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Chapter 11 - Decorative Touches
The first puff of air on her vulnerable clitty got Deborah's attention. Waking from her shock, she
was horrified to realize that her body had ascended to a state of high arousal. With no guidance
from her conscious mind her reflexes had answered the accelerating commands of the training
program, and generated the automated responses. The dildo had swollen to fill her stretched pussy
and now throbbed at a medium-high pitch; the clips on her enlarged nipples buzzed like bees.
Another puff of air and she felt her huge boobs jiggle as her entire body spasmed.
Deborah reacted with revulsion. This was beyond depraved - she shouldn't feel excited or sexy,
she'd been abused and mutilated. She didn't want to come now! She wasn't some sex
robot that responded like a machine to every command and stimulus. With an effort she asserted her
will over her body and stopped it from answering an order to clench her ass around the probe that
penetrated it - to be rewarded with powerful shocks to her nipples and hyper-sensitive clit, and a
scolding by the computer.
Groaning and stunned, Deborah's focus was scattered as the program began again - and her body
responded to it unhesitatingly. Suck-squeeze-clench-suck-squeeze-suck-squeeze-clench.....
UNNGGHHH!!! More shocks as she gathered herself and disobeyed again.
But there was no respite. The machine simply began the program once more, and Deborah's body
obeyed. She continued to fight, but every set of shocks, and every flash of static on the monitor,
drained her of energy and will. And after every restart her sexual reflexes asserted themselves more
powerfully, as though her body were determined to obey the program despite its own brain's
commands.
Deborah battled with the shocks and demands of the program - both overt and subliminal - for what
seemed like hours. Finally her resistance was broken. Her traumatized mind was too weakened to
resist her own body as it worked to satisfy the relentless machine. As the dildo swelled in her pussy
once more and the pitch of the vibrators rose she lay in exhausted despair, even as she felt the
chemistry of orgasm percolating in her brain.
When the air jets finally drove her willing body over the edge into quaking, moaning release, the
mind of the shy student-athlete was merely carried along for the ride.
----
"A little shaky near the start, Jasmine, but it looks like you pulled yourself together."
The girl was still flushed and panting as the developer read the paper strip spat out by the computer
that had monitored her training. "Acceptable performance at this point. But you'll have to
improve if you want to keep receiving preferential treatment."
He thought he heard a quiet whimper from his subject, but looking down he saw the doll-like face
still stared blankly at the overhead monitor, the corners of the silicone-puffed lips drawn upward into
their mindless little smile. Turning to her restrained arm he pushed the plunger on a syringe, and as
the nurse rolled the hydraulic pussy-stretcher into position Deborah's vision began to blur.
-----
The day after being unwrapped the new pleasure doll took a short session with Ruta in the therapy
room, on the bulky training shoes again until she recovered her strength and balance. The next day
it was back to the sleek ballet pumps, and soon she was mincing about as confidently as ever - arms
dangling, hips rotating, and shoulders well back to balance the 10-liter megaboobs that projected
before her.
When her head restraint was released Jasmine had bent her neck to look down at her new bosom.
Huge domes the color of creamy coffee swelled from her chest, cresting high above her raised eyes
even when flattened slightly by gravity while she lay on her back. In this posture the smooth
mounds spread out almost twice as wide as the girl's shortened ribcage, shadowing her arms
though with their spongy new firmness they did not droop enough to weigh upon the
strapped limbs. Just beyond their sweeping horizons she could see her puffy new areolae rising,
topped with brown nubs the size of her smallest finger-joint. Her nips had been bound at their bases
with golden bands; matching gold rings an inch and a half in diameter passed through the bands and,
she assumed, the nipples they hugged.
When she was tipped upright the oversized glands slid down her frame slightly but jutted even
further before her, taking on the shape of mammoth, bouncy pears that overhung her tiny waist,
while the erect bound nipples poked out into space more than a foot in front her upper abdomen. As
she walked she noticed the twin melons held their shape better now that their liquid plastic filling
had been transformed into foamy jelly. The weighty jugs still swayed and wobbled but at least
behaved a little more predictably, and with Ruta's help the girl adjusted her stride to match their
oscillations. As she shook and jiggled down the hall she felt quite ridiculous, like some erotic
cartoon come to life. But Ruta left her little time for reflection, constantly nudging her gently with
the crop to correct imperfections in her movements and teach her new subtleties.
The rib removal and waist reduction caused considerable pain when the girl resumed her flexibility
sessions, and her middle felt so narrow that she was worried her backbone might break when Ruta
used her weight and leverage to flex it. But as time passed and she endured several sessions
without snapping in half the worry passed, and as her internal organs shifted and adapted the
vise-like constriction she'd felt upon waking eased to a bearable tightness.
When Ruta flexed Jasmine's spine forward on the mat, she had to guide the huge tit-pillows to
either side where they ballooned outwards as the girl's face was pressed down towards her crotch.
In this position the trainee got a close-up look at the changes that had been made to her privates.
Her pubic area was still smooth and bald - she guessed the hair would never grow back there - and
her poor pussy now looked streamlined and artificial. Where before there had been delicate folds of
skin a pair of rubbery, tapered, cigar-thick labia now framed the tender pink flesh of her tortured
box. Between the bloated lips the white plastic base of her latest retainer protruded from what had
been her most guarded space, larger in diameter than a can of soup. The girl whined at the
realization that even this unnatural size caused no discomfort to her stretched tunnel, which so
recently had been almost virginally snug.
Above the base of the retainer her customized clitty poked outwards immodestly. Thimble-sized and
deep red, it had been banded around its base and ringed like her nipples. The bands were all just a
little too tight, which restricted blood flow and maintained her sensitive nubs in a state of constant
engorgement. The projecting and sensitized clit was a frequent nuisance to the girl: whenever it
brushed the padded floor mats or exercise equipment she quivered like a plucked bowstring and had
to catch her breath.
Version 1.2 of Jasmine's custom training program took advantage of the enhancements to
her nerve-rich buds. Early in the new program the vibrating clamps and air jets teased her clit and
nipples gently, in combination with the first strokes of the vaginal prod and frequent bursts of static
on the overhead monitor. After a few subliminal sessions her pussy had been trained to lubricate
itself generously at the lightest touch to any of her tender buttons.
The girl's pussy wasn't the only place she was frequently wet. She didn't know whether the surgeons
had done something to her saliva ducts, or if they were simply reacting to the many artificial
additions to the inside of her mouth, but Jasmine now constantly produced copious amounts of
drool. During her first therapy session after the oral surgeries she had coated her own alpine
cleavage with dribble, and left quite a mess of slobber on the exercise mats. For future sessions Ruta
replaced the leak-prone mouthguard with a large, pear-shaped neoprene prod. Backed by a clear
plastic face-plate and grab ring, the new gag resembled a giant baby's pacifier.
When presented with the silencer Jasmine's trained mouth sucked it in to its hilts, as it did
reflexively with any object that touched her cartoonish pout. The new gag required no strap for
security, since the size and shape of the mouth-filling prod made it impossible for her tongue to expel
and she could not raise her weakened arms high enough to pull on the ring. The first time it was
inserted she made some half-hearted efforts to find leverage with her tongue, but soon accepted the
more effective plug. She had found the constant slobbering humiliating, and was grateful her
handlers allowed her the little bit of dignity that the new drool-stopper provided. It gave her
something to suckle, too, and she found she liked that. As her training continued Jasmine's cheeks
pulsed constantly, sucking the gag in so that the plastic faceplate flattened her fat lips.
----
After the brief relapse into "Deborah" that followed waking from long sedation, the girl had quickly
slipped back into the role of Jasmine the harem slave. At first it was an act she had adopted for self
preservation - she could no longer endure the punishments that met her disobedience - but it
proved much easier to bear the constant degradations and abuses of her training as "Jasmine," and
"Deborah" faded further and further into the background. The clinic staff encouraged the
transformation of her personality by offering kind words and encouragement when she performed
her exercises well, or even made a good effort in failure, while meeting any show of resistance or
hesitation with cold severity.
One morning Jasmine found her growing emotional resilience tested. She lay in her restraints after
her daily anal purge and the usual meal of thin salty gruel sucked through the plastic feeding tube.
Based on her usual routine she expected the nurse would next administer her soothing skin
treatments. Instead the rubber-clad attendant clicked out of her room, and a new face entered. It
belonged to a dark-haired woman in a white coat, like the developer's. Her skin was very pale - in
the few places where it was not covered with colorful tattoos. The slim arms that extended from the
white sleeves, the backs of her hands, her neck and most of her face were covered by an inked
menagerie of dragons, devils, bats, wolves, and spiders. Sliver rings adorned her lip, nostril, and
brow. Jasmine watched as the strange female rolled a cart next to her restrained head.
The strange apparition looked at the girl's restrained face closely from several angles, but said
nothing. She opened a ring binder and flipped through its pages, stopping at times to compare
whatever was on the pages to the face of her worried subject. Jasmine wanted very badly to say
"No, thank you!" to any facial tattoos, but by now was far too cowed to offer such complaint to the
frightening stranger. Ashamed of her fear, she blamed the feeder gag that still blocked her modified
mouth.
At last the tattooed technician set the binder down on the cart and donned a pair of latex gloves. She
began by brushing a warm paste onto Jasmine's upper lip, then blotted a strip of paper into it. While
that application dried she took up a shiny electrified tool and set to work on the captive's brows,
thinning and shaping them. Jasmine flinched inside at each painful, buzzing tug, but dared not grunt
in complaint; no reaction was displayed in the crippled muscles of her doll's face.
Setting down the tweezers the ghostly woman grasped one end of the paper strip below Jasmine's
nose and without warning ripped it away, taking with it a delicate fuzz that might have darkened in
coming years. At this Jasmine squeaked, sharply and involuntarily, and looked up to see a crooked
smile appear briefly on the painted face above. Next the slim fingers picked up a small electric
tattoo needle, and selecting from an assortment of bottles loaded it with ink. Jasmine inhaled
sharply as the bright chromed tool descended toward her eye, and began to buzz.
Working slowly and carefully, the gloved cosmetologist outlined her captive canvas's eyes with dark
ink. The needle stung, but Jasmine had become accustomed to more severe physical pain and was
more preoccupied with fears of how she might be disfigured. She was relieved when the needle
stopped after lining her eyes, and its wielder set it down and gave her another funny smile. After
removing the feeder gag and changing inks, the tattooist worked over and around the puffy lips with
the needle and other tools. The subject of her attentions knew what was expected of her, and held
her mouth as still as she could without need for instruction, despite the stinging pain that
accompanied the procedure.
When Jasmine's lips were done they were sore, and felt even more swollen than before. Her
decorator moved silently to the next stage, applying a rusty red powder to her subject's cheeks.
After spreading it carefully with a trio of sized brushes, she covered the powdered spots with a stiff
paper and applied a hot, flat iron, which she rocked back and forth over the cheekbone. Jasmine
nearly panicked when she felt the heat, but it was withdrawn before any real burning could occur.
Peeling away the paper and wiping away excess powder, the cosmetologist inspected the shape of the
ruddy new stain carefully before applying a second coat. When she was satisfied she repeated
similar processes at Jasmine's other cheek, and with other powders at her eyelids and other points
where the girl had, in a previous life, applied makeup. Her puffy areolae and labia were places she
had never rouged, and when the decorator applied her heat-activated powders to them the girl
couldn't suppress a quick moan in reaction to the burning humiliation.
After changing her stained gloves, the painted attendant began swabbing Jasmine's nose, ears, and
other points about her face with an astringent pad. When she picked up a shiny plier-like tool, the
restrained girl thought she knew what was coming. With quick snips the outer parts of both her
nostrils were pierced, then blotted with a stinging coagulant. Then things got interesting.
The pliers bit into the bridge of Jasmine's nose just above the line of her eyes, and the outermost
crest of each brow. More holes were punched in each tragus - the little flap in front of the ear canal -
then the weird cosmetologist pinched the flesh behind the bound girl's chin and held it while the
pliers stung her victim between her gloved fingers. While one hand held the pinch the other set
down the piercing tool and stanched the wound. Jasmine felt cool metal pushed through the
skillfully placed new holes, which penetrated only just below the skin and created a tiny tunnel close
behind the point of her chin in which a delicate golden ring was now hung. With another tool the
decorator crimped the ring closed, then filled the other fresh holes in Jasmine's face with similar
rings.
The tattooed artist changed the needle in her piercing tool for a heavier gauge, and punched two
holes in each earlobe, and one each in the navel and at the base of Jasmine's spine, just above where
it met the pelvis. For the last she had to use the table's hydraulics to arch the captive's back and
create space to work. In each of these larger holes the decorator installed golden grommets, and
heavier gauge gold rings.
At last, just as Jasmine was reaching the limits of her endurance and feeling quite like a pincushion,
her tormentor removed her rubber gloves and began administering a pedicure to her bound feet.
----
"Hello, Ruta." The slim, tattooed cosmetologist looked up from cleaning her tools to greet the burly
crew-cut therapist as she entered. "I'm just wrapping up now, she's all yours."
The green-clad amazon looked hard into her favorite subject's face. "Very nice, Nico, your work so
pretty. She real glamour girl now!"
"Thanks Ruta. It's pretty routine stuff. N. wouldn't let me have much fun with this one."
"I say, she look like Hollywood, very pretty. And the little rings, so feminine!"
"I'm glad you like her, it's all as ordered. Now, when are you going to let me make you over?" the
cosmetologist asked with a smile as she slowly pushed her cart toward the door.
"Not me, I simple country girl. You waste your time!" They shared a laugh and more small talk,
until the door banged shut and Ruta was left alone with her charge.
"Clinic so good for you, you so pretty girl now. Any man happy to have you! And your exercises
good too, I happy you work hard. Today we have new things!" Opening a box the dough-faced
giant produced a skinny slipper with a long, dangling strap, all in shiny gold.
"These your bedroom slippers! Here, we get them on." Moving to the foot of the table Ruta fitted a
fine slipper to each of Jasmine's narrowed feet, then wrapped the straps about her ankles. The table
tipped to vertical, then lowered until the toes of the golden shoes touched the ground. Ruta began
undoing the bands that held Jasmine captive, and the load on the girl's downward-pointed toes grew.
She began whined quietly, in doubt and growing pain: the beautiful "bedroom slippers" had no heel
or toe padding, and the poor girl had no idea how she was supposed to walk on her toes with all her
weight balanced on paper-thin "soles" no more than an inch across. Ruta stepped in front of her
before releasing the strap above her breasts, and with beefy hands steadied her precarious
two-pointed stance.
"Yes, is hard to walk, but I help you, and you learn. Oh, one more thing..." Reaching down with
one hand she produced the spongy exercise gag and pressed it between Jasmine's sore lips, where it
was drawn in with a slurp. "Now, turn around for us." As Ruta's big hands steered and steadied her
the gagged doll-trainee shuffled about, until she leaned forward slightly with her big tits pressed
against the black mesh of the table for balance. Ruta left her for a moment and returned with a set of
nylon straps.
She had begun binding her charge's arms for most of their therapy sessions, except those parts when
the arms themselves were included in the stretches or exercises. It forced even more pronounced hip
rotation when the girl walked, and kept the dangling, nearly paralyzed arms from getting in the way
of the rest of the workout. Ruta varied the bindings at each session, to provide some variety for
them both and to test the girl's range of motion. One of her favorite ties bound Jasmine's elbows
together behind her head, with her hands projecting free to the sides where they would bounce up
and down with her stride. It was simple but dramatic and showed off the girl's helplessness and
flexibility. But it also restricted her head movements somewhat and Ruta knew that would not be
appropriate for today's session.
Instead she bound the unresisting arms behind the girl's back, with elbows tightly together and hands
twisted up between her shoulder blades. She turned the hands palm-outwards, and used three straps
to bind the elbows, wrists, and hands firmly together. Then a final long strap attached to the wrist
ties and passed over the biceps, crossing Jasmine's chest above the swelling breasts to fix her arms
securely behind her with her fingertips just below the base of her neck.
With her useless arms up and out of the way, Jasmine was turned slowly about again. Despite their
internal reinforcement her toes were beginning to cramp and burn, and she mewed through the gag
in appeal. Ruta's expression turned cross.
"No belly-aching yet. This big day, you just get started! You don't want Feng to think you
chicken." With a nudge she turned her charge toward the door and stepped behind her, steadying the
teetering doll with a single huge hand wrapped about both her bound wrists as they made their way
out of the room and down the hall.
By the time she'd tottered the twenty yards to the therapy room, her heavy jugs swinging chaotically
and her new golden rings forgotten, Jasmine's toes were in agony. She hung her head and focused
on her balance, and the pain, as she and the supporting Ruta wobbled with tiny steps across the
room, past other subjects who groaned under the demands of their own therapists. Their destination
was a mat in the far corner of the room, where a small female clad in burgundy awaited them. At
last they stopped a few feet in front of her, Jasmine tossing her head in complaint.
"See, you walk all this way," Ruta spoke gently in her ear, "even though bedroom slippers not
meant really for walking. On your knees now." Jasmine obeyed gratefully, dropping to her knees
and haunches while her huge mams bounced. With her toes relieved she looked up at the figure in
front of her. It was a familiar-looking Asian woman, slim and wiry with sharp, sloping features.
Her arms were crossed over her flat chest, and one hand held a crop. A black leather harness,
strapped over the burgundy jumpsuit, hugged her waist and crotch; her pant legs were tucked into
fashionable black boots. Her dark hair was pulled back severely into a long ponytail, and she
looked down on Jasmine with a small, cold grin.
"This is Feng," Ruta offered in introduction. "She your skill trainer. Teach you many ways to
please your man! I come back later, work you out and walk you home. Be good now!" Then she
turned to the diminutive Asian and spoke in a tone barren of friendship: "Feng, this is Jasmine.
Remember, N. say this is soft one."
"I know my job, Ruta," the little woman said quickly. Her smile never wavered, and her eyes never
left her new trainee. "The schedule says I have this spoiled slut for 90 minutes. I'll see you then."
She waited, staring at her fresh meat, until the green giant padded off wordlessly.
"Jasmine. That's a pretty name. Awfully fancy though for such a pathetic cow." She bent and
clutched the bound girl's chin in her leather-gloved hand, tilting her head back while she grasped the
gag's ring and drew out the spongy prod with wet pop. "Look at those fat lips. Disgusting. You
must have been hopeless at sucking cock, so they turned your mouth into a fuck-hole. Show me your
tongue."
The suddenly terrified girl pushed the pierced tip of her tongue between her swollen lips. "Good that
you still have it. I can teach you how to use that tongue to wring the last drops of cum out of your
master's balls. If there's any brain left behind those stupid bimbo eyes, you'll learn what I can teach
you. A fully satisfied master has less energy to beat you."
"No, ‘Jasmine' is too fancy for a whiny, worthless cum-bucket like you. ‘Jism,' I'll call you.
That's what you'll be smelling like soon enough. You'd better learn to answer to it - we're going to
be spending a lot of time together."
[....]
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