had never seen anything like it in her life, but knew instinctively that, whatever it was, she was not going to enjoy it!
Not that her enjoyment, or otherwise, would make the slightest difference to her trainers.
So it proved, for, as the shorter woman took unconcealed delight in explaining to Gemma that the tube was called a singe glove and was designed to clamp Gemma's arms rigidly behind her, the other two trainers took the device behind the brunette's back and began to work the bag end over Gemma's clasped fingers.
Knowing that any resistance would be both futile and punished, Gemma allowed her wrists to be lifted away from her spine and felt the leather smoothed over her hands and it was only as the bag tightened that Gemma realised that she could no longer unclasp her fingers. Her puzzlement and anxiety grew as the single glove was worked up her forearms and over her elbows to a point near her shoulder blades, but she still failed to comprehend the true nature of the device, even when the long attached straps were drawn over her shoulders, crossed between her breasts, down and under her arms and clipped back to the rear of the single glove.
The truth only began to dawn on Gemma when she felt the laces begin to tighten...and by then, it was far too late!
Inch by inch, ring by ring, the remorseless tightening began to clamp Gemma's wrists, then her forearms together and as the tension increased, so did her horror, until she could keep silent no longer.
"Ooooh! Oh, stop, Masters, please stop. It's tight!"
"It's meant to be! Now shut up slavegirl or you'll be gagged and punished!"
Gemma gaped at the woman who she had always thought of as the softest and most sympathetic of her captors and her belly quivered with a sudden fear as the woman drew her Devil's Palm and flicked it delicately across Gemma's defenceless breasts. The warning was crystal clear and Gemma shuddered in despair as she realised that her hopes were groundless. None of her trainers were in the least bit sympathetic to her situation and she could expect no mercy whatsoever if she disobeyed!
Clenching her teeth together to prevent the smallest sound escaping, Gemma strained her shoulders back as the laces continued their inexorable tightening. Her elbows squeezed closer and closer and her brain reeled as they touched and then welded together as her arms formed a single, pained column. Behind her, the man checked the tension of each lacing and tied the final knot, sealing Gemma's arms into their leather sheath. With his companion, her walked around in front of Gemma and watched as the woman pulled each of the buckled straps cruelly tight, holding the single glove securely in place and eliminating even the faintest hope of Gemma somehow being able to slip the leather down her arms.
"Excellent! It looks good on her."
"Yes. Let's see you get out of that slavegirl.""Does good things for her breasts, too. Just look at the way they jut out."
"That should add to her appeal. Make them more sensitive too."
As her captors smiled and discussed their uncomfortable bondage of her, Gemma stared wide eyed from one to the other, her misery deepening as she saw no signs of compassion in their cruel faces. The mention of her breasts sent her eyes downwards and she gave a soft whimper as she saw that they were quite correct. The tension of the single glove forced her shoulders back and combined with the tightness of the straps beneath her breasts to left and project the twin mounds into shameful prominence. So much so that her coffee brown nipples jutted like acorns and she found to her horror that even when she wriggled her shoulder her tautened breasts barely quivered!
"Stand still, slavegirl."
The waspish command froze Gemma into immobility.
"Don't move! We'll be back for you shortly," and the door banged shut behind the trio.
Alone with her thoughts, and her bondage, Gemma stood as she had
Not that her enjoyment, or otherwise, would make the slightest difference to her trainers.
So it proved, for, as the shorter woman took unconcealed delight in explaining to Gemma that the tube was called a singe glove and was designed to clamp Gemma's arms rigidly behind her, the other two trainers took the device behind the brunette's back and began to work the bag end over Gemma's clasped fingers.
Knowing that any resistance would be both futile and punished, Gemma allowed her wrists to be lifted away from her spine and felt the leather smoothed over her hands and it was only as the bag tightened that Gemma realised that she could no longer unclasp her fingers. Her puzzlement and anxiety grew as the single glove was worked up her forearms and over her elbows to a point near her shoulder blades, but she still failed to comprehend the true nature of the device, even when the long attached straps were drawn over her shoulders, crossed between her breasts, down and under her arms and clipped back to the rear of the single glove.
The truth only began to dawn on Gemma when she felt the laces begin to tighten...and by then, it was far too late!
Inch by inch, ring by ring, the remorseless tightening began to clamp Gemma's wrists, then her forearms together and as the tension increased, so did her horror, until she could keep silent no longer.
"Ooooh! Oh, stop, Masters, please stop. It's tight!"
"It's meant to be! Now shut up slavegirl or you'll be gagged and punished!"
Gemma gaped at the woman who she had always thought of as the softest and most sympathetic of her captors and her belly quivered with a sudden fear as the woman drew her Devil's Palm and flicked it delicately across Gemma's defenceless breasts. The warning was crystal clear and Gemma shuddered in despair as she realised that her hopes were groundless. None of her trainers were in the least bit sympathetic to her situation and she could expect no mercy whatsoever if she disobeyed!
Clenching her teeth together to prevent the smallest sound escaping, Gemma strained her shoulders back as the laces continued their inexorable tightening. Her elbows squeezed closer and closer and her brain reeled as they touched and then welded together as her arms formed a single, pained column. Behind her, the man checked the tension of each lacing and tied the final knot, sealing Gemma's arms into their leather sheath. With his companion, her walked around in front of Gemma and watched as the woman pulled each of the buckled straps cruelly tight, holding the single glove securely in place and eliminating even the faintest hope of Gemma somehow being able to slip the leather down her arms.
"Excellent! It looks good on her."
"Yes. Let's see you get out of that slavegirl.""Does good things for her breasts, too. Just look at the way they jut out."
"That should add to her appeal. Make them more sensitive too."
As her captors smiled and discussed their uncomfortable bondage of her, Gemma stared wide eyed from one to the other, her misery deepening as she saw no signs of compassion in their cruel faces. The mention of her breasts sent her eyes downwards and she gave a soft whimper as she saw that they were quite correct. The tension of the single glove forced her shoulders back and combined with the tightness of the straps beneath her breasts to left and project the twin mounds into shameful prominence. So much so that her coffee brown nipples jutted like acorns and she found to her horror that even when she wriggled her shoulder her tautened breasts barely quivered!
"Stand still, slavegirl."
The waspish command froze Gemma into immobility.
"Don't move! We'll be back for you shortly," and the door banged shut behind the trio.
Alone with her thoughts, and her bondage, Gemma stood as she had
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