'8" frame, "I have been assured by my friend Greta can make what I have planned look good." Clearly Mike had been thinking long and hard about last year's dress and was determined to get his revenge this year. "No way, that's not part of the bet." "What if we made a new bet? What did you have prepared for me this year?" he asked. "I was going to go easy on you, I've got a straightjacket I stenciled 'Arkham Asylum' on." "So, I would wander around the party all night without being able to use my arms?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. I shrugged. "All right, here's my proposal. Combat, one round, winner takes all. You win, you get to wear the straight jacket. I win, you have to go all out, full makeover, whatever Greta and I say." How could I not? In 7 years, he had never beat me in Combat as part of the bet, and rarely enough in the fun games we used to play on occasion. "Not a good plan, amigo. You're on, and you're gonna have to use that appointment yourself." The game was close, it was tied when the game started flashing, indicating time was almost up. I thought I had Mike lined up for the final shot, but then I blinked and somehow, he had managed to turn his tank around and get the killing shot just as time expired. I sat back, disgusted. Mike handed me the appointment card. "See you Friday morning," he smirked. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta's Transformations was in a non-descript brick building in an office park. I walked in the front door and was greeted with a waiting area that looked like something more for a doctor's office. "Can I help you, sir?" the receptionist asked with a winning smile. "Uh, I have an appointment. My buddy Mike arranged it," I told her, handing over the appointment card. "Of course, sir. Is there a lady's name I should put down in the system for you?" "What? No, I'm not a lady. Just leave Mike's name in the system, this is a one-time trip for me." "Oh, I must have something, if you could choose a women's name, what would you choose?" "I'm not playing that game, this is all for a Halloween bet." "Of course, I didn't mean to upset you, sir. If you go down that hallway, the last door on the right is all for you, it should be the only open door. Greta is waiting for you herself." Down the hall there were 6 doors, closed doors marked "Transformation Suite" 1-4, and at the end of the hall "Office" on the left, and an open door into Transformation Suite 5 on the right. I poked my head in. I can't tell you it looked like a regular beauty salon, because I don't know what a beauty salon looked like. There was a fairly normal-looking barber's chair, and also what looks like masseuse's table. The back half of the room was curtained off. "Hey, buddy. You ready?" Mike asked me from a stool in the corner. "Yeah, I guess so. Let's get this over with." "Enough with the chat, off with the clothes. All the way," a voice. "Yeah, let's put on a show." Mike raised his hands in the air and did a little dance, like he was in the club. "You," Greta pointed at him, "out for this part. You can wait in my office." Hands still up, but now in defense, Mike backed out of the room and closed the door. I stood there, not entirely willing to get naked in front of a stranger. "Listen, this is what I do. I don't run some garden-variety spa where you can get a haircut and a mani-pedi, I specialize in full-body makeovers for film, tv, commercials and some cosplay. I'm a professional, you aren't hiding anything I haven't seen before, but you're gonna be a long one, so let's get moving." What other option did I have? I was already here to go through with this. I undid my belt and dropped trou. Followed shortly by the rest of my clothing until I was standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a smile. Well, no smile. Don't look, Ethel. "Stand there, spread 'em slightly," Greta told me as she snapped on a pair of latex exam gloves and squirted some cream out of a bottle into her hand. "Depilatory, like Nair but a little stronger than what you can find on the shelf. You'll be nice and smooth for a while after tonight." Oh, great, just what I would need. Greta started at the ankles and went up, getting into every nook and cranny she could find. It was getting a little hard to concentrate on what she was doing as the tingling, burning sort of sensation of the depilatory demanded my attention so much that I didn't notice Greta was massaging it into my scalp until it was too late. "Hey, what are you doing?" "It all goes, you'll be wearing a wig tonight." "What about after tonight?" "If you don't like the way you look, I'll give you another wig until your hair grows out. Now, behind the curtain you'll find a shower. Wait until I tell you, then rinse it all off. About 5 minutes." Her answer had gone right into her next command before I could object, so I went behind the curtain. In addition to the promised shower there was rolling trays with makeups and nail polishes ready to go, hair care products (which I was sure weren't for the about-to-be-bald-me), wigs by the dozen and rubbery prosthetics ranging from elfin ear tips to bug-eyed green monsters I recognized from a big-budget Hollywood bomb from a summer ago. "It's time, get in the shower and rinse it off. Rinse it all off, any hair leftover is going to be very uncomfortable for you later tonight." I was more than happy to get the stuff off me, so I jumped in the shower and moaned a little in relief as I was allowed to rinse off the foam. I wrapped a towel around my waist and went back out to the main area. Mike was back. Greta pointed to the masseuse's table. "Up on the table, let's get you some moisturizer to tame that red skin." I hopped up and lay on the table, then turned over onto my stomach when Greta gestured at me. "You are really tense, you've got to be a little calmer or getting you into everything is going to be more of a struggle for you," she told me. "Gee, why would I be tense?" I grumped. "Why don't I cast a calming spell on him?" Mike suggested. "That's a great idea!" Great idea? That's nonsense. I lay there as Mike mumbled some nonsense over me. "Anything?" he asked. "Nothing," replied. "All right, I'm going to place a couple runes on your back, then. It will make you a target for any spells that I cast." This is foolish. "I have your consent? Magically, your explicit consent is very important." "Fine, you have my consent, go ahead." Mike proceeded to waste a couple minutes making two small designs, one in the small of my back and one a few inches above it, then repeating what I could only assume was the same mumbled nonsense. "There, that should make you a little calmer, and will also make you a little more... agreeable to the process. Anything to make you comfortable, buddy." "Gee, thanks." I wasn't at all sure about the magic spell, but I have to admit between the cooling effect of the moisturizer and Greta's clearly skilled hands, I was beginning to loosen up a bit. "That's enough pampering, little miss, step into these," Greta told me, dropping a - surprisingly heavy - bundle in my lap. "What in the world..." I trailed off as I held up what it became apparent was (mostly) underwear. "This does a number of very clever things, first is it keeps everything nicely tucked away," Greta explained as I slipped them up my legs. "Your package goes in the pouch," she took charge at this point and tucked my member in a sheath, "the nub goes in your rear," a tiny protrusion found my back entrance. It was no bigger than the first joint of my index finger, but I could tell it was there. "I don't know about this 'protrusion' down there," I squirmed. "Hush. These are advanced technology. You're going to be all buttoned up tonight, the sheath will convert any liquid waste to any impurities, which are stored dry, and water, which is expelled and evaporated slowly. The protrusion suppresses any need for a bowel movement. This was designed for complicated movie costumes and means you can wear it for 24 hours without needing to relieve yourself." Well, that wasn't too bad. I surely intended to drink a lot of alcohol tonight, and not needing to endure any bathrooms would be a silver lining. "And of course, this beautiful thing is attached." I heard a smack from behind me that I didn't feel, and glanced down to be greeted by a much larger butt than I was used to. In fact, between my shaved legs and large posterior, the only thing about me that didn't look like a very attractive women was my completely flat front, like a Ken doll. Or Barbie, considering. Greta held up a fleshy orb in her right hand. "Time for the top half, sweetie." I sighed, nodded, and allowed Greta to paint an adhesive on the back of the orb, press it onto my chest on my right nipple, and repeat the process on my left with a second orb. She also used a small brush to apply some adhesive to the waist band and leg holes of the lower garment. I looked at myself and from the neck down I saw - mostly - a woman. This woman had a completely flat crotch and the breasts were completely smooth - no nipples and no areolae. And I was fairly pale, so the new curves were a shade or two darker than the rest of me. "So, that's the base, little miss, but there's still one set of curves we need to give you." Greta held out a stiff black piece of cloth. Strings dangled off the back, and there were cups up front to display my newest curves. It was a corset, and a quick feel told me it was heavily boned with what felt like steel. Greta wrapped it around me and loosely did the strings up in the back. "Let out your breath for me," Greta commanded, and I did what I was told. She began to tighten the strings, pulling hard to get the end to meet until CLICK! What was that? CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! As the corset met itself down my back, it was clicking into place and forcing me to straighten my posture. I finally heard one last CLICK! just below my shoulder blades as the corset found its home, forcing my belly in and my new boobs up and together, creating cavernous cleavage. Greta's non-concern over their color at least gave me hope they would be covered up by the final costume. There seemed to be an inch and a half wide groove all the way around right at the waist. While I assessed the corset, Mike came up to me and slipped a small metal cone into each cup of the corset. "Don't worry about it, it's all for show," he told me, smiling. If he says don't worry, I won't worry, I decided. When Greta came around to my front, I saw she still had the corset strings in her hands. "If you have that, then how..." I trailed off. "Oh, it locks in the back. Wouldn't want the strings to show through your costume." "And when you say 'locks'?" "Don't worry, buddy, I've got the key." Mike held up a small metal object and put it in his pants pocket. "And if the oaf loses it, I've got a backup," Greta told me. Well, that seemed all right, then. "Now, little miss, I think it's about time to give you a name, don't you?" Greta peered at me. Down at me, she was a couple inches taller on heels than I was. "I mean, I have a name-" "It isn't a women's name. It won't do. How about Sophie?" she asked me. I mean, it was as good a name as any other woman's name, I'm not sure why it mattered. I nodded. "Excellent, Sophie. Now, Mark, you have the costume?" "Right here." He lifted a duffel bag onto the masseuse table. "You, my dear Sophie, will be going to the party dressed as a sub... dressed as a sub!" he declared in triumph as he pulled a one-piece suit out of the duffel. "Sorry, one more time?" Why had he repeated himself? "You are Sophie the sub," he told me. "-missive," he clarified, seeing my confusion. "And Sophie is going dressed as a subwoofer. Well, an amp actually. But the pun is too good." I looked closer at the costume. It would cover every inch from neck to toe in black. The boots were built in to the suit, a gleaming latex and probably knee-high with a wicked high heel, a good 4 or 5 inches from my point of view. Mike would know I could wear them after I spent Halloween four years ago as the back half of a horse (there was no front half) in a pair of horrible shoes that simulated a horse's hoof, with my heel unsupported and my toes taking more abuse that I care to recall. That had required hours of practice that would serve me well tonight. From the top of the boots to the neck, the suit was a thick spandex that would show every curve Greta had endowed me with and leave only my arms exposed from the shoulder down. The name of a guitar equipment company would be displayed prominently just above my new chest, and a gold colored collar was at the neck, with a few knobs and switches to complete the "amp" effect. The collar also had a D-ring at the front, which I guess covered the "submissive" part of my look for the evening. A close look showed a kind of cross hatch effect from the next down the front of the costume to the waist to look like a speaker grill. "You're going to be quite the attractive little miss," Greta told me with a huge smile. Whatever. It wasn't going to add to my discomfort (which was actually pretty low, considering how much restrictive stuff I was already wearing), and I was going to be covered up. I took it from Mike and held it up. "Okay, but how do I get in?" I held up the suit and didn't see any openings. "It stretches, here." Mike took it back from me and stretched open the neck. The collar was attached to the suit at a single hinge at the front, so swung open and away from the suit, the neck did open enough for me to get my feet in and start to get it over my body. With my feet in, I sat in the barber's chair and scrunched up the spandex material of the suit until both feet were firmly in the boots. I felt the severe angle of the heels and knew my feet were going to be murdered by the end of the night. From there I stood up again and the three of us inched the suit up my body - the hardest part was getting it over my new rear end - until the neck settled into place around mine. Mike swung the collar closed. Just because it was a gold color did not mean it was a piece of jewelry, I could tell as it shut around my neck that the rubber- lined strip of metal was hard steel. CLICK! "The collar, too?" I sighed. I swallowed against the pressure, which I could feel constantly but wasn't actually constricting my throat. "That's why you're wearing the fancy panties, Sophie. It's going to be a trick to get you out of this, this way you're good to go until after the party," Mike told me. He also clasped a thin gold ankle cuff on each leg and secured a tiny padlock on each at the back of my foot. If they weren't already locked on me as part of the suit, those cuffs would have kept me in the boots. Lastly, he wrapped a gold belt, another simply band of steel, around my waist, found the small groove in the corset and locked that in place, too. The belt had two anchor points on the front halfway between my belly button and hips. "Just don't lose any keys," I took some test steps in the heels, "I don't want to have to cut this off me." "Not happening. Besides, it's a spandex/Kevlar weave, you couldn't cut into this with anything less than a blowtorch," Mike told me. Wonderful. "All right, little miss, hop in the chair. The rest of this is easy for you, you need nails, face and hair," Greta told me. I sat in the chair and Greta got to work. First she cut, filed, poked prodded and eventually painted my finger nails a fire engine red, with a clear topcoat she assured me wouldn't chip if I took a jackhammer to them. Then she applied more adhesive to me, this time covering my scalp and then pressing a fire-red wig into my head. It was razor-straight and hung down to just above my rounded prosthetic ass cheeks. Finally, she spent an eternity with a number of little bottles and tubes applying makeup to my face. Finally, after being sprayed down with what I was told was a makeup sealer she developed herself, I was allowed to look at the completed me in a full-length mirror. I didn't recognize myself. Instead in my place was a woman, with huge eyes framed by long lashes. Greta had rounded off my features, and with the huge eyes the effect was of wide-eyed innocence. It didn't seem like there was a ton of color on my face - although there was a trace of pink on my cheeks that made it look like I was perhaps blushing just a bit - but my lips, which were somehow invitingly plump and juicy, were the same bright red that was on my fingernails. "Whoa, buddy, you are smoking hot." Mike emerged from behind the curtain where he had changed into his costume. He was a picture of an '80s rocker, with torn blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. He was also wearing a wig, with a long blonde hairstyle flowing to his shoulders. Party in the back. He also had a guitar slung behind his back. "Great does good work. What's the time, are we ready to go?" "Eager to get there, little miss?" Greta asked. "Eager to get it over with," I told her. "I look amazing, and physically everything is comfortable, but this is all a little much. It almost makes me believe in magic and that Mike's little comfort spell earlier actually did something." "You'll be fine, Sophie." Mike checked his phone for the time. "Hey, we've got to get going, I bet the car is already waiting out front." Mike and I both thanked Greta for Sophie's transformation, then went out the front door to a waiting Town Car. The uniformed driver held open the door and I got in and scootched over to let Mike get in behind me. The driver closed the door and we departed for the party. "I need to test something real quick," Mike said as he grabbed the guitar and played a few notes. I sat up a little as I thought I felt the protrusion vibrate a little. I also heard a humming noise from my chest, and when I touched it I could feel the conical additions Mike had slipped into the corset cups vibrate, as well. He grinned at me. "You are Sophie the sub. I have a couple small additions to the costume for you, too. At least for when we get there, I'll take them off once we're inside. We're going to a party with a bunch of my new magician group. There's a standard for... guests. That's where I came up with the idea in the first place. It's this year's theme, all in good fun." I wasn't sure about a party where the theme was to have people's guests in light bondage, but I had rolled with everything so far, there was no reason not to continue. Mike produced some padded leather cuffs, which had maybe 6 or 8 inches of chain between them and were snapped around my wrists and secured - like everything else I was wearing - with locks, these were another pair of tiny padlocks like the ones around my ankle cuffs and belt. He also snapped a leash onto my collar. Finally, he pulled a ball gag out from inside his leather jacket. "Like I said, once we're inside, this can come off," he told me. I nodded, and he inserted the gag and strapped it behind my head. I heard another click as that, too, seemed to come with a lock. We rode the rest of the way - almost an hour - in silence until the car pulled up in front of a very fancy looking... house? "The Reynolds Estate," Mike explained. The Reynolds family had owned about half the state going back 150 years. The initial fortune was made mining. The money now came from never-ending real estate holdings. "Lawrence is the head of the magical group I joined and has this party every year. It's supposed to be really fancy." Mike waited until the driver got out and opened the door before he took my leash and exited pulling my slightly as I took an extra minute to get my balance on the crushed stone drive. We walked to the front door where Mike fished an invite from the inside of his jacket and handed it to the doorman. "Michael Dobson," he announced himself, "and slave." Slave, wait a minute, Mike was going to hear about that one as soon as I got this gag off. In the meantime, there was much I could do but shuffle behind him. We walked in and were herded left where we entered the ballroom. The high ceilings had dim spotlights dancing over them while a string quartet played something classical. Mike led us over to one of the short couches, where he and I sat, almost forced to touch it was so short. He started rummaging through his pockets. "Oh no, Sophie. I don't have the key, I left it in my pants at Greta's." I sighed, resigned to spending the evening gagged. I wouldn't even be able to get drunk. I assumed I would be going back to Greta's anyway, I had left my clothes, phone, keys and wallet- everything there. There was nothing about me to suggest I wasn't Sophie and submissive unless someone got through a locked ball gag, four more locks, a cut-proof full body suit, a locked corset and a smooth adhesive undergarment to find my sheathed manhood. "Greta." Mike was on his phone. "I forgot the key in my pants, I need you to bring it to the Reynolds Estate out on Route 12. I know you're busy because it's Halloween, and I know you spent most of the afternoon with Sophie. I'm really sorry, but I gagged her and I need that key. Thanks, you're a lifesaver." He hung up the phone and turned to me. "She's with a client, but as soon as she can break free, she's either going to come herself, or she's going to send an employee with the key." I grunted. That could take forever. The drive was already basically an hour. But I also recognized there was nothing I could do about it. "I'm going to refresh my spell on you, I don't want you to be uncomfortable during this wait," he told me. Mike began mumbling nonsense again, but he took a little longer this time. "There we go. Hey, since our slaves are supposed to serve us, while you still look the part, can you go get me a drink?" Mike asked, handing me a business card with an orange and blue design on a black field. "Give them this card, they'll know what to give you." I minced up to the bar in my heels. The barman was looking the other way and I cleared my throat, partially because I didn't have any other way to get his attention, partially because I realized the collar was uncomfortable around my throat the first time. I was starting to feel the tightness of the corset and the painful crushing sensation in my toes. Figures, I thought. Mike finally convinces that maybe he knows real magic and messes up the spell. "Excuse me, I don't think we've met," a voice said behind me. "My name is Lawrence Reynolds, this is my house and apparently you are a slave who doesn't know her place." I turned around and saw a man dressed a lion tamer behind me, complete with whip and top hat. He spied Mike's card in my hand. "Ah! You must be Sophie, Mike's new acquisition. Since you're new, some leniency can be given, but I can't let you escape entirely unpunished." He stepped behind the bar and placed two things on top. The first was a long leather... bag? With laces of some sort? The other was a metal tray with a leather strap connected to two corners. Mr. Reynolds came back around the bar, took Mike's card from me and placed it on the bar top. He then unlocked the cuffs around my wrist, which felt great at the moment but I was not under any illusion that he was a friend doing me any favors. He confirmed that when he grabbed one of my wrists, spun me around and brough the other behind my back. The leather bag was a sleeve that he shoved over my arms, trapping them behind me. He forced my hands into tight balls and tightened a drawstring at my wrists before pulling harshly at the laces. And just like the corset and everything else I was wearing, as the laces drew together I heard a series of small CLICK! noises as the armbinder drew tighter and tighter until my elbows were touching and my shoulders burned from the restraint. Mr. Reynolds then slipped the tray's strap around the back of my neck and clipped it to the anchor points of my belt. "Now, little Sophie, you must walk standing up straight, or you master's drink will spill," he told me, placing a whiskey on the tray along with Mike's card. I went to turn and walk away, but he caught me around the middle and ran a hand along my ass. I felt every exploratory grope, and with it a shiver went up my spine and I could feel myself start to get hard. Why do I like that? Why can I feel it? I couldn't feel Greta slap it earlier, now I can feel his light caress? He gave me one last little spank and I carefully tiptoed my way back to the couch to give Master his - to give Mike his drink. And hopefully get the arm binder off, but I had little hope of him being able to do that until Greta arrived with the key. At the couch, Mike was now talking with another man, who was dressed as a jockey. He had a woman next to him in much more severe bondage than what I was wearing. She was a pony, with boots up to her thighs and sitting on similar hoofs to what I had worn years earlier. She was left standing with 4 sets of chains hobbling her legs. The top chain at her thighs was attached via another chain to a dildo shoved into her pussy. A plug sealed her rear entrance with a horse's tail attached that dangled to her knees. Looking at her twin penetrators I felt another little shiver, but the rush to my crotch didn't cause a stiffening like at the bar. The ponyslave was also in an armbinder, but other than the straps crossing her chest. A bit and bridle were shoved into her mouth, and the top half of her head was hooded, with only small holes that would allow the smallest of fields of vision, and a long pony tail coming out of the top of her head. I had gotten lost a little, examining the pony girl and thinking about what some of her bondage would feel like. "Look at that, ten minutes drooling over my slave and yours hasn't spilled a drop," the man sitting with Master complimented me. "How did you train her so well so early?" "Oh, I tricked her to a degree she doesn't even realize yet." Master took his drink and snapped his fingers once, pointing to the ground next to his spot on the couch. Without considering it once, I kneeled by his side. Master added a short chain between my ankles, which would make getting up from my knees in these heels very difficult, and picked up his guitar to begin a slow tune. I felt the vibrations play across my breasts and nipples, no longer distanced from my skin by any prosthetics. I also felt the small protrusion in my bottom behind to vibrate, but I was alarmed to discover the protrusion was no longer small, but a full plug that quickly swelled inside me, threatening to tear me in two. Finally, my crotch began to feel moist, but I could no longer feel my sheathed member. "I found a spell. You've seen the type in movies and TV, something to turn anyone wearing a Halloween costume into the creature the costume represented. All I needed to do was find someone dumb enough to give consent to put the targeting symbols on their person." He continued to play, I was moaning around my ball gag and leaning into Master's leg, rubbing myself up and down his leg. "This delightful creature," Mike continued, "is both my new slave and the final step in becoming a full member of the clan." "Disposing of your old life? Is this an old girlfriend?" the other man asked. "Oh no, this is my former male best friend. I didn't want to discard him entirely, but the wealth, power and women offered by the clan was too much to pass up. I tricked my friend into the costume, which I was careful to describe as a submissive dressed as a sub, so the Halloween spell would turn her into my new slave and not a piece of guitar equipment." I was trying to pay attention, trying to think of a way out of this when I tensed up as an electric rush came over my body and I felt my first female orgasm. Master kept playing the guitar, picking up pace as a dildo materialized in my new pussy and joined my plug and vibrators in their symphony. "Is she complete?" the other man asked. "She has some ways to go, yet. I was curious whether the mental or physical changes would be complete first. They seem to be progressing in unison." "If she isn't complete, all she needs to do to reverse it is remove the targeting symbol, even someone in her state should be able to concentrate enough for that," the other man dismissed Master's plan. But even I realized Master was smarter than that, because... "Oh, she can't get there. The symbols were placed on her back, under a locked corset, under her locked costume. She is quite trapped, and knows it." "Magnificent." "I'm honored you approve. But you must excuse me for just a moment, I believe I have a slave with some new physical needs I must see to." Master produced a hood he placed over my head, cutting off my sight. Built in earplugs muffled the sounds around me and my hair - my own hair, it pulled against my scalp in a way that confirmed it was no longer a wig - was pulled through in a ponytail. I thrilled to think how close I must look to the exquisite ponygirl. Master had reattached my leash and I felt him pull me forward, leading me in a maze, eventually to an elevator and then to his room, where he threw me on a bed. He removed my hood and earplugs and sat on the edge of the bed. I got on my knees and leaned on him, nuzzling his neck since the ball gag prevented me from doing much else. "Not yet, Sophie." He pushed me back and onto my stomach, before he folded my legs up until my heels touched my ass and then he clipped my ankle chain to the back of my belt. Locked, I think, although I admit I couldn't see. "I must get back to the party, I told Sebastian I would be back in a moment." I must have looked crest-fallen because he chuckled. "Oh, I can't stay with you just now, but I'm sure you can keep occupied." He reached for my neck and adjusted some of the controls that I thought had been for show. Instead, the two rubber cocks inside of me sparked to life and my nipples began buzzing again. I moaned as I came almost immediately. "I can't imagine the party will be more than another 5 or 6 hours," Master told me as he resecured the earplugs and hood. Master stroked my head once more before leaving and I was left in my dark, silent world, crushed by my corset and boots, with my shoulders aching from the armbinder and my hands going number clenched in tight little balls. Teased by four vibrating devices on or in all my new super-sensitive secret places I couldn't wait for Master to explore. Feeling the tightness of my spandex suit and leather hood, the firm grasp of the collar around my neck and the cuffs around my ankles. As my world shrunk to these tortuous sensations, I imagined what other delights Master had planned for me and I came again. And again.