Tombstone by Candace Smith Page A

for his artistic accomplishment.
    For two days he had left her alone, and Claudine was nervously grateful.   She knew it would not last forever, and despair set in when she discovered no possible way to escape.   She was sitting on the floor, her stretched lips slightly raw from where she had rubbed against the wall, trying to dislodge the ring.   When she looked up, she was startled to see him approaching her with a sadistic shine illuminating his blue eyes.   Claudine whimpered and pressed into the wall.
    “Up.”   He grabbed her arm and lifted her.
    He’s so strong.   Claudine trembled when he unhooked the chain to lead her to the other room.   No, oh please.   She sobbed, her tongue sweeping wildly around her mouth while her toes tried to grip into the rough plank floor and her legs straightened, pushing back in protest.   A large hand smashed down on her bottom, stinging and heating her cheeks.   Claudine was horrified to feel a leak of arousal drip from her pussy.
    Again she was bound to the chair with the cool leather belts.   The man removed her collar and she shrieked when she saw the rubber mask.   It was so form fitting and tight, it took fifteen minutes to squeeze it over her head.   Another fifteen minutes were spent pulling her hair through a two-inch opening at the top and lining up the edges of the face holes.   Claudine already felt smothered.
    The mouth of the mask curled around her lips, secured so that her tongue could not push the edges out of her mouth.   He tested the patch he had made for the opening.   It was made from the same latex substance and adhered to the other surface.   Claudine had an insane thought of when she was a little girl, sticking shiny plastic outfits on a glossy cardboard doll.   Tombstone removed the mouth patch and stuck it to the latex on her forehead.
    There was a nose covering and ear coverings, as well.   The ear patches had a thin ridge of foam and tiny speakers protruded and filled her canals.   The last patches went over her eyes, and she blinked, feeling the edge of the mask brush the rim of her lids before he sealed out the light.   A moment later, the speakers began a slow, deep litany… and Claudine screamed when she heard Donald Strickland’s voice.
    “You are a white trash slut, Claudine.   With the help of my associates, your death certificate has been recorded along with an updated will.   You amassed a handy sum from those men you grifted… enough to finance most of your incarceration, thank you.   You stupid little whore.   You had no idea what pros you were dealing with.
    “Didn’t you think I’d seen your kind before?   Flaunting your tits and cunt at my son, making promises you never intended to keep.   Donnie was weak, Claudine, especially when it came to the need for a woman’s love.   Me?   I’ve never been swayed by that crap.   Sluts have two purposes: producing heirs and fucking.   You screwed me out of my heir, Claudine.   You won’t escape the fucking.”
    “No doubt Tombstone will prepare you as I have ordered.   He has successfully aided several of my friends with irritating problems, such as you.   After he’s finished creating and training you, he will deliver you back to the estate for six months.   I’m afraid your days of spa baths and luxury are over.   I have other plans for you before I return you to Tombstone for good.”
    The speakers hummed static for a while, and then Strickland’s voice repeated his speech.   Over and over in darkness, the smell of fresh latex in her nose, the sticky feel of rubber over her eyelids… and fingers stroking her pussy, up and down, in and out; stopping just short of letting her climax.   Her panting breaths gasping in frustration through the mouth opening, her pussy leaking onto the chair in a constant drool… up and down, in and out.
    The hands stopped, leaving her pussy sensitive and her walls gripping for release.   She felt the collar locked around