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Body Mods.
Cloaked in darkness, with her hands tied tightly behind her narrow back, Lysa whimpered in fear, struggling in vain to free herself and escape. She heard a low, muffled rumbling and knew they were in a van of some sort and she was being taken away from her life, from all the familiarities that she knew so well.
She had not been drugged, but simply stopped on the street as someone commented on her facial piercings, and then she was grabbed from behind and thrown into this van by a female with long hair. That was all she saw of her captor.
Her clothes had been torn off almost as soon as she’d be thrown in the van, as a woman’s hard voice rang low and threatening in her ears, “No slut of mine deserves such a privilege as clothing.”
Lysa’s heart was pounding in her chest as she felt the warm breath tickle the nape of her neck and she felt the slightly tacky brush of lipsticked lips against her skin, causing her skin to goose bump.
The voice was so familiar to her, yet she couldn’t quite place it. Did she know her kidnappers? The thought made her body begin to shake in slight terror.
Her slender hands were held out in front of her, the itchy rope was loosened slightly and her long fingers were splayed. She was forced to her knees and cuffs were attached to her ankles and padlocked together, then her arms were outstretched and rope was wound around her upper arms and tightly knotted so she couldn’t move from the position.
Vulnerable and still whimpering, Lysa shut her eyes in the darkness and braced herself. She had no idea where she was or who she was with, and she was completely naked apart from her body jewellery. She had no escape.
A figure lay in front of her, stretched out and laughing at her, teasing her.
Her hands were led to the figure, splayed across the taut figure and her hands touched warm smooth latex.
She gasped and pulled her hands away, but her kidnapper would not allow it, and slapped her for not doing as she was told. Her hands were once again led to the body.
With shaking, bound hands and arms, she felt her way along the figure, and knew it was the woman who had called her a slut earlier on.
Her hands followed the curve of the long dress, dipping at the waist where the woman wore a boned cincher, and then moving down over hips. She could feel a suspender belt and stocking tips under the tight material, and her fingers shook, suddenly not wanting to move away from her and wanting to see what she was feeling.
Her hands were guided up over the indent of her flat stomach, passed the cincher which sounded like it was held in place by padlocks and buckles, and up over her small rounded breasts. Again, she could feel a matching bra beneath the top of the dress and the rise and fall of her chest as she took her breath. Her hands splayed across the breasts, her forefinger brushing against a nipple ring.
Her hands had a new life of their own and moved down the body again, feeling over her gloved arms and stockinged legs, and then over her face, which was masked.
“Enough!” The woman shouted and Lysa was thrown away from her body.
Lysa’s hands burned with the touch and she clamped her knees shut to ignore the pounding warmth she was feeling in her clit. She wasn’t used to this; she didn’t understand what she was doing or why she had done that, but that it felt so good. She wanted more.
The van screeched to a halt and Lysa fell against the van walls, hitting her head, sending a shooting pain through her. She heard the laughter of the others around her, mocking her, and felt her cheeks flush a deep hot red in embarrassment and humiliation.
Without warning, she was dragged from the van, scraping her bare knees on the ground, pain shooting through her, as she was thrown down on the rough muddy ground. Mud was in her mouth and matting her hair. She assumed she was in a front garden.
A thick and heavy leather posture collar was buckled and locked around her neck and a metal lead was attached to it. She felt her body react instantly to the collar, her neck stretched.
A short sharp shock around her neck made her gasp in pain and tears pricked her eyes and she quickly scrambled to her feet and stumbled her way after her captors.
“You pathetic mess!” The woman screamed at her, grabbing her hair, her fingernails scraping Lysa’s scalp, and pushing her through a doorway. “You have not been permitted to make any noise!”
Lysa tried to stifle her cries but her fear and confusion had taken over her mind. She was completely bewildered and lost. She cried out in pain as the shock of sting zig zagged its way around her neck again.
She fell to her knees, and her blindfold was removed, leaving her to squint up in to the light of the day. It was still only early afternoon.
She looked up to the woman, the Mistress, and gaped. She was beautiful. Her body was covered in a long latex hobble dress, and short gloves, and she had on a black latex hood so her lips and eyes were exaggerated. She had tattoos down her bare back and had her lip pierced three times.
Her blue eyes were like ice as they looked down on Lysa, standing close enough for Lysa to bend down and kiss her feet.
“I have been watching you for a long time,” Mistress said in a low voice. “I have seen how you treat your body, the way you objectify yourself. We are here to recreate that but on a more permanent basis.” A tiny hint of a smile flashed across her lips, almost teasing.
Without a word, Mistress’s minions hurried over to Lysa and forced her mouth wide open with a mouth with a silver jaw spreader and padlocked it in place. Her small septum ring was removed and replaced with a larger one so each time she looked down she could see it and the weight of it was a constant reminder.
Her lip ring was removed and replaced with a thicker one, so it pressed into the jaw breaker and made her eyes water, but she felt oddly relaxed. She was no longer fearful. She couldn’t take her eyes off the Mistress, and now she had seen her, felt much calmer.
The rope around her arms and wrists was removed and she was kicked into a tall black straight backed chair. Metal cuffs held her wrists in place, and her legs were spread wide.
“You will become my object now,” said Mistress quietly, standing over her and running a latex clad hand down her breast. “Unfortunately, you do not have a choice in this. I enjoy it so much more when my little slave girls struggle.” She laughed evilly, and walked around behind Lysa.
Mistress began brushing her hair like a mother almost, and then she began tugging on it, testing its strength, harder and harder until Lysa yelped. Her only response was an evil laugh.
A minion knelt in front of her, pushing her legs further apart and holding onto a needle. Her panic rose again, she was trapped. She couldn’t even wriggle out of the way.
She watched helplessly as the needle went through the skin of her pussy lips, one, two, three times down one side and the same with the other side. Her pain was growing and throbbing and she wanted him to stop, but instead he pierced her clit with the same thick rings he had used on her lips then worked his way down her inner lips, one, two, three times. She was crying out now, sobbing with the stinging pain. He had not been allowed to numb the sensitive area.
A padlock was attached to each of the sets of rings. Her piercings were her own chastity. She couldn’t use the toilet without someone unlocking her padlocks. She was her own prisoner.
Her legs were then pushed over her head, so it exposed her anus and stretched it open. He worked his way along the rim of her ass as he had done with her pussy, piercing one, two, three times down each side, quickly and smoothly. One big padlock secured these in place and a long silver chain was threaded through a second leash.
With her body burning from her new piercings, he stepped away and moved around behind her.
What now? What more could they do to her?
She was not in protest about being an object, she had treated herself that way all her life, and she was shocked at herself for not feeling more against what was happening to her. Surely she should feel angry, she should be protesting at what was being done to her and she should be threatening these people with the police if they didn’t release her. But it didn’t feel wrong, it felt almost normal to her.
Suddenly, her long black hair was falling to the ground around her. She gasped as she realised that they were shaving her head and discussing her as f she were simply a piece of meat there for their entertainment.
Within minutes, she was completely bald and then pushed out of the chair and back onto the floor, her rings clashing against eachother.
She sat there, hunched and numb for a moment, her mind empty. Was this the goal they had in mind for her? To not think for herself? To not think at all?
She was not blindfolded this time, though she thought she had been at first. Her eyes were forced closed as she sat on the floor, and it felt like her eyes had been covered with material, a simple blindfold, but as she was led away from the chair, they laughed in her ear.
“Stupid slut, you now must rely on me to guide you and be your eyes.” Mistress spat at her, shoving her into a cold, sterile room. “You wont be able to see again!”
Lysa felt a cry rise in her throat as panic rose in her. She realised they hadn’t simply blindfolded her, they had done much worse.
What was her life to be now?
Another needle was inserted into her arm and she felt a blissful peace and calm come over her. No more pain, no more fears. Perhaps she had been dreaming it all. She lay in numb bliss for what felt like an eternity.
A few days later, she was woken to someone sitting on her face. She struggled to breath, to speak and remembered she couldn’t without permission. She tried to open her eyes to glare at whoever had sat on her and then remembered that she couldn’t do that either. She reached up with her arms to push the person off her, but they wouldn’t move.
She heard Mistress laugh at her,”Silly slut, those stumps won’t get you anywhere!”
Lysa realised she had no arms. They had taken her arms while she had been sleeping. This was definitely no dream. She was nothing more than something for Mistress’s use now. This was her role in life.
A sudden flow of warmth trickled down her throat. She drank it greedily, desperate for nourishment and food. She mumbled a thank you and Mistress turned around, her ass hovering over Lysa’s face.
“You have a new use for me and my staff from now on. This was your purpose for me all along.” Mistress said. “You are to be my toilet
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