Laying on her back in bed once again, Amelia can only anticipate tomorrow. What's going to happen to her the next time she enters sir's domain and submits herself to them so willingly. Eagerly? Surely not, she has restraint. Discipline, maybe. 

"Ahaha... I'm a mess... I can't believe I let them..." Amelia runs a hand up her loose pyjama top and grits her teeth, feeling more intensity than usual from such light and innocuous touch. Like memory and fantasy meld into new sensation that runs out of her fingertips and coats her body in potent aphrodisiac. With rising need, Amelia pushes her legs open just as the stranger had, letting a hand rest over her sex as she remembers the way they cupped the doll's needy cunt. A question about jealously from the day before plays through her head and she exhales need, clamping thighs around her hand to let it go no further. Does she even know how to masturbate? Has she felt the need to learn before? 

When Amelia reaches the warehouse next morning and finds a pair of masturbating slaves kneeling on cushions in their cell, the girl wonders if she really is still in the realm of immersive reading. If this is all an ink blotted fantasy in reams of fiction and yearning. A hand wraps around her arm and she revels in the way that leather touch sinks into her flesh and makes her feel owned if only for a brief moment of weakness. 

"There you are, looking pretty as always. As you can see, these two have their tasks for the morning and so we can proceed straight to yours. Does that agree with you, Amy?" The redheaded stranger grins, tilting her chin up with their paddle and assessing the new desire present and naked in her eyes. Such an honest look even if she doesn't mean to give it. 

"I... yes, sir. And what would that be, if I may ask?" Amelia hopes with all her heart that she is not set the same task as these dolls, not because she'd be unwilling, not if it were her own fingers... but because she was reminded last night of her shameful inexperience in that regard.

"Dress up. No offence, girl, but you're not really getting a proper taste of things here dressed as you are. So guarded, it won't do. Don't worry I'm not demanding that you get naked for me, but we will be making adjustments." Again, their tone is non-negotiable and Amelia finds herself accepting this a little too easily, nodding tentatively. 

"That makes sense... I brought my notepad today, don't think I've forgotten what I'm here for." 

"That would imply you've figured it out yet. Don't be so hasty, learn to appreciate the journey. You'll get your grade, of that I'll make sure. Everybody here wants you to pass." Amelia finds herself being led to one of the private rooms she remembers peering into in days past, instructed to sit in a chair she had expected to be more comfortable. Discipline, again? 

"I'm not one of your empty headed sluts, I can pick up on your double entendres just fine." She sits down in the chair and two women she vaguely recognises from assembly enter the room, Amelia actually feels left out having missed it two days in a row now... perhaps she should show up earlier tomorrow? The women are bound in rope that hugs their curves, wearing patterned fishnets and chunky platform boots. Their spiked collars and black makeup give quite a gothic impression, one wrapped in black shibari to match while the other's is wine red for contrast. "I'll leave the room while they get you nice and dressed up for me, if it suits you, princess?"

It's the second time she's been called that by the stranger, though the first time felt sarcastic and this time... Amelia feels her skin flush with warmth, shaking her head instinctively. "No, it doesn't. I... might have more questions to ask you, the deadline date is fast approaching, you know? If I can let them see me naked why should it matter if you do?"

The stranger nods, seeming pleased in such a way that makes Amelia feel much the same. Like her contentment is reliant on the other's to be permitted. "Very good, girl. Then let's not waste any time in getting you ready." The stranger snaps their fingers and stirs their rope-bound slaves into action, each of them closing in on Amelia from the side and lifting up her dress. In the brief eclipse where her clothing is being pulled over her head and the air breathes against her torso, Amelia wonders what she's doing. The thought passes as quickly as the discarded fabric, her stranger folding it neatly with fondness and care in every fold. 

Amelia sits in just her underwear, staring at the redhead who runs eyes over her body as possessively as they had those smooth leather hands. It makes her feel shy again, a change that only makes the stranger stare more. The girl's panties are a plain black cotton, her chest held up in simple cream bralette. Unable to move her eyes from the strangers even when the other chooses to look at her anywhere but, Amelia feels fingers run over her shoulders to remove the straps of her bra and pull it up past her arms. Fingers hook into her panties and slowly slide them down, the girl letting them fall from her foot and onto the floor. Naked at long last, Amelia relishes the feeling. Somehow this feels less strange to her than if she had gotten herself naked for some guy at her college who she knew she never really liked. Nothing like that ever ended up happening and now Amelia thinks she knows why. 

She remembers she isn't completely naked, finger curling against her collar and making her feel something close to joy, she's at a loss for the right word. "Do I get to choose what they put me in?" Her dark brown eyes move around the room, so many different pieces of clothing to choose from she'd likely end up with analysis paralysis, not knowing what might please the stranger most. 

"Do you think you should?" More amusement in that voice, it's a tone she no longer takes issue with. 

"No, sir." Amelia sits back and finds herself relaxing, a part of her feeling happy that the other seems so interested in her body, eyes still drinking it in as she pretends not to check. 

Another snap and the slaves pick out a black lace balconette that you can see right through, finding the matching G-string and sliding it up her legs. Nylon stockings that end at the thighs are held up with garter belt and Amelia finds her feet sliding into platform heels she's not sure she can stand in. "Well, the collar certainly fits better now. I never asked you to keep wearing it, but since you've taken to it so well it's best to work the outfit around it."

"I... you..." Amelia bites her lip, deciding not to argue when she realises she's being teased again. She admits to herself the effectiveness of this exercise, feeling much more like a slave than she had before. As she begins to wonder if her guide intends to have her walk out of the room in only lingerie, heels and a collar... the shibari sisters dig out something suitable. A sleeveless leather dress with pleated miniskirt and and long zipper across the back that once done up makes her feel like a tight cut of meat. Amelia feels as though she's on a butcher's hook at least, or perhaps on display in the aisle, as the stranger steps close and holds her by the hips. "Not too tight? I like being able to see the shape of your body, Amy."

The girl gulps, then again, looking down and finding herself unable to lift her head until it's lifted for her in familiar grip. "Not too tight." She chokes, wondering why she's no longer so... in control. 

"That's a good girl. You're very committed to your thesis, stand proud. Go ahead and straighten your back, this slouched posture won't do in such clothes." The stranger snaps their fingers and once Amelia realises it's meant for her the girl stirs, blinking her eyes and doing as instructed hastily. A hand slides around her back and guides her into even better posture, rolling her shoulders and playfully lifting her chin once more. The stranger circles behind and corrects her legs next, making sure her feet are properly spaced and parallel. In this moment Amelia feels like a doll, like those girls in the cell by the entrance, and she's surprised how good it feels.