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er what it was that Naomi Akimoto said to me. Those sessions were
still delightful, even in my current state, but for some reason it
seemed I was becoming enthralled with my present condition.
And there wasn't a thing I could do about it! * * * * * *
I strutted across the brightly lighted arena, hearing the
crowd murmur as Lasha, the Whip Woman, stood by Naomi's rack of
carefully measured, meticulously arranged whips and eyed me
carefully.
And I was quite an eyeful!. For starters, there was a leather
hood over my head that laced tightly, outlining my features and
form fitting my skull, allowing just two slits for the eyes and a
small black mesh near the mouth for breathing. Below this, I wore
a specially designed black leather blouse, one that lifted and
emphasized my proud breasts while totally concealing them, and
nipped in my waist delightfully.
Below this was my skirt, also of black leather, ruffled and
flaring playfully out from my legs so that it covered me only down
to about mid-thigh.
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