Allison looked at herself in the mirror on the door before her, a cuffed and collared prisoner dressed like a stripper, kneeling on the floor of some twisted sadist’s dungeon. It all still seemed so unreal to her, utterly impossible that this could be happening to her. She watched as her barely concealed breasts rose and fell, heaving gently as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Allison lowered her eyes as she cried gently, unable to bear the sight of herself like this. She hated the weakness that she felt within herself. She had always been a strong person, had never allowed herself to play the part of the victim. But a victim was what she was here, and she’d now compounded her helplessness by locking herself in the cuffs without a fight.
“It just wasn’t time to fight yet,” she whispered s
