Purring Metallic Bimbo

Lora's tongue is pinned flat between two wooden chopsticks, stretched past her lips and lashed to the back of her head with her own pantyhose. The pantyhose cut into her cheeks, pulling everything tight, forcing that pink tongue to stay out while spit trails down her chin. Mandy and Allie circle her, eyes burning, metal clinking softly in their hands as they weigh where to clamp first. Blonde and brunette, both hungry, both smiling with the same cruel little curve to their mouths. They start with her nipples, alligator clips snapping cold and mean, then chain those clips to thick steel cuffs already locked around her wrists. More chains snake down, threading through rings bolted to the floor, yanking her arms behind her, shoulders pulled hard. Lora's body bows forward, ass out, and the two women still aren't finished. They lock cuffs around her ankles, spread her stance wide, then drop the chain links through floor rings until she can't close her legs or straighten her back. She whines around the chopsticks, the sound wet and broken, and they keep going, adding padlocks, adding links, turning every inch of her into a shivering metal trap. Every move she makes rattles. Every breath tugs. Mandy crouches by her face, brushes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and says nothing. Allie just watches, waiting for the next whimper.