The Dream Sequence in Cheryl's Long Night

As I said, here is the dream from Cheryl’s Long Night. It takes place between when Cheryl loses consciousness while tied to her torture table and when she wakes up later that night.

Through a sleepy fog, Cheryl felt still tightlaced, collared and gagged. But there was more to how she was held back. Her arms were pulled far behind her and kept fast, with her legs pinned together. Yet she was warm, wrapped in a soft blanket, quite comfortable. A gentle voice nudged her awake. “Mistress Cheryl, it is time to rise.” She opened her eyes then shut them against the morning light. She had seen a young woman before her wearing some sort of servant’s uniform dress: dark green with an immaculate white apron and a maid’s bonnet. “You must get up, Mistress Cheryl. You are expected at breakfast, and we must ready you.” Cheryl’s eyes adjusted enough to open and focus on her companion. The woman was youngish, perhaps not much older than Cheryl herself, who was twenty-three. The servant was also tightlaced, shown by the small waist over a wide skirt. She looked like she stepped out of a Victorian period movie. Though somewhat worried about her predicament, Cheryl didn’t sense any danger. The girl wasn’t threatening and even seemed concerned for her well-being. It must have been Jennifer who arranged this. So she played along. The downy comforter wrapping her was unzipped, revealing the deliciously bound Cheryl inside. She rested on an inclined board with a cavity to comfortably hold the arms of someone confined in a monoglove. Two other servants stood by, both wearing bridle-like harnesses attached to their heads, with bright red balls held in their mouths. Cheryl smiled faintly. If this was Jennifer’s doing and had her trademark twistedness, she must have gone to great lengths. She had mentioned another birthday present for Cheryl but remained vague about what it was; the spark in her eyes promised something special. Cheryl met Jennifer two years earlier at a Victorian exposition in a museum during a vacation trip. Cheryl stood before a mannequin dressed in a beautiful ball gown, laced tighter than anything she’d imagined. She stared dreamily at the display when Jennifer started talking. Later they discovered they were from the same town and became fast friends. Since then, they found their common passion for self-bondage and practically became sisters. The maid helped her to her feet after removing some ankle-training devices; these had kept her feet en-pointe position during the night, clamped tightly together. She pulled on knee-high silk stockings attached to the bottom of her long, knee-length corset, followed by ankle-length ballet-heeled boots laced up tight. She saw herself in the mirror after the servants gently turned her around and felt excited and aroused. Then, the collar came off. It was replaced with something less heavy but just as tight and restrictive. A sort of neck corset closed at the front and laced at the back, adorned with frilly white lace edges, very pretty. Cheryl decided she liked it very much. It didn’t strangle her; instead, it held her neck in a pleasant, almost erotic manner. Her head remained delicately and proudly erect, almost aristocratically so. She started shivering in delight. “Please, Mistress Cheryl, control yourself. You must behave like a respectable lady today. You are to be presented to some guests.” Cheryl could barely keep from giggling inside her gag. Their act was very sincere though humorous to her. The gag came off and after working her jaw back into place she asked casually with an amused tone, “I suppose Jennifer put you up to this?” The two other servants suddenly looked nervous, and the young one who could speak answered in a hushed tone, “The Duchess is in charge of you until you’re twenty-five or when married off. She arranges everything. Respect that, or your life will be that of a servant, not a noblewoman with power and respect.” Either these girls were good actresses or something was strange here. And who was this Duchess? From their reaction it must have been Jennifer. That reassured her and she continued playing along. In any case up to now Cheryl enjoyed herself quite nicely! Another head harness was put on, which had no gag but was more elaborate and decorated. A ball sat on a short strap on a nearby table matching the new harness. Cheryl took a chance asking, “Who will be present today ummm… Miss?” “Some very important people rich and powerful. You may address me as Caldwell Mistress Cheryl. I am your servant and that’s how servants are addressed as you well know.” The girl named Caldwell said nervously while measuring Cheryl’s waist with a tape. She then put her hands around the small waist and pressed hard. She momentarily walked away leaving Cheryl with the two mute servants steadying her. She could hear a phone receiver lifted. “Yes Duchess? This is Caldwell. Mistress Cheryl’s waist is now sixteen and a half inches… Yes Duchess I can squeeze easily with my hands. Her neck? I tightened the neck corset to contact… Sixteen inches Duchess? Yes Duchess. And I think her arms could be pulled back a little more. They seem a little loose… Yes Duchess. Thank you Duchess.” The phone was returned to its cradle. In the mirror she saw Caldwell nodding at the two mutes; one held her steady while the other began undoing the knot in the small of her back. Caldwell took the now loose laces and pulled them taut, while the second servant pulled Cheryl’s monogloved arms up and out of the way in strappado fashion. Cheryl gasped and said “Easy!” As Caldwell strained to pull the laces aiming for another half inch off her waist she replied between grunts “If Mistress Cheryl wishes to gain power and fortune her corset must be tight and her restraints fast! Garrett hold her well. On the count of three: one, two, three-PULL!” The extra half inch was squeezed out of Cheryl’s waist with three powerful pulls increasing pressure along the entire corset. Cheryl gasped “I said easy!” Caldwell nodded at the ball gag on the table and Garrett fetched it. She thrust it quickly into Cheryl’s mouth and clicked the straps onto the harness already on her head. She started to find it less amusing now though she decided that in her current predicament, resisting would be useless if not dangerous. In any case if this was part of Jennifer’s game… Caldwell instructed the two mute servants to help pull Cheryl’s shoulders back. Bracing themselves they pulled the straps holding the shoulders even tighter. Then Caldwell took the laces regulating the monoglove tightness and pulled them hard pressing Cheryl’s arms closer together until her elbows almost touched. The strain and pressure were both distressing and stimulating. She breathed hard in her tight corset, eyes wide with exposed breasts heaving up and down. “Calm down Mistress Cheryl. You do not want to overstress yourself.” That was easy for her to say she thought. The laces on the lower part of her long corset were slightly tightened pressing the legs together solidly. “I think she’s ready,” Caldwell said examining her charge. “We will now dress her properly.” A half dozen ankle-length petticoats wrapped around her legs. Then a specially adapted camisole with a single wide sleeve in the back was put on. It was frilly smooth silky white but tight-fitting. Then a blouse with the same single sleeve behind buttoned up front had a high collar and included a strap-on detail.

The hat hid the neck corset except for its lacy frills. As they adjusted her clothes, every wrinkle vanished. One mute fixed her hair while the other and Caldwell worked on the skirt and jacket.

They draped the skirt carefully over her petticoats so no bumps or asymmetries showed through. It featured a short train—technically a balayeuse style, much like those popular in the late 1870s and early 1880s—and was lovely in its light reddish coffee-brown hue. The jacket matched perfectly, also fitted with a single sleeve at the back. They tightened it around her, smoothed it down, then cinched it again to maximize the effect on her tightly constrained figure. It had to fit flawlessly, without any wrinkles or bulges.

As the three servants focused on the details of her outfit, Cheryl looked at herself in the mirror. The reflection was nothing short of a bondage goddess. Her tiny waist marked the divide between the wide skirt that covered her legs (though offering a tempting glimpse of ballet heels below) and her upper body, which stood as a masterpiece of beauty. Her arms were pinned so tightly behind her back they became invisible from the front, while her shoulders pulled backward enough to create a perfect straight V line down to her tightlaced chest and waist. Her bosom projected prominently due both to the upward pressure of the brutally tight corset and the forward thrust caused by her pinned-back shoulders. The curved neckline of the jacket revealed an immaculate white blouse, drawing attention downward to her bust. Above that sat her exquisitely slender neck, firmly supported in the lovely neck corset, topped with a head held delicately upright. Her hair framed her beautiful face, which was adorned with a ball gag. Every curve, line, seam, strap, and cut of fabric made Cheryl look transcendentally beautiful—a bound and tightlaced Venus.

Despite the severe constriction, the heavy strain on her arms and shoulders, her tightly pinned legs, and her precarious stance—in fact, partly because of all that—Cheryl felt a surge of exhilaration. She had often daydreamed about such beauty, absolute entrapment, and utter helplessness while being tended to by maids and servants… She took a deep breath that made the formidable corset creak, pressing sensually against her fetters. She nearly climaxed when a delicate gold chain was attached to a small ring on her neck corset beneath the blouse’s collar. Smiling broadly with white teeth framing the lovely fuchsia ball in her mouth, her eyes bright and heart pounding, she trembled with pure delight.

Caldwell noticed this reaction and smiled faintly, looking satisfied. “Come along, Mistress Cheryl. You must be punctual for breakfast.”

The long hobble from her bedroom to the dining hall took fifteen minutes. Cheryl was exhausted yet enjoyed every moment. She never could have imagined that her dreams were actually coming true! The creak of the corset with each tiny step, the click-clack of ballet heels on hardwood, the shuffling and rustling of her skirt, the subtle scent of lilac from perfume, and the pressure of restraining garments over her entire body. Every sense was being tickled toward heavenly bliss. Even the mansion’s decor appealed to her: Victorian style, tasteful, sober, and quiet except for the echoes of high heels down the long corridors.

Finally, the procession reached the hall where breakfast awaited. Since she couldn’t sit normally, Cheryl was strapped to a decorated post near the table. She wondered how she would feed herself while so bound. A purple satin and lace blindfold was placed over her eyes.

Moments later, she heard heels clicking on the hardwood floor—tiny steps similar to hers but more practiced. Caldwell’s voice called out:

“Duchess, Mistress Cheryl for your review.”

“Did she give you any trouble, Caldwell?” The voice was familiar, very much like Jennifer’s, carrying authority and assurance.

“Oh, no, Duchess. She was a little restless during the adjustments of her corsets and bindings, but quite well-behaved.” At least Caldwell wasn’t exaggerating what had happened; she even minimized it slightly. The Duchess approached and stopped just a few feet away. Had Cheryl not been blindfolded, she would have seen an image very similar to her own reflection in the mirror earlier. A different dress, lavender-colored, over an identically-trussed body, though the degree of severity was much greater. Like Jennifer, the Duchess was nearly a head taller than petite Cheryl, which made her bound and constricted figure appear even more severe. Additionally, the Duchess had breasts a size larger than Cheryl’s that projected forward in a pleasing manner.

“Beloved Cheryl,” the Duchess began. “As you know, it was your parents’ wish that if they passed away, you would come under my care until you turned twenty-five or married. You have noble blood in your veins, and I will ensure it is not wasted on menial servitude. You are progressing well in both waist training and restraint training. I may be repeating myself, but cooperation is essential: the tighter your corsets and the stricter your daily restraints, the better off you can become, potentially marrying high up the social ladder. Then you will wield power over your husband and have influence. Servants will attend to your every need.” The Duchess paused, observing that Cheryl was in a state of blissful ecstasy.

“You are feeling right now the power of your body, its beauty, and graceful form. The tighter you constrict and bind yourself, the more it demonstrates how wealthy you are, allowing you to ensnare a similarly rich man who will not be able to resist you and will irresistibly grant your every wish. That is our power as women.” Cheryl fought two urges: one to giggle at the elaborate strangeness of the situation, and another to spiral into a sensual frenzy due to the totally erotic predicament of being laced, strapped, and bound.

The Duchess leaned in fractionally closer, given what her stiff corset and other accoutrements allowed. Cheryl could hear the creaking of her corset and restraints. Whispering, “I intend that you succeed me one day, my dear child. You have potential; I can see it. Your ability to experience sensual pleasures from being bound and tightlaced will enable you to go very far, just like me. But if you do not cultivate your discipline and self-control, or refuse to let yourself be molded and trained, you will never rise above a common servant, nor access the power and fortune that is yours by blood.” The Duchess straightened up, perfectly balanced on her impossible heels, and daintily tip-tapped away, commanding servants to feed Cheryl her breakfast.

The gag was removed after a warning from Caldwell to remain quiet and well-behaved. She played along, being fed while still blindfolded. It felt strangely pleasant to be fed, tended to, and pampered this way, all the while bound and crushed in what most people would consider sheer torture. If this really was Jennifer’s gift—and the ‘Duchess’ seemed to be her—Cheryl truly appreciated it and resolved to let Jennifer know once everything settled.

The gag went back into her mouth, and the bound beauty was led to a drawing room where she rested on an inclined board similar to the one she slept in. A book was placed before her so she could read, with instructions to nod once when the page needed turning.

Cheryl read that there had been a slight shift in the historical timeline. The fashion of tightlacing remained strong, and over time other styles emerged, such as arm binding and long corsets, along with progressively higher heels. Naturally, those with greater fortune could afford the

Laborate corsets and bondage apparel, specifically the top-tier items, to achieve maximum restriction. Since this state rendered the bound beauty utterly helpless, servants became necessary. All of it signified status, which grew as the bondage and corsetry tightened further. This was in addition to the mesmerizing authority that the strictest practitioners held over their men.

As she read on, Cheryl found herself astounded by the intricacy of the entire scenario. Yet she accepted the arrangement entirely. It was, after all, merely a show. Or so it seemed? A seed of doubt took root in her mind suggesting otherwise. How could it be real? If it were true, why couldn’t she recall anything from her past here? She shook herself back to awareness.

After reading through several chapters—clearly part of her education in the fine art of being a proper 21st-century Victorian Lady—she received dance lessons while bound and constricted! It was utterly exhausting, sometimes even frightening as she teetered precariously on her stiletto heels, trying to avoid falling over with just enough freedom of movement for her legs and body. Caldwell and her girls were there to catch her, however, just in case.

More deportment training followed, and right before lunch, an adjustment was made to her corset, tightening it down to fifteen and three-quarters inches. Cheryl was bound once more to the post in the dining room, being fed by the servants assigned to her care.

After lunch, her dress was changed into new clothes of different color and cut, yet just as flattering to her tightly restrained figure. The muted stripes were tailored to emphasize sharp lines. A small chain connected between her shoes further restricted her paces. Cheryl shivered with delight at the sight of her heavenly reflection in the mirror. Once again, those two words appeared in her mind: bondage goddess.

Caldwell announced that Cheryl was to take a walk outside in the garden. To descend from the upper floor, an elevator was used, but it was only large enough for Cheryl’s bound form. Caldwell and her two gagged assistants took the adjacent stairway after securing their charge in the lift and sending it down.

Once released from the elevator’s narrow cage, Cheryl was led down another corridor to a door opening onto the grounds behind the mansion. Meticulously maintained, it served as an exemplar of a proper Victorian garden. Other servants tended to the grounds; some were harnessed to small carts for hauling tools and supplies. A few wore nothing but a latex body suit complete with a full ponygirl harness!

It all felt so real. The seed of doubt planted earlier in her mind grew somewhat. Perhaps Jennifer had paid for Cheryl’s stay here, but she couldn’t have organized everything on her own. It was simply too elaborate and complex. Cheryl tried to recall if she had heard of such a place—a Victorian bondage resort—but came up empty-handed. Some people she had seen could have been other customers, while others were employees. She decided to concentrate on the delicious sights and sounds enveloping her.

About an hour into the walk, taking steps of two or three inches at a time and resting often, they arrived at the far end of the garden. The grounds continued onward, and in the distance, perhaps a hundred yards away, she could see someone bound to a post alone. She recognized it as likely being a female servant by her dress. Cheryl stopped and nodded toward them, still gagged. Caldwell understood and explained.

“That is one of the Duchess’ servants. She was very delinquent in her duties to the Duchess and is being punished by being bound tightly to that post, with ropes pulled taut by our two strongest footmen. She has been there since last evening and is due for release in a few hours. No one stays longer than once.” Cheryl wondered what it would feel like to be tied so tightly for such a long time. Probably painful enough that she wouldn’t want to try it again. She felt conflicted inside; part of her sensually desired suffering through that predicament, while another part wanted to avoid it. Caldwell urged her along.

Two hours of walking precariously on ballet heels, restricted to tiny steps by the corset which crushed her waist down to less than sixteen inches—let alone the immense pressure on her rib cage—was more than exhausting. She was glad to return to the mansion but, instead of going back to her quarters, she was led to another room on the ground floor. It was about two o’clock.

This room was elaborately and femininely decorated. It served as a dressing room, with racks upon racks of lovely dresses, petticoats, frilly items, and an entire wall dedicated to corsets. In the center stood a low, long bench equipped with straps and strange mechanisms.

“We will prepare you for tonight’s reception,” Caldwell said, nodding to her two mute companions. One left the room while the other assisted Caldwell in removing Cheryl’s dress and undergarments. Before the first returned, she was down to just her corset and monoglove. She could feel the laces behind her being untied as fingers worked to loosen her corset gradually, one inch at a time. Cheryl knew that releasing too suddenly after long constriction in such a tight grip would cause acute lancing pain in her ribs and belly.

While they left Cheryl to adjust to the slightly looser corset, they began loosening the monoglove similarly, allowing her shoulders to readapt to freedom bit by bit. Caldwell told her to move her shoulders a little to help the process. The second gagged maid returned with two more silenced maids pushing a large wheeled basin filled with steaming water. One held a small bin containing soap and washcloths.

Once they had removed Cheryl’s corset, other restraints, and undergarments, they urged her toward the toilet, warning her not to inhale too deeply. When she returned, relieved, they proceeded to place her in a standing spread-eagle position with her wrists secured in cuffs hanging from the ceiling. Thus exposed, they washed her body thoroughly using scented soap. Her hair was washed with great care and tangles combed out. After rubbing her entire body with lotion and perfuming it with an exquisitely sensual scent, the servants released Cheryl from the spread-eagle and began dressing her anew. The two mute servants who had arrived with the wash basin left.

A light liner was put on, then Caldwell took the most gorgeous corset displayed on the wall: a massive leather masterpiece featuring boning so dense that at the waist, they lay side by side. “That is absolutely beautiful…” Cheryl whispered. The upper part extended all the way up to the neck, but the chest above the bust was exposed through a circular orifice from just over mid-bust to below the neck.

Cheryl stepped excitedly into it, as this style of corset realized one of her fantasies. They closed it around her body, legs, and neck, encasing her from knees to just under her chin. Caldwell pulled the laces until the corset was moderately tight around her waist and chest, tying them off provisionally.

“Now we will bind you to the lacing bench, Mistress Cheryl,” she said as Cheryl was led to the central bench. “It will be necessary to use special measures to ensure the tightest possible constriction. The tighter you are for our guests tonight, the more impressive you will appear.”

Caldwell helped Cheryl down onto the bench on her belly. It had curves and cutouts designed to conform to the body’s shape. Her arms were stretched beyond her head and strapped into cuffs solidly bolted to the end of the bench. Her ankles were likewise cuffed but attached to cables that pulled Cheryl’s body taut, stretching it out. Her upper body and buttocks were secured with heavy belts to hold them down when the time came to pull the laces.

Posts above her waist had oddly shaped fittings on top. Caldwell loosened the laces, grabbed both ends, and wound them around those upper fittings, much like securing a boat at a dock. Cheryl finally grasped their purpose: they prevented the laces from tangling with each tightening cycle. A gagged maid brought over a four-foot-long bar and slotted it into the winch shaft that would pull the cable. A ratcheting click echoed as Cheryl felt her ankles yanked, stretching her whole body taut. This elongation of her torso allowed for much tighter cinching at the waist. Caldwell and another maid each grabbed a side of the laces and pulled with all their strength, squeezing the air from helpless Cheryl who whimpered weakly under the strain. A narrower waist inevitably pressed harder against the ribs, making upper-chest breathing difficult within that full-torso corset. “We must lace you down to fifteen inches in stages over the next few hours,” Caldwell explained. “The bench will help both us and you achieve this goal. Please remain calm, Mistress Cheryl; everything will be fine.” Remain calm? It was all she could do given her bound and stretched state, laced tighter than ever before with even more tightening ahead of her labored breaths caused the leather corset to creak and crackle, sending goosebumps across her skin. The scent of the leather heightened her arousal. An hour later, Caldwell and the others gave the laces another firm tug before tying them off to the posts. Cheryl’s waist measured fifteen and a half inches, tighter than it had been earlier in the afternoon. Another hour passed with yet another pull on the laces. Fifteen and a quarter inch. Extracting even that small amount from her tiny waist was monumental work. By the end of the third hour, they reached the fifteen-inch mark. The laces were tied off, and a small padlock secured into the grommets at her waist. The click of the lock closing sent a pleasant shiver up Cheryl’s spine; she automatically linked that sound to final commitment in self-bondage when the last seal was shut. Her ankles were freed, short stockings applied, followed by exquisitely finished ballet-heeled stiff leather boots with eight-inch mirror-polished stainless steel heels. These too were tightly laced around her ankles and calves. Now released from the floor, Cheryl was carefully helped to stand. The corset groaned under the effort. Her arms were slid into an exceptionally rigid monoglove matching the leather corset, designed specifically to attach to it. Over the next hour, three servants pulled Cheryl’s shoulders back further still, tightening straps and laces, drawing her arms close behind until they touched from elbows down to hands, while pulling her shoulders far backward beyond any previous experience. She was now completely encased in a brutally tight leather prison from neck to toe. Unable to move any muscle except for slight movements below the knee, she felt the unbearable pressure gradually subside and give way to pleasant, giddy euphoria. Before further dressing began, a gagged maid applied makeup while powdering her exposed chest; Caldwell and the other prepared evening attire. A rolling rack appeared, displaying not just masses of frilly undergarment cloth but also a sumptuous gown of finest purple and black silk and satin hanging before her. Tailored to fit the crushingly tight corset and monoglove, it featured an opening exactly where her chest was exposed. Glancing at the mirror, she imagined how it would look on her body with pushed-up compressed cleavage heaving sensually with every labored breath. She felt excited and aroused; between tightly pinned legs, slight moistness appeared. Cheryl closed her eyes to calm herself but found the distraction of incredibly erotic pressure on her entire body almost too strong to resist. With great willpower she held back excitement. A half-dozen tight-fitting silky petticoats wrapped around her waist down encasing smooth feminine frilly fabric below. She nearly wanted to be presented in just leather apparel but desperately wished for full dressing in that gorgeous gown. A bustle pad attached behind extended the buttocks after her monoglove was tightly secured against her body, totally immobilizing Cheryl’s arms. Now able only slight head movement and leg motion below knee level came next: another half dozen petticoats thicker heavier with much flouncing adding bulk were draped over followed by a tight-fitting camisole smoothed down tightened like a drum preventing wrinkles under the gown. The weight of cloth bore down making her feel more stimulated trapped helpless… And what a gown! Finest satin and silk dark purple black accents flouncing crossing skirt decorated with black silk roses ribbons. Bodice featured same chest opening exposing Cheryl’s heaving breasts. “It is magnificent, Caldwell,” Cheryl remarked. The maid replied, “Made expressly for you Mistress Cheryl by order of the Duchess just as corset other restraints your costume. Several potential suitors present tonight; Duchess has demanded presentation be beyond perfection.” Cheryl looked at herself mesmerized in mirror. One gagged maid knelt raising skirts slightly hobbling ankles together with gold-plated chain. Another fine collar-chain attached not meant to pull but symbolically linking holder of other end as it hung brushing cold metal against heaving bosom just when she thought things couldn’t get more erotic. She trembled breaths turning shaky gasps total bliss… Finally elaborate head harness placed beautiful purple ball gag tightened locked tiny golden padlocks. Cheryl saw final artwork mirror closing eyes spectacle overwhelming control even wildest dreams never conceived such beautiful predicament absolute sensual entrapment loveliness. Nearly seven o’clock five hours turned her delectable bound goddess! No supper eaten yet fifteen-inch lacing kept hunger away. Caldwell walked twice around carefully inspecting details pulling tiny wrinkles here there satisfied nodded two mute servants. Returned large wheeled box containing Cheryl current attire fashioned doll package clear cover window showing contents same dark purple color dress pink filigreed Victorian accents pink satin lining inside. Caldwell led slowly to box turned her while mutes removed cover. Carefully placed within reassured fans supply fresh air ready presented! Proudly displayed box Cheryl felt beautiful desirable sensual irresistible even trying squirm pleasurably tight prison leather cloth inhaled as much pressed chest waist belly corset hard rev

Cheryl endures the relentless pressure. The container holding the exquisitely bound and attired doll, Cheryl, is carried to the grand reception hall. There, she waits in a row with other boxes containing young women ready for their debut presentation. After about half an hour, seventy or eighty guests enter the room, all dressed elegantly; the women are beautifully bound and adorned in their finest fetterments and frockeries. They walk past one by one, examining every package. An distinguished elderly couple, clearly wealthy, pause before Cheryl’s box. She hears them summon someone over. A young man of roughly her age appears and stops abruptly when he sees the vision behind the transparent plastic. His eyes are wide with astonishment, his jaw dropped in wonder. The older man seems to pose a question. Shaking off his stupor, the young man nods. Cheryl’s box is opened. She has been selected!

She senses that Vincent, as she learns he is called, feels both nervous and thrilled. His hand trembles slightly as he grasps the delicate gold chain linked to her collar. Supported by her maids, she steps out of the container. Through the tight restraints, she feels a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. Turning her head just so, she sees Caldwell smiling and nodding in approval. She takes this to mean she has secured an excellent catch.

Throughout the evening, Cheryl now grasps what the Duchess and others meant when they spoke of her power over men. Vincent seems mesmerized by the bound, tight-laced goddess at the end of his chain, as if the physical constraint on Cheryl translates into emotional bondage for him along that line. She catches sight of his parents—the older couple—nodding approvingly as they watch Vin and Cheryl together, particularly noting Vincent’s expression of nearly uncontainable awe. They too are highly pleased with his choice. And Cheryl realizes Vincent is now entirely under her sensual control.

Music begins to play. Still looking like a deer in headlights, Vincent looks at Cheryl expectantly; she understands the cue and nods. They start dancing, Cheryl moving exactly as Caldwell and her companions had instructed her earlier that day. Time slips away unnoticed, each dance more delightful than the last. Her eyes grow ever brighter with every passing moment.

The movements heighten her arousal; every small wiggle is transmitted and magnified through the corset’s firm grip, gradually building her excitement until finally, heart pounding, breaths coming short and quick, bright eyes rolling back into their sockets, and a soft moan escaping from beneath her purple ball gag, she passes out while achieving a powerful yet strictly contained orgasm. She falls into Vincent’s arms, trembling with a blissful smile on her face. Her final thoughts before sinking into dark oblivion are of complete fulfillment and total joy. Never had she felt so wonderful in all her life.

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This is where Cheryl awakens back in her torture chamber, still tied tightly to the table. Jenny.