Tombstone by Candace Smith

and approached her with a thin cane he had sitting by his chair.   Claudine eyed him nervously and she began leaking tears.   Oh, god.   Please Donald.   Please let me go.   His arm swung so quickly she heard the slap of the cane, but it was still several seconds before she felt the burning sting on her breasts just at the top of her areolas.   Claudine shrieked through her open mouth.   The next swipe hit the hardened tips of her nipples, and she wailed while Donald smiled at her.
    He laid the cane down and plucked an ice cube out of his drink.   Claudine whimpered while he rolled it across her burned nipples, until the pain numbed and the sensation began to arouse her.   “You are a passionate woman, so ready to respond to sins of the flesh.”   His voice was barely audible, as if he were talking to himself.
    Donald lowered her arms to her sides and pushed her legs together.   It was amazing how the plastic held her rigidly fixed but was curiously warm to his touch.   He decided that if things worked out he might have Tombstone eventually make her a coating that was pliable and allowed her some movement.   Not for a while, though.   Not until she was dependent and responsive only to him.   It was at that moment, looking deep into the aroused amber eyes, that Donald decided to ask Tombstone to change his contract restrictions and let him keep his son’s wife.
    Donald wrapped his arms under her chest and coaxed her legs forward until they were in back of his chair.   He bent her slightly forward and lowered his zipper.   She knew that he would find her wet.   She had been hungrily clasping her pussy since he had frozen her nipples.   Claudine prepared for his litany of insults, calling her the slut that she surely was.   Instead, he stroked through her juices and sighed.
    She could almost feel his hands wrap around her hips, and she hissed when he entered her.   He thrust gently, in a rocking motion.   When Claudine began moaning she heard him chuckle softly.   “Such a hot thing, you are.”   He came quickly after he felt her climax, then reached his hands around to her breasts and raised her.
    Donald did like whipping her breasts, but for the most part, Claudine remained by his side throughout the day being pampered in a strange way.   He personally washed her and fed her, stopping several times a day to thrust into one of her orifices but always making sure she had her own climax.   Sometimes, he made a game out of arousing her, trying to force her to break the rigid confines of the costume.   No matter how she struggled, shrieking with desire, the outfit never moved.
    For the Valentine display he had pierced her nipples, and chains threaded with black onyx and amber hearts hung from them.   The seams at the top of her thighs had been relaxed slightly so she could take short, stiff steps.   It was the first freedom of movement he had returned to her, and Donald enjoyed her ambitious gratitude.
    The Valentine Display at Tombstone’s club was a grandiose affair.   Donald watched Claudine’s fascinated stare at Jonathan’s erotic twins.   He had had collars embroidered with ‘Pleasure’ and ‘Pain’, though the terrified look on the black costumed twin’s face and the ecstasy scribed on the features of ‘Pleasure’ made the embroidery almost a mute, unnecessary endeavor.   Donald stroked the side of one breast and he whispered the story of what the irresponsible young women had done to Jonathan’s son.   He stroked the tears off the latex, beneath his mannequin’s eyes.   “You see , Claudine. Someday, you will understand your contribution to your circumstances.”
    Claudine could feel the pain in the room, from all of the mannequin owners.   She felt calmed that Donald had turned out to be a rather kind to her, and nothing as chaotic as the family with the twins.   Currently, Pain was squatting immobile on her feet, crouching down while one son held her hips and plunged