Lost in Laminate

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<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YCe265K.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Time drifts by with each passing stack cloud. Torei, consumed by pleasure and its attendant dangers, does indeed await. Can you feel it calling? [[Take a deep breath, prospector. The AIs worked so hard on that oxygen.->Wake]] You've been here before, you need to [[LOAD GAME.->Load]]

Consciousness comes slowly, an interstellar drag engine spooling up after far too long unfired. Each revolution of the mind brings just a //bit// more to your senses. Craving for understanding is natural, but other symptoms tag along. Most readily? ''Pain.'' A headache that could snap the ferrotitanium guide line of the Way Up. (Set: $debt to 0) (Set: $Wardrobe to false) [[Wait... Way Up?->Elevator]] [[Where am I?]]

The memory is cloaked in a web of blackened synapses, lying at the very edge of the abyss that you recognize as your short term memory, but fragments do come through. You're seated upon a plush bench seat, hand pressed to the glass of the capsule roaring downward towards a planet that stretches beyond the horizon. Far less convenient then landing directly, but you know that isn't possible. Men defied the Gods of the this world once, but do so again at their own peril. This is the only way. [[Strange...where am I?->Where am I?]]

Your eyes open, as your mind grapples with a question so fundamental. The world is bleary but the data comes in, sharpening with every passing second. A ceiling. You're staring at a pristine white ceiling, the inner portion recessed, swirling etchings defining the boundary. The headache persists but your body doesn't register the same problems, and tries to rise. Only to fail, muscles suddenly straining. Through the lingering fog of your mind you look down, and the situation becomes clearer. You're laying on a bed, the sheets smooth and glossy, nothing like the silk and satins you're more familiar with. *Nude*. From your toes to the flare of your waist, up past a pert chest. And you're bound, arms and legs spread by the chains linking each to the corner posts of the bed. [[Consider the situation further.->The Mirror]] [[Forget that, struggle!]] [[Scream!]]

Instead of further physical efforts, your rational mind asserts itself. First things first: you //really// give your situation proper examination. Some of the details you already know. You're on a bed with peculiar, slick sheets. They're white, same as the ceiling above. And you're bound at wrist and ankle by simple cuffs. Looking around, the rest of the room shows a similar decor-- clean lines, smooth surfaces, a strictly modern aesthetic. An endtable beside the bed features a projected clock against the wall, reading ''GOOD MORNING''. Several other items rest there but they're above your head, only vaguely visible. It's the mirror visible across from the foot of the bed that truly gives perspective. In its silvered visage you see yourself, a woman bound lewdly upon the bed. Your hair is long and blonde, well-kept but disheveled, falling across your shoulders and down your back. A gag is visible as well, the white material covering the space from nose to chin like a panel. Between your teeth, the presence of a ball being lodged beneath is obvious. You're quite literally bound and gagged, all but helpless-- for a designated length of time, you realize. Hidden from your eyes, but visible in the reflection is a second projection from the endstand clock: ''Binding Release: 23/50 hours remaining.'' [[I've been here for over a day?->Mirror II]]

Your senses may still be reeling from revelation, but your muscles know what to do. Pulling hard, you struggle against the bindings keeping you upon the bed. The chains rattle, your cuffs pull just a bit tighter, but then... ...nothing. Despite your efforts, they do not give. You're left panting, but do get a look at the d-shaped rings to which the chains have been attached, built into each of the bed posts. A strange accessory, as if it were made for just this sort of situation. [[Perhaps I should consider the situation.->The Mirror]] [[Scream!]]

A high-pitched scream forms in your chest, rises up your throat-- and dies in a muffled //mmmph// as you suddenly realize that the cuffs were not the only binding you wore. Staring up at the ceiling you work your jaw, your tongue. The gag is smooth and ball-shaped, seated just behind your teeth. A further portion covers your mouth and wraps beneath your chin, a panel holding it in place. You're limited to muffled moans, and nothing more. [[I can still struggle!->Forget that, struggle!]] [[Perhaps I should consider things.->The Mirror]]

It appears so. You try to recall anything from that time period, but nothing comes. It's as if you've walked to the edge of the abyss, staring into an emptiness so vast, so terrifying. What had happened? How had you come to this? //Who are you?// That last bit at least pulls you back from the brink, escaping the inky darkness that proves to be only your //short// term memory. Holes are punched in anything further back then perhaps a week, but beyond that answers do come when queried. You're 26, female, born on the colony of Urzan Tor IV. Tor-Four, as the colloquialism went, was a backwater. You had escaped to greener pastures as soon as you could pull together enough for a ticket. You had entered the service of Steris Trans-Galactic, a major research and development firm. But you're hardly a scientist, no, you're what's known as a //prospector.// Not of mineral deposits, mind you, but of breakthroughs and technologies tucked away on the fringes of known space. With a lead and a briefcase, you've been rising through the ranks by coming back with deeds and contracts for all sorts of new discoveries. Backwaters like Tor-Four hold all sorts of interesting things, after all, but it takes a prospector to bring them to market. That's you. [[Then how the hell did I end up like THIS?->Mirror III]]

//Torei.// The name comes to you, but that's damn close to the black hole in your memories. Infamous among spacers, and those with an interest in the fringes. A lost world, only relatively recently put back on the map. A perverse world, known for the intensive sexuality that was its culture and main export, as well as the presence of widespread slavery. But a ''lucrative'' world, if one braved its dangers. Torei's strange history had left it with biomedical technology perhaps centuries ahead of anything available on the market, and a distinct need for all sorts of foreign inventions in turn. A prospector's dream, a whale of a catch, but terribly difficult to haul in. Torei had a thriving tourist culture, and besides a strict ban on planetside landings (thus the need for a space elevator descent), meeting with the locals was easy enough. Ringdoms circled the planet's equator, each a nation unto itself. Culturally similar of course, but varying widely between the tradionalist and suspicious antipodes and those near the elevator, who welcomed outsiders with opened hands-- always willing to trade. But Torei's humans did not hold the keys to their own planet, and they certainly did not offer much of their best tech. That only came from the poles. From the Gods. Mazos and Dahom. Far from civilization the twinned AIs ruled. Some Toreans called them Gods, others merely machines. Most fear them, and for good reason. Torean history speaks at length to the time before liberty, where the AIs ruled and humans served, little more than nameless cogs in a planetary machine. Endless suffering, torture, experimentation. But everyone knew they were the absent Kings of Torei. A majority of their subjects had escaped them, a war had ensued to confirm that fact, but they still held secrets. Technology... I came here to make a deal, that's clear. [[My deal... it's with them?->Mirror IV]]

No. You're not that foolish. Everything you knew about Torei came from the various Tourist's Primers available, but you had dismissed a venture as folly out of hand, too dangerous. Until a Torean-born human had contacted you, with an offer... That you can't fully remember. Again you had trended close to the holes in your memory, and this time fallen through. You distinctly recalled coming to the planet to make a deal, but the terms of it? Your contact? Gone. And now you have a more immediate concern: 23 hours of bondage to look forward to, it seems. That would clearly be unacceptable. What if someone walked in? Were you being held against your will? You need answers. You ''must'' escape. But how? Examining your bindings reveals them to be well constructed, solid pieces of work. They're not locked, but you have so little movement you couldn't even begin to undo them without having a hand free. Eyeing the d-rings holding your chains to the bed reveals one of them, that attached to your left hand cuff, to look a bit loose however. Perhaps you could work it free? The only other option is made apparent by the mirror, which allows you to both see yourself and the area around the bed itself. There appears to be a remote of some sort lying on the ground on the right side of your bed. It would take some time, and you don't know what it would accomplish, but the glossy sheet of the bed you're pinned to is quite heavy. If bunched up and pushed off, perhaps it could hit the largest button visible along the top. [[I will break that d-ring.->Ring I]] [[I will try to get that button.->Button I]]

Your bindings are taut, the range of movement allowed to your limbs quite limited indeed. But by shifting your wrist, swinging it between the tightest points of restraint, you are able to shift the ring back and forth. The metal is strong, but the screws holding it to the bed appear loose-- they certainly move with each shift of your hand that you manage. A few minutes of such work is rewarded by a fleck of steel falling away, but damn, this could take a long time. [[Keep at it.->Ring II]] [[Maybe I should try for the button?->Button I]]

You've settled on trying the button. A quick test confirms your hypothesis: the topmost sheet of the bed is slick and smooth, but your bare skin can shift it. With enough wriggling, it should bunch up towards your feet. Then a strategically placed knee should send it over. It will take some time, though. Perhaps struggling against your restraints would prove easier? [[I'll keep at this.->Button II]] [[Maybe I should try to break free.->Ring I]]

You keep at it. Working your hand back and forth, your other limbs occasionally pulling fruitlessly at your bindings as you work. Those don't give, and honestly you feel as if the weak point perhaps isn't so weak-- it also isn't budging. Ten minutes pass, and your arm is aching. [[Keep at it.->Ring III]] [[Maybe I should try for the button?->Button I]] (Set: $ring to 0)

(set: $ring to it +1) You keep working on the d-ring, back and forth, back and forth. Your arm hurts, and soon you've worked up a sweat. But every once in a while, you see a bit of metal pop out, or the screws shift just a bit. (if: $ring > 2)[Damn thing just doesn't want to give...] (if: $ring > 5)[You close your eyes, moaning into your gag as you continue pulling back and forth. You seem committed now, but have to wonder: how much harder could trying for that button be?] (if: $ring > 11)[You're really working it now. The gag prevents your panting, forcing your breathing to come solely from your nose, making it difficult to keep it up. It's been nearly an hour.] (if: $ring > 16)[You moan again, unable to feel your arm. Nearly an hour and a half has passed, yet you persist, arching your back as you pull hard against all your restraints at once... and with a //snap// the d-ring gives out. You're [[free!->Ring IV]]] [[Keep working the ring!->Ring III]] [[You could always try the button.->Button I]]

(set: $debt to it + 350) (set: $debtRing to true) The screws finally pull out, and with it your left arm and its attendant cuff suddenly pulling free. A rough patch is left in the wood of the bed's post, but with your newly won liberty it's not hard to begin undoing the other restraints. The cuffs follow, and before you know it you can reach over, pressing your palm against the self-release countdown. It flicks down to zero then disappears entirely, leaving only the time as you move to the edge of the bed. [[It's time to figure out what is going on.->LOOKING AROUND]]

(set: $button to it +1) You wriggling in your restraints, arching your back as you press your rear into the sheets, shifting them slightly. By pulling hard against all four of your restraints and repeating the maneuver, the sheets do indeed move. A bit. (if: $button > 1)[Progress is slow, but progress is easily marked. You can do this.] (if: $button > 2)[You swallow hard, taking a momentary break. The gag makes you drool, but the panel made sure it had nowhere else to go.] (if: $button > 3)[Keep at it, you're almost there.] (if: $button > 4)[With a final shift, the sheet pulls free, collected into a rough ball at the foot of the bed. All you need to do now is kick it over onto the floor.. and there! [[Success!->Button III]].] [[Keep at it.->Button II]] [[You tire of this, perhaps you can try to break free?->Ring II]]

Upon the mirror across the room, white letters appear: //Room Service Summons: Please Confirm?// Shit. They can't see you like this! Bound and helpless! But they could certainly free you... [[Confirm!->ButtonIV]] [[No, I'll break out myself!->Ring II]]

"Mmmhpgh!" You are still gagged after all. Straining against your bindings, you try to pull off the bed, as if that would make your words clearer. It doesn't. //Please Confirm.../// It's hopeless. The confirmation ticks on, an extra ellipsis added every few seconds. Your gagged moans clearly do not register as speech, and indeed it hardly could be classified as such. And yet... //Confirmation Timeout. Dispatching Room Service for Check.// [[Mmmph!-> Button V]]

The promised Room Service is announced by a polite knock on the door, followed by a feminine voice. "Ma'am? Your call device was activated, are you in need of service?" [[Mmmmmgph!->Button VI]] [[Stay quiet. When she leaves, I can try and free myself.->Button VIB]]

"Ah," the voice replies to your muffled greeting. "I see you are gagged. Two moans if you require my service, one if you do not." She is clearly well accustomed to such situations. [[Moan twice, for service!->Button VII]] [[Moan once, you will free yourself.->Button VIB]]

The sound of the woman outside the door fades, and with it any chance she could help you. Instead your attention must turn to the loosened d-ring. You've wasted quite a bit of time on the button, hopefully it won't hurt you latter on. (set: $debt to it + 500) (Set: $ring to 0) (set: $debtChangeEscape to true) [[Start working on the d-ring.->Button B]]

(set: $methelp to true) "Understood, I am entering now." The door opens, admitting a woman a few years younger then yourself, wearing a hotel worker's uniform-- but of an outlandish style and cut. Rendered in slick, glossy material much like your now rumpled bed sheet, the woman's uniform is utterly tight. Her pencil skirt hugs wide hips, while a corset embraces her midsection, allowing a violet bodice that emerges above. She's quite busty, and the purple material is semi-transparent, allowing a clear view of her pierced nipples. At least you're //both// a bit exposed, you consider, nevertheless blushing as the servant glances about the room. Considering your situation, her reaction is quite reserved-- she merely smiles brightly, hands clasping before her. Her wrists are linked by a chain between them, you notice, and a thick collar encircles her throat. "I see you are engaging in an extended period of self-bondage," she notes, looking pointedly at the countdown projected on the wall. "Given that your checkout time approaches, that seems unfortunate. I would hate to charge you additional fees." Her smile suggests she would in fact enjoy that. "To properly ascertain your service needs, we will need to remove your gag. I can do this, for a small fee of 200 credits. Please lift your chin if this is acceptable." [[It's not like you have a choice. Lift your chin.->Lift Chin]] [[Mmmpgh! (I need to pay!?)]]

(set: $debt to it + 200) "Excellent," the servant grins. "The 200 credit charge will bed added to your account. Now, allow me to assist." She approaches the side of the bed, placing one knee upon it to loom over you. It's impossible to ignore her chest made so visible beneath the violet material. Your gag is not locked, and removing it simply requires the necessary straps be undone. Pulling it free, a trail of drool lingers from the ball to your tongue before it snaps. Carefully the servant sets it aside, her gaze returning to you again. "Now, how may I assist?" [["Thank you, I need the rest of my restraints undone!"->She Unlocks]] [["I need answers!"]]

The girl's eyes twinkle. "We make every effort to ensure our guests enjoy their stay. Premature ending of bondage, self-imposed or otherwise, thus requires a small fee. We would hate for you to regret the loss of pleasure such an early end could induce, after all." Again she looks at the countdown, smiling. "Fifty hours is quite ambitious for an offworlder, ma'am. And you still have twenty two hours remaining. //Lucky...//" [[Fine, lift your chin as required.->Lift Chin]]

"I'm afraid that is not entirely within my capacity to give," she replies, gently pushing a bit of your blonde hair from your eyes. "We are a small establishment, and I will be required back at the front desk shortly. You will need to stop there to check out, so perhaps we can talk at length then?" She looks down the long expanse of your exposed body, her smile returning. "For now, would I be correct to assume you need your restraints to be undone?" [["Yes."->She Unlocks]]

The servant nods. "I understand. Once again, I am required to inform you that a charge to your account would be made to end your bondage early. Another 300 credits." [["Ugh, fine, just get me out!"]]

(set: $debt to it + 300) (set: $debtHelp to true) "Your total charge for this interaction is now (print: $debt) credits," she chimes, still smiling. We appreciate your business. One moment." Reaching up, she begins to undo your restraints, starting at your wrists. Freed, you're able to begin pulling off the cuffs themselves as she moves to your ankles. It takes only a few more moments for your ordeal to finally conclude. "Done," the servant concludes, rising from the bed to press her hand against the clock controls atop the nightstand. The self-unlock command rolls down to zero, then terminates in a flash of red. "Checkout time is less than an hour away," the servant continues. "Please collect your things and join me at the front counter when you are ready." She does not linger, exiting through the only door. You're left in her wake. Naked, perhaps ashamed, but freed." [[It's time to look around.->LOOKING AROUND]]

You move to the center of the room, turning in a slow circle as you look upon the scene of your short-term amnesia. You're on Torei, you came here to make a deal-- that's pretty much all you know. There has to be something here to fill in the gaps! The room itself is as white and pristine as you saw from your vantage upon the bed. Furnishings are few and far between, providing a slick, modern look. It also helps make your search much easier, allowing those few things that did not belong to stick out all the more clearly. [[The items on the nightstand, I will search those.->Hotel Nightstand]] [[There is a brochure of some sort on the table over there.->Hotel Table]] [[Perhaps turning on the TV will provide some information?->Hotel TV]] [[A bathroom is attached, I should explore that.->Hotel Bathroom]] (If: $unlockdoor and $memloss is true)[[[With your small collection of cards, you could now leave.->Leave Correct]]](else:)[[Forget this, I need to LEAVE NOW!->Hotel Leave]]

(set: $unlockdoor to true) The nightstand follows the general decorating rules whomever designed this room had landed upon: smooth lines, bright white, little extraneous decoration. Projected against the wall the clock still marked time, but your focus falls upon the four items below it. All are small rectangular cards, splayed in a fan-like fashion, but that's where the similarities end. The first is an Aekoran identification passcard, your own image printed upon the front. Various identifying features are noted underneath, alongside an expiration date of tomorrow. It appears your time on Torei had been drawing to an end. The most prominent component of the card, however, is the bright red lettering along the top: **FREEWOMB**. The second card is actually a ticket for an ascent of the planet's space elevator, the Way Up. Prepaid, and also dated for the following day. Only your name is listed. The third is a hotel keycard, obviously linked to your room. It's broken in half, the holostrip along the back missing a good chunk. By itself, this probably wouldn't work. The final card is more of an enigma. Rectangular and card like, the material is smooth and reflective. There are no words, nothing besides a black expanse that encapsulated the entire thing. Flipping it over, you recognize your own hand writing in a white pen: *'Tomorrow night, the deal is on. I can't...'* The words seem to sit uneasily upon the card, droplets of ink upon a midnight pond. And... is that movement? [[What's the Way Up, again?->Elevator II]] [[Examine the black card more closely->Black Card]]

The table is clinically white, like much of the room. Picking up the brochure, you see that it's for a hotel of some sort-- that it was for the very building in which you stand is made clear as soon as you recognize the decor of one of the rooms picture on the front. Apparently you're staying at Diarch's Choice, a small hotel located on the outskirts of Grand Aekora, the capital of the Ringdom of Aekora. Amenities include prompt room service, on-site complimentary Wardrobe devices, a wide selection of wines, and what's referred to as 'secure slave storage'. Mention of the Wardrobe machine at least perks your interest, even if the description confuses. It appears to be a public closet of some sort? At least it would improve upon your current nudity. It's outside, down the hallway and to the right. (Set: $Wardrobe to true) [[You should look around some more.->LOOKING AROUND]]

Retrieving the remote from the floor, this time you ignore the large red button along the top labeled //Room Service// and instead settle for a simpler option: //On.// The large mirror reveals itself to be the television as well once the silvery facade fades, replaced instead by a news channel. A primly dressed woman in glossy red form-fitting material smiles into the camera, a collar pulled tight around her throat boldly proclaiming her to be 'Property of TNN'. "Welcome back to the Torean News Network," she greets, as bright and chipper as her outfit. "As always, my name is Anna Karis and these are your top stories for the Ringdom of Aekora." The camera flickers, the canned introduction replaced by a recording of the same woman, sitting slightly differently. It must be presumed they produce customized programs for each region of Torei. "The Prime Markets are once again trending towards a record year, as imports from the elevator-adjacent Ringdoms continue to increase. First time indenture rates have increased by 3% among leading sectors, and forecasts expect the boom to only continue as travel to Torei expands further." [[Keep Watching->TV2]] [[Turn off the TV, and look elsewhere->LOOKING AROUND]]

Padding into the bathroom you're met with a small room, walls and ceiling covered in albaster tiles. A sonic shower, the sort that used compressed sound waves to pull dirt and grime from the body without water, occupies one corner. Another mirror covers the wall, while a small door of some sort is found opposite-- a sleeve of some sort caught in it! [[Finally, clothes!->Bath Chute]] [[You should really check yourself in the mirror.->Bath Mirror]] [[A quick shower would do you good.->Hotel Shower]] [[You decide to return to the larger room instead.->LOOKING AROUND]]

You make for the door, ready to leave whatever happened in this room behind. It's only upon approaching the door that you realize you're still very much nude, and who *knows* what awaits beyond that portal. Your room may be full of mysteries, but you had least had come to grips with it. A brash rush into the world beyond seems ill-advised. [[You are right, I'll look around again.->LOOKING AROUND]] [[No, I'm leaving NOW.->Early Exit]]

The woman shifts her papers, the cuffs upon her wrists glinting in the studio lights. "Moving on, expect at least another three days of sunshine for your local forecast. The trend from the polar AIs to reduce cloud production continues to result in an unnaturally clear spring, with some concern rising from the Lichen Belt regarding water shortages. Historical analysis has led experts to assure those affected that the AIs vary their production seemingly at random, but never enough to endanger crop yields..." [[Keep Watching->TV3]] [[Turn off the TV, and look elsewhere->LOOKING AROUND]]

Another shifting of the papers, as the chipper tone turns more serious. "And for our final item, Torei News Network would like to remind our viewers that the two week overlap between last year's Slave Codes and this year's revisions has ended. While most adjustments to the Codes are minor, of significance this year are those changes regarding assistance provided to runaway slaves: penalties up to and including enslavement have been doubled. Non-interaction clauses with polar Daemons have also been strengthened. By Diarchs' decree, this is Anna Karis for Torei News Network, signing off." A good bit of time has passed. (set: $debt to it + 200) (set: $debtTV to true) [[Turn off the TV, and look elsewhere->LOOKING AROUND]]

Moving to the door you grab the sleeve, the material synthetic wool, in a deep emerald color. Holding it so that it wouldn't slip away, you open the door, revealing a chute of some sort-- and the charred end of the sleeve, where it had once undoubtedly been a full shirt. You've found a garbage chute, you realize quickly. And probably the last evidence of your clothing. Did someone burn your clothing? Did you? Why would you do that? [[You wish you could remember.->Hotel Bathroom]]

Stepping up to the mirror, you lean in, examining your reflection with a discerning eye. Honestly... you could look much worse, especially for one suffering from such a case of short-term amnesia. Natural aesthetics certainly help. By any standard, you're quite beautiful. High cheekbones, full lips, a nose upturned just //so.// Your blonde hair is a bit all over the place, but the way it falls upon your shoulders and down your back remains alluring. Your eyes are piercing as well, so very green. And you're not hurt, of that you can be sure. Checking your nude form over, you look for puncture marks, wounds, anything to explain your lost memories. You find nothing, your skin smooth and unmolested. [[Hey look, is there something resting in the sink->Mem Loss]] [[There is nothing more to see here Step back.->Hotel Bathroom]]

You approach the shower stall, its frosted glass door opening with a smooth pull. It certainly will feel good to allow the machine to do its work. Stepping up to the small console that controls the shower, you realize the shortest recommended setting is for a good twenty minutes. Are you in a hurry to leave? [[Nope, let's do this.->Take Shower]] [[Yes! You better not.->Hotel Bathroom]]

(set: $debt to it + 500) (set: $debtShower to true) The feeling is nothing short of wonderful. Once the machine starts, the world beyond, the confusion, your lost memories, everything-- it all fades away. Replaced by a warm //hum//, the shower coaxing the dirt and grime from you, as readily as anything worrying. Time slips away as well, gliding away with each rolling vibration that emanates from the machine. But it cannot go forever, and indeed, the automated timer does eventually end. You spent a considerable bit of time, but you are refreshed-- it *must* be worth it. [[Return to the Bathroom->Hotel Bathroom]]

The door is locked. Shit. You really should have seen this coming. There must be a keycard around here somewhere. [[Panic solves nothing. Keep looking around.->LOOKING AROUND]]

The memory is cloaked in a web of blackened synapses, lying at the very edge of the abyss that you recognize as your short term memory, but fragments do come through. You're seated upon a plush bench seat, hand pressed to the glass of the capsule roaring downward towards a planet that stretches towards the horizon. Far less convenient then landing directly, but you know that isn't possible. Men defied the Gods of the this world once, but do so again at their own peril. This is the only way. [[Of course. Now that black card, is it moving?->Black Card]]

The surface of the black card shifts, a pond disturbed. Equally obsidian letters rise, hardly visible until you turn the card, utilizing its own glossy reflection to view what had arisen from the depthless deep. Words. //356 Cross Street, Grand Aekora. Dusk.// The words linger, but only momentarily. As readily as they had emerged, the letters eventually sink back into the abyss. Running your finger over the surface of the black card returns only the sensation of a smooth surface, unblemished besides your own comparably uncivilized scrawl. To call the experience eerie would be to understate the situation greatly. [[There is a story here, though. Focus. Put this all together.]]

Finally, you carefully hold the pieces of your keycard together. Pressing them to the door, a purple light briefly flashes and the door's lock audibly clicks. You're out. And still nude. Glancing back at your room, you know you were thorough. Whatever clothes you had come to Torei with, they're gone. Making for the front desk seems an obvious solution, if a bit embarrassing. Given the planet's reputation, certainly your situation could not be unique. You open the door and pass through, cards clutched in your hand. The hallway outside maintains the clean aesthetic your room had demonstrated, but the color scheme had changed-- here purple dominates, the floor a dark shade, the carpeting below something akin to periwinkle. Thankfully, the hallway is quiet, without a soul in sight. You look left, then right. (if: $Wardrobe is true)[[[You remember that mention of a 'Wardrobe Device' being somewhere nearby, out your door and to the right. Worth a try.->Wardrobe I]]] [[Light pours into a larger room visible at the end of the wall to your left. That has to be the front desk. Make for it.->NudeFront]] [[The way to your right appears to end abruptly further down the way, but you could still head that direction.->Wardrobe Alt]]

Competing narratives become apparent. On one hand, you have your ticket for the Way Up, and the expiration of your passcard. You must have been planning to leave tomorrow. On the other hand, the black card and your troubled white scrawl. The card had given a date and place, that's obvious. You're a prospector, this *must* have been the deal you came to make. The contact you could not recall, a meeting scheduled to acquire the technology you traveled all this way to acquire. But what of what you had written yourself? *'Tomorrow night, the deal is on. I can't...*' A warning? If only you could remember! And what of the predicament you had awoken to? Bound and gagged, perhaps by your own hand. With a self-release timer counting down, intended for tomorrow. That would mean you would have missed the meet for the deal, but would have given you enough time to make the trip back to the elevator. (if: $memloss is true)[The Mem-Burn you found in the bathroom provided further evidence of a concerted effort to prevent your attending the deal. Bound and gagged, forced to wait until tomorrow, unable to recall *anything*? You would have missed it for sure.] Had you tried to prevent yourself from making the deal? Why go to such lengths? (if: $memloss is true)[Answers do not come, but at least you have both portions of the keycard. Leaving your room is now possible.] [[Collect the cards, and move back towards the center of the room.->LOOKING AROUND]]

(set: $memloss to true) Reaching down, you indeed find something: a crumpled bit of packaging. Straightening out the cardboard, a smaller chunk of plastic slides out. You recognize it as a stereotypical hotel keycard, or at least a fragment of one. The holostrip along the back is broken, by itself it wouldn't function. It's the packaging that's more intriguing, however. *Mem-Burn*, it labels itself as you read the fine print aloud. "Guaranteed to suppress all memory of the past week, effective for several days. Results may vary. Intended for the temporary suppression of memories, not recommended for use more than once a month. Memories will return once active ingredients vacates user's system." The package is empty, but at least one part of your mystery situation becomes clear. This has to be why your short-term memory was little more then a gaping wound, black and empty, like a missing tooth. Why would you have done this to yourself? (If: $unlockdoor is true)[It had to be tied to the collection of cards you had found upon the nightstand. Bound and gagged, your memory wiped clean-- had you not broken free early, you would have undoubtedly missed the meeting the black card promised. Troubling. At the very least, you have both portions of the keycard now. Leaving your room is now possible.] [[There is nothing more to see here. Hold onto the keycard fragment, and step back.->Hotel Bathroom]]

The door you find is as undecorated as the rest, but it's label promises the clothing you so clearly need. *Wardrobe.* You also notice a small indicator below the handle, quietly proclaiming the room was *Unoccupied.* Perfect. Glancing once more down the hallway, your naked form passes through the portal as the door opens before you. If you were expecting something akin to a closet, what you enter into leaves you sorely disappointed. There are no shelves, no hangings racks with textiles and outfits. Only a sterile room greets you, quite claustrophobic given how small it is, and reminding you a bit of a bathroom given the tiles on the walls and a drain visible on the floor. Several of the tiles are oddly shaped, the gap between them and their neighbors larger. On the far wall, a touch-screen panel flickers to life. *Welcome to this Wardrobe Device. Please approach for ocular scan and identification.* [[Strange. Examine one of the oddly shaped tiles.->Tile Check]] [[Approach the touch-screen panel.->Wardrobe II]]

(set: $methelp2 to true) (set: $debt to it + 300) (set: $debtFrontNude to true) Advancing quickly down the hallway, you approach a clear glass window, a door set into it. It's hard not to expect another setback as you give the door's handle a yank, that would just be your luck, but it swings open with only the barest effort. Passing through subjects you to natural light for the first time since your awakening, an experience that leaves you dazed and blinking. Your eyes do eventually adapt, revealing a cozy room, complete with a woman seated behind a semi-transparent desk. (if: $methelp is true)[The violet, semi-transparent top-- that smile, you've met this woman before. It's the same servant who had answered your call for room service, and her perchant for amused looks clearly had not left her. The chain run between her wrists clinks softly as she lifts them, a gesture of greeting set alongside another appraising look of your nude body. "Ah, hello again, Ma'am. I see you are still enjoying yourself, but I am required to inform you that Aekora in general and this establishment in particular does feature robust public decency laws and attendant fines. Your violation has been noted. We can discuss that and whatever else you desire further, but perhaps first you would like to get dressed? There is a Wardrobe device back down the way you came, past your room."](else:)[The woman is a few years younger then yourself, wearing a hotel worker's uniform-- but of an outlandish style and cut. Rendered in slick, glossy material, the woman's uniform is utterly tight. Her pencil skirt hugs wide hips, while a corset embraces her midsection, allowing a violet bodice that emerges above. She's quite busty, and the purple material is semi-transparent, allowing a clear view of her pierced nipples. Her brightly painted lips open as she greets you. "Good day, Ma'am. I am required to inform you that Aekora in general and this establishment in particular does feature robust public decency laws and attendant fines. Your violation has been noted. We can discuss that and whatever else you desire further, but perhaps first you would like to get dressed? There is a Wardrobe device back down the way you came, past your room."] [["U-Uh, right..." Find that Wardrobe.->Wardrobe I]]

Exploring down the darker portion of the corridor, you pass several more doors, each numbered in the same manner as the one you just left. Obviously further hotel rooms. Reaching the end where the hallway ends at a blank wall, you're just about to turn around cursing your foolishness when you realize the final door is labeled differently. Instead of a number, it features a label: *Wardrobe.* [[Finally, some clothes! Enter the door.->Wardrobe I]] [[I shouldn't be exploring, not in the nude! I should try and find that front desk. Head back down the hallway.->NudeFront]]

Ignoring the bright glow of the panel nearby, you instead approach one of the larger tiles built into the sidewall. It's shaped like a trapezoid, a far cry from the squares that surround it. Pressing your hand against it, you feel a bit of movement, as if the entire thing was designed to perhaps slide out or in on command. Given that a half dozen other strangely shaped tiles can be counted at a quick glance, you feel a slight chill run down your spine. Just what was this tiny room intended for? [[It's time to check that touch display.->Wardrobe II]] [[I'm getting the hell out of here.->Wardrobe Bad Exit]]

Crossing the room isn't much of an effort, you can barely manage a step before bumping up against the wall opposite. The bright display screen greets you with a sudden flash, your eyes watering and several moments of frantic blinking required before you can look again at the small screen. *Thank you for staying at Diarch's Choice Hotel. This is a Class III Laminate Wardrobe Device, and is capable of manufacturing from custom ROMs of a Class III nature. If you have a custom ROM you wish to utilize, please insert your clip now.* It waits several seconds, the final line of instruction blinking. Once it becomes apparent you barely have an understanding of what it meant, much less a 'custom ROM', the machine continues. *You have not chosen to utilize a custom ROM. Would you like to browse our preallocated assortment of available laminate outfits?* [[Yes, finally! Outfits! Clothes! Select that.->Wardrobe III]] [[I think... maybe I should be getting out of here. Make for the door.->Wardrobe Bad Exit]]

You bite down on your fear, but cannot shake the *flight* reaction your instincts settle upon. Turning around in the small, stall-like room, you reach for the stainless steel door handle... and it doesn't turn. The display panel on the far wall momentarily changes, providing an explanation as you try not to panic: *Nudity detected. Aekoran law requires all slaves and women of freewomb status meet basic decency considerations before departure. Please explore this Wardrobe device's catalog at your convenience, and select a complimentary free design of your choice!* The cheery message retreats, and you're left without much of a choice. [[Return to the display screen.->Wardrobe II]]

*You have selected to browse our pre-allocated catalog,* the screen informs you. *All purchases are final. Wardrobe oufits are guaranteed under normal use-conditions for a period of 24 hours from time of application. Please remember to keep Torei clean, and properly recycle any hard-formed accessories at any other Wardrobe device.* The text slides upwards, replaced by a message up top and five tantalizing options listed below it. Your Diarch's Choice balance is currently: negative (print: $debt) credits. Account balances may be discussed at the front desk, and must be zeroed out before leaving the premises. Please select an oufit for further information: (set: $Slave to false)(set: $Blue to false)(set: $Smoke to false)(set: $Sec to false)(set: $Brand to false)(set: $IsSlave to false)(set: $Nun to false) [[Classic 8-Point Catsuit, Metallic Blue (Free!)->Blue Cat]] [[Classic Smoke Grey Catsuit and Harness (Free!)->Smoke Cat]] [[Branded Ballet Catsuit, Advertisement-Suported (-500 credits if worn at least ten hours)->Branded Cat]] [[Sexretarial Delight, (+500 credit fee)->Sec Cat]] [[Slave-Rated Enclosure Suit, (+1500 credit fee)->Slave Cat]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/UD5UqLx.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> The screen displays a model wearing the selected outfit. It's sleek, form-fitting, and rendered entirely in a material labeled as *laminate*. Even in the simulated light, the design seems to sparkle with the metallic hues embedded in the glossy material. Black gloves and ankle-high boots are visble as well, the later featuring five-inch stilleto heels. The '7-point' descriptor from the previous menu is described as indicating the inclusion of seven black laminate bondage-ready accessories. Two wrist cuffs, two bicep cuffs, two ankle cuffs, the belt around the waist, and a collar around the neck. Matching makeup is include, and the cost is listed as FREE. A seperate warning lists the various restraints as "time-locked". [[This one will have to do. At least it's free? Confirm your order.->Blue Confirm]] [[This isn't the selection for me, go back to the main menu.->Wardrobe III]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/WEdo76r.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> The screen displays a model wearing the selected outfit. It's sleek, form-fitting, and rendered entirely in a material labeled as *laminate*. The suit is also clearly semi-transparent, the thickened black strip between the legs that contained a zipper providing a modicum of decency, but it's hard to imagine wearing something from throat to toes that covered *less.* Accessories are listed as a set of black wrist-gloves, five inch heeled stiletto boots, and the pictured upper body harness, waist belt, and thigh cuffs. Those last three are marked as 'restraint ready'. Matching makeup is included, and the cost is listed as FREE. A seperate warning lists the various restraints as "time-locked". [[This one will have to do. At least it's free? Confirm your order.->Smoke Confirm]] [[This isn't the selection for me, go back to the main menu.->Wardrobe III]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/vaDhUa4.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> The screen displays a model wearing the selected outfit. It's sleek, form-fitting, and rendered entirely in a material labeled as *laminate*. The primary coloration is black, but Torean-script words are boldly emblazoned along the arms and thighs. Translation indicates the name brand of a mid-tier Torean slave trading firm, as well as inviting others to 'submit to advert-wear to earn credits!' It appears terribly degrading. Accesories are listed as the pictured corset, the design featuring 'real steel' boning custom-measured to both fit the wearer and match brand requirements, as well as the pictured shoes. Those are labeled as 'ballet', and are clearly of a design that would make even standing upright a challenge-- much less walking! Matching makeup is included, and the display is quick to remind you that wearing this outfit would automatically award 500 credits to your account. A seperate warning lists the various restraints as "time-locked". [[I'm not looking forward to those shoes, but this is the smart financial choice. Confirm this selection->Brand Confirm]] [[I can't wear those shoes! Go back to the main menu.->Wardrobe III]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/mEoSzB3.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> The screen displays a model wearing the selected outfit. It's sleek, form-fitting, and rendered entirely in a material labeled as *laminate*. Unlike some of the other available options, this design is at least somewhat comparable to offworld norms-- if one ignored the glossy material used, and tight cut of the shirt above. Accessories are listed as the pictured pair of four inch open-front pumps, and the peplum skirt around the waist. Matching makeup is include, and the cost is listed as being 500 additional credits. [[It's certainly the most normal, if a bit pricy. Confirm this choice.->Sec Confirm]] [[This isn't the selection for me, go back to the main menu.->Wardrobe III]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7hkuAc4.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> The screen displays several models wearing the selected outfit, their uniformity only broken by their individual physical proportions. It's sleek, form-fitting, and rendered entirely in a material labeled as *laminate*. Midnight black and clearly uncomfortable to wear, the oufits nevertheless spark something deep within your subconscious. A lost memory, perhaps? No matter how much you pull at that strand, nothing surfaces. Flashing brightly, a warning is appended to this outfit: *This is a standardized Slave-Rated Wardrobe outfit, as described in the Aekoran Slave Codes, Chapter 812, subsection 10. Wearing this uniform will subject all Slaves to High Protocol Laws as described in the Aekoran Slave Code, Chapter 679. Freewombs wearing this uniform will be subjected to portions of the Slave Code, and certain liberties may be revoked.* Accessories are listed as the pictured corset, heels, regulation mask, posture collar, and (non-pictured) inserts. The corset is noted as featuring 'real steel' boning, and is custom-measured to match standard Torean expectations of functional corsetry. So too does the posture collar proudly proclaim its core as beein 'real steel', as well as meeting all Aekoran slave law requirements. The heels are listed as six inches in height, with one inch platforms. The mask is simply described as rated for Torean storms, as well as regulating oxygen intake. And the inserts? Those are described as front and rear installation, custom-molded for maximum stimulation. All devices feature 10 hour self-release locks. Makeup is included as well, while the price is listed as requiring an extra 1,500 credit fee. You absolutely cannot understand why anyone would pay *more* for such things to be inflicted upon them. Yet looking back up at those models, perhaps there is something that yearns within, to add a fifth uniformally adorned and restrained woman to that lineup... [[You're not sure why... but this calls to you. You hand shakes as you make for the Confirmation button...->Slave Confirm]] [[Why would I chose to subject myself to all of that!? Go back to the main menu.->Wardrobe III]]

*Order... Confirmed. Enjoy.* The display winks out of existence, and for the briefest of moments you are left to ponder your decision. Your revery is broken by the quiet whirl of machines moving, however, as you notice the various strangely shaped tiles along the walls kicking out. Appendages emerge, mechanical arms of several different kinds. You don't have time to catalog them, hell, you barely have time to gasp before they seize you. At wrist and ankle, and around the throat, padded rings snap against and then around your soft flesh. Then the grip, legs forced apart as your arms are lifted above your head. Had they not also supported, you would have certainly fallen. [["What the hell!? Get these off of me!"->Resist Blue]] [[Keep your cool. Wait it out.->Blue Confirm2]]

*Order... Confirmed. Enjoy.* The display winks out of existence, and for the briefest of moments you are left to ponder your decision. Your revery is broken by the quiet whirl of machines moving, however, as you notice the various strangely shaped tiles along the walls kicking out. Appendages emerge, mechanical arms of several different kinds. You don't have time to catalog them, hell, you barely have time to gasp before they seize you. At wrist and ankle, and around the throat, padded rings snap against and then around your soft flesh. Then the grip, legs forced apart as your arms are lifted above your head. Had they not also supported, you would have certainly fallen. [["What the hell!? Get these off of me!"->Resist Smoke]] [[Keep your cool. Wait it out.->Smoke Confirm2]]

*Order... Confirmed. Enjoy.* The display winks out of existence, and for the briefest of moments you are left to ponder your decision. Your revery is broken by the quiet whirl of machines moving, however, as you notice the various strangely shaped tiles along the walls kicking out. Appendages emerge, mechanical arms of several different kinds. You don't have time to catalog them, hell, you barely have time to gasp before they seize you. At wrist and ankle, and around the throat, padded rings snap against and then around your soft flesh. Then the grip, legs forced apart as your arms are lifted above your head. Had they not also supported, you would have certainly fallen. (set: $debt to it - 500) (set: $debtBrand to true) [["What the hell!? Get these off of me!"->Brand Resist]] [[Keep your cool. Wait it out.->Brand Confirm2]]

*Order... Confirmed. Enjoy.* The display winks out of existence, and for the briefest of moments you are left to ponder your decision. Your revery is broken by the quiet whirl of machines moving, however, as you notice the various strangely shaped tiles along the walls kicking out. Appendages emerge, mechanical arms of several different kinds. You don't have time to catalog them, hell, you barely have time to gasp before they seize you. At wrist and ankle, and around the throat, padded rings snap against and then around your soft flesh. Then the grip, legs forced apart as your arms are lifted above your head. Had they not also supported, you would have certainly fallen. (set: $debt to it + 500) (set: $debtSec to true) [["What the hell!? Get these off of me!"->Resist Sec]] [[Keep your cool. Wait it out.->Sec Confirm2]]

*Order... Confirmed. Assume the position.* The display winks out of existence, and for the briefest of moments you are left to ponder your decision. Your revery is broken by the quiet whirl of machines moving, however, as you notice the various strangely shaped tiles along the walls kicking out. Appendages emerge, mechanical arms of several different kinds. You don't have time to catalog them, hell, you barely have time to gasp before they seize you. At wrist and ankle, and around the throat, padded rings snap against and then around your soft flesh. Then the grip, legs forced apart as your arms are lifted above your head. Had they not also supported, you would have certainly fallen. (set: $debt to it + 1500) (set: $debtSlave to true) [["What the hell!? Get these off of me!"->Resist Slave]] [[Keep your cool. Wait it out.->Slave Confirm2]]

You pull against the restraining arms, eyes wide as other devices emerge from the walls. Compared to your earlier experience on your own bed, these at least have some give-- your first yank of the arm nearly sends you tumbling over, but the arm momentarily loses grip on you entirely. This *can* be escaped! If not for the arm behind you, waiting silently. You do not see it, but you certainly *feel* the sudden snap of electricty that bursts upon your rear, pain receptors announcing the experience with a unified yelp that matches the sound that emerges from your own lips. *REMAIN STILL.* The display had returned to life to deliver the command, the cold steel of what you can only imagine to be a cattle prod still poised against her buttocks. You take a deep breath... and settle back as the arm restraint returns. *Minor damage has been recorded to Arm 5-L-6. A 200 credit charge has been made to your account.* (set: $debt to it + 200) (set: $debtResist to true) [[Well, that didn't work.->Blue Confirm2]]

The urge is there to close your eyes, as if ignorance could prevent what was about to occur. But your confidence holds, allowing you the only seat in the house as the show begins. Further mechanical arms and implements emerge, the largest being a ring wide enough that it barely fit the small room. It hovers above you, a far too large halo, before the device descends. Nozzles built into the ring emit a pungent substance as soon as it descends past your neck. For a moment you think it paint, and it does adhere like the stuff, but the sensation is fleeting-- as following the emitters a white-light laser passes over the freshly applied material, and it flash-cools. What had been a thick spray is now a thin, slick, glossy material. Cold upon your skin, but already your body is warming it up. Torei's all but sacred material, its most readily available substance: **laminate.** Thus your metallic blue suit is quiet literally printed on, the ring descending bit by bit, rendering soft flesh into equally soft but so very *different* laminate. Secondary arms follow it down, providing spot treatment along seams and friction points-- although often the effect is for merely aesthetic purposes. Sometimes that takes the form of a second application of laminate, other times it lingers to produce something more substantial-- such as the zipper between your legs, the tiny metal components pre-formed and merely placed by the rapid-fire staccato movements of a particuarly agile mechanized arm. You're given no time to rest as the base layer concludes, the ring rapidly ascending as other arms move into the space to begin work on your accessories. Your black gloves are printed, while a longer period is required for the Wardrobe to build up the necessary thickness required of your eight points of restraint. Those are affixed at ankle, wrist, bicep, waist, and throat. Again the metal hardpoints are installed last, emerging fully formed from hidden storage components. A far less expensive option then flash-casting steel. The final componenent of your outfit comes with the sensation of your own feet rising, the sensation unequal and focused primarily at your heel. Without the restraint arms you would have toppled over, but they hold you tight, tall heels being extruded into place. Black laminate follows, coating your feet and providing the anchor on which laces are quickly assembled. Almost as an afterthought, the promised makeup is applied last. Mechanical arms seize your head, holding it tight as nozzles approach your face. A quick blast of air instinctively causes your eyes to close, and in that brief moment the Wardrobe does its work. Your eyelids have been darkened, the corners twinkling with flecks of metallic blue to match your suit. Pores and blemishes have been rendered impotent as well, while your cheekbones have been highlighted. And your lips are now a dark blue, the white of your teeth blinding against them as you gasp slightly. Then, with a final flash of white light and a conclusive hiss, the armatures withdraw. [["Wow."->Blue III]] [["That was... incredible."->Blue III]] [[That was **terrifying!**"->Blue III]]

The urge is there to close your eyes, as if ignorance could prevent what was about to occur. But your confidence holds, allowing you the only seat in the house as the show begins. Further mechanical arms and implements emerge, the largest being a ring wide enough that it barely fit the small room. It hovers above you, a far too large halo, before the device descends. Nozzles built into the ring emit a pungent substance as soon as it descends past your neck. For a moment you think it paint, and it does adhere like the stuff, but the sensation is fleeting-- as following the emitters a white-light laser passes over the freshly applied material, and it flash-cools. What had been a thick spray is now a thin, slick, glossy material. Cold upon your skin, but already your body is warming it up. Torei's all but sacred material, its most readily available substance: **laminate.** Thus your suit is quiet literally printed on, first applying inky black but growing semi-transparent (and thus *smokey*) once flash-cooled. The ring descending bit by bit, rendering soft flesh into equally soft but so very *different* laminate. Secondary arms follow it down, providing spot treatment along seams and friction points-- although often the effect is for merely aesthetic purposes. Sometimes that takes the form of a second application of laminate, other times it lingers to produce something more substantial-- such as the black strip and zipper between your legs, the tiny metal components pre-formed and merely placed by the rapid-fire staccato movements of a particuarly agile mechanized arm. You're given no time to rest as the base layer concludes, the ring rapidly ascending as other arms move into the space to begin work on your accessories. Your black gloves are printed, while a longer period is required for the Wardrobe to build up the necessary thickness required of your thigh cuffs, belt and harness. The last seems far too lose, but another pass of the setting laser causes the material to constrict hugging tight to your shoulders and the space below your chest. Again the metal hardpoints are installed last, emerging fully formed from hidden storage components. A far less expensive option then flash-casting steel. The final componenent of your outfit comes with the sensation of your own feet rising, the sensation unequal and focused primarily at your heel. Without the restraint arms you would have toppled over, but they hold you tight, tall heels being extruded into place. Black laminate follows, coating your feet and providing the anchor on which laces are quickly assembled. Almost as an afterthought, the promised makeup is applied last. Mechanical arms seize your head, holding it tight as nozzles approach your face. A quick blast of air instinctively causes your eyes to close, and in that brief moment the Wardrobe does its work. Your eyelids have been substantially darkened, stylish wingtips form at the outer edges. Pores and blemishes have been rendered impotent as well, while your cheekbones have been highlighted. And your lips are now a dark black, the white of your teeth blinding against them as you gasp slightly. Then, with a final flash of white light and a conclusive hiss, the armatures withdraw. [["Wow."->Smoke III]] [["The transparency is kind of... eye catching?"->Smoke III]] [[That was **terrifying!**"->Smoke III]]

The urge is there to close your eyes, as if ignorance could prevent what was about to occur. But your confidence holds, allowing you the only seat in the house as the show begins. Further mechanical arms and implements emerge, the largest being a ring wide enough that it barely fit the small room. It hovers above you, a far too large halo, before the device descends. Nozzles built into the ring emit a pungent substance as soon as it descends past your neck. For a moment you think it paint, and it does adhere like the stuff, but the sensation is fleeting-- as following the emitters a white-light laser passes over the freshly applied material, and it flash-cools. What had been a thick spray is now a thin, slick, glossy material. Cold upon your skin, but already your body is warming it up. Torei's all but sacred material, its most readily available substance: **laminate.** Thus your suit is quiet literally printed on, the base layer a solid midnight black. The ring descends bit by bit, rendering soft flesh into equally soft but so very *different* laminate. Secondary arms follow it down, providing spot treatment along seams and friction points-- although most of their effort is focused upon the design work of the advertisements and designs now intended to grace your body. Bold lines run from the white ring around the suit's collar, down your shoulders. Other similar designs are placed upon your biceps and near the knee. The largest are those on your hips (blocky letters spelling out a slaving firm's name), your chest (which features their vaguely triangular logo), and your back (which encourages others to 'submit to advert-wear today!). A final arm lingers between your legs, working on the zipper located there, the tiny metal components pre-formed and merely placed by the rapid-fire staccato movements of a particuarly agile mechanized arm. You're given no time to rest as the base layer concludes, the ring rapidly ascending as other arms move into the space to begin work on the most intensive component of your outfit: the corset. Several times the arms work along your midsection, printing in thick black material, before pre-forged strips of steel emerge. Those would be the bones that ensured a corset could trim the waist effectively, and once submerged into the thick material a final flash of light sets the material. Its not until synthetic lacing is carefully worked in a pattern through the holes along your back that the device actually begins to function, however. With every tug it grows tighter, never painful, but definitely uncomfortable. By the time the Wardrobe concludes, your chest is thrust out in response, while your back is straight and breathing takes some effort. The final componenent of your outfit comes with the sensation of your own feet rising, the sensation unequal and focused entirely at your heel. Without the restraint arms you would have toppled over, but they hold you tight, towering stilleto heels being extruded into place. Black laminate follows, coating your feet and providing the anchor on which laces are quickly assembled. You are now permanently *en pointe*, or as anyone would immediately notice: on your toes. Almost as an afterthought, the promised makeup is applied last. Mechanical arms seize your head, holding it tight as nozzles approach your face. A quick blast of air instinctively causes your eyes to close, and in that brief moment the Wardrobe does its work. Your eyelids have been darkened and your eyelashes extending, producing an alluring effect. Pores and blemishes have been rendered impotent as well, while your cheekbones have been highlighted. And your lips are now a warm red coloration, the triangular logo on your chest repeated in miniature at the center of your bottom lip. Then, with a final flash of white light and a conclusive hiss, the armatures withdraw. [["Wow."->Brand III]] [["I look like a glossy billboard!"->Brand III]] [[That was **terrifying!**"->Brand III]]

The urge is there to close your eyes, as if ignorance could prevent what was about to occur. But your confidence holds, allowing you the only seat in the house as the show begins. Further mechanical arms and implements emerge, the largest being a ring wide enough that it barely fit the small room. It hovers above you, a far too large halo, before the device descends. Nozzles built into the ring emit a pungent substance as soon as it descends past your neck. For a moment you think it paint, and it does adhere like the stuff, but the sensation is fleeting-- as following the emitters a white-light laser passes over the freshly applied material, and it flash-cools. What had been a thick spray is now a thin, slick, glossy material. Cold upon your skin, but already your body is warming it up. Torei's all but sacred material, its most readily available substance: **laminate.** Thus your outfit is quiet literally printed on, first applying bright white but transitioning to an equally vibrant shade of red as it passes your waist and forms a stylish pencil skirt. The ring descending bit by bit, rendering soft flesh into equally soft but so very *different* laminate. Secondary arms follow it down, providing spot treatment along seams and friction points-- although often the effect is for merely aesthetic purposes. Sometimes that takes the form of a second application of laminate, other times it lingers to produce something more substantial-- such as the small folded collar just beneath your chin, or the buttons that almost immediately strain to keep your bust constained by your bodice. You're given no time to rest as the base layer concludes, the ring rapidly ascending as other arms move into the space to begin work on your accessories. The peplum skirt you saw pictured is thus formed, starting with the belt at your waist. Small pre-forged rivets are sunk into the still molton laminate before it is sealed, as is the belt loop that is seated directly over your naval. Still held in place, small arms flair the laminate that extends over your rear, achieving the look most of the galaxy would label as *slutty* but Torei saw as merely coquettish. The final componenent of your outfit comes with the sensation of your own feet rising, the sensation unequal and focused primarily at your heel. Without the restraint arms you would have toppled over, but they hold you tight, tall heels being extruded into place. More red laminate follows, coating your feet excepting the stylish hole at the very front. Almost as an afterthought, the promised makeup is applied last. Mechanical arms seize your head, holding it tight as nozzles approach your face. A quick blast of air instinctively causes your eyes to close, and in that brief moment the Wardrobe does its work. Your eyelids have been darkened, a crimson secondary coat added that flashed only when light slid across it. Pores and blemishes have been rendered impotent as well, while your cheekbones have been highlighted. And your lips are now a poignant, inviting red. Then, with a final flash of white light and a conclusive hiss, the armatures withdraw. [["Wow."->Sec III]] [["At least its... vaguely office-ready?"->Sec III]] [[That was **terrifying!**"->Sec III]]

The urge is there to close your eyes, as if ignorance could prevent what was about to occur. Why *had* you chosen the most expensive, most intensive option? But your confidence holds, allowing you the only seat in the house as the show begins. Further mechanical arms and implements emerge, the largest being a ring wide enough that it barely fit the small room. It hovers above you, a far too large halo, waiting only for an attendant arm to strategically place your blonde hair before the device descends. Nozzles built into the ring emit a pungent substance as soon as it descends past the crown of your head. For a moment you think it paint, and it does adhere like the stuff, but the sensation is fleeting-- as following the emitters a white-light laser passes over the freshly applied material, and it flash-cools. What had been a thick spray is now a thin, slick, glossy material. Holes at your mouth, nose, and eyes are quickly excised. Cold upon your skin, but already your body is warming it up. Torei's all but sacred material, its most readily available substance: **laminate.** Thus your suit is quiet literally printed on, the base layer a solid midnight black. The ring descends bit by bit, rendering soft flesh into equally soft but so very *different* laminate. Secondary arms follow it down, providing spot treatment along seams and friction points-- although often the effect is for merely aesthetic purposes. Sometimes that takes the form of a second application of laminate, other times it lingers to produce something more substantial-- such as the zipper between your legs, the tiny metal components pre-formed and merely placed by the rapid-fire staccato movements of a particuarly agile mechanized arm. You're given no time to rest as the base layer concludes, the ring rapidly ascending as other arms move into the space to begin work on the most intensive component of your outfit: the corset. Several times the arms work along your midsection, printing in thick black material, before pre-forged strips of steel emerge. Those would be the bones that ensured a corset could trim the waist effectively, and once submerged into the thick material a final flash of light sets the material. Its not until synthetic lacing is carefully worked in a pattern through the holes along your back that the device actually begins to function, however. With every tug it grows tighter, never painful, but definitely uncomfortable. By the time the Wardrobe concludes, your chest is thrust out in response, while your back is straight and breathing takes some effort. Given the intended production of a full scale regulation mask, the promised makeup is applied next. Mechanical arms seize your head, holding it tight as nozzles approach your face. A quick blast of air instinctively causes your eyes to close, and in that brief moment the Wardrobe does its work. Your eyelids have been darkened and your eyelashes extended, producing an alluring effect. And your lips are now a bright red coloration, an interesting detail given what comes next. That would be your mask, listed for *breath regulation*. You already have been provided with a thin hood much akin to the rest of your catsuit, but this secondary mask is much thicker, several armatures working together to forge it upon your face. A handful of metal components are integrated as well, but your field of vision had already been restricted enough that you barely notice. Indeed, before you know it a curved glass panel is being placed just before your eyes, the laminate seals along the edge flash-cooling. Your next breath, the first within your new enclosed environment, is thus harder. *Much* harder. You gasp, trying to suck in enough oxygen-- only for your corset's constriction to assert itself. It's a devious combination, one you would have almost certainly cursed had not the machine (and thus your own focus) already shifted elsewhere. Several attending arms move back up to your throat, casting thick laminate in yet another layer until several steel segments (much like those trimming your waist) are sunk into the material. The Wardrobe was ensuring your head remained up, but you're hit with the immediate sensation that was no longer necessary-- the collar would ensure your posture going forward. Yet another componenent of your outfit comes with the sensation of your own feet rising, the sensation unequal and primarily at your heel. Without the restraint arms you would have toppled over, but they hold you tight, tall stilleto heels and a thick platform for your toes being extruded into place. Black laminate follows, coating your feet and providing the anchor on which laces are quickly assembled. [[Is... is it over?->Slave Confirm3]]

You take a deep breath, watching the shiny blue material covering your chest gently rise and fall. The sensation is almost otherwordly, light pressure upon your body from to toe to throat, a lover's embrace you cannot escape. Excepting the zipper between your legs, there is no point of entrance, no direct break in the experience. Only smooth laminate, and the sweet scent of lingering rubber. Running a hand down the slick material reveals laminate to laminate contact to be almost frictionless. It's almost too easy to forget your own hand as it glides along your hip. The gentle *click* of the metal studded into your cuffs provide a more consistent narrative, as does the more authoritative snap of your heeled boot as you shift a bit in the Wardrobe's small confines. A sudden light breaks your self examination as the Wardrobe's display flicks back into existence, a final sentence emerging upon it. *Your dressing order has now been completed. If this machine is functioning under slave protocols, you may be held until a legally recognized owner or agent arrives to collect you. Otherwise, the door will open shortly. Watch your step, and enjoy...* The doors open as promised, ushering you back out into the dim light of the far corridor. Your path towards the Front Desk is now clear. (set: $Blue to true) [[Make your way there.->Wardrobe End]]

Slowly, you make your way down the carpeted hallway, one hand trailing on the nearest wall as you adapt to what the Wardrobe device made of you. (if: $Blue is true)[Just *walking* in laminate is an experience unto itself. Your glossy blue catsuit positively gleams as waves of light roll across it with each step, in turn highlighting your curvaceous silhouette. The heels are taller than most you had experienced, but after a few steps you achieve a comfortable gait, their height naturally inducing you to kick out your hips with each foot placed forward. Certainly they were helping with your posture. It's a strange cocktail of embarrassing and empowering to be so covered, yet exposed. Could you really wear this in public? It's not like other options present themselves.] (if: $Smoke is true)[Just *walking* in laminate is an experience unto itself. Your semi-transparent smokey catsuit positively gleams as waves of light roll across it with each step, in turn highlighting your curvaceous silhouette. A modicum of decency is preserved by the strip of black between your legs, but you can see both nipples and skin beneath, and that will certainly require some time to get used to. The heels are taller than most you had experienced as well, but after a few steps you achieve a comfortable gait, their height naturally inducing you to kick out your hips with each foot placed forward. Certainly they were helping with your posture. It's a strange cocktail of embarrassing and empowering to be so covered, yet utterly exposed. Could you really wear this in public? It's not like other options present themselves.] (if: $Brand is true)[Just *walking* in laminate is an experience unto itself. Your heavily branded catsuit positively gleams as waves of light roll across it with each step, in turn highlighting your curvaceous silhouette. The heels are another level of trial altogether, and while you do have some experience with stilettos that only keeps you from falling. You simply cannot manage more then a halting, fawn-like procession forward. You're almost helpless, although certainly they were helping with your posture. It's a strange cocktail of embarrassing and empowering to be so covered, yet exposed. Advertising your submission to the Wardrobe and the suit, for mere credits, so readily. Could you really wear this in public? It's not like other options present themselves.] (if: $Sec is true)[Just *walking* in laminate is an experience unto itself. Your secretarial uniform positively gleams as waves of light roll across it with each step, in turn highlighting your curvaceous silhouette. The heels are taller than most you had experienced, but after a few steps you achieve a comfortable gait, their height naturally inducing you to kick out your hips with each foot placed forward. Certainly they were helping with your posture. It's a strange cocktail of embarrassing and empowering to be wearing a design so nearly normal, yet perverted towards Torean fetish. Could you really wear this in public? It's not like other options present themselves.] (if: $Slave is true)[Just *walking* in laminate is an experience unto itself. Your glossy black catsuit positively gleams as waves of light roll across it with each step, in turn highlighting your curvaceous silhouette. The heels are taller than most you had experienced, but after a few steps you achieve a comfortable gait, their height naturally inducing you to kick out your hips with each foot placed forward. Certainly they were helping with your posture. Little prepares you for the shifting sensation of your inserts, however, and soon you're panting through the regulation of your mask. The cumulative effects are particularly frustrating-- each step shifts your plugs, causing you to all but gasp. You try to breath deeply afterward, but your mask prevents that, and the corset colludes as well. You've barely made it a few steps before your hand drifts absentmindedly to your legs...] (if: $Blue is true or $Sec is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true)[[[Pass through the glass barrier between the rooms and the Front Office.->The Front]]] (if: $Slave is true)[[[It feels so good...->Slave Pause]]]

You take a deep breath, watching the semi-transparent material covering your chest gently rise and fall. Your nipples are hard, and clearly visible you note immediately. The sensation is almost otherwordly, light pressure upon your body from to toe to throat, a lover's embrace you cannot escape. Excepting the zipper between your legs, there is no point of entrance, no direct break in the experience. Only smooth laminate, and the sweet scent of lingering rubber. Running a hand down the slick material reveals laminate to laminate contact to be almost frictionless. It's almost too easy to forget your own hand as it glides along your hip. The gentle *click* of the metal studded into your cuffs provide a more consistent narrative, as does the more authoritative snap of your heeled boot as you shift a bit in the Wardrobe's small confines. A sudden light breaks your self examination as the Wardrobe's display flicks back into existence, a final sentence emerging upon it. *Your dressing order has now been completed. If this machine is functioning under slave protocols, you may be held until a legally recognized owner or agent arrives to collect you. Otherwise, the door will open shortly. Watch your step, and enjoy...* The doors open as promised, ushering you back out into the dim light of the far corridor. Your path towards the Front Desk is now clear. (set: $Smoke to true) [[Make your way there.->Wardrobe End]]

You take a deep breath, watching the logo emblazoned upon the glossy material covering your chest gently rise and fall. Your posture is ensured by the corset, while also making each breath a bit of an effort, at least until your body adapted. The sensation of the laminate is almost otherwordly, light pressure upon your body from to toe to throat, a lover's embrace you cannot escape. Excepting the zipper between your legs, there is no point of entrance, no direct break in the experience. Only smooth laminate, and the sweet scent of lingering rubber. Running a hand down the slick material reveals laminate to laminate contact to be almost frictionless. It's almost too easy to forget your own hand as it glides along your hip-- as you bite your branded bottom lip. The heels are far more noticable, as you're already swaying. A hand on the tiled wall keeps you upright, but already an ache is building in toes so inexperienced. You hope it will be worth the 500 credits subjecting yourself to them earned you. A sudden light breaks your self examination as the Wardrobe's display flicks back into existence, a final sentence emerging upon it. *Your dressing order has now been completed. If this machine is functioning under slave protocols, you may be held until a legally recognized owner or agent arrives to collect you. Otherwise, the door will open shortly. Watch your step, and enjoy...* The doors open as promised, allowing you to shuffle awkwardly back out into the dim light of the far corridor. Your path towards the Front Desk is now clear. (set: $Brand to true) [[Make your way there.->Wardrobe End]]

You take a deep breath, watching the milky white material covering your chest gently rise and fall. The sensation is almost otherwordly, light pressure upon most of your body, a lover's embrace you cannot escape. Your legs shift uneasily, the skirt's presence having diminished how far you could step. Smooth laminate would dictate so much now, and you clearly recognize a lingering hint of a sweet rubber scent. Running a hand down the slick material of your tiny peplum skirt reveals laminate to laminate contact to be almost frictionless as it glides along your longer pencil skirt. Your arms are almost chilly in comparison to the warmth the laminate provides as well. It nearly feels like a regret, you realize with velvet red lips pursed in consideration, that you had not chosen a more... enclosing option. A sudden light breaks your self examination as the Wardrobe's display flicks back into existence, a final sentence emerging upon it. *Your dressing order has now been completed. If this machine is functioning under slave protocols, you may be held until a legally recognized owner or agent arrives to collect you. Otherwise, the door will open shortly. Watch your step, and enjoy...* The doors open as promised, ushering you back out into the dim light of the far corridor. Your path towards the Front Desk is now clear. (set: $Sec to true) [[Make your way there.->Wardrobe End]]

No further warning is given. With sudden explosive action, the inserts drive forward. They find the waiting holes readily enough, then twist, as if screwing their way into your body. Despite yourself a moan escapes your ruby red (and masked) lips as you're pierced from both ends. They plunge further, and further-- your mind screams for an end, your body assures you it cannot take anymore. Yet it does. Still further, further, further... Until you're hilted on the ends, hips swaying minutely as you try fruitlessly to adapt to the sensation. It may be amusing in restrospect, if you ever allow yourself to remember this moment, how gentle the final arm is that pulls your zipper closed again. A small padlock on the end is almost an afterthought. Then, with a final flash of white light and a conclusive hiss, the armatures withdraw. You collapse to your knees, the short distance an altogether new experience as your inserts shift deep within your cunt and rear. Again you moan, this time frustrated with yourself as you try to focus, breathing hard against the stricture of your mask. It takes several minutes, but eventually you find yourself watching the tight, glossy material covering your chest gently rise and fall. Your posture is ensured by the corset, while also making each breath a bit of an effort, at least until your body adapted. The sensation of the laminate is almost otherwordly as well, light pressure upon your body from toe to head, a lover's embrace you cannot escape. Excepting the zipper between your legs (and that is locked), there is no point of entrance, no direct break in the experience. Only smooth laminate, and the labored sound of your own breathing. Running a hand down the slick material reveals laminate to laminate contact to be almost frictionless. It's almost too easy to forget your own hand as it glides along your thigh-- as a strong compulsion draws the limb inward, towards the nexus of your legs. You resist... for the moment. Instead you struggle back to your feet, biting your lip, pelvis thrusting slightly in reaction to the sensations within. Your heels do not help matters, the effect of being forced onto your toes one that will certainly take some effort to combat. A sudden light breaks your self examination as the Wardrobe's display flicks back into existence, a final sentence emerging upon it. *Your dressing order has now been completed. If this machine is functioning under slave protocols, you may be held until a legally recognized owner or agent arrives to collect you. Otherwise, the door will open shortly. Watch your step, and enjoy...* The doors open as promised, allowing you to shuffle awkwardly back out into the dim light of the far corridor. Your path towards the Front Desk is now clear. [[Make your way there.->Wardrobe End]]

No. One last accessory remains, having been listed on the original selection as... **inserts**. Adrenaline shoots through your system as the Wardrobe realigns itself again, this time positioning two large arms, one before your lower torso, the other just behind it. Long, thick cylinder-like forms begin to extrude from the arms, taking the shape of what you recognize quite immediately as masculine physiology. As they work, another more nimble arm presses forward, seizing upon the only zipper on your suit. A mathematically simple arc carries it down between your legs, exposing a set of holes matched so perfectly to the now fully formed dildos. Your body tenses as a syrup-like lubricant is applied to each. (set: $Slave to true) [[Focus on your breathing.->Slave III]] [["Get those things away from me! HELP!"->SlaveResist]]

You pull hard against the arms still holding you, doing anything you could to pull your womanhood away from the lewd phallus all but ready to plunge inside. Perhaps if you had *really* tried before, you could have escaped the Wardrobe's clutches. Now? Your mask ensures the effort quickly leaves you breathless, while your corset and collar prevent much in the way of squirming. And that's ignoring completely the sudden snap of electricty against your backside, a lingering arm providing harsh collective action. You collapse back into your restraints as the display flashes its disapprovement. *Submission to a slave-graded suit includes acceptable of certain slavery codes, despite your freewomb status. A fee of 200 credits has been added to your account for this transgression. It is recommended you focus on your breathing.* (set: $debt to it + 200) (set: $debtResist2 to true) [[It's not like you have a choice.->Slave III]]

Natural light stabs sharp lines onto the marble floor of the small atrium you emerge into, columns at all four corners rising to a recessed ceiling very similar to the one within your room. Another glass door clearly leaves outside, but blinking away the overexposure from that portal, you instead turn towards the only other object of note: a woman, seated behind a transparent desk. (if: $methelp is true)["Hello again!" She greets, smiling. It's the woman from before, perhaps the hotel's only employee. Her unifrom has not changed since you last saw her, the vaguely business cut to it made lewd by the transparency of her violet top. Her pierced nipples glint in the light.](else:)[The woman is a few years younger then yourself, wearing a hotel worker's uniform-- but of an outlandish style and cut. Rendered in slick, glossy material, the woman's uniform is utterly tight. Her pencil skirt hugs wide hips, while a corset embraces her midsection, allowing a violet bodice that emerges above. She's quite busty, and the purple material is semi-transparent, allowing a clear view of her pierced nipples. Her brightly painted lips open as she greets you. "Good day, Ma'am! Please, step up to the counter."] (if: $Blue is true)[She looks over your outfit with a discerning eye, the short chain linking her wrist cuffs together clinking as she gestures in your direction. "I see you've embraced Torei fashion, how wonderful, ma'am! Your attire the last few days must be quite stylish offworld, I'm sure, but there is something to be said for... local customs, is there not? But listen to me, I imagine you wish to check out?] (if: $Smoke is true)[She looks over your outfit with a discerning eye, the short chain linking her wrist cuffs together clinking as she gestures in your direction. "I see you've embraced Torei fashion, how wonderful, ma'am! And a particularly... visible one at that, hm? Your attire the last few days must be quite stylish offworld, I'm sure, but there is something to be said for... local customs, is there not? But I imagine you wish to check out?] (if: $Brand is true)[She looks over your outfit with a discerning eye, the short chain linking her wrist cuffs together clinking as she gestures in your direction. "I see you've submitted to advert-wear. Danise Incorporated is a well regarded, if small, slave trading firm. You could have done much worse to be branded by them. Your attire the last few days must be quite stylish offworld, I'm sure, but there is something to be said for... local customs, is there not? The shoes are interesting, though. Don't worry, few people enjoy ballet heels, but you get used to them. Sort of... but listen to me ramble, I imagine you wish to check out, ma'am?] (if: $Sec is true)[She looks over your outfit with a discerning eye, the short chain linking her wrist cuffs together clinking as she gestures in your direction. "I see you've embraced Torei fashion, how wonderful, ma'am! And a particularly... professional one at that! It looks quite liberting, I must admit. Freewombs are allowed such things, though, I suppose. Your attire the last few days must be quite stylish offworld, but there is something to be said for... local customs, is there not? Ah, but I imagine you wish to check out?] (if: $Slave is true)[She looks over your outfit with widened eyes, the short chain linking her wrist cuffs together clinking as her smile only widens to the point of deep amusement. "I see you have... quite readily embraced Torean culture, ma'am! That is a very ambitious outfit for an offworlder. Even for a freewomb, here in Aekora us slaves wear that sort of gear. Very fun though..." She winks. "Expensive too. Perhaps we should discuss your checking out?"] [["Yes, perhaps we should."->Front II]] (if: $Brand is true)[[["Wait, there are worse brand options then slavers?"->Front Brand]]] (if: $Slave is true)[[["Wait, you're a slave...?->AskAskSlave]]]

Your rational mind certainly has some questions. Perhaps the first is what compelled you to choose this particular design from that Wardrobe device. But more readily? Why you can't stop the fingers that slide along your corset, downward, below your naval. The answer? Your body knows what it wants. It ignores your currently quite public position in the middle of a hallway as your legs give out, falling to your knees upon the floor. Your more sensible hand moves to your mask, trying weakly to push it off, to free yourself from the strict breath regulation. Your other, however, traces tantalizingly along the base of your front insert. Hidden by the locked zipper, but accessible by mere touch nevertheless. You moan quietly, eyes closing as you lean back onto your haunches... [[It feels... so... good...->Slave Pause II]] [[No... not... in a hallway...->Slave Pause II]]

It doesn't matter what you *think* you want. Your body knows what to do. Nimble gloved fingers press into the laminate between your legs, shifting the cock buried there as a hiss of pleasure works through your mask regulators. You can barely breath, but that's hardly necessary, not as waves of pleasure begin to roll up against your womanhood. Overzealous motivations at first drive you into quite a bit of fumbling, but it doesn't take long for you to settle into a steady rhythm, pressing your thumb hard against the front plug as you lean further, driving the rear one into the back of your heel. Somewhere along the way the hand at your mask travels downward, finding a far more *useful* purpose at your own breast, playing with the hardened bud as you wantonly pleasure yourself. The waves of ecstasy rise, eventually overtoppign you in a final tsunami of sensation. Do you even truly experience it? Already an amnesiac, you're not sure on this one-- all you recall is the sweet pulses from your cunt dissolving into static, everything going blank... Until you rouse, a pile of black laminate gasping on the hotel hallway floor. It takes you several long moments before you can pull yourself back to your knees, and from there your feet. Your plugged cunt's aching desire had momentarily fled, but you are treated to the sensation of your own bodily juices shifting within. Wearily you push open the glass door to the lobby before you. [[Did that... really just happen? Pull yourself together!->The Front]]

(if: $Blue is true)[] (if: $Smoke is true)[] (if: $Brand is true)[] (if: $Sec is true)[] (if: $Slave is true)[]

"Sure!" The girl enthuses, sliding to her left, where a haptic computer is projected in the space above that portion of the desk. Torean script emerges as she pulls up your account, but basic security measures ensure you can't make out anything from your vantage anyway. "First off, your keycard?" With a bit of reluctance, you slide the twined pieces across the transparent desk to her. She eyes the broken card for a moment, but her smile never fades. "Well," she notes, collecting the pieces and tossing them in a nearby trash bin. "You will be charged for keycard replacement, I hope that is acceptable, ma'am? It's only 200 credits. How were you intended to address your outstanding balance? I do not have account on record. Credit chit, perhaps?" (set: $debtCard to true) (set: $debt to it +200) [["Well, you see... I'm not sure that I have any money."->Front III]]

"Oh sure," the servant chirps, as you lean a hand upon her desk to keep your balance. "Lots of brands, they *know* they can say just about anything on that suit you submitted to. So they use it to get the attention of folks, ma'am. Imagine having **Slut** branded on your thighs, so that people watch you walk past. Then they see the *real* advert on your ass." She looks over the corporate symbols upon your own body. "You got lucky, that one is just kind of cool. I like the lip logo." [["Right, well... let's talk about checking out?"->Front II]]

The servant sets her hands down upon the desk, her cuffs clinking gently upon it. Must be glass. "I... see. This establishment is fitted with industry standard automated observation protocols, for guest protection of course. And I am seeing several such charges on your account resulting from that program. I hope you understand that I cannot advise leaving the premises with an active balance? That would require I contact the Ministry of Truants on your behalf, and you *are* a freewomb." The way she says it, that doesn't sound good. Yet her smile returns. "Given our frequent offworlder guests, however, we do feature a robust debt relief program. Would you like to explore those options? Or I would be happy to answer any other questions you may have at this time, as long as you remain within this building." --------------------- Save Point Reached! --------------------- (link: "(CLICK ME TO SAVE GAME)")[(save-game: "file A")] --------------------- [["I DO have questions. Several. I can't recall anything from the last week!"->Front Q Start]] [["Let's talk about my debt.->Debt Avoid]]

"It would be my pleasure," she nods. "How can I assist you?" If anyone knows about what happened to you, it seems likely it would be this woman. She certainly *seems* familiar with you. [["Is there anything you can tell me about this elevator ticket?"]] [["Have you heard of 356 Cross Street, Grand Aekora?"]] [["Did you mention a... 'Ministry of Truants?' What's that?->Min Q]] [["You said it just before, and it's on my identity card. What exactly is a freewomb?->Freewomb Q]] (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true)[[["Um, is wearing cuffs... as we are, normal?"->CUFFS]]] (if: $Brand is true)[[["Is there anything I can do about these shoes? They're killing me."->SHOES]]] (if: $Slave is true)[[["Is there anything I can do about this mask? I can barely breathe."->MASK]]] (if: $AskAddress and $AskTicket is true)[[["I think I might be heading for that... private nightclub, you said? Or maybe I'll just get off this world once and for all. But I suppose we should discuss my debts instead."->Debt Q]]]

"Right, your debt." The servant shifts behind her desk, pulling back up the relevent files and figures. "So that everything is clear to you, ma'am, I can list the charges and fines that had been appended to your account? Then we can discuss zeroing them out... if you're done asking questions, of course." [["Wait, I do have a few more questions.->Front Q]] [["Sounds good to me, read them."->Debt Read]]

You offer her the ticket, but she holds up a hand in polite refusal. "Travel aboard the Way Up is strictly prohibited to slaves, ma'am. Related paraphernalia too. Possession of a ticket, even for a few moments, would be a grave offense on my part. I'd rather not chance a Truant Officer strolling in, if that is alright? You need only read me the confirmation number up top." You do, which she reads back, making sure her data entry was correct. It is. "That ticket is valid, and the assigned carriage is on time. Departure time of tomorrow afternoon, looks like." She looks back to you. "Leaving Torei already? Shame." (set: $AskTicket to true) [["I've got more questions."->Front Q]]

"No." She replies, most unhelpfully. But sliding back over to her computer, she quickly makes an effort to improve upon that answer. "Can you give me that address one more time? (set: $AskAddress to true) It takes only a few moments for her to pull up the relevent information. "Ah! Here it is. Seems to be a... private nightclub, of some sort? Deep in downtown Grand Aekora, though. We're located in the outskirts right now, if you can't remember that. Couple ways to get there. Train, carriage, and always the Lead." [[Good to know, I suppose. Can I ask something else?->Front Q]]

The girl nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, Torei has a bunch of Ministries. Not every Ringdom has them all, but Aekora does have most-- and that means the Ministry of Truants. Think of them like our police, but as I understand it, you offworlders don't have many laws for women, right?" She seems to be waiting for a response, but you're not sure you even have one. Laws for women? Eventually she just continues. "Well we do, ma'am. There are a *lot*. Way too many for me to go over. Usually I just advise freewomb guests like yourself to always keep your identification permit with you, and to be careful traveling after dark. They're very strict about curfew, and really, its best to just try and avoid the Officers altogether." Again she gestures towards your oufit. "(if: $Blue is true)[If you don't avoid them, that's why you've got cuffs on that suit.] (if: $Smoke is true)[If you don't avoid them, those thigh cuffs won't be the only ones you're stuck wearing.] (if: $Brand is true)[I wouldn't suggest running from them in regular circumstances, but with your heels? Just keep your eyes down, ma'am.] (if: $Sec is true)[That outfit you chose might be the best for blending in, actually. Torean, but clearly with some agency. Truant Officers might ignore you.] (if: $Slave is true)[Wearing that, you *will* be stopped by them. Slave laws are much more strict, and while you are a freewomb they won't know that until they check your card.]" [["Thanks for the advice.->Front Q]]

"Good question, ma'am! That is an important one to know, here on Torei. Technically there are two classes of women here on Torei, but I really think of them as being three. There are freewombs like yourself," she reaches up, tapping her collar. "And there are slaves, like myself. In between, that third class, are indentured servants. Usually technically freewombs, but serving contracts or working off debt. There are lots of ways to fall into debt on Torei, especially for offworlders who aren't careful. So watch out for that." Her eyes grow distant for a moment, her smile widening. "Many Toreans would argue a slave's collar is the easier life, here." (if: $Blue is true or $Slave is true)[[["I'm a Freewomb... but I do have a collar?"->Collar Q]]] [[That makes... a certain sort of sense, I suppose. But I have other questions."->Front Q]]

"That makes sense," the woman smiles. "You did have an order of Mem-Burn delivered to your room two days ago." *You did?* (set: $MemQ to true) [["You make that sound like a common thing."]] [["I did?! And you're sure it was me?->What Q]]

"Ah, well, I wouldn't exactly say that. I was merely on duty when the delivery slave arrived. Directed her to your room. I suppose anyone could have made the order." She shifts her attention to her computer, pulling up a few files before continuing. "You checked in alone about a week ago, prepaid up to today. If it helps, I'm here on duty more often then not. Saw you come and go a few times, but you never returned with anyone that I noticed. Most folk at least *try* a bit of the Torean experience when staying here too, but you didn't. Wouldn't think you the sort to go for Mem-Burn. Not until now." It isn't much, but your sense of self is at least a *bit* clearer. This may be a good time to ask any questions that come to mind, and there is the matter of your debt to address as well. [["Well, thank you I supposed. Can I ask some other questions?->Front Q]]

"Perhaps its not *common*," she allows, with a shrug of sloped shoulders. "But it's not all that rare. Rumor has it the active compounds came from the AIs, but its perfectly safe. Some folk like to use it to really make some time in a collar... intense. For others, it helps loosen them up. That last bit seems to have worked, right? (if: $Blue is true)[It got you into that catsuit, and you wear it so well!] (if: $Smoke is true)[It got you into that see-through catsuit, those are a Torean staple!] (if: $Brand is true)[It got you into that branded suit, didn't it?] (if: $Sec is true)[It got you to update your look to something more Torean, after all.] (if: $Slave is true)[Because I must say it again, I really never expected to see you in slave-rated gear. Its a rare day when a guest is more strictly bound then I am.]" [[...right. Well, you're sure it was ME that made the order?->What Q]]

(if: $Blue is true)["Ah," the servant responds, holding up a gloved finger. "That's different. You get to choose, even if yours has a timer right now. Slaves don't.] (if: $Slave is true)["Ah," the servant responds, holding up a gloved finger. The purple is so much brighter then your own black. "That's different. You eventually will be allowed out of that collar and suit... if you desire that. A proper slave would not get to make that choice themselves."] [["Got it. I have other questions?"->Front Q]]

"Understood, ma'am." The girl flicks a switch on her computer's console, a frame-like square on her desk flashing to life as numbers slide across it. (if: $Blue is true)[Your black heels snap against the floor as you step up to look.] (if: $Smoke is true)[Your black heels snap against the floor as you step up to look.] (if: $Brand is true)[Your ballet heels nearly send you tumbling over, but you manage to steady yourself on the desk, leaning over to look.] (if: $Sec is true)[Your red pumps snap against the floor as you step up to look.] (if: $Slave is true)[Your stilleto boots snap against the floor as you step up to look, peering out from the glass of your mask.] "You current amounted owed is: (print: $debt) credits." Raising a hand, she begins listing how you got there, raising a finger each time: (if: $debtRing is true)["An automated scan of your room revealed a broken d-ring on your bed. That wood is imported, so we must add a 350 credit charge."] (if: $debtHelp is true)["I'm certain you recall the pair of charges you accepted when I freed you from your self bondage? That was 500 credits total."] (if: $debtChangeEscape is true)["Your service button was triggered, but you did not answer. Perhaps you should have, the time you took to get here afterward made you late to checkout. That is a 500 credit charge."] (if: $debtShower is true)["The sonic shower in your room registered a lengthy use today. Presuming that was you, it made you late to checkout. That is a 500 credit charge."] (if: $debtTV is true)["The television within your room communicated a good bit of time turned on today. Unfortunately that extra time came after checkout period ended, and thus earned you a 200 credit fine."] (if: $debtFrontNude is true)["You walked nude into this front desk area, a designated public area by Aekoran decency laws. That was a 300 credit fine."] (if: $debtBrand is true)["Your choice of submission to an Advert-Wear catsuit earned you 500 credits, good choice. Sorry again about those boots."] (if: $debtSec is true)["Your selection of the Sextretarial Delight outfit from our Wardrobe device incurred a 500 credit charge."] (if: $debtSlave is true)["Your selection of a fully Slave-Rated Enclosure suit incurred a significant 1500 credit fee." Meanwhile you try not to shift your hips, and thus your plugs too much.] (if: $debtResist is true)["Minor damage was reported from our Wardrobe Device during your recent dressing. That is a 200 credit fine."] (if: $debtResist2 is true)["The Wardrobe Device communicated use of its subjugation prod during your installation into that Slave-Rated suit. Aekoran law requires a 200 credit fine in such an instance."] (if: $debtCard is true)["And... finally, there was the 200 credit fine for your keycard replacement, as we discussed earlier."] Reaching up to run a hand through her hair requires her to shift her other arm as well, the chain between her wrists an impediment she barely seems to notice. "So-- (print: $debt) credits. That's (if: $debt is <= 500)[not too bad, actually."](if: $debt is > 500 and <= 1000)[starting to get up there, ma'am."](if: $debt is > 1000 and <=2000)[rather high, I'm afraid."](if: $debt is > 2000)["a very serious outstanding balance."] [["You mentioned some sort of debt relief, though?"->Debt Options]]

The woman nods, a gloved hand rising to the band secured around her neck. It's almost unnecessary, given the chain also linking her wrists. "Yes ma'am. Since I sold myself once I hit majority. It can be hard for offworlders to understand, but it is all I looked forward to. There is security in a collar you can't get elsewhere on Torei, as a woman." She leans across the table, once again eyeing your full enclosure suit. "But I came to *like it, too. Losing control... it's something else..." Her smile is wide. "Isn't it.?" You take a deep breath, trying hard to ignore your plugs. [["Let's just... talk about checking out.->Front II]]

"Yes!" The girl replies. "My Master, the proprietor of this establishment, understands that given the frequency of our guests not born to Torei, registering a proper debt contract with the Ministry of Truants to collect on your account would be bothersome for all parties involved. Instead, I am authorized to write off portions of your outstanding debt if you accept certain... temporary strictures. We hope such an arrangement provides a learning experience for Freewombs such as yourself. [["What kind of... learning experiences are we talking about, here?"->Debt Options 2]]

"I would be happy you," she smiles. "But talking credits can be a most tiring affair. I would recommend we explore any other topics that interest you first, ma'am. Did you by chance have an idea of where you intend to travel next?" [["Actually, I have some other questions for you. I can't recall anything from the last week..."->Front Q Start]]

"Well, let's work our way up the list and see what will be required of you, hm? The way this works is that the more you owe, the further up we have to go. Let's see..." Her finger runs up the display surface in front of her, gliding along until she halts suddenly. "At your level of debt you've certainly earned a hobble chain for the day. Are you familiar with such a device?" You shake your head, earning a smile from the girl. (set: $Level to 1) (set: $debt to it - 750) "(if: $Blue is true)[We will utilize the ankle cuffs you already have to run a short chain between them, above a foot in length. As you can imagine, that will restrict your gait rather severely.] (if: $Smoke is true)[We will provide ankle cuffs in the same black laminate as those on your thighs, ma'am. Then we will have to run a short chain between them, above a foot in length. As you can imagine, that will restrict your gait rather severely.] (if: $Brand is true)[We will provide ankle cuffs in a red laminate to match your Advert-suit, ma'am. Then we will have to run a short chain between them, above a foot in length. As you can imagine, that will restrict your gait rather severely. Keeping your balance with your ballet boots will be troublesome, I imagine.] (if: $Sec is true)[We will provide a professional set of ankle cuffs in the same red laminate as your skirt, ma'am. Then we will have to run a short chain between them, above a foot in length. As you can imagine, that will restrict your gait rather severely.] (if: $Slave is true)[We will provide slave-rated ankle cuffs in the same silvered laminate as your posture collar, ma'am. Then we will have to run a short chain between them, above a foot in length. As you can imagine, that will restrict your gait rather severely.]" (if: $debt is <= 0)["Good news is their locks will release in time, and that's all we will require of you! Great job on not incurring too much of a debt during your stay here, ma'am.](if: $debt is >= 1)[That will bring your debt down to (print: $debt), but obviously that is not zero. We will need to discuss level two."] (if: $debt is <= 0)[[["That's... great to hear, I suppose.->Debt End]]](if: $debt is >= 1)[[["Level two?"->Level Two]]]

"Right..." the servant muses, collecting herself. She takes several moments to type into her computer, clearly cross-checking with the debt relief list you had just explored with her. A minute's silence follows, (if: $Blue is true)[your gloved hands collecting before you, just below the bondage belt at your waist.] (if: $Smoke is true)[your gloved hands collecting before you, just below the bondage belt at your waist.] (if: $Brand is true)[and your quite happy to have the desk upon which to lean for support.] (if: $Sec is true)[and you use the time to adjust your peplum skirt, the laminate so soft and smooth in your bare hands.] (if: $Slave is true)[and you spend it trying to ignore your own hand, and its lingering desire to return to the space between your legs. Even the smallest movement shifted those damned inserts.] With a flourished finger pressing down on her computer's IMPUT button, the girl looks back up to you. "Alright! The Wardrobe Device is loaded with the debt relief measures we discussed. Simply head back and allow it to scan you again. (if: $Level is 4)[It will perform everything except your punishment, return here for that.]. Afterward I can set you up with transport for wherever you are heading next. Got that?" [["Understood."->Debt End II]] [["I can't believe I have to do this."->Debt End IIB]]

The servant scrolls down on her display screen. "The second level of debt forgiveness requires the installation of a time-released armbinder. I imagine, given the Mem-Burn, an explanation will be required?" She doesn't wait for a response, seemingly eager to provide. (set: $Level to it + 1) (set: $debt to it - 500) "(if: $Blue is true)[Imagine putting your arms behind your back elbow to elbow, palm to palm. We will then place a black laminate sleeve over them, ensuring your arms remain together, and bound securely behind your back. I must warn you, extended wear is not comfortable.] (if: $Smoke is true)[Imagine putting your arms behind your back elbow to elbow, palm to palm. We will then place a black laminate sleeve over them, ensuring your arms remain together, and bound securely behind your back. I must warn you, extended wear is not comfortable.] (if: $Brand is true)[Imagine putting your arms behind your back elbow to elbow, palm to palm. We will then place a laminate sleeve over them, ensuring your arms remain together, and bound securely behind your back. Given your Advert submission, the design upon the arms of your suit will be reproduced at a slightly larger size upon the binder, given its size. I must warn you, extended wear is not comfortable.] (if: $Sec is true)[Imagine putting your arms behind your back elbow to elbow, palm to palm. We will then place a red laminate sleeve over them, ensuring your arms remain together, and bound securely behind your back. I must warn you, extended wear is not comfortable.] (if: $Slave is true)[Imagine putting your arms behind your back elbow to elbow, palm to palm. We will then place a black laminate slave-rated sleeve over them, ensuring your arms remain together, and bound securely behind your back. I must warn you, the slave-rated design is intentionally designed to be uncomfortable.]" Her eyes flash excitedly. "As should be obvious, your arms will be quite useless in such a situation. (if: $debt is <= 0)["But the good news is that's all we will require of you! You won't have an easy experience, but it certainly appears managable, ma'am..](if: $debt is >= 1)[That will bring your debt down to (print: $debt), but obviously we are still in search of the requisite zero. That brings us to level three."] (if: $debt is <= 0)[[["That's... great to hear, I suppose.->Debt End]]](if: $debt is >= 1)[[["What are you going to do to me now?"->Level Three]]]

(set: $Level to it + 1) (set: $debt to it - 500) "The last of our *standard* debt relief levels is only for extensive debtors... such as yourself, ma'am." Its clear she's trying to be respectful, but the ground she must cover makes that difficult. "Here on Torei, you must understand that debt is something taken very seriously. Every day freewombs such as yourself find their debts outweighing their earning potential. Bankruptcy inevitably follows, and in such circumstances enslavement is the usual result. We are prepared to write off your debts regardless, but a more... permanent lesson will be required. I'm now allowed to say more, not until after installation." Her eyes return to her console, lips pursed in consideration. That write-off will take you to (print: $debt). "(if: $debt is <= 0)[The good news is that will zero out your account, and will be everything required of you.](if: $debt is >= 1)[And yet you still have an outstanding balance. It seems we will need to discuss level four.]" (if: $debt is <= 0)[[["Let's... let's just get on with it, I suppose."->Debt End]]](if: $debt is >= 1)[[["Level... four?"->Level Four]]]

The servant nods. "Level four is quite simple. Given your debt level, you will need to be punished. A standard Aekoran corrective action is the application of a riding crop to a debtor, exact placement being at our discretion. Usually it's the rear. 50 credits will be deducted per strike. At your remaining balance of... (print: $debt), you're looking at (print: $debt / 50) strikes." (set: $Level to it + 1) There she pauses, her hands on the desk between you as she leans forward. "Can I ask-- were you *trying* to rack up the charges, when you *knew* you didn't have the credits?" [["No."->Level Four No]] [["..."->Level Four Yes]] [["...yes."->Level Four Yes]]

The girl sits back in seat, one hand absently rubbing her own pierced nipple. "Whatever you say, ma'am..." [["Didn't... we need to talk about how I'm going to be released from my debts?->Debt End]]

"I *knew* it," she beams. "Torei may just be your sort of place after all, ma'am." [["...thanks, but what about all my debts?"->Debt End]]

The hallway is much as you left it, the shades of purple, the carpeted floor below. This time you know exactly where you're going, and it takes only a moment to find yourself before the clean door. Its still unoccupied, allowing you to open the portal and step back inside. Again the display screen greets you, another flash of light announcing it had taken an ocular scan. There the experience changes, the myraid choices from before replaced by a much more straightforward option: *You are about to submit to the (if: $Level is 1)[Level One] (if: $Level is 2)[Level Two] (if: $Level is 3)[Level Three] (if: $Level is 4)[Level Four] Debt Forgiveness program, as outlined in your initial lease agreement and discussed with this Hotel's owner, or his designated slave(s). All adjustments made to you during this submission must be maintained for a period of at least twelve hours.* **DO YOU COMPLY?** [[Yes.->Debt End III]]

As you march sullenly back towards the glass door that led to the hotel's rooms, and the Wardrobe Device at the far back, the servant shakes her head. "Believe me, ma'am-- this is much better then getting a Truant Officer involved. [["Sure."->Debt End II]]

The various arms of the Wardrobe emerge en masse, repeating the procedure you have already undergone once. Wrists, ankles, and throat are seized, although the presence of your clothing does make it a somewhat gentler experience this time around. Moving downward in a wave, the Wardrobe begins working on your promised hobble chain. Instead of working solely in direct steel, it instead uses only a few strategically placed filiments to reinforce the hard-sealed laminate it uses otherwise. (if: $Blue is true)[The presence of your ankle cuffs are integrated into the design, the metal loops there being used to anchor the chain itself that is finished with a chromed, silvery finish.] (if: $Smoke is true)[Lacking ankle cuffs, fresh ones are first printed for you, the black laminate matching those you already wore at your thighs. The chain between them is finished with a chromed, silvery look sure to catch the light as readily as your see-through catsuit.] (if: $Brand is true)[Lacking ankle cuffs, fresh ones are first printed for you, the red laminate used matching the design of the logos elsewhere on your body. The chain between them is finished with a white coloration, again coordinating with your adverts.] (if: $Sec is true)[Lacking ankle cuffs, fresh ones are first printed for you, the red laminate worked with slightly flared metal designs for the metal components, coordinating with the rest of your professional attire. The chain between them is finished with a chromed, silvery look sure to catch the light.] (if: $Slave is true)[Lacking ankle cuffs, fresh ones are first printed for you, in thick black laminate with heavy steel components to which the chain connects. Undoubtedly following slave-ratings, the chain itself is quite heavy, and rendered fully in black.] <img src="https://i.imgur.com/yh2Q6BK.png"> (if: $Level is <= 1)[[[Well that was... painless.->Debt Final]]] (if: $Level is > 1)[[[LEVEL TWO->Debt End IV]]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/9MFJwF5.png" width="30%" height="30%"> You emerge from the Wardrobe Device for a second time, once again transformed... ...and this time, not alone. Another guest of the hotel had apparently just exited her room, a woman perhaps near your age (although Torei's medical technologies made it so difficult to tell.) Her outfit is immaculate, all black laminate with poofed shoulders and tall thigh-high stilletos. She wears the material, including smartly fastened corset, with an ease you cannot imagine. Reflective, mirror-like glasses hide her gaze, but you cannot help but imagine her staring. Ruby red lips curl into a smile as she pauses, closing her room's door but otherwise lingering. After a long moment she gestures for you to pass, the gloved movement as smooth and cool as her half-veiled expression. [[Just pass her... calmly->Hallway Pass]]

No opportunity for rest is given as the Wardrobe whirls, arms cycling upward as those gripped to your wrists suddenly jerk your arms back. It isn't a gentle experience. Given the larger print job, three of the device's appendages begin circling your arms, coating them in the laminate that is quickly flash-set into a tight layer. Reinforcements are built into the area around your hands to prevent an escape, and so that a large ring can be emplaced-- which, once cooled an armature seizes, demonstrating just how easily you can now be controlled that way. The final component is the portion that circles around your shoulders and upper chest, anchoring the binder and preventing it from being slipped off easily. Already your shoulders whine with hints of pain, the position unpracticed. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/gh59YMk.png" width="30%" height="30%"> (if: $Level is <= 2)[[[And I have to wear this for hours...->Debt Final]]] (if: $Level is > 2)[[[LEVEL THREE->Debt End V]]]

You're hobbled and bound, yet still the Wardrobe moves. Perhaps you had not intended to rack up a debt as high as it had gotten. How could you truly have known? But Torei does not ask for apologies. It demanded correction, this time of a more pemanent nature then mere bindings-- just as promised. The device holding onto your armbinder's ring pulls suddenly downward just as your legs are yanked forward. You're suspended in the air now, back arched, breasts pressing against the laminate cups of your oufit as they're thrust out. (if: $lave is true or $Brand is true)[Your corset makes the position painful in the extreme.] It's then that a new armature appears, this one new, at least to your eyes. Instead of a gripping limb, or a painter-like nozzle, this has something much more sinister: a lancing needle. Long, silvery... and move mechanically down, towards your breasts. The protection offered by your outfit is momentarily vacated, solvants being applied that melt the material readily in a steam that fans suck away greedily. With unnerving precision, the needle is positioned. There is no fanfare, no warning-- it merely shifts suddenly, one moment waiting beside your nipple, the next pierced straight through it. [[You scream.->Debt End VI]]

The Wardrobe device doesn't much care for your reaction. It does provide a quite fast acting healing agent, undoubtedly a Torean marvel of bioengineering that would have fascinated the Prospector that is your job title, but that seems less a kindness and more simple utilitarianism. Once healed, a silvery barbell is inserted, your violation now marked by the small silver balls now framing the highlight of your chest. You hang limply as the procedure is repeated on your other nipple. Afterward the nozzles return, reapplying the laminate of your suit. Its as if they had never torn it apart, but the foreign sensations emanating from your chest are a constant reminder... <img src="https://i.imgur.com/5744pPZ.png" width="30%" height="30%"> [["How could they...->Debt Final]] [["It almost... feels good.->Debt Final]]

You try to act as confident as the woman appears, the effect so very much like being a model on a runway, even if its for a crowd of one. Your hobble chain loudly snaps with your first step as it pulls tight, the restricted gait unnatural. You can manage something more then a shuffle, but its hardly dignified. (if: $Level is 2 or 3 or 4)[For the first time you realize just how helpless the armbinder has rendered you as well, (if: $Blue or $Slave is true)[the device conspiring with your corset to thrust out your chest and rear.](else:)[the effect of the device on your arms thrusting out your chest and rear.] Were the woman's midnight clad hands to grab you, its clear you could offer little resistance.] Yet she doesn't move, merely observing as you make your way past. (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[At the closest point between you, however, she does tip her glasses down, revealing brilliant grey eyes that focus, with a bemused smirk, on your nipple piercings visible through tight laminate.] (if: $Slave is true)[It's an interest she shares with your collar, perhaps noting the slave-graded measurements of your suit and restraints. No owner is marked upon the thick posture collar, she could certainly see that.] Once past, you try to put her out of your thoughts, focusing once more on the passage from hallway to front office. There the servant waits, expectantly. "Wonderful!" (if: $Level is 1 or 2)[[["If you say so."->Transport]]] (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[[[You didn't tell me about the piercings!->Trans Pierce]]]

"The only thing we have left to talk about is your departure, then," she notes. The sound of heeled shoes on the tiled floor draws your attention back towards the hallway, however, where the woman glimpsed earlier emerges. One hand grips the small purse slung over her shoulder, while the other crosses beneath her chest, supporting a pensive posture as she boldly passes through the Front Office and out the front door. The servant had paused to watch as well, but her attention returns to you as soon as the front door closes again. "We were talking about... your departure, correct?" [["Yes."->Transport II]]

"Part of the lesson," the girl points out, still behind her desk. "Is the surprise! Believe me, they're really not *that* bad." Her own top, violet see-through laminate, does feature the steel adornments to her nipples quite prominently. She certainly had to be an expert on the matter, but her enthusiasm for... Torean culture perhaps far exceeded your own. (if: $Level is 3)[[["I'd just really like to get out of here."->Transport]]] (if: $Level is 4)[The servant emerges from behind her desk, a long rod-like device of heavy laminate in her hands. "There is still the matter of your punishment, ma'am." [[Oh no.->Crop]]]

You shy away, its only natural. "Oh, don't be like that," the employee tsk-tsks. "You've come so far, and you've *earned this.* Besides, you're technically under slave codes until your debt is cleared. Any resistance, and I will append additional fees. That means more applications of the crop, and you already have (print: $debt / 50) to undergo. Alright?" She doesn't wait for a response, but instead rises, leaving her desk. Its only then that you notice the chain descending from the ceiling, in the corner of the office. Of course she makes for, waiting for you to join her before grabbing the ring on your armbinder tightly. You nearly lose your balance as she lifts the ring, forcing your arms up, and your head down. It appears to be a maneuver she's quite well versed in, as she quickly has the ring snapped to the chain. You're now bent over, arms back and pulled up. The heels on your boots ensure your rear is neatly displayed, pert rear and rounded thighs gleaming in the light. "I am going to apply the crop," she explains. "Once for every 50 credits you still owe, as we discussed. It will be your job to count the strikes, aloud. I would hate to give you too many... or too few. Understood?" You shift slightly, unable to straighten back up. (set: $Strike to 0) [["Y-Yes..."->Strike Counter]]

"Well then," she smiles. "Did you have a destination in mind?" Despite everything you had gone through since leaving your room, the mystery of your waking still stood to be answered. Had your memory been forcibly wiped, or had you subjected yourself to such an experience? What could drive you to do such a thing? Your evidence is as scant as the resources you have available: three measely cards. The elevator ticket for the Way Up expired tomorrow night, but it promised your one clear chance to free you of Torei forever-- an escape from the humiliation, the bondage, the laminate you had found yourself so readily falling into. But that would mean abandoning the enigma that was the black card and its promise of a potential deal, your original reason for coming to the planet in the first place. The wealth that would result from a successful prospecting mission to this planet would remain untapped. You could try for both, the black card's rendezvous is planned for tonight, giving you perhaps a day to make your way to the elevator. But as your third and final card, the one the served as your ID, reminded with the bold red letters stamped across the top... here you were a FREEWOMB first, and there could be so many pitfalls waiting on Torei's streets. [["I have a seat waiting for me on the space elevator, that's where I'm heading."->Transport III]] [["356 Cross Street, Grand Aekora. I still have business to do here."->Transport III]] [["I'm heading for the space elevator, but there is a stop along the way. 356 Cross Street.->Transport III]]

The slave does not hesitate, her riding crop striking out with percussive force. The heavy duty laminate has some give, but as the rectangular tip licks the glossy material covering your lower rear, pain still blossoms-- sharp and heady. (set: $Strike to it +1) (set: $debt to it -50) "(print: $debt / 50) left," the servant counts down, as you count up. (if: $Strike > 1)[Your hips thrust forward of their own accord, trying to escape the crop's strike. It serves only to (if: $Blue is true)[move you forward a step, blue laminate providing little defense.] (if: $Smoke is true)[move you forward a step, smokey clear laminate providing little defense.] (if: $Brand is true)[cause you to stumble forward a step on your ballet heels, laminate providing little defense.] (if: $Sec is true)[move you forward a step, the thin material of your secretarial skirt providing little defense.] (if: $Slave is true)[move your inserts, twin cocks pressing eagerly into your offered holes.]] (if: $Strike > 3)[You moan slightly as the crop slaps home again, the competing sounds perfectly timed to catch the sudden appearance of a third figure in the room-- the woman you passed in the hallway. Once again, a bemused smile finds her bright lips as she strides confidently over, silencing the attending slave with one upheld finger. She doesn't demand much, only the opportunity to slide her laminate fingers up between your legs, rubbing briefly at the zipper covering your cunt. Your knees shake of their own accord in response, a second-- more hungry-- moan escaping. And then she is gone, crossing the rest of the room to exit out the front door as the servant beside you demands a fresh strike count. Even then the sensation of the woman's touch lingers...(set: $Fondled to true)] (if: $Strike > 5)[The slave varies her placement every few hits, sometimes high on your rear, sometimes further down near the tops of your thighs. Wherever she hits, it hurts.] (if: $Strike > 10)[Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the strikes persist, your body tensing up as soon as you give the count, now.] (if: $Strike > 15)[The servant attending you pauses, tapping the crop lightly between your legs, along the interior of a thigh. "Ass up," she commands. "You must stand ready to receive, not hang in your bondage." You moan, but lift your rear as demanded. (if: $Slave is true)[For some reason, being forced to comply with your own torture only furthers the aching of your plugged cunt.]] (if: $Strike > 20)[The experience is no longer sharp stings, but more general sensations of shooting pain as your punishment continues. You're panting now(if: $Brand is true)[, your corset tight and uncomfortable](if: $Slave is true)[, your corset tight and uncomfortable, your mask leaving you breathless. Between your legs, however, *pleasure* still builds].] (if: $Strike > 30)[Again the servant pauses, this time to catch her breath as your body aches. (if: $Slave is true)[Perhaps its good she does, for its at that moment you climax, your mind momentarily blanking as you moan wantonly, a wet slut cumming as she's tortured. Your legs buckle, weight momentarily held by your armbinder alone until you find your feet again. Behind you, the servant pauses, almost... as if she had expected such an outcome? What is this suit doing to you?]] (if: $Strike > 40)[It keeps going, and going...] (if: $debt is > 0)[[["Please stop, I can't!->Strike Refuse]]] (if: $debt is > 0)[[["(print: $Strike)!"->Strike Counter]]] (if: $debt is <= 0)[[["That's... all of it, right?"->Strike End]]]

The girl raises her own chained wrists, then looks to those clasped firmly upon your own body. "Oh yes," she asserts, readily. "Certain sorts are required of certain folk, of course, but most anyone can wear some. Freewombs such as yourself commonly do." She tips her head back and forth, bangs swaying pendulum like. "Honestly I didn't expect a woman such as yourself to wear some, but given your financial situation... you did notice the locks on them, right? They will come off in a few hours. Aekoran law requires that for any freebies at a Wardrobe. Ministry of Truants asserts it makes dealing with loiters and vagabonds easier. They're usually the only sort to wear the free stuff." It takes her a long moment to gasp. "Not that I was suggesting anything, ma'am!" [["None taken, let's just get back to my other questions.->Front Q]]

The servant shakes her head. "Afraid not, ma'am. Did you read all the fine print when you made that selection?" Her smile returns. "Probably not. No one does. I've been asked about it enough to know that it's in there, though. Timed locks are included, so you don't go back on your advertising contract. They're on your corset too, if you haven't noticed. Not sure why they went with ballets, though. Usually its offworlders who go for the advert-suits. And ballets aren't friendly to those sorts at all. Ooo! Maybe that's part of the advertisement! You know, seeing an offworlder struggling in ballets, branded with a big slaver's ad? Makes the better investment clear!" She shrugs and you shift from one foot to the other, trying to remain *en pointe* before her. "Toreans don't go for it because we know it's much more lucrative to sell *yourself* instead of just your clothes for a few hours, ma'am. That tip is free." [["Right... let's just get back to my other questions.->Front Q]]

"Can I take a closer look?" She asks in response, gesturing you forward. After a moment's hesitation you approach, your posture collar ensuring you can't do much as her gloved hands glide along the edges of your mask. It takes her only a second or two for a conclusion to be reached. "Sorry, ma'am. Afraid not. I guess the latest update removed the regulation valve on the side. You're in there until the timed locks give out, that's always been standard. But looks like the recent law revisions decided to make it harder on you." You step back, heels clicking upon the marble floor as she continues. It's hard to suppress the moan that comes from your shifting inserts. "Only thing I can tell you is that design is by far the most common, here in Aekora. Mostly as a standardized uniform for slaves, but... still. They put a lot of research into them. That breath regulator will keep you on the edge, but it won't suffocate you." [["...great. Let's just get back to my other questions.->Front Q]]

You pull against your restraints, unable to take the punishment. (set: $debt to it + 50) Behind you, arm readied for another blow, the servant shakes her head. "I warned you about this. You do not have a choice in this, and resisting? That's another fine, another lash. Present your ass, and give me a fresh count." You gasp, but do. [["I'm... I'm sorry! "(print: $Strike)!"->Strike Counter]]

Even with your count completed, your body tenses at the sound of the slave behind you stepping forward. Instead of yet another sharp snap against your rear, however, its her hand that runs gently down your tortured rear. Laminate to laminate, her touch glides along, a ship sailing along smooth waters. "Yes," she finally murmurs. "We're done." Reaching up, she unhooks your armbinder ring from the ceiling chain, allowing you to straighten back up. Even the barest movement brings echoes of the punishment back towards your nerve endings. Its even worse as you follow her back over to the front desk, which she takes a seat at. Perhaps you've learned a lesson? "Now, we were going to discuss your departure?" The girl looks up to you, riding crop resting at the side. [["Y-Yes."->Transport II]]

(set: $debt to 0) The servant nods, her laminate clothing gleaming as her shackled hands collect together on her desk. "Well, in that case, you're going to need to make your way into downtown Grand Aekora. We're on the outskirts now, but once you get downtown you can get *anywhere*. It's quite a walk, especially hobbled, (if: $Level is > 1)[with an armbinder,](if: $Blue is true)[in those black heels] (if: $Smoke is true)[in those black heels] (if: $Brand is true)[in those ballet heels] (if: $Sec is true)[in those cute pumps you have] (if: $Slave is true)[in standard slave regalia]." She had been working on your checkout reciept, which she asks if you need printed. You decline as she continues. "Luckly, we're just down the street from the local transit hub! The Lead system is free in a few hours, but I'm sure you would like to avoid that." She doesn't provide a reason why you would, but instead circles the front desk to walk you to the front door. "There are also carriages, and the train line of course. Those take credits..." she looks to your restraints, and winks. "But let's not get into that again. You're a resourceful girl, I'm certain you can figure it out!" The door to the world beyond looms, a solid block of light, a portal you must now pass. Your attendant peforms an elaborate curtsy as you pass. "Thank you for staying at Diarch's Choice hotel! I hope you enjoyed... I certainly did." [[Step out onto the Torean streets.->PART TWO]]

Stepping out, you (if: $Level is 1)[lift a hand to shield your eyes](if: $Level is >= 2)[wish your arms weren't bound so that you could shield your eyes] from the harsh glare of system's star that looms above. You recall that Torei is a lonely world, without neighboring planets, far from the standard trade lanes. Perhaps that's why you expected something more alien then what actually confronts you. The street is plain concrete, the foliage growing in the spaces of green perhaps a bit stunted, but look regular enough. Even the buildings are not too bizarre. You appear to be in a relatively built up city, but looking North reveals much larger towers reaching towards the sky. That had to be downtown Grand Aekora-- and thus the direction you would need to travel, in pursuit of the promised transport center. But there is the matter of the *people* who share the street with you. The wide road is bizarrely empty, but the sidewalks abound with life. Nearly all are women, a factoid breaking through your amnesia to remind you that among the Torean-born, women greatly outnumbered men. And some of them are looking your way. You do not have the choice to hide, indeed your laminate only seems to announce you *wanted* the attention. Everything is on display. (if: $Blue is true)[Every curve of your blue-clad body shines as you begin to walk, breasts thrust out and cupped provocatively by the smooth material(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[--through which your pierced nipples are evident]. It flares with your hips, running down the smooth expanse from your naval to the zipper between your legs. Your black boots snap out a steady rhythm as well, joined by the metal bits on you different cuffs and collar.] (if: $Smoke is true)[Every curve of your smoke-clad body shines as you begin to walk, breasts thrust out, cupped and supported by the harness below as if to highlight the provocativelyby smooth see-through material(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[--through which your pierced nipples are evident]. It flares with your hips, exposing the skin beneath as it runs down the smooth expanse from your naval to the black strip of a zipper between your legs. Your similarly colored boots snap out a steady rhythm as well.] (if: $Brand is true)[Every curve of your catsuit-clad body shines as you begin to walk, breasts thrust out and cupped provocatively by the smooth material(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[--through which your pierced nipples are evident]. Your corset further emphasizes your femininity, enforcing the hourglass like curve as your suit flares with your hips, your entire body a gleaming advertisement for the enjoyment of others. Walking remains an effort in your boots, but you're learning to live on your toes.] (if: $Sec is true)[Every curve of your uniformed body shines as you begin to walk, breasts thrust out and cupped provocatively by the smooth white material(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[--through which your pierced nipples are evident]. It flares with your hips, your tight skirt flexing back and forth with each step, its hug on your thighs pronounced. Behind, your tiny peplum skirt lifts as a gust of wind blows by.] (if: $Slave is true)[Every curve of your black-clad body shines as you begin to walk, breasts thrust out and cupped provocatively by the smooth material(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[--through which your pierced nipples are evident]. Your corset further emphasizes your femininity, enforcing the hourglass like curve as your suit flares with your hips, running down the smooth expanse from your naval to the zipper between your legs. There the hidden inserts move with every step, teasing as much as frustrating, and proving a silent companion to the more eviden snap of your boots upon the pavement.] At least you're not alone in the experience. Laminate clothing appears universal, everyone you pass exclusively wearing the material-- although what you infer from each outfit varies greatly. The presence of a collar provides a rough dividing line between those who keep their eyes down, and those who stride forward confidently. Catsuits and stilleto heels are in abundance, and even a few like yourself are visibly bound. (if: $Blue is true)[Still, the metallic coloration of your suit does serve to set you apart from most. The way the light catches it induces a sparkling effect, one offset by the harsh black of your other bindings. You get the sense from those who look to you that, at the very least, you're fitting in.] (if: $Smoke is true)[Still, the semi-transparency of your suit does serve to draw attention. Eyes linger on your chest, and you see at least one woman turn to watch you after having passed. You get the sense from such onlookers that you're not only fitting in, but standing out a bit.] (if: $Brand is true)[Still, the words and logos placed upon your suit does serve to draw attention. You're a walking billboard after all, glossy and obvious in your ballet heels. One pair of women who pass you by can be heard whispering about you having sold your dignity for so little though, to which you can only bite your bottom lip, momentarily obscuring the tiny logo so carefully imprinted there.] (if: $Sec is true)[Variations on your own outfit seem common, and you have to imagine similar attire is a common experience for any woman on Torei who worked in an office or something customer-facing. Sensible but glossy, your body on display yet maintaining a professional sense.] (if: $Slave is true)[Other outfits may have drawn attention, but your heavy slave-rated uniform is all but ignored. Passing women even seem to look away, with one growing visibly angry when you try to meet her gaze from behind your glass faceplate. Like many of those collared, you soon are keeping your eyes on the ground.](if: $Level is >=2)[Wearing your armbinder does again remind you of just how defenseless you are, though. Perfectly helpless.] [[The Transport Hub looms ahead, atop a massive raised platform overlooking the city.->Transport Hub Intro]]

A train sits idly on a large platform, raised above the street that ends before it, branching away in either direction. Reaching it requires walking up a ramp, one you notice is far less steep then those generally seen in the galaxy beyond Torei-- were they assuming customers would be in heels? (set: $FreeLead to false)(set: $Strike to 0)(set: $TruantFound to false)(set: $TrainPass to false)(set: $IsSlave to false)(set: $debtShower to false)(set: $IsSlave to false)(set: $IsabellaCheck to false)(set: $NunCheck to false)(set: $OffworlderCheck to false)(set: $Donate to false)(set: $DonateTrans to false)(set: $debtSec to false)(set: $debtSlave to false)(set: $debtBrand to false)(set: $NunFinePaid to false)(set: $NunHave to false)(set: $TruantQuest to false)(set: $NunPaidSelf to false)(set: $NunEnd1 to false)(set: $NunEnd2 to false)(set: $DonateIsabella to false)(set: $DonateTruant to false)(set: $DonateEuphoria to false)(set: $DonateDahlia to false)(set: $DonateEnd to false)(set: $TruantQuest to false)(set: $TruantQuestEnd to false)(set: $TruantQAccept to false)(set: $TruantOffer to false)(set: $ElizabethLoc to false)(set: $TruantQuestPamph to false)(set: $TruantQuestCarr to false)(set: $Quinn to false)(set: $QuinnQ1 to false)(set: $QuinnQ2 to false)(set: $TruantQFound to false)(set: $TruantQLie to false)(set: $TruantQLieNo to false)(set: $Daemon to false)(set: $Pierced to false) Either way, cresting the top reveals a crowd of some size divided into three seperate lines. Each are helpfully labeled and even color-coordinated by lines painted onto the platform, noting where one could wait for a service, or where boarding was occurring. Less then a dozen, two of them men in tight laminate, are seated on benches outside a station marked *Carriages*. A larger group stand in line or are seated near the area marked for *Train Boarding*. The final, and by far the largest contingent, all stand in line for something labeled only as *The Lead.* Checking out all three options at least seems a good idea. (set: $TransportCheck to 0) [[Let's start with the Carriage.->Carriage Hub]] [[Trains must be faster, let's start there.->Train Hub]] [[The Lead? It seems the most popular, let's start there.->Lead Hub]]

There isn't a line for the carriage booth at all, the mere handful of waiting passengers waiting nearby. One of the men who you glimpsed earlier has a girl in a secretarial looking outfit (if: $Sec is true)[much like your own] on his knee, having leaned in to whisper in her ear. Her lips are painted a bright red currently formed into an inviting 'O', as she clearly tries not to moan. It appears his hand is up her skirt. (if: $Sec is true or $Blue is true or $Smoke is true)[Approaching the carriage booth itself, you find a woman in a tight, bright blue servant's uniform. It bears the livery of *Grand Aekoran Transport*. She smiles when you ask how much it would cost for a ticket. 600 credits is the response, a tidy sum given you have exactly zero at the moment.] (if: $Brand is true)[Approaching the carriage booth itself, you find a woman in a tight, bright blue servant's uniform. It bears the livery of *Grand Aekoran Transport*. Her smile fades a bit at your approach, her eyes running across your branded outfit. When asked how much a ticket costs, she informs you it would be 600 credits-- and then goes further, suggesting a cheaper option if you cannot manage your own finances.] (if: $Slave is true)[Approaching the carriage booth itself, you find a woman in a tight, bright blue servant's uniform. It bears the livery of *Grand Aekoran Transport*. Her smile ends as soon as she notices your approach. "We do not take slaves," she declares promptly. Showing her your Freewomb marked ID achieves little. "Our exclusive services are not offered to anyone in full slave-rated uniform. Please step back, or I *will* call a Truancy Officer."] (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) [[You step away, to consider your other options->Transport Hub Intro II]]

The lines for the train aren't very long, but you don't even need to join them for information-- several large kiosks are setup near the entrance, their bright digital displays beckoning anyone to approach and learn more. You take one of the machines up on its offer. (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Sec is true or $Brand is true)[Greeting you in the name of *Trans Torean Rail*, an animated version of a young red-haired woman guides you through the various services. Apparently the rails are a common means of transport so near the Way Up, and Trans Torean services nearly a dozen different neighboring Ringdoms. Tickets to Grand Aekora, your destination, cost 400 credits. A secondary notice is given, however, that Freewombs such as yourself must be accompanied by an escort that's either male, or holds a valid Freewomb Rail Pass. You get the sense such passes are rare as the animated woman bids you a good day, but not before pointing to her collar to remind you that any further questions can be directed to a Trans Torean slave.] (if: $Slave is true)[The bright, cheery greeting display from *Trans Torean Rail* ends abruptly once you step up. In its stead, a very basic warning screen flashes before you: *Standardized Slave-Rated Uniform detected. Ticket sales and further assistance are not available. Rail travel is strictly prohibited for all slaves. Use of this kiosk is strictly prohibited for all slaves. Your account has charged a fee of 10 credits as punishment, per Aekoran Slave Codes (section 395, paragraph 8). Step away now, or further corrective measures will be authorized.* (set: $debt to it - 10)] [[Well, shit. Step back and consider your other options.->Transport Hub Intro II]]

Just what *the Lead* entails isn't exactly clear to you, but the line for it is by far the largest. All are women, and you notice a secondary line featuring a few dressed in the full slave-rated gear you (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Sec is true or $Brand is true)[saw mentioned in the Wardrobe Device. Uniformally black, with strict breath regulating masks, tight corsets, and tall boots, you have to imagine its not a particularly comfortable outfit to wear.](if: $Slave is true)[are also being subjected to. Watching the nearest closely, you can see her hips shifting back and forth. Its not hard to imagine the dildos undoubtedly locked inside her, a line of thought that causes your own cunt to ache. Taking as deep a breath as your corset and mask will allow, you at least realize there must be a seperate service for those in slave regalia.] (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) Above the crowd a large sign provides what you're looking for: rules and cost. Slaves are allowed to travel for free(if: $Slave is true)[ (you would not qualify, given an owner is mentioned as necessary)]. Freewombs such as yourself are also allowed to travel for free, but only at designated times-- apparently early in the morning, or for a few hours before nightfall. You suppose you could always wait awhile for that free period, but that could put you dangerously off schedule. Actually purchasing a ticket is also possible, at the cost of 200 credits. [[At least its relatively cheap? Take a step back to consider.->Transport Hub Intro II]]

Without a credit to your name, and nothing of value in your possession, getting into Downtown will be difficult. Yet checking all your options seems a good idea, if only to set yourself a goal. There has to be a way to make some quick money on Torei. [[How about the Carriages?->Carriage Hub]] [[The Train is always an option.->Train Hub]] [[What of The Lead?->Lead Hub]] (if: $TransportCheck is >= 3)[Turning around, you make your way to a nearby railing, the raised platform allowing you a good view of the nearby streets. You need to scrounge a few credits, and through the milling crowds you do indeed spot [[a few potential opportunities.->Street Hub]]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/hsGWqat.jpg="30%"> You're just one laminate-clad woman among many now. The occasional passing man causes more of a stir, those of your gender always making sure to clear out of their way. Your focus is on find credits, however, as you recall the possibilities you glimpsed as you descend beneath the transport hub's raised platform. One of the massive supporting pillars bears a number of posters, some advocating nearby sales, others city announcements. One in particular, a notice detailing a runaway slave, seems new. *Ellia Amadori*, it reads. *Reward offered for capture.* (if: $TruantQuest is true)[It's the woman the Truant Officer is searching for.] (if: $OffworlderCheck is false)[Near the corner of a particularly busy corner, a man wears something quite extraordinary-- pants and jacket, without a hint of laminate! He's calling out to the crowd, and trying to hand out pamphlets of some sort. You're not sure what that's about, but he's quite obviously an Offworlder like yourself.](if: $OffworlderCheck is true)[The offworlder, Michael, can still be seen approaching strangers regarding his Society. It does not appear he is having much success.] (if: $IsabellaCheck is false)[Seated on a bench near the transport hub, a familiar woman is watching passersby through mirrored glasses, smoking from a rectangular device. Her black laminate clothing has an aggressive, bold style-- and you recognize her as the woman you passed in the hotel's hallway. Perhaps she's the charitable sort?](if: $IsabellaCheck is true)[The Torean Mistress, Isabella, remains nearby. Her mirrored glasses look out upon the world as she taps the foot on one crossed leg, her steel-shod sole audible even from here.] (if: $NunCheck is false)[The rows of buildings are broken by a small, gated lot filled with strange... you struggle to call them *trees*. They rise in a trunk-like manner and form an oppressive, light absorbing canopy above, but their deep violet boughs are more like waves of laminate frozen in position. For some reason, you feel... a call to explore the space.](if: $NunCheck is true)[The gate to the Convent and Sister Euphoria remains open, although the cloaked Sister herself is lost amongst the solitude of her garden.] You currently have: (print: $debt) credits. [[Take a seat, catch your breath, save the game.->StreetSave]] (if: $Quinn is true and $TruantQFound is false)[[[You try to make your way to Quinnette Way, the address the carriage is scheduled to make that strange pickup from.->TransitCheckFromHub]]] (if: $TruantFound is true)[[[The Truant Officer you met before is waiting near her police cruiser, the only vehicle you've seen on these streets.->TransitCheckFromHub]]] (if: $OffworlderCheck is false)[[[The Offworlder, certainly he could be of help.->Offworlder Greet]]](if: $OffworlderCheck is true)[[Return to Michael, of the Liberty Society. You need to speak with him again.->TransitCheckFromHub]] (if: $IsabellaCheck is false)[[[The mysterious woman from the hotel, at least I know her...->Isabella Greet]]](if: $IsabellaCheck is true)[[[Isabella, the Torean Mistress from the hotel->TransitCheckFromHub]]] (if: $NunCheck is false)[[[I want to explore the strange yard and its so-called trees.->Nun Greet]]](if: $NunCheck is true)[[[Sister Euphoria, praying beneath the trees.->TransitCheckFromHub]]] [[Walk back up the ramp to the transport hub, you want to check out the travel situation again.->Transport Hub III]] [[The streets here have all sorts of attractions-- you decide to simply wander, to see where they take you.->TransitCheckFromHub]] (if: $debt is >= 200)[[[You've scrapped together enough for the lead! You can now leave, but better means of transport may still be available.->Transport Hub III]]] (if: $debt is >= 400)[[[Now you have enough credits for a train ticket-- if you have found the necessary permit as well.->Transport Hub III]]] (if: $debt is >= 600)[[[You may not be rich, but you've got enough to travel in style by carriage. Head to the Transport Hub now.->Transport Hub III]]] (if: $FreeLead is true)[[[You reckon its late enough in the day that the free Lead service is now available.->Transport Hub III]]]

You make your way back up the switchback slope, to the transport hub that rose above the local set of blocks. The various lines you saw before have changed somewhat, but much is the same as you left it. Several flickering signs provide reminders as to the cost of traveling. **The Lead:** (text-style: "blink")[200 Credits] **The Train:** (text-style: "blink")[400 Credits] **The Carriages:** (text-style: "blink")[600 Credits] You have (print: $debt) credits. (if: $TrainPass is false)[You do not have the pass required for the train.](if: $TrainPass is true)[You have the pass necessary to ride the train as a Freewomb.] (if: $FreeLead is false)[The Lead is not yet free, but will be if you wait long enough.](if: $FreeLead is true)[Dusk approaches. The Lead is now free for all Freewombs.] [[You're satisfied, and head back down the ramp to the Torean Streets.->Street Hub]] (if: $NunPick is true and $NunHave is false)[[[You're here to pickup Sister Dahlia, and head for the Slave Pens near the rear of the platform.->TransPickup]]] (if: $TruantQuestCarr is true and $Quinn is false)[[[Following a lead, you approach the Carriage booth about the runaway slave Amadori.->TruantQTrans]]] (if: $ElizabethLoc is true and $TruantQLie is false and $TruantQLieNo is false)[[[Michael told you to speak with his partner Elizabeth, to be found on a red bench...->TruantQLiz]]] (if: $Donate is true and $DonateTrans is false)[[[You're here to run the Liberty Society's donations booth.->DonateTran]]] (if: $debt is >= 200)[[[You approach the line for the Lead, finally ready to leave.->LeaveLead]]] (if: $debt is >= 400)[[[You approach the line for the Train, finally ready to leave.->LeaveTrain]]] (if: $debt is >= 600)[[[You approach the line for the Carriages, finally ready to leave.->LeaveCarriage]]] (if: $FreeLead is true)[[[You approach the line for the Lead, intending to take the free option.->LeaveLeadFree]]]

You continue your approach towards the man, seemingly alone in his masculinity and offworld textiles-- adrift in a sea of laminate clad women. As you get closer you can see that most are pointedly avoiding him, his attempts to address anyone passing by being most often flately rejected. "The Society does *good work*, you can donate, or we can help," you overhear, breaking through the crowd just as a woman in pristine white laminate makes a display of crumpling one of his brochures and tossing it over her shoulder. (set: $OffworlderCheck to true) To his credit, the man takes it in stride. He's tall, well built, trending towards the rugged look you remember popular in the more swashbuckling vid series. With the arms of his shirt rolled up you can see he's well muscled, giving a sense of physicality that is not matched by the disinterest of nearly everyone around him. [["Excuse me," you address him. "Sir?"->Offworlder Greet 2]] (if: $PlayE is true)[[You remember Isabella's training. He's male, in a public place, and you're a stranger about to negotiate from a position of weakness. Greet him in the Torean fashion, with a reverence.->Offworlder Greet 2B]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/u7Wnr7F.png"> The eerie 'forest' is set apart from the road by a simple wrought-iron fence, rising cage-like far above your head. A gate stands open, however, the gentle sigh of the wind running through the strange plants, seemingly inviting you in. It's quiet. *Too quiet.* [[This is a bad idea, I'm turning back.->Street Hub]] [[Enter.->NunGreet2]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/9MFJwF5.png" width="30%" height="30%"> Several benches line the wall that doubled as the raised platfrom for the transport hub above, and most of them are full-- except for one, at which the woman you saw in the hotel is seated alone. Her glossy laminated legs are crossed, one over the other so that a sharp stiletto flashes in the light at your approach. The inset of her black boots are chromed steel. She takes a long pull from some manner of electronic cigarette, the tip bright red. Exhaling crimson smoke, you catch a cinnamon scent. Her eyes are hidden by mirrored glasses and she doesn't turn to regard you, but you're given a command nevertheless. "On your knees, slave." (set: $IsabellaCheck to true) [[You remain standing. "I am not a slave."->IsGreetRefuse]] [[Your instincts compel. You kneel before her.->IsGreetAck]]

She takes another long drag of her cigarette, twin embers reflected in her glasses. Several moments pass in silence as she holds it in, savoring the flavor. Release follows, red smoke rising from equally red lips as she finally turns to regard you directly. "(if: $Slave is true or $Blue is true)[Yet you have that collar. Show me your ID." She takes the card you provide, sliding down her glasses to inspect the FREEWOMB stamped across the top. A smile forms. "Consider me surprised. Just enjoying being restrained like that, hm?"](else:)[It never hurts to check. You would be surprised at how many go down, despite what their ID may say."] (if: $Fondled is true)[She smirks. "And you *are* that woman I passed on the way out of the hotel. The one strung up, undergoing punishment. The one I touched, *barely* and who moaned like a wet slut."](else:)[Her gloved fingers tap against the top board of the bench, her arm stretched out upon it. "My name is Isabella Naram-Sin. You're the girl from the hotel. What exactly can I do for you?"] (if: $Fondled is true)[[["I... well, you..."->Fondled II]]](else:)[[["I... have a request."->IsRequest]]]

Her tone is sharp, but not harsh. Commanding, but not shrill. You find yourself unable to resist. On the sidewalk of a public street, as strangers pass by, you kneel to the woman before you. "Knees spread(if: $Level is 1)[, hands behind your back], she continues. You comply. "Eyes down." Several nearby women are clearly looking your way, you realize as you look down at the pavement. The woman doesn't care, but she does stand, running an obsidian glove along your head. (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Sec is true or $Brand is true)[Her fingers pull through your hair, petting gently.](if: $Slave is true)[Her fingers run against the smooth laminate of your hood, as your breath for once catches in your throat and not your mask.] Stepping forward, she plants one long leg between your spread knees, the shiny material of her catsuit running up before your face, to the meeting of her legs. You're looking at the ground though, as ordered. "Good girl. Now show me your ID." She takes your small card once offered. The image it bore of a bright, smiling traveler in a fashionable cotton dress is quite the juxtaposition to the laminated woman kneeling at her feet. The card is returned to you. "Freewomb? Interesting. Liberty can be such a burden, can it not?" She steps back and returns to her seat, indicating that you are allowed to rise. (if: $Fondled is true)[She smirks. "And you *are* that woman I passed on the way out of the hotel. The one strung up, undergoing punishment. The one I touched, *barely* and who moaned like a wet slut."](else:)[Her gloved fingers tap against the top board of the bench, her arm stretched out upon it. "My name is Isabella Naram-Sin. You're the girl from the hotel. What exactly can I do for you?"] (if: $Fondled is true)[[["I... well, you..."->Fondled II]]](else:)[[["I... have a request."->IsRequest]]]

You remember the experience vividly. Your armbinder pulled up behind you, rear raised for punishment-- and then her approach, all black laminate and confidence. The hand between your legs, teasing out more pleasure then you ever thought possible from so simple a touch. (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true and $Level is >= 2)[Perhaps its best your armbinder is locked in place, the urge to touch that zipper between your legs would have been overwhelming.](if: $Sec is true and $Level is >= 2)[Perhaps its best your armbinder is locked in place, the urge to run a hand up your own skirt is overwelming.](if: $Slave is true and $Level is >= 2)[Your armbinder prevents the overwelming desire to play with the zipper between your legs, but your aching cunt suckles greedily on the plug buried in it nevertheless.](else:)[Only the strongest effort keeps you from reaching down, to play with the cunt she had so briefly teased.] It's only then you realize how awkwardly you're standing before her, silent, face flushed. Isabella smirks. [["I had... have a request.->IsRequest]]

You sense Isabella would respond best to the truth, and offer it as best you can. It is not easy, your situation being as bizarre as it is shameful. Or perhaps memory loss and laminate locks are normal on Torei? At the very least she doesn't seem perturbed, but listens quietly, smoking that cinnamon device. As you finish she remains silent for a time long enough to worry you. But she does eventually turn her head, your own glossy reflection visible in her glasses. You get the feeling she's... *intrigued*. "I don't do charity," she states matter-of-factly. "But... I am open to you earning a few credits." She crosses her legs again, wipe hips and full thighs hard to ignore. "And perhaps I could get help with your need of a train pass." [["What do you mean, 'earn'?"->IsPresent]]

"My family owns half this Ringdom. I could pay for your every restraint to be removed and any transit ticket you desire. But I won't. Here on Torei, girls like you need to learn to earn their keep." (if: $Level is 1)[Isabella exhales another bit of smoke, her bright red lips forming into a luscious 'O'. "The Hotel we both stayed at has the right idea with that hobble chain. But let's go further. Have you ever been in public with your arms restrained? It's quite the learning experience to be so helpless. Chest thrust out, arms pulled back, anyone passing by could touch your tits. Your ass. Some do. Submit to an armbinder, and I'll give you... let's say 25 credits."] "(if: $Level is 1)[Go with the armbinder, and I'll add another offer afterward.](if: $Level is 1 or 2)[You might think you're deep into Torean culture now, with all that laminate... its transient. Passing. Peel the laminate off, leave this world, and you will have so little to remember us by. Let's change that. Just a bit. I'd like to see you with your nipples pierced. Submit to that, and I'll give you(if: $Level is 1)[ another] 25 credits."](if: $Level is 3 or 4)[Normally I would offer to add a few bits to your outfit, but you're already in a binder. And yes, I see those nipple piercings as well. I won't reward you if you are already being such a good girl... that's *expected* of you."] "I could offer you a chance to earn some extra credits in the proper Torean fashion," Isabella notes with amusement. "You still have your body, and your dignity. I could play with those. A little pleasure, or perhaps a little etiquette? I won't tell you what's involved, where is the fun in that-- but I will give you up to 50 credits each, depending on how well you do." Her steel-shod heel taps a few times on the pavement. "I even have a Freewomb Rail Pass. "(if: $Slave is true)[You're aware the train and carriages won't allow you aboard in that uniform, yes? There is a way I would... perhaps have a pass for you, in a manner of speaking. Otherwise your only option is the Lead, or to find a way out of that suit." She openly scoffs at that idea.](else:)[But that would take an entirely different sort of commitment from you."] Isabella Naram-Sin looks away, back towards the passing crowds. "So there are your choices. Are they good ones?" She smiles, before raising her cigarette to her lips. (set: $PlayP to false)(set: $PlayE to false) [[She certainly is full of ideas.->Isabella Hub]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/9MFJwF5.png" width="30%" height="30%"> Isabella sits patiently, her mirrored glasses watching others pass on the street. (if: $PlayE is true)[You remember your etiquette lesson, and recognize she is your social superior. Thus you greet her with a reverence, spreading your legs and (if: $Sec is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[lifting your skirt, briefly exposing your womanhood as you lower your eyes and bow.]](if: $Slave is true or $Brand is true or $Blue is true or $Smoke is true)[lowering your eyes, head bowed, presenting your catsuit's zipper by kneeling before her.] Isabella's placid expression shifts into a slight smile.] You have (print: $debt) credits. (if: $TruantQuest is true and $TruantQuestCarr is false)[[["Have you heard anything about that runaway slave, Amadori?"->IsabellaRunQ]]] (if: $Level is 1)[[["I wanted to talk about getting that armbinder." (+25 Credits)->IsArm]]] (if: $Level is 2)[[["You mentioned... wanting me to get piercings?"->IsPierce]]] (if: $PlayP is false)[[["I'd... like to play, as you said. Pleasure."->IsPlayP]]] (if: $PlayE is false)[[["I'd... like to play, as you said. Etiquette."->IsPlayE]]] (if: $IsSlave is false and $debtShower is false)[[["You mentioned you had a Train Pass?"->IsSlavePathREFUTE]]] (if: $IsSlave is false and $debtShower is false and $PlayE is true and $PlayP is true)[[["Now that we've played... you mentioned a train pass?"->IsSlavePath]]] (if: $debtShower is true and $Slave is false)[["I want... that slave suit, as we discussed."->GetSlave]] (if: $Slave is true and $debtShower is true and $Strike is > 10)[["I'm ready to commit, Isabella. Really. I want to be your slave."->Slave Commit]] (if: $Donate is true and $DonateEnd is false and $DonateIsabella is false)[[["Isabella, could I speak to you about the Liberty Society?->DonateIsabella]]] [["Did you say your family owns half this city?"->IsAsk]] [[For now you step away, looking elsewhere for help.->TransitChecktoHub]]

"Of course you do," Isabella smirks. "Terms are pretty straightforward. There is a Wardrobe Device just around the corner. We'll walk over there, and I'll set everything up. In a few minutes you can have your arms tightly bound in laminate behind your back. It's not comfortable, and you will have to deal with a certain feeling of... helplessness. But that's part of the fun." She lifts a gloved hand, forefinger rubbing against her thumb. "And I will give you 25 credits for being such a good girl." [[You do need to earn that money. "I'll submit."->IsArm 2]] [["I'm not ready for that, I have to think about it."->Isabella Hub]]

"I thought you might say that," Isabella muses, turning to look your way. Her lips are so very bright red, shining as she smiles. "Terms on this one are simple enough. We take a walk around the corner, there is a Wardrobe machine. I'll set everything up-- there will be a fee for removing and then reapplying the laminate over your chest, but I can handle that. It's for a good cause. "I'll give you 25 credits, and the Wardrobe will give you nice set of piercings through those tits of yours. It will hurt, but this is Torei, we can heal that. The sensitivity, however? That will be permanent. Every step forward will see your laminate tugging ever so slightly on them... you good with that?" [["I'm good with that, I think."->IsPierce 2]] [["I'm not ready for that, I have to think about it."->Isabella Hub]]

"Pleasure," she repeats, the word rolling across her bright red lips. "Sure, we can play with that. But don't think I'm going to treat you easier because you're some offworlder. We will do it right here, in public, the Torean way. That means your submission, via verbal contract, for the duration of our agreed upon contract. Let's say... an hour?" (if: $Brand is true or $Sec is true or $Smoke is true)[She opens her purse, pulling out a black circle of shiny laminate. A silver pendant hangs from the front, *Property of Isabella Naram-Sin* engraved upon it. "I'll set the timer on the back for an hour, and lock this on you."](if: $Slave is true or $Blue is true)[She opens her purse, pulling out a small silver pendant on which is engraved *Property of Isabella Naram-Sin.* "I'll set the timer on the side of the hook," she orders. "Then snap it to that collar you already have."] "Then we can begin, and you can earn... up to 50 credits." [[You swallow hard... but nod. "I'd like that."->IsPlayP 2]] [["I'm having second thoughts, let me... reconsider."->Isabella Hub]]

(set: $Strike to it +1) (if: $Blue is true)[You're a glossy blue doll among so many other women as you step away and consider your options.] (if: $Smoke is true)[The streets are full of other women, but few wear transparent laminate. Eyes naturally drift towards your womanhood, that black strip the only modesty you're allowed as you step away and consider your options.] (if: $Brand is true)[Your wide hips and tight corset draw looks, but its the adverts on your suit where eyes linger. Among so much laminate you still stand out. At least you're getting the hang of your boots, as you step away and consider your options.] (if: $Sec is true)[Your prim, professional attire helps you cut through the crowds. Those in the full black, mask, and collar of a slave even given you deference. Smiling, your candy red pumps snap against the concrete as you step away and consider your options.] (if: $Slave is true)[Among so many brightly colored woman, your black laminate uniform stands out distinctly. As you step away to consider your options, you fight to suppress the moan that comes with the shifting of your plugs. A passerby slaps your ass with a smile, your collar and uniform making you an easy target.] (if: $Strike is 2)[[[Your passage along the sidewalk is halted by a slowing in the crowd. Some sort of checkpoint awaits, ahead, without another means of passing. It takes some time for the queue before you to be processed, but as soon as you reach the front a harsh hand grabs you!->Truant Greet]]](if: $Strike is 4)[[[As you continue on your way, however, a voice suddenly calls out from behind. "Hey, you, girl!"->Strike4Start]]](if: $Strike is 6)[[[Making your way along the sidewalk, something catches your eye...->Strike6Start]]](if: $Strike is 8)[[[Your walk is interrupted by the sight of a woman standing out from the crowd...->Strike8Start]]](if: $Strike is 10)[[[The path before you turns, and a small crowd confronts you...->Strike10Start]]](if: $Strike is 12)[[[As you continue on your way, something catches your eye...->Strike12Start]]](if: $Strike is 14)[[[Your path forward is blocked by a line, of sorts...->Strike14Start]]](if: $Strike is 16)[[[Suddenly you pause, an intriguing sight catching your eye...->Strike16Start]]](if: $Strike is 18)[[[Walking among your fellow freewombs, you find your eyes drifting...->Strike18Start]]](if: $Strike is 20)[[[As you make your way along the Torean streets, you get the strange sense of being followed...->Strike20Start]]] (if: $Strike is 1 or 3 or 5 or 7 or 9 or 11 or 13 or 15 or 17 or 19)[[[Continue on your way.->Street Hub]]](if: $Strike is > 20)[[[Continue on your way.->Street Hub]]]

"Etiquette..." the midnight clad woman purrs, turning to eye you with amusment. "Do you understand what that even truly means, on Torei? I suspect you're (if: $Slave is true)[learning quite rapidly, in that slave suit.](else:)[picking it up piece by piece so far.] But you *could* do with a proper lesson on the basics. Torean culture expects many things of you, just because you're female. A mindset, in fact, that offworlders struggle with. Thus... etiquette. Internalizing our culture takes time, but anyone can be shown how to perform a proper Torean reverence. Such things is what we will play with." Isabella adjusts her glasses slightly. "We will discuss and demonstrate, and then at the end I will test you. Depending on how well you do, I will reward you up to 50 credits. How does that sound?" [[At least knowing what others expect of you could be very beneficial. "I would like to learn."->IsPlayE 2]] [["I'm having second thoughts, let me... reconsider."->Isabella Hub]]

Isabella nods, adjusting the fall of her ponytail afterward. "I know you can't remember much, but you must have heard of the Diarchs, right? Diarchy means rule of two. Technically any man or freewomb can be elected to each Diarch's chair. In reality, they always come from the two same families. One of them, the Naram-Sin, is mine." She taps her electronic cigarette, despite the lack of ash. Perhaps its an old habit. "It's a big family, though. I've only met my family's Diarch once. Anyway, you're not here to talk about politics. Let's talk about something *fun.*" [["Fun. Right..."->Isabella Hub]]

"I do," Isabella replies, a gust of wind blowing the scent of cinnamon from her direction. "But that is not a topic I would broach with you lightly. Certainly there must be other options available for you. Other sources of a pass, perhaps. The Lead, certainly." She looks to you, your glossy form reflected in her mirror glasses. "What I ask would be steep indeed." [["Noted... let me ask around some more, perhaps another option would be better."->Isabella Hub]] [["I want to hear your offer."->IsSlavePath II]]

You barely get a glimpse of a uniformed woman behind you, pulling you deeper into the checkpoint. A set of barriers with chainlink fences rising from the concrete provide a cordon, behind which an operation of some size is currently being undertaken. Several police-like vehicles are parked off to one side, the first such you've seen on the streets, while you're guided towards the other side-- into a side alley where more uniformed officers are dividing those such as yourself who are pulled from the line into two groups-- slaves and freewombs. (if: $Slave is true)[[[You're led towards those wearing the full black slave ensemble such as yourself, alongside a few collared women.->TruantSlave]]] (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[[[You're led towards the freewombs.->TruantReg]]]

"That's what I like to hear." Rising in a flourish of black laminate, Isabella leads you around the corner of the raised transit platform. A large opening leads down into an area excavated beneath, a sign over which reads *Pubic Facilities*. Those facilities turn out to be several bathrooms, one marked for Men, one for Freewombs, and one for Slaves-- and a row of Wardrobe Devices. Changing outfits after or just prior to a trip seems to be common. Isabella selects an open Wardrobe for you, using her own credentials to bring up a far more extensive catalog of options then you had seen at the Hotel. Selecting a (if: $Blue is true)[black] (if: $Smoke is true)[black] (if: $Brand is true)[black] (if: $Sec is true)[red] (if: $Slave is true)[black] armbinder design, she pays for the choice before indicating the now opened doors with a flourish. "Your bondage awaits." [[Step in.->IsArm 3]]

A tiled room, a simply display before you. You remember this, and you remember what comes next as the door behind you closes and arms seize your wrists, ankles, and throat. The Wardrobe whirls, arms cycling upward as those gripped to your wrists suddenly jerk your arms back. It isn't a gentle experience. Given the larger print job, three of the device's appendages begin circling your arms, coating them in the laminate that is quickly flash-set into a tight layer. Reinforcements are built into the area around your hands to prevent an escape, and so that a large ring can be emplaced-- which, once cooled an armature seizes, demonstrating just how easily you can now be controlled that way. The final component is the portion that circles around your shoulders and upper chest, anchoring the binder and preventing it from being slipped off easily. (set: $debt to it + 25) (set: $Level to 2) Already your shoulders whine with hints of pain, the position unpracticed. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/gh59YMk.png" width="30%" height="30%"> You emerge to find Isabella waiting, her glasses resting on her forehead so that she can given the Wardrobe's work a discerning look over. She tugs on the laminate covering your shoulders, and the outline of your elbows. Whatever she finds apparently meets her standards as she reaches up, dropping her glasses back into place. Stepping forward she reaches out, one hand finding your (if: $Brand is true or $Slave is true)[tightly corseted] waist, corralling you as her other hand explores one of your shiny(if: $Blue is true)[blue] (if: $Smoke is true)[smoky] (if: $Brand is true)[logo adorned] (if: $Sec is true)[white] (if: $Slave is true)[black] breasts. Her fingers almost immediately hardened your nipple, a trick that only furthers the sharp bit of pain when she pinches it slightly. "See how nice this is?" She asks. "Helpless." As if to underscore that point she releases you, but not without a rude slap of your ass. "You earned those 25 credits," she laughs, following you back up and around the corner to her bench. [[She retakes her seat as you adjust to your new armbinder.->Isabella Hub]]

"That's what I like to hear." Rising in a flourish of black laminate, Isabella leads you around the corner of the raised transit platform. A large opening leads down into an area excavated beneath, a sign over which reads *Pubic Facilities*. Those facilities turn out to be several bathrooms, one marked for Men, one for Freewombs, and one for Slaves-- and a row of Wardrobe Devices. Changing outfits after or just prior to a trip seems to be common. Isabella selects an open Wardrobe for you, using her own credentials to bring up a far more extensive catalog of options then you had seen at the Hotel. Selecting silvered piercings described as *Torean Standard*, she indicates the now opened door. "So few women on this planet remain unpierced for long. Its nothing to be ashamed of." [[Step in.->IsPierce 3]]

You're hobbled and bound, and the Wardrobe knows it. The customary arms grab at your wrists, ankles, and throat-- but another also seizes the ring set in your armbinder. You're left imagining what for, or at least until it demonstrates. The device holding onto your armbinder's ring pulls suddenly downward just as your legs are yanked forward. You're suspended in the air now, back arched, breasts pressing against the laminate cups of your oufit as they're thrust out. (if: $lave is true or $Brand is true)[Your corset makes the position painful in the extreme.] It's then that a new armature appears, this one new, at least to your eyes. Instead of a gripping limb, or a painter-like nozzle, this has something much more sinister: a lancing needle. Long, silvery... and move mechanically down, towards your breasts. The protection offered by your outfit is momentarily vacated, solvants being applied that melt the material readily in a steam that fans suck away greedily. With unnerving precision, the needle is positioned. There is no fanfare, no warning-- it merely shifts suddenly, one moment waiting beside your nipple, the next pierced straight through it. The Wardrobe device doesn't much care for your reaction. It does provide a quite fast acting healing agent, undoubtedly a Torean marvel of bioengineering that would have fascinated the Prospector that is your job title, but that seems less a kindness and more simple utilitarianism. Once healed, a silvery barbell is inserted, your violation now marked by the small silver balls now framing the highlight of your chest. You hang limply as the procedure is repeated on your other nipple. Afterward the nozzles return, reapplying the laminate of your suit. Its as if they had never torn it apart, but the foreign sensations emanating from your chest are a constant reminder... <img src="https://i.imgur.com/5744pPZ.png" width="30%" height="30%"> [[Stumble out.->IsPierce4]]

Isabella awaits, her glasses up on her forehead so she can take a better look. She certainly cares little for your sense of privacy, stepping forward immediately, one hand finding your (if: $Brand is true or $Slave is true)[tightly corseted] waist, corralling you as her other hand explores one of your shiny(if: $Blue is true)[blue] (if: $Smoke is true)[smoky] (if: $Brand is true)[logo adorned] (if: $Sec is true)[white] (if: $Slave is true)[black] breasts. Finding your nipple, her own laminated fingers pull at the bit of steel now piercing it. To your surprise, it almost feels as good as it hurts, eliciting a moan you fail to hold back. (set: $Level to 3)(set: $debt to it + 25) "Good girl," she nevertheless rewards you, standing momentarily hip to hip with her arm still around you. "Feel that? Stick your chest out. Those are *permanent*. Isn't it wonderful?" Her grin remains as she releases you, then leads the way back up to the street and around the corner. Finding her bench, she returns to it. "You're not a Torean girl until you've got those," Isabella notes as she brings out her cigarette again. "Was there something else?" [[She does have other opportunities.->Isabella Hub]]

Isabella snaps her owner's pendant onto you. "I'd like that, *Mistress*," she replies, her normally commanding tone growing stricter. "Until that comes off, you're *mine.* Now come here, on my lap." She shifts her seated posture, uncrossing her legs so that one thigh in particular is presented. (set: $PlayCheck to 0) [["On second thought, maybe I can't do this...->IsPlayPNo]] [[Approach her, and seat yourself on her lap.->IsPlayPYes]] [[Approach her, and straddle her offered leg.->IsPlayPlus]]

"Oh, its too late for that," Isabella muses. "Like I said: you're *mine* for the next hour. It won't be hard. All you need to do is listen to my orders and submit to them. Be a good girl." Grey eyes emerge from behind her mirrored shades. "Now earn you credits like a Torean girl, and come to my lap. (set: $PlayCheck to it - 1) [[Approach her, and seat yourself on her lap.->IsPlayPYes]] [[Approach her, and straddle her offered leg.->IsPlayPlus]]

You approach the seated Torean slowly(if: $Level is > 0)[, your hobble chain pulling momentarily taut as you position yourself]. (if: $Level is >= 2)[She guides you down with a hand on your armbinder.] Her obsidian laminate is quite warm to the touch after so long beneath the sun above, the heat cutting through your own glossy layer of material. You find it strangely calming as she wraps one hand around your(if: $Brand is true or $Slave is true)[ corseted] waist, pulling you more firmly into her embrace. Further below, Isabella shifts her heeled boots, interlocking one with your own. Several passing strangers note your intimacy as they pass, but the woman upon which you are seated ignores them completely. Instead her focus is solely on you, meeting your gaze(if: $Slave is true)[ through the glass of your mask]. (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) "Good girl. Chest out, back straight. Are you comfortable?" [["I think so."->MCheckFail]] [["Yes, Mistress."->MCheckPass]]

You approach the seated Torean slowly(if: $Level is > 0)[, your hobble chain pulling momentarily taut as you position yourself](if: $Level is >= 2)[, while she guides you down with a hand on your armbinder]. However, at the last moment you pivot, taking a position stradling her offered leg instead of seated regularly upon. Your laminate legs glide against her own, Isabella's red lips pursing momentarily before she smiles. "Horny little thing, aren't you? I like that." Her obsidian laminate is quite warm to the touch after so long beneath the sun above, the heat cutting through your own glossy layer of material. You find it strangely calming as she wraps one hand around your(if: $Brand is true or $Slave is true)[ corseted] waist, pulling you more firmly into her embrace. Further below, Isabella shifts her heeled boots, interlocking one with your footwear. Several passing strangers note your intimacy as they pass, but the woman upon which you are seated ignores them completely. Instead her focus is solely on you, meeting your gaze(if: $Slave is true)[ through the glass of your mask].(set: $PlayCheck to it + 2) "Good girl. Chest out, back straight. Are you comfortable?" [["I think so."->MCheckFail]] [["Yes, Mistress."->MCheckPass]]

"You think so, *Mistress,*" she reminds you, sternly. "Next time you forget, I will remind you more forcibly." It's a warning you don't want consider too long, and one she is content to leave there for the moment. Instead her attention turns to your outfit, so much of it now gliding against her own slick laminate. (if: $Blue is true)["I like the color," she notes, fondling your chest gently. "Black has such a peculiar meaning, on Torei. It is the color of power, of dominance-- and conversely, abject submission. But something like this, your bright blue? Those with a submissive mindset should enjoy the bright colors allowed to them. I prefer it in my slaves. It allows you to acquire the attention of your betters, it places your entire body on display. That's how you can become valuable." Her attention shifts to the black of your various cuffs, a finger sliding along your belt. "And you chose something so readily intended for bondage. Do you *like* being restrained? I bet you do."] (if: $Smoke is true)["You must have been quite horny when picking that oufit," she notes, fondling your chest gently. "Transparency is a fashion statement unto itself, but it so often trends towards the submissive-- and its almost always too adventurous for offworlders. The harness is nice as well, but I think I would prefer my slaves with something a bit more supportive. You are well endowed even without the Ministry of Improvements working on you, that should be emphasized.] (if: $Brand is true)["So, are you merely frugal, or is there something more in this choice of outfit," she asks, a hand moving up to gently fondle your breasts. "Perhaps you're an exhibitionist. Deep down, you want the attention being branded so garishly like this gives you. Someone else's words written on your thighs, an invitation for others to join you in submission on your back? It's not something we see often on Torei-- those who wish to be slaves can get the full experience so easily, after all." Her attention shifts to your boots. "Those look fun, though. I bet your ankles are killing you already. Toes too."] (if: $Sec is true)["I like this look on you," she explains, a hand casually playing with your breast. You're trying to maintain something like your dignity, despite everything. A professional look can go far in pursuit of that." Her hand slips between your knees, momentarily playing along your inner thighs. "But everyone knows you working girls don't wear panties so you can use your cunts at the first opportunity. Working hard certainly helps, but its always the slut on her knees that gets the promotion-- isn't it?"] (if: $Slave is true)["Look at you," she muses, casually playing with one of your encapsulted breasts. "Already just another black laminate slave, one of... thousands, perhaps millions. Did you know how hard it would be to get out of that suit, when you first submitted to it? Slaves like you are treated like almost interchangeable property, even if you hold Freewomb status... because that's what you are. Two plugged holes, constantly primed for your betters... a breath regulating mask to take away your identity, to keep you compliant... and a thick corset to show off that pretty ass. And I bet you just *love* the idea of it."] Isabella leans in closer. "Now, do you know what I meant when I said we would play with pleasure?" [["You... meant my body, Mistress. The pleasure that my body can give, or provide others."->MCheckFailII]] [["You... meant my body, Mistress. The pleasure I can be given, the things that can be done to me."->MCheckFailII]] [["You... meant your body, Mistress. The pleasure it can receive, or be given."->MCheckPassII]]

"Very good," she notes, her title used correctly. (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) (if: $Blue is true)["I like the color," she notes, fondling your chest gently. "Black has such a peculiar meaning, on Torei. It is the color of power, of dominance-- and conversely, abject submission. But something like this, your bright blue? Those with a submissive mindset should enjoy the bright colors allowed to them. I prefer it in my slaves. It allows you to acquire the attention of your betters, it places your entire body on display. That's how you can become valuable." Her attention shifts to the black of your various cuffs, a finger sliding along your belt. "And you chose something so readily intended for bondage. Do you *like* being restrained? I bet you do."] (if: $Smoke is true)["You must have been quite horny when picking that oufit," she notes, fondling your chest gently. "Transparency is a fashion statement unto itself, but it so often trends towards the submissive-- and its almost always too adventurous for offworlders. The harness is nice as well, but I think I would prefer my slaves with something a bit more supportive. You are well endowed even without the Ministry of Improvements working on you, that should be emphasized.] (if: $Brand is true)["So, are you merely frugal, or is there something more in this choice of outfit," she asks, a hand moving up to gently fondle your breasts. "Perhaps you're an exhibitionist. Deep down, you want the attention being branded so garishly like this gives you. Someone else's words written on your thighs, an invitation for others to join you in submission on your back? It's not something we see often on Torei-- those who wish to be slaves can get the full experience so easily, after all." Her attention shifts to your boots. "Those look fun, though. I bet your ankles are killing you already. Toes too."] (if: $Sec is true)["I like this look on you," she explains, a hand casually playing with your breast. You're trying to maintain something like your dignity, despite everything. A professional look can go far in pursuit of that." Her hand slips between your knees, momentarily playing along your inner thighs. "But everyone knows you working girls don't wear panties so you can use your cunts at the first opportunity. Working hard certainly helps, but its always the slut on her knees that gets the promotion-- isn't it?"] (if: $Slave is true)["Look at you," she muses, casually playing with one of your encapsulted breasts. "Already just another black laminate slave, one of... thousands, perhaps millions. Did you know how hard it would be to get out of that suit, when you first submitted to it? Slaves like you are treated like almost interchangeable property, even if you hold Freewomb status... because that's what you are. Two plugged holes, constantly primed for your betters... a breath regulating mask to take away your identity, to keep you compliant... and a thick corset to show off that pretty ass. And I bet you just *love* the idea of it."] Isabella leans in closer. "Now, do you know what I meant when I said we would play with pleasure?" [["You... meant my body, Mistress. The pleasure that my body can give, or provide others."->MCheckFailII]] [["You... meant my body, Mistress. The pleasure I can be given, the things that can be done to me."->MCheckFailII]] [["You... meant your body, Mistress. The pleasure it can receive, or be given."->MCheckPassII]]

"Well considered, but *wrong,*" Isabella replies, taking off her glasses and setting them down on the bench beside herself. "This *is* about my body. Slaves always get it backwards. They think with their cunts, and that's understandable. Smart girls don't find themselves in a collar. But there must be something in their minds above their bodies-- and that is the body of their Mistress." You're certainly close enough to get a perfect view of *your* Mistress' body. Her every curve is clad in glossy black laminate, a dark sea on which roll waves of reflected light. Wide hips and a full chest dominate, the corset between only emphasizing what was already naturally bountiful. The arms that hold you are equally black, as if the world was not allowed to know the grace of her direct touch. Looking up, even her eyes are mesmerizing, grey like cold steel, but so very alive with light. Watching, always watching. The bright red lips just below curve into a smile as she notices your attention. [[You blush. She's already holding you so provocatively in public, its best not to push it."->MCheckFailIII]] (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Sec is true or $Brand is true)[[[You kiss her. So close together, her pleasure on your mind...->MCheckKiss]]](if: $Slave is true)[[[Rub your plugged cunt against her leg.->MCheckSlave]]] [[You lower your eyes immediately, blushing as you lean in a bit closer, almost inviting an ever further embrace.->MCheckPassIII]]

"Very perceptive," Isabella relates, removing her glasses. Setting them down on the bench beside herself, she returns that hand to your body. (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) "This *is* about my body. Slaves always get it backwards. They think with their cunts, and that's understandable. Smart girls don't find themselves in a collar. But there must be something in their minds above their bodies-- and that is the body of their Mistress." You're certainly close enough to get a perfect view of *your* Mistress' body. Her every curve is clad in glossy black laminate, a dark sea on which roll waves of reflected light. Wide hips and a full chest dominate, the corset between only emphasizing what was already naturally bountiful. The arms that hold you are equally black, as if the world was not allowed to know the grace of her direct touch. Looking up, even her eyes are mesmerizing, grey like cold steel, but so very alive with light. Watching, always watching. The bright red lips just below curve into a smile as she notices your attention. [[You blush. She's already holding you so provocatively in public, its best not to push it."->MCheckFailIII]] (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Sec is true or $Brand is true)[[[You kiss her. So close together, her pleasure on your mind...->MCheckKiss]]] [[You lower your eyes immediately, blushing as you lean in a bit closer, almost inviting an ever further embrace.->MCheckPassIII]]

"I can tell you're aroused," she notes, speaking it aloud without a hint of shame. "And I want you to know right now that you're going to stay that way. we are exploring *my* pleasure, after all." She releases you, snapping her gloved fingers. "On your knees, on the ground, between my legs." [[You pull yourself from her slowly before making for the floor.->MCheckIV]]

Already so close together, it's not a hard maneuver to land. Even so, in just the briefest of moments before you connect, you can see those eyes-- so perceptive-- allowing you forward. Surprised, yes. But intrigued. Testing you. Your (if: $Blue is true)[dark blue] (if: $Smoke is true)[warm red] (if: $Brand is true)[bright red] (if: $Sec is true)[bright red] lips press against her own, so warm and inviting. Interlocked, you shift as best you can, pressing into her further. Your breasts meet her own, (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[your piercings providing sweet sensations as] she coordinates, drawing you in further. Several nearby woman pause to watch the show. [[Finally pull back, keep up your confidence with a lidded look.->MCheckKissFail]] [[Finally pull back, and lower your eyes. "Apologies, Mistress."->MCheckKissPass]]

Your plugged cunt, once again wet and aching, had only grown worse as she embraced you. Looking out from your heavy mask, its hard not to get lost in the reflection of your equally black bodies-- thighs, rears, legs entwined to the point its hard to tell where she begins and you end. Pressing your cunt, humping whatever was pressed between your legs, seems a good enough start as any. (set: $PlayCheck to it - 1) She responds with an immediate frown, those red lips looking so fierce as her brows pull down. Almost immediately she reaches out, seizing your (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[pierced] nipple, twisting hard. Even through your laminate it hurts, and you yelp. She doesn't let up, following it with a firm slap on your rear. "No," she states firm. "This is about my pleasure, not yours. You will have what I give you, and not a bit more." Several passersby had paused, watching the display. [["I'm sorry, Mistress, I just can't control myself sometimes... you're so beautiful."->MCheckFailIII]] [["I'll be good, I promise Mistress. You're just so beautiful."->MCheckFailIII]]

Isabella allows you to retreat, her eyes narrowed in consideration until you give a look most would see as smug. That seems to have been the wrong play. "I don't normally allow unprompted contact," she notes, tone firm. "Especially when my slave does not apologize afterward. You may be a slut, but its not proper for you to be proud of it." (set: $PlayCheck to it - 1) [[You try not to stare at her further. "Yes, Mistress."->MCheckFailIII]]

Isabella allows you to retreat, her eyes narrowed in consideration until you apologize. That seems to have been the right play. "I don't normally allow unprompted contact," she notes, a hint of a smile on those full lips you had just enjoyed. "But I appreciate your being properly ashamed. A slut like you needs to be." [[You try not to stare at her further. "Yes, Mistress."->MCheckPassIII]]

Moving onto your knees, the concrete you find yourself upon is hard against them. Laminate was proving to be many things, but it does not provide much in the way of padding. Now above you Isabella shifts her own posture, spreading her legs. One glossy steel-heeled shoe falls to each side of you, columns of black laminate running up, becoming round thighs before they meet in the space between her legs. A zipper (if: $Slave is true or $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true)[much like your own catsuit] can be seen there. "Back straight," she commands. "(if: $Level is 1)[Hands behind your back.] Chest out. Don't rest that rear, keep it up, just above your heels." As you comply, taking up half the sidewalk, several of the people passing by are forced to skirt around you. Isabella still doesn't care at all, and at the very least the road continues to be utterly without traffic. (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)["The next part is very simple, she continues, returning her mirrored glasses to her eyes. We're going to focus on my pleasure. Does your tongue have any experience pleasuring another woman?"](if: $Slave is true)["The next part is very simple, she continues, returning her mirrored glasses to her eyes. We're going to focus on my pleasure. In that slave uniform, you're basically just a tool for your owner's pleasure anyway. We're going to double down on that."] [["We're going to... in the street?"->MCheckVFail]] [["In the street, I... I mean... I do not have experience with this, Mistress."->MCheckVPass]]

"*Mistress*" she asserts, reminding you once more. "You're losing credits for that." (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)["Right here, in the street," she confirms, readily. "This is Torei, a slave pleasing her Mistress on a public bench happens every day. I want your tongue on my cunt, or as close as you can manage with the zipper in place. Do well enough, and maybe I will even pull that down."](if: $Slave is true)["Right here, in the street," she confirms, readily. Reaching into her purse, she withdraws what you immediately recognize as a dildo. Rendered in thick laminate, much like the set lodged between your legs, this one has a clear screw patter on its backside. Before you can wonder why, she has a hand on your laminated head, pulling you closer. Your mask featured a port to which tubes or perhaps a filter could be attached, but it also proves to be a universal adapter-- a few short turns, and you suddenly have a large cock jutting lewdly from your face. "This is Torei, a slave pleasing her Mistress on a park bench happens every day. And you're in full slave regalia, you're a fucktoy whether you like it or not. Now you have the tools to serve as a fucktoy too."] [[Her hand lands on your head, guiding you towards her sealed womanhood...->MCheckVIPass]] [[You resist the hand on your head, looking up to her eyes. "I... can't do this."->MCheckBackOut]]

(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)["Right here, in the street," she confirms, readily. "This is Torei, a slave pleasing her Mistress on a public bench happens every day. I want your tongue on my cunt, or as close as you can manage with the zipper in place. Do well enough, and maybe I will even pull that down."](if: $Slave is true)["Right here, in the street," she confirms, readily. Reaching into her purse, she withdraws what you immediately recognize as a dildo. Rendered in thick laminate, much like the set lodged between your legs, this one has a clear screw patter on its backside. Before you can wonder why, she has a hand on your laminated head, pulling you closer. Your mask featured a port to which tubes or perhaps a filter could be attached, but it also proves to be a universal adapter-- a few short turns, and you suddenly have a large cock jutting lewdly from your face. "This is Torei, a slave pleasing her Mistress on a park bench happens every day. And you're in full slave regalia, you're a fucktoy whether you like it or not. Now you have the tools to serve as a fucktoy too."] [[Her hand lands on your head, guiding you towards her sealed womanhood...->MCheckVIPass]] [[You resist the hand on your head, looking up to her eyes. "I... can't do this."->MCheckBackOut]]

(if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[Her hand remains on your head, gripping your blonde hair as she guides you in. The walls of black laminate that are her thighs converge, meeting at that central point to which a zipper is so tightly attached. Your pink tongue emerges to meet it, her glossy cunt so very warm against it. Despite your inexperience, you know to start slow, working your tongue along each side of the zipper in careful strokes.](if: $Slave is true)["Her hand remains on your hooded head, guiding you in. The walls of black laminate that are her thighs converge, meeting at that central point to which a zipper is so tightly attached. You guide the cock affixed to your face in gently, allowing its tip to press against the soft material-- and the flesh underneath."] Timing will be everything, and you get the sense this is very much a test. If you try to pull your head back, she will allow it, but that would be the end of your attempt. Choosing when to pull back could not be more important-- especially if you think you missed the point of peak pleasure. Better late then never. (set: $Please to 1) [[Give her pleasure.-->MCheckRepeat]]

Perhaps you're surprised to find a pitying look momentarily pass her features. She pauses, steel-shod heel tapping against the ground in thought. Isabella looks to you. "This I *won't* force. A task like this requires a willing slave. If you truly wish, we can end things here. But it will cost you credits." You're still kneeling, her legs spread before you. [["I'm sorry, Mistress. I can't.->MCheckEND]] [["I've... I've reconsidered. I can do this, Mistress."->MCheckVIPass]]

As if on cue, a small chime announces the end of your service. Removing the pendant announcing to the world that you were in service to her (if: $Slave is true)[as well as your mask's dildo], Isabella sits back on her bench, considering your efforts-- both during your discussion and the physical effort that followed afterward. { (if: $PlayCheck is 1 or 2 or 3)["Overall... I hope you at least learned something, here? Because I wasn't that impressed otherwise. You're an interesting enough toy to play with, I suppose, but it would do you well to remember that here on Torei you're nothing special. A dozen other girls are just waiting to do whatever you refuse to, or fail at. But I won't send you away empty-handed. You will get 10 credits."(set: $debt to it +10)] (if: $PlayCheck is 3 or 5)[Overall... I hope you at least learned something, here? Because I wasn't that impressed otherwise. You're an interesting enough toy to play with, I suppose, but it would do you well to remember that here on Torei you're nothing special. A dozen other girls are just waiting to do whatever you refuse to, or fail at. But you could have done worse, I suppose. You will get 20 credits."(set: $debt to it + 20)] (if: $PlayCheck is 6 or 7)["Overall... let's call it just a hair better then average, hm? You're an interesting enough toy to play with, and here on Torei that means everything. But you still have much to learn. Pleasure... it dictates some much here, on Torei. And your body is the only thing you offworlders can really offer us in the long run. Torei always has a need for... service. You will get 30 credits."(set: $debt to it +30)] (if: $PlayCheck is 8 or 9)["Overall... consider me surprised. That was an exploration of pleasure I may have expected from a Torean-born girl. From an offworlder? Let's just say you've been a very good girl. Not perfect, mind you, but very close. I will reward you with... 40 credits, as per our original negotiation"(set: $debt to it + 40)] (if: $PlayCheck is >= 10)[Overall... you outdid yourself. It could not have gone better. I know that we have spoken about your memory loss, that perhaps you will be returning to the Way Up... but have you considered staying? A collar would mold your raw talent... it would suit you. At the very least you've earned the full 50 credits possible."(set: $debt to it + 50)] } "Anyway, she concludes, having collected herself fully in the meantime. "I suppose... you're free to go. Unless there was something else you wanted to discuss?" (set: $PlayP to true) [[Were the credits worth it?->Isabella Hub]]

(set: $Please to it + 1) You work your (if: $Slave is true)[dildo](else:)[tongue] against Isabella's sealed womanhood, your eyes flicking back and forth between the laminate before you and the woman above. (if: $Please is >= 3)[Above you, Isabella leans back, getting comfortable.] (if: $Please is >= 7)[Despite her mirrored glasses, your position allows you to see Isabella's eyes have closed. She murmurs softly.] (if: $Please is >= 10)[Out of the corner of your eye, you can see you're getting quite a bit of attraction now from those who had been passing by.] (if: $Please is >= 13)[Your Mistress' right foot shifts slightly, her steel-clad heel making a bit of a grinding noise. It hides her moan from those further out, but not you.] (if: $Please is >= 17)[Your (if: $Slave is true)[neck](else:)[tongue] is getting quite tired, the muscles sore.] (if: $Please is >= 21)[The grip on the top of your head tightens.] (if: $Please is >= 24)[Isabella shifts her hips just enough that you can press even deeper with every stroke.] (if: $Please is >= 25)[Above, Isabella's breath catches slightly in her throat.] (if: $Please is >= 26)[Her breath is releases, her hips shifting backwards. You sense you may have just missed something.] (if: $Please is >= 27)[Isabella settles back, her quick breathing slowing.] [[Give her another stroke...->MCheckRepeat]] [[You've found it, you think. The point of peak pleasure. Or as close as you can get. Pull back.->MCheckR1Score]]

You pull your head back, ignoring the onlookers. Your decision has been made, and now you look for her approval. { (if: $Please is < 14)[Isabella meets your gaze immediately, her lips pulling into a frown. "Too early," she notes. "Far too early. That was worth a few credits, but I suppose you have not earned the chance for a bonus round." The hand that had moved towards her zipper pulls away.(set: $PlayCheck to it + 2)] (if: $Please is >= 14 and <= 24)[Isabella takes a moment to look down, a slight frown visible on her face. "Too early," she notes. "False peaks are a common pitfall for inexperienced slaves... but your eagerness is noted. I... suppose you've earned a chance for more." Her hand moves to her zipper.(set: $PlayCheck to it + 3)] (if: $Please is 25)[It takes a long moment for Isabella to meet your gaze, her chest rising and falling with alacrity. When she does, sitting back up as she glances momentarily at the crowd that had formed, she meets you with a smile. "I know you don't recall much, but are you sure you don't have experience with this? That was *perfect*. You've earned the right to be a proper cunt-slave." Her hand moves to her zipper.(set: $PlayCheck to it + 5)] (if: $Please is 26)[It takes a long moment for Isabella to meet your gaze, her chest rising and falling with alacrity. When she does, sitting back up as she glances momentarily at the crowd that had formed, she meets you with a smile. "I know you don't recall much, but are you sure you don't have experience with this? You were... so close. One stroke too far. But you've earned a bonus round. Her hand moves to her zipper.(set: $PlayCheck to it + 4)] (if: $Please is > 26)[Isabella takes a moment to look down, a slight frown visible on her face. "Too late," she notes. "Not bad... but you cannot overstimulate. It's a problem many new slaves have. There is something to be said for... restraint. That was worth a few credits, but I suppose you have not earned the chance for a bonus round. The hand that had moved towards her zipper pulls away.(set: $PlayCheck to it + 2)] } (if: $Please is < 13 and > 27)[[[Your eyes linger on her zipper, a lost opportunity.->MCheckEND]]] (if: $Please is > 13 and < 27)[[[Your eyes are transfixed by her zipper as its slowly pulled down...->MCheckBonus]]]

Between the soft black laminate of Isabella's legs, her slit is framed as the zipper descends. Her lips are smooth, parted slightly, as if inviting you forward. It's hardly a necessary invitation, given the fact that your Mistress does not give you the opportunity to back out this time. Her grip upon your head grows harsh. "Make me cum," she purrs above you, and I'll give you fifty extra credits. Use that (if: $Slave is true)[cock, fucktoy. Show me why you deserve that collar.](else:)[tongue, slave.]" You plunge forward, working among her tender folds. The foreplay outside her suit has already primed her, and now you're merely pushing her up the final ascent. Climax awaits, a fact demonstrated by the way her steel-shod heels slide against the pavement next to you, throwing up a few sparks as she twitches in ecstasy. How you finish this could decide how *she* finishes, and everything comes down the ruby you find embedded in her clit. So much sensual energy could come from direct stimulation, if you handle this just right... [[Take the gentle approach, give her clit piercing a soft brush...->Bonus Fail]] [[Split the difference, address her clit on the last stroke.->Bonus Fail]] [[Give Isabella a taste of her own boldness. Address her piercing HARD.->Bonus Clear]]

Isabella's back arches, her hand upon your head gripping hard. Her back arches, her breasts thrust out. Closer, and closer, and closer-- until you launch your final attack. And it's off. The woman above you never peaks, despite having come so close. You keep at it a bit longer, but eventually she yanks your head back, panting from the experience. Those that had stopped to watch seems disappointed, and they begin to drift away in ones and twos. "Close..." Isabella concludes, panting. "But not quite there. Honestly... it would have surprised me if you managed it..." She takes a deep breath, sitting back up. Below, she pulls her zipper back into place. "Maybe next time." [[Yes, Mistress...->MCheckEND]]

Isabella's back arches, her hand upon your head gripping hard. Her back arches, her breasts thrust out. Closer, and closer, and closer-- until you launch your final attack... (set: $debt to it + 50) ...and she gasps, for the first time moaning loudly as her legs twitch, pressing her cunt forcefully into your face. (if: $Slave is true)[She hilts herself on the phallus that still emerged from your mask, cumming hard. By the time she collapses back onto the bench, the dildo sliding out of her, your masking is dripping from her revelry. Some of it drips down onto your chest.](else:)[Your mouth and nose are buried in her slit, her pleasure running down your chin as she cums hard. By the time she collapses back onto the bench, you're panting as heavily as she is from the effort.] It takes her several long moments to rouse, during which you remain kneeling between her legs, and the small crowd that had gathered to watch disperse. You get the sense they're quite pleased with the display. "S-Surprising me, you... little whore..." Isabella manages, her smile wide. "Who would have guessed... a fresh offworlder... ha..." Eventually she manages to clean herself off, closing her zipper. She's still drifting in the afterglow as she looks your way. "You earned those 50 extra credits." [[Yes, Mistress...->MCheckEND]]

"Wonderful," Isabella responds, reaching for her purse. From it she withdraws (if: $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[a thick black collar, the lock on the back snapping it as she holds it up.](if: $Blue is true or $Slave is true)[a small black box, which she demonstrates snapping to the collar you're already wearing.](if: $Level is 3 or 4)[Additionally she looks to your pierced nipples, considering for a moment before digging out a pair of small half circles. Almost like pendants, small teeth clearly designed to snap onto the barbells adorning your tits are obvious.] "I will apply these to you, they will be used for the test. That will come *after* we discuss a variety of topics. I'm thinking... hmm, probably five different topics." (set: $PlayCheck to 0) [[Hopefully you're a quick learner.->IsPlayE Hub]]

Your body adorned by Isabella for testing, you stand before the seated woman as she counts off topics on a gloved hand, one finger at a time. It would be in your best interest to consider each topic fully. "The art of the Reverence, Curfew, the Ministry of Improvements, men on Torei, and... slavery." The Torean woman smiles. "Which would you like to cover?" [["Reverence, I suppose."->PlayRev]] [["Let's talk about Curfew."->PlayCurfew]] [["The... Ministry of Improvements?"->PlayImprov]] [["Let's talk about... men."->PlayMen]] [["Slavery?"->PlayOutfit]] [["Actually, I've learned enough. I think I'm ready for the test."->PlayETest]]

"Ah yes," the woman before you nods. "Reverence is an ancient Torean custom. Were I in control of the Way Up, I would demand instructions on it be given to every arriving offworlder. Any Torean worth being collared by will demand you practice it, after all. Sp what exactly is a reverence?" She pauses to draw another inhalation of her sweetly scented electronic cigarette. "Some call it the Torean curtsy. In short: as a woman, slave or freewomb, it is expected during any greeting or parting through which you are interacting with a superior in social rank. How you approach it is largely dependent on your clothing, however. And your bondage. The *classic* reverence is done if you are wearing a skirt, whereupon you spread your legs-- watching the distance carefully, too far and it is considered wanton, whoreish-- and lift your skirt to present your womanhood to the other person. It does not matter if you are thus bared, or wearing panties, or even chastity. The purpose is merely to present your current situation. During this, you lower your eyes, and depending on the social status of the person opposite you bow. Just a hint for a peer, further for someone of authority-- further still in formal situations, or if you are in the presence of any free male." Isbella gestures towards your oufit. "In your case? (if: $Sec is true)[If your arms are free, you would perform the classic reverence. That particular outfit is, in fact, designed with just such a use in mind. You would pull the hem of your skirt up, reveal yourself, then bow as far as circumstances demand.](else:)[Wearing a catsuit, as we both are, is a common enough thing as well. In our cases, if your arms are free, we would bow as usual, but in a singular smooth motion as we undo our crotch zipper-- then zip it closed again. The trick is to do it all quickly enough to appear well practiced, but not so quickly as to appear hurried. And if bound(if: $Level is > 1)[ as you are]? Then, in casual encounters you would spread your legs and press your hips forward, present your zipper as best you can. In formal circumstances you would kneel, legs spread.]" [["Reverence... got it."->IsPlayE Hub]]

Like a reigning schoolmistress, Isabella tips her head in a sage-like fashion. "Of course. Each Ringdom is different, and a handful do not hold such rules... but most do, including this one. Curfew applies to all women of majority, and effectively demands we not travel outdoors after dark unescorted." She sighs. "It is one of the more troublesome laws, truth be told. A legal escort must be male, and even with you offworlders coming in there are still precious few men. You must be leashed as well, and obviously there is a very real power dynamic involved there. Alternatives are a freewomb curfew exemption, a thing *very* rarely given, using point-to-point transport such as a carriage... or the Lead. Generally I utilize a carriage, but if say I were to attend a fancy gala a male escort would be expected. High society thrives on discussions of which man you have acquired for such things... or been forced to submit to." [["I believe I understand.->IsPlayE Hub]]

"You want to discuss *men*," Isabella replies, taking an amused tone. "All women do, eventually." She settles into her lesson with a slight shift of her seated position to become more comfortable. "You may or may not remember, given your situation, that men on Torei are rare-- generally one existing for every ten women. This gives them power, and the laws of most Ringdoms only further that. As long as they are not slaves, and few are, they are not subjected to curfew. They are excluded from most Ministry of Truancy spot checks and detainment. And earning credits is hardly difficult for them, a night providing legal escort is often enough for someone to live comfortably for a week." Her legs shift, uncrossing, then crossing again. "When interacting with a man, understand that you are subservient to him even if you have no formal contract or relation. If he wishes to touch you, it would generally be unwise to resist. If he seeks your favor, consider his intentions carefully. He has limits, but they are... far mour nebulous then those you have, as a woman. Ah, andlways perform reverence to men, Toreans will expect that." She smiles. "I have read of how things are where you come from. Remember that it is *very* different here. There is no equality, and it is the rare woman indeed who is superior to any male." [[Torei's culture is strange, but... "I understand."->IsPlayE Hub]]

"What Torei is *known* for," Isabella declares. "But a practice few offworlders ever try to truly understand. They come to Torei with their preconceptions, their love of a liberty they hold to dearly." Her white teeth gleam from behind red. "The stories of wayward tourists falling into slavery are common enough, and popular... but what surprises most is how many slaves entered their collars *willingly*. It is not an easy life, mind you, but there are protections that come with service. Privileges, too. Be that financially, spiritually, or with regards to relationships... the possibilities are endless." (if: $Slave is true)[Your instructor for the hour eyes your outfit. "And you're already closer then most freewombs to that life."] "Regardless," she concludes. "The moral of this story is that you cannot understand slavery on Torei, not yet. You need to live among-- or within-- it for sometime. Nothing beats practical experience." [["I understand.->IsPlayE Hub]]

"Are you?" She asks, tapping the top of the bench with a gloved finger. "I suppose we shall see about that. I will ask you five simple questions, and you will respond to them. This will not simply be rout memorization, mind you, I will require you extrapolate what we discussed. Each one you get right, I'll give you ten credits. If not... well, I still hope you will have learned *something.*" She reaches into her purse again, pulling forth a small remote. That she had added to your outfit suddenly seems a lot more suspicious. "Is that understood?" [["Yes, I understand."->IsQ1]] [["...yes."->IsQ1]]

Isabella turns to the topic readily. "The Ministry of Improvements, yes... this one is less strictly about etiquette, but important for someone in your position to know, nevertheless. Like most other Ministries on Torei, the Ministry of Improvements operates in many Ringdoms and provides a particular service: alteration of the human body. "I do not intend to provide you with a history lesson, but suffice it to say that Torei has far more advanced medical technology then the galaxy abroad, due to the presence of the AIs. Thus the improvement of our bodies is largely seen as a trivial matter. Simple aesthetic changes are common, adjusting your breasts or hips for instance, or the color of your eyes. Few Toreans retain their strictly natural attributes for long after their majority," she notes. "Especially slaves. Improving *them* is almost a requirement, if one wishes to impress among high society. A woman should fill out her catsuit in all the right ways, after all." (if: $Brand is true)[The seated woman looks to you. "Your heels, for example? The Ministry of Improvements could adjust your feet, your tendons. Allow you to wear ballets for weeks at a time. Or... the Ministry could make changes that *require* you wear them to walk properly."] She shrugs. "The Ministry of Improvements can get quite... intensive, as well. Gender modifications, non-human additions such as tails, antlers, what have you... your imagination is often the limit. Or that of a slave's owner, at least." [["Ministry of Improvements... got it."->IsPlayE Hub]] [["Would... an offworlder be able to trade for those medical advances, perhaps...?"->IsPlayE QQ]]

Isabella meets your eyes, lips pursed. "No, not usually. The Ministry of Improvements guards its techniques and technologies jealously... and for obvious reasons, one does not wish to run afoul of it. Even those with wealth, such as myself, interact with them carefully." She shrugs. "The occasional fool gets something from the polar AIs, through their Daemons. They are the originator of the technology, after all. But it rarely ends well for them." [["...right. Got it."->IsPlayE Hub]]

"First question: you have been on the planet for sometime, and another offworlder coworker you've known for years arrives on-planet to assist with whatever work brought you here in the first place. He is *male*. You meet for the first time on a public Torean street, and you are wearing..." <img src="https://i.imgur.com/9UEUNGC.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> She points to a woman passing by in a sleek red and black dress, corseted with a short skirt. "...that. How do you greet him?" [["I greet him as I always have, we know each other."->IsQ1Fail]] [["I greet him as an offworlder, he does not know the customs.."->IsQ1Fail]] [["I greet him with a slight reverence, I have more experience then he does on the planet."->IsQ1Fail]] [["I greet him with a full reverence, skirt up, eyes down."->IsQ1Pass]]

"Incorrect," Isabella replies. "You are both offwolders, and he may not even know Torean customs. But that does not matter, not when you're in a public place as I described. He is a free male, and you are a woman. You must give him full reverence. Skirt up, eyes down, bow. If not for his sake, then for your own. You never know who is watching, and business deals have fallen through for far lesser breaches of etiquette then it getting around that you do not respect men in such a manner." A bit of a flourish is made as she holds out the small remote. Before you can inquire as to its purpose, she presses the singular button-- and a sharp shock runs through your collar(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[ and your pierced nipples.] You nearly jump out of your heels in surprise, shaking your neck (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[and breasts] to escape the lingering ache emanating from the experience. "Try harder." Isabella demands. She continues on immediately. "Question two: you are by yourself at a store, and lose track of time. It is night, the nearest lead is 20 minutes away. The store owner is male. How would you best get home?" [["There... must be curfew shelters of some sort, right? I could wait all night."->IsQ2Pass]] [["I summon a carriage on the street."->IsQ2Fail]] [["I walk to the Lead, regardless of the distance."->IsQ2Fail]] [["I ask for an escort from the store owner."->IsQ2Pass]]

"Correct," Isabella replies. "You are both offwolders, and he may not even know Torean customs. But that does not matter, not when you're in a public place as I described. He is a free male, and you are a woman. You must give him full reverence. Skirt up, eyes down, bow. If not for his sake, then for your own. You never know who is watching, and business deals have fallen through for far lesser breaches of etiquette then it getting around that you do not respect men in such a manner." She continues on immediately. "Question two: you are by yourself at a store, and lose track of time. It is night, the nearest lead is 20 minutes away. The store owner is male. How best would you get home?" (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) [["There... must be curfew shelters of some sort, right? I could wait all night."->IsQ2Pass]] [["I summon a carriage on the street."->IsQ2Fail]] [["I walk to the Lead, regardless of the distance."->IsQ2Fail]] [["I ask for an escort from the store owner."->IsQ2Pass]]

"Correct." Isabella lifts a hand, as if to indicate the sky above. "You realized curfew is in effect, that's good. I did not mention it, but curfew shelters exist in areas far away from easy transport for just that sort of situation. To summon a carriage you would need to be on the street for at least some time, that would be a Curfew violation. Walking to the Lead would require the same. And asking for a male stranger's help in such a matter? I asked for the *best* option. He would have complete power over you, even if he agreed his terms would be undoubtedly strict." Another question follows. "Considering what we discussed regarding slavery, how common do you think self-admission to the Ministry of Improvements is on Torei?" (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) [["Not common at all, it's really only for slaves."->IsQ3Fail]] [["Not common at all, it's too expensive for most Freewombs."->IsQ3Fail]] [["Very common. It's free."->IsQ3Fail]] [["Very common. It's a good way to help get a job, or a collar."->IsQ3Pass]]

"Close... but wrong." Isabella lifts a hand, as if to indicate the sky above. "You realized curfew is in effect, that's good. I did not mention it, but curfew shelters exist in areas far away from easy transport for just that sort of situation. To summon a carriage you would need to be on the street for at least some time, that would be a Curfew violation. Walking to the Lead would require the same. And asking for a male stranger's help in such a matter? I asked for the *best* option. He would have complete power over you, even if he agreed his terms would be undoubtedly strict." She presses the button on her remote, your collar (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[nipples] suddenly being subjected to a brief electric shock. Another lesson, and one Isabella doesn't comment on. Another question follows. "Considering what we discussed regarding slavery, how common do you think self-admission to the Ministry of Improvements is on Torei?" [["Not common at all, it's really only for slaves."->IsQ3Fail]] [["Not common at all, it's too expensive for most Freewombs."->IsQ3Fail]] [["Very common. It's free."->IsQ3Fail]] [["Very common. It's a good way to help get a job, or a collar."->IsQ3Pass]]

"Incorrect." She depresses the button on her remote, sending a sharp shock through your collar (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[and the device attached to your tits.] You stomp your feet in response, biting down a yell, unable to escape the sensation. Isabella only shakes her head. "You must do better then that. Now, as to the answer, the Ministry of Improvements is *not* free, but here on Torei the technology is good enough that many procedures are very inexpensive. It is very common for prospective slaves to improve themselves in pursuit of some particular collar, or for freewombs to seek a raise by first visting the Ministry. Even offworlders travel here for completely mundane surgeries that would be nearly impossible, or very expensive, elsewhere." Yet another question follows. "You mentioned being a... businesswoman, of sorts? Let us try another business question. You are meeting with a Torean woman to sign some sort of mutually beneficial deal. You're wearing that same outfit as before, the red one, and are meeting in your hotel room. How would you greet her?" [["Full reverence, she is signing a deal with me."->IsQ4Fail]] [["Without reverence, we are equals."->IsQ4Fail]] [["Without reverence, we are meeting in a private area."->IsQ4Fail]] [["I would perform a partial reverence."->IsQ4Pass]]

"Correct. The Ministry of Improvements is *not* free, but here on Torei the technology is good enough that many procedures are very inexpensive. It is very common for prospective slaves to improve themselves in pursuit of some particular collar, or for freewombs to seek a raise by first visting the Ministry. Even offworlders travel here for completely mundane surgeries that would be nearly impossible, or very expensive, elsewhere." Yet another question follows. "You mentioned being a... businesswoman, of sorts? Let us try another business question. You are meeting with a Torean woman to sign some sort of mutually beneficial deal. You're wearing that same outfit as before, the red one, and are meeting in your hotel room. How would you greet her?" (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) [["Full reverence, she is signing a deal with me."->IsQ4Fail]] [["Without reverence, we are women, and equals."->IsQ4Fail]] [["Without reverence, we are meeting in a private area."->IsQ4Fail]] [["I would perform a partial reverence."->IsQ4Pass]]

Isabella shakes her head. "Wrong. You are women, and you are signing a mutally beneficial agreement. Thus a full reverence would be unnecessarily ceding the other woman power. Even though the setting is private, however, it is still a professional engagement. The proper greeting is thus a partial reverence. Skirt up, eyes down, very slight bow. If you're both particularly practiced, this should be performed at the same time." The remote in her hand is pressed, your collar (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[and breasts] coming alive with sudden electricty. She holds the button down, subjecting you to the punishment for a solid second. "Come on now." Then she licks her lips. "Last question: have I been a patient at the Ministry of Improvements?" Her smile tells you what your gut had already warned: this was a much more tricky question. She is certainly beautiful, that is clear: full chest, wide hips, inviting lips. You've seen her eyes are grey, and her hair is black. Those were hardly exotic options..." [["I... don't think I should answer that one."->IsQ5Pass]] [["Yes, your proportions are... perfect. Too perfect to be natural."->IsQ5Fail]] [["Yes, you're Torean after all."->IsQ5Fail]] [["No, you wouldn't ask if you weren't natural."->IsQ5Fail]] [["No, Toreans are known for their beauty."->IsQ5Fail]]

Isabella nods. "That is exactly it. You are women, and you are signing a mutally beneficial agreement. Thus a full reverence would be unnecessarily ceding the other woman power. Even though the setting is private, however, it is still a professional engagement. The proper greeting is thus a partial reverence. Skirt up, eyes down, very slight bow. If you're both particularly practiced, this should be performed at the same time." She licks her lips. "Last question: have I been a patient at the Ministry of Improvements?" Her smile tells you what your gut had already warned: this was a much more tricky question. She is certainly beautiful, that is clear: full chest, wide hips, inviting lips. You've seen her eyes are grey, and her hair is black. Those were hardly exotic options..." (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) [["I... don't think I should answer that one."->IsQ5Pass]] [["Yes, your proportions are... perfect. Too perfect to be natural."->IsQ5Fail]] [["Yes, you're Torean after all."->IsQ5Fail]] [["No, you wouldn't ask if you weren't natural."->IsQ5Fail]] [["No, Toreans are known for their beauty."->IsQ5Fail]]

"*Good answer,*" she replies, having been clearly poised to use the remote in her hand savagely. "It doesn't matter what I look like, or that I am Torean born. It does not matter that the Ministry of Improvements is so readily used. Here, in Aekora, you do not ask a lady of any importance such a question. That is something reserved for slaves, or marriage contracts." She holds up a gloved hand, wriggling each of her five fingers. As promised, that had been five questions. (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) "Let's see how you did, hm?" [["Sure.->IsQCheck]]

"*Wrong answer,*" she replies, holding up the remote in her hand with narrowed eyes. Pushing its lone button, the remote commands a harsh burst of electrict from your collar(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[ and pierced nipples], your yelp devolving into a low moan as she keeps the current coming for at least five seconds. By the time she lets off, the muscles in your neck are dreadfully sore(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[ and your heavy chest aches, the piercings you had been subjected to used so readily. In your frustration you shake your chest, the maneuver a bit lewd given the tight laminate of your outfit.] Isabella merely smiles, her momentary savagry evaporating. "Trick question. It doesn't matter what I look like, or that I am Torean born. It does not matter that the Ministry of Improvements is so readily used. Here, in Aekora, you do not ask a lady of any importance such a question. That is something reserved for slaves, or marriage contracts." She holds up a gloved hand, wriggling each of her five fingers. As promised, that had been five questions. (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) "Let's see how you did, hm?" [["Sure.->IsQCheck]]

"Alright," she concludes. Rising, she removes (if: $Slave is true or $Blue is true)[the device from your collar](else:)[the shock collar from your throat](if: $Level is 3 or 4)[ as well as the shock clips from your nipples]. "Five questions asked, five questions answered. You got (print: $PlayCheck) of my questions correct. And I did promise 10 credits per correct answer, so you will have them." She tips her head to the side, retaking her seat along the way. "I hope this proved to be... a learning experience? Even without your memory situation, the way we educate offworlders is shameful. Each and every one of you should be taught how to perform a reverence, at the very least..." She waves a hand, dismissing the frustration. You sense its a long held one. "If you need anything else, I will be here." (set: $PlayE to true) She looks away, to the crowds passing by. (if: $PlayCheck is 1)[(set: $debt to it + 10)](if: $PlayCheck is 2)[(set: $debt to it + 20)](if: $PlayCheck is 3)[(set: $debt to it + 30)](if: $PlayCheck is 4)[(set: $debt to it + 40)](if: $PlayCheck is 5)[(set: $debt to it + 50)] [[A learning experience indeed.->Isabella Hub]]

Looking down, she flicks perhaps the barest hint of dust from her laminate outfit. Or perhaps its to hide the slight smile that forms? "My Freewomb train pass is in my name only. I cannot simply give it to you, nor would I particularly want to. As I said, I do not *do* charity. But..." She looks back up to you, now *clearly* smiling. "My train pass does allow for my taking along personal belongings. Two pieces of luggage," she pats the purse at her side, "...and a slave." Isabella watches your reaction intently. "I am traveling to downtown Grand Aekora anyway, and would allow you to complete whatever business you have in the city. But you would be doing so under a proper slave collar and term of service. After you complete whatever you intend to do in the city, you will serve out your service contract with me. Standard issue, in all respects. I've come to learn offworlders are best enslaved under such contracts, less paperwork. The shortest standard slave contract is for six weeks-- with extensions, of course, if necessary or desired." She runs a hand up through her hair. "I wouldn't just offer this to anyone, mind you. I have a soft spot for offworlders, sure... but I thought there might be something... the moment we passed in the hotel hallway. (if: $PlayE or $PlayP is true)[Playing with you only confirmed it.]" [["I could never do that!"->IsSlavePath Refuse]] [["What... what else can you tell me about this offer?"->IsSlavePathQ]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/yNfV45r.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> Led through the neighborhood one last time, this trip is altogether different-- you do so on a leash, your newly minted Mistress leading you. She sets a harsh pace as well, despite the strictures of your slave suit, her steel-clad heels snapping sharply with every step. Reaching the Transport Platform she leads you up, then takes the lead dealing with the Transit attendant and Truant Officer manning the last checkpoint before the trains themselves. Where once you may have had to offer payment or negotiate with the Officer, now Isabella handles it all, even presenting your SLAVE-marked ID when prompted. "Remember to keep it on that leash," the Officer reminds your owner as together you're waved through. Again Isabella leads the way as you approach the sleek trains, boarding a car she chooses. The seats within are situated with tables between every two, forming small, intimate booths. Sliding into one, she forces you down with a sharp tug on your leash. "Slaves kneel, they rarely sit," she explains, crossing her legs beneath the table. It lends to the pensive posture she takes, leaning forward to examine you more closely. "Eyes down," she commands first, before continuing. "We need to discuss our business downtown." Outside, the train plunges off the platform, following the rails down beneath the city. [["Yes, Mistress."->Slave Train]]

"I understand," Isabella replies readily. "And that is, honestly, the expected response. But if you change your mind..." She shrugs. "Just ask me again." [[You're not ready for that, at all.->Isabella Hub]]

The seated Mistress' smile only widens. "I *knew* you're something special. As I said, this would be a standard contract, one that would keep you here on planet until it is dismissed. My family is quite wealthy, and I do live comfortably. So would you, by freewomb standards certainly. You can look up the details if you like, but in short: you would be *mine*. Your rights, your body, the work you do, even your dress-- those would be mine to decide. And let me be clear: I would not go easy on you, just because you're an offworlder. You would be a slave by *my* standards. *Torean* standards. I can tell you right now, at the very least, I would be taking you to the Ministry of Improvements." She gestures your way. (if: $Slave is true)[Speaking of your dress, I would keep you in the standardized gear you're wearing now. At least for a few weeks. It's a good learning experience, you would need to earn the *right* to a proper identity as a slave. After that... well, I have a very large wardrobe."](else:)[Speaking of dress, I would need a show of commitment before I did anything with you. That means getting you out of that oufit, and into something... properly slave like. The Aekoran Standardized Slave suit, to be precise. I expect you would have seen it in the hotel's wardrobe? It's a good learning experience to wear, and you would need to earn the *right* to a proper identity as my slave anyway. After that... well, I have a very large wardrobe."] [["I could never do that!"->IsSlavePath Refuse]] [["...you would take me to the Ministry of Improvements?"->IsSlavePathQ2]]

"Most slaves are improved eventually," she replies. "I'd have to consider the details, of course, but it would not be anything *too* substantial... at least at first. If we found the situation agreeable, and you renewed-- or were furthered through punishment clauses, though? I would have your proportions filled out a bit more. You're quite curvy for an offworlder, but this is Torei-- we have higher standards then whatever passes for acceptable beyond the Way Up. A set of Rainbow implants, of course. Eye and hair color adjustments, probably. And perhaps a Torean hormonal cycle, after some time. You think the feeling of laminate and bindings are overwhelming now? Just wait until you've got our sensitivity and libido." [["I could never do that!"->IsSlavePath Refuse]] [["That's... that's a lot..."->IsSlavePathQ3]]

"Yes it is." She makes no attempt to sugarcoat it. "But I think it might be something you're interested in, or you would not have asked so many questions about it..." (set: $debtShower to true) Her glossy shoulders shrug. "I want you to think about it. Roam around the area, speak to others, get different views of Torei. If this *really* interests you, (if: $Slave is true)[come back after awhile, and confirm your intention with me. I'll have your contract drawn up at the local Ministry of Wombs by then.](else:)[you need to tell me you want the full slave suit. And even then... if you get cold feet, I understand. The suit's timers will only be timed until we sign a contract, you can always walk away... if with a bit more bondage, for awhile.] [["I have a lot to think about...->Isabella Hub]]

She eyes you, clearly considering something weighty. Substantial. A long silence follows, before she seems to reach a conclusion. "If we play, if you learn pleasure and ettiquete as we discussed... then I will talk more about this. Not before." [["I understand."->Isabella Hub]]

For once she doesn't turn to regard you, instead watching the passersby. "You sure?" [["N-No."->Isabella Hub]] [["I'm sure."->GetSlave2]]

The words pass your lips, but there time seems to slow. Your memory may be shot full of holes, but the further back you go the clearer it is. Thousands of worlds are out there, billions of human beings. Going about their lives, perhaps traveling, certainly choosing to do as they willed. And you're about to reject that. Isabella had promised to let you finish your last deal, if you desired, but there would be no trimphant escape from Torei via the Way Up afterward. A contract would make your mere presence in the massive terminal at its base illegal-- slaves were strictly prohibited, you remember seeing a sign that declared that. Some in the position you're so close to had to have tried to run, then, for such a sign to even be necessary. It's not hard to imagine why they would try. A Torean slave did not have many rights. Isabella would keep you bound, in laminate. She would alter your body to suit her whims. And what if you resisted? You would be punished until you complied. "Here on Torei, certain things are still on laminate paper," she announces, breaking your revelry. In her hands she holds a glossy piece of thin-stamped laminate, as black as her outfit and your suit, line after line of white writing apparent upon it. "If you have any other questions before we do this, now would be the time. Or if you would like to do anything else by yourself, you should do that first. There is not going back." [["I do have questions."->SlaveHub]] [["I can't do this right now, let me think about this...->Isabella Hub]]

Her attention snaps to you immediately. "That's what I like to hear. Follow me." Rising in a flourish of black laminate, Isabella leads you around the corner of the raised transit platform, talking as she walks. "As we discussed, you're committing to nothing more then the suit at this time. You can always back out on our proposed contract until it is signed, remember that." A large opening leads down into an area excavated beneath, a sign over which reads *Pubic Facilities*. Those facilities turn out to be several bathrooms, one marked for Men, one for Freewombs, and one for Slaves-- alongside a row of Wardrobe Devices. Changing outfits after or just prior to a trip seems to be common. Isabella selects an open Wardrobe for you, using her own credentials to bring up a far more extensive catalog of options then you had seen at the Hotel. She pays a substantial fine for the early removal of your current outfit, the brief look at her account showing a *very* large balance. Meanwhile, a warning flashes in response to her selection of the standardized slave suit: *This is a standardized Slave-Rated Wardrobe outfit, as described in the Aekoran Slave Codes, Chapter 812, subsection 10. Wearing this uniform will subject all Slaves to High Protocol Laws as described in the Aekoran Slave Code, Chapter 679. Freewombs wearing this uniform will be subjected to portions of the Slave Code, and certain liberties may be revoked.* She dismisses it with a smile. "Ready?" [[Step in.->GetSlave3]]

You know the drill by this point, the arms the emerge once the door closes behind you almost like old friends. They grip your wrists, your ankles, and your throat as the machine truly revs up. The first step is a simple one, demonstrating the utility of the drain beneath you: a solvant dissolves your suit, your bindings, everything-- in a matter of seconds. Only metals or other installed compponents remain, but those are plucked by a pair of waiting arms as they fall to the floor. Recycling! The urge is there to close your eyes, as if ignorance could prevent what was about to occur. Is this *really* what you wanted? But your confidence holds, allowing you the only seat in the house as the show begins. Further mechanical arms and implements emerge, the largest being a ring wide enough that it barely fit the small room. It hovers above you, a far too large halo, waiting only for an attendant arm to strategically place your blonde hair before the device descends. Nozzles built into the ring emit a pungent substance as soon as it descends past the crown of your head. For a moment you think it paint, and it does adhere like the stuff, but the sensation is fleeting-- as following the emitters a white-light laser passes over the freshly applied material, and it flash-cools. What had been a thick spray is now a thin, slick, glossy material. Holes at your mouth, nose, and eyes are quickly excised. Cold upon your skin, but already your body is warming it up. Torei's all but sacred material, its most readily available substance: **laminate.** Thus your suit is quiet literally printed on, the base layer a solid midnight black. The ring descends bit by bit, rendering soft flesh into equally soft but so very *different* laminate. Secondary arms follow it down, providing spot treatment along seams and friction points-- although often the effect is for merely aesthetic purposes. Sometimes that takes the form of a second application of laminate, other times it lingers to produce something more substantial-- such as the zipper between your legs, the tiny metal components pre-formed and merely placed by the rapid-fire staccato movements of a particuarly agile mechanized arm. You're given no time to rest as the base layer concludes, the ring rapidly ascending as other arms move into the space to begin work on the most intensive component of your outfit: the corset. Several times the arms work along your midsection, printing in thick black material, before pre-forged strips of steel emerge. Those would be the bones that ensured a corset could trim the waist effectively, and once submerged into the thick material a final flash of light sets the material. Its not until synthetic lacing is carefully worked in a pattern through the holes along your back that the device actually begins to function, however. With every tug it grows tighter, never painful, but definitely uncomfortable. By the time the Wardrobe concludes, your chest is thrust out in response, while your back is straight and breathing takes some effort. [[And it only continues...->Get Slave 4B]]

No. One last accessory remains, having been listed on the original selection as... **inserts**. Adrenaline shoots through your system as the Wardrobe realigns itself again, this time positioning two large arms, one before your lower torso, the other just behind it. Long, thick cylinder-like forms begin to extrude from the arms, taking the shape of what you recognize quite immediately as masculine physiology. As they work, another more nimble arm presses forward, seizing upon the only zipper on your suit. A mathematically simple arc carries it down between your legs, exposing a set of holes matched so perfectly to the now fully formed dildos. Your body tenses as a syrup-like lubricant is applied to each. (set: $Slave to true)(set: $Blue to false)(set: $Smoke to false)(set: $Sec to false)(set: $Brand to false) [[Focus on your breathing.->GetSlave 5]]

No further warning is given. With sudden explosive action, the inserts drive forward. They find the waiting holes readily enough, then twist, as if screwing their way into your body. Despite yourself a moan escapes your ruby red (and masked) lips as you're pierced from both ends. They plunge further, and further-- your mind screams for an end, your body assures you it cannot take anymore. Yet it does. Still further, further, further... Until you're hilted on the ends, hips swaying minutely as you try fruitlessly to adapt to the sensation. It may be amusing in restrospect, if you ever allow yourself to remember this moment, how gentle the final arm is that pulls your zipper closed again. A small padlock on the end is almost an afterthought. Then, with a final flash of white light and a conclusive hiss, the armatures withdraw. You collapse to your knees, the short distance an altogether new experience as your inserts shift deep within your cunt and rear. Again you moan, this time frustrated with yourself as you try to focus, breathing hard against the stricture of your mask. It takes several minutes, but eventually you find yourself watching the tight, glossy material covering your chest gently rise and fall. Your posture is ensured by the corset, while also making each breath a bit of an effort, at least until your body adapted. The sensation of the laminate is almost otherwordly as well, light pressure upon your body from toe to head, a lover's embrace you cannot escape. Excepting the zipper between your legs (and that is locked), there is no point of entrance, no direct break in the experience. Only smooth laminate, and the labored sound of your own breathing. Running a hand down the slick material reveals laminate to laminate contact to be almost frictionless. It's almost too easy to forget your own hand as it glides along your thigh-- as a strong compulsion draws the limb inward, towards the nexus of your legs. You resist... for the moment. Instead you struggle back to your feet, biting your lip, pelvis thrusting slightly in reaction to the sensations within. Your heels do not help matters, the effect of being forced onto your toes one that will certainly take some effort to combat. (if: $Level is > 0)[It's then that the armatures return, one last brief experience as you're pulled back up into position. Did you think you were going to get our of your punishments from the hotel so easily? They're rebuilt in short order, your hobble chain(if: $Level is > 1)[ and armbinder] replaced by shiny black new ones. Only then are you release for the last time.] The Wardrobe's display flicks back into existence, a final sentence emerging upon it. *Your dressing order has now been completed. If this machine is functioning under slave protocols, you may be held until a legally recognized owner or agent arrives to collect you. Otherwise, the door will open shortly. Watch your step, and enjoy...* The doors open as promised, allowing you to shuffle awkwardly back out into the dim light of the far corridor. Isabella awaits expectantly. [[Make your way there.->Get Slave 6]]

She does not spare your body her hands, the black laminate of her gloves gliding so effortlessly over your own obsidian form as she examines every detail. Your breath catches in your throat, nearly choking you considering how little oxygen the mask seemed to allow, when her fingers glide momentarily between your legs. "I can barely tell its *you* in there," she declares, seemingly quite satisfied. "You're really going to struggle with that, I can tell already. Good." She steps back, if only to take you all in at once. Your new corset forces your chest out while emphasizing the curve from hip to waist, forming a silhouette as provacative as it is lewd. (if: $Level is 2)[The armbinder only furthers the effect(if: $Level is 3 or 4)[ while your pierced nipples are hidden only until light rolls across your chest, the steel nubs pressing against your laminate].] Isabella's hands collect together, she seems almost proud. "Well, there we are. As I promised, those locks you're wearing are time-sensative right now. You can walk back up that ramp and never see me again, if you like." Her red lips form into a smile. "But if you still want the contract... I want you to explore, talk to others nearby. Get different views of what Torei can be. And if you *still* want it... come back to me. We will take a walk to the nearest Ministry of Wombs office, then." You focus on your breathing as she leads you back to her bench, where she takes a seat, lighting up her electronic cigarette again. [[Your plugs shift within you.->Isabella Hub]]

The black laminate contract glistens beneath the sun... [["Are there any further terms I should know about?"]] [["Where would I be living?"]] [["Do you have any other slaves...?"]] [["What would my role be, as a slave?"]] [["I can't do this right now, let me think about this..."->Isabella Hub]] [["I don't have any further questions Let's finalize this."]]

"Well--" she replies, removing her glasses to look into your mask, meeting your gaze directly. "This is a standard slave contract, by Aekoran law. The same thing women in your position have been signing for... hundreds of years, although quite short by most measurements. Six weeks of guaranteed enslavement on your part. More, if you trigger punishment clauses. All the standard revoking of your personal liberties, as we discussed. Including your full body rights. My family's appendixes are applied as well, House Naram-Sin's lawyers always demand that. Those are straightforward-- if anything would happen to me, your slave contract would pass to the House trust unless my will specifies otherwise. If you were to have any children during your time in the collar-- impossible given your term of service, but I should mention it-- boys would be raised by my House. Girls would be enslaved upon reaching their majority." [[You nod, deep in thought...->SlaveHub]]

"I do," Isabella states simply. "By my family's standards, my estate is small, but I wouldn't be a full-blooded Naram-Sin without a few pieces of collared property. I have a carriage and two attendant ponygirls, a governess, and a soubrette. You would be my 5th." [[You're not the first, at least...->SlaveHub]]

Isabella's eyes narrow slightly. "I'm... not sure, yet. You would be my first offworlder, and you will need a period of training. That's why I intend to keep you in that standard uniform you're wearing right now, for a few weeks at least. Whatever I decide, it will be quite the change for you, I would imagine. The Torean household has had... centuries to adapt to the precence of slaves. There are many niche roles, and opportunities for one such as yourself. You will be no different then any other collared slut." [["Just another slave..."->SlaveHub]]

"My estate in Grand Aekora," Isabella replies readily. "Technically it's an apartment, but when its two stories tall and *really* spacious... I call it an estate. Oh, do you mean where within that? The slave quarters, of course. A cell at first, but I do allow some of my girls a bed." [["A cell..."->SlaveHub]]

"You're *sure?*" She looks to you, lips pulled into a tight line. "There is no going back after this. If you want more time to think about it, I would implore you to do so." [["I want this, Isabella."->SlaveCONFIRM]] [["Right, let me... think about this...->Isabella Hub]]

Behind her glasses, grey eyes shine with clear excitement. "Then we need only travel to the local Ministry of Wombs, a branch office isn't far." From her purse she pulls forth a length of laminate cord, one end formed into a simple loop, the other a steel shackle. It's the later she hooks to the waiting ring on the front of your collar, forming a leash she uses to guide you along. You walk the streets of Torei as a freewomb for the last time, leashed to a woman you barely knew, on your way towards enslavement. Even without your plugs pumping into your cunt with every step, everything that follows is something of a blur. Perhaps you should be taking it all end, but you find yourself focusing on Isabella herself. Her corset, the bow so primly done. Her ass, so full and glossy, as she walks. And the lingering scent of cinnamon, as sharp and heady as any proper intoxicant... The Ministry of Wombs indeed have a small branch office a few blocks away. You're left by the door alongside several other women, each of you leashed to a series of hooks provided for just that purpose. It takes some time, but eventually you're retrieved. Taken into a small room, you are forced to kneel, legs spread and eyes down. A Ministry employee takes your ID card, and then asks a series of simple questions. Afterward, with Isabella standing above you, hand on your laminate-covered head, the Ministry employee requests you repeat after her: "I enter into this contract of my own free will, without coercion, intimidation or threat of retaliation beyond that which is documented in the contract..." (set: $IsSlave to true)(set: $Slave to false) [["I enter into this contract of my own free will, without coercion, intimidation or threat of retaliation beyond that which is documented in the contract..."->SLAVE CONFIRM 2]]

SLAVE AND LEVEL 4 (set: $Slave to true)(set: $Level to 4) [[Transport Hub Intro]]

(set: $Strike to it +1) You set out along the Torean Streets, trying to ignore (if: $Slave is true)[the heady churn of your inserts,](if: $Blue is true)[the quiet clinking of your myriad cuffs,] (if: $Smoke is true)[the way every passerby can see so easily through your catsuit,] (if: $Brand is true)[the attention your suit's adverts and heels draw,] (if: $Sec is true)[the way your chest is presses so boldly against your laminate blouse,] (if: $Level is 2)[the pain in your shoulders from your strict arbminder,] (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[the sweet sensation of the metal piercing your nipples]. (if: $Strike is 2)[[[Your passage along the sidewalk is halted by a slowing in the crowd. Some sort of checkpoint awaits, ahead, without another means of passing. It takes some time for the queue before you to be processed, but as soon as you reach the front a harsh hand grabs you!->Truant Greet]]](if: $Strike is 4)[[[As you continue on your way, however, a voice suddenly calls out from behind. "Hey, you, girl!->Strike4Start]]](if: $Strike is 6)[[[Making your way along the sidewalk, something catches your eye...->Strike6Start]]](if: $Strike is 8)[[[Your walk is interrupted by the sight of a woman standing out from the crowd...->Strike8Start]]](if: $Strike is 10)[[[The path before you turns, and a small crowd confronts you...->Strike10Start]]](if: $Strike is 12)[[[As you continue on your way, something catches your eye...->Strike12Start]]](if: $Strike is 14)[[[Your path forward is blocked by a line, of sorts...->Strike14Start]]](if: $Strike is 16)[[[Suddenly you pause, an intriguing sight catching your eye...->Strike16Start]]](if: $Strike is 18)[[[Walking among your fellow freewombs, you find your eyes drifting...->Strike18Start]]](if: $Strike is 20)[[[As you make your way along the Torean streets, you get the strange sense of being followed...->Strike20Start]]] (if: $Strike is 1 or 3 or 5 or 7 or 9 or 11 or 13 or 15 or 17 or 19)[You continue on your way, towards... [[...what becomes a loop, returning to the area near the transit platform.->Street Hub]] (if: $Quinn is true and $TruantQFound is false)[[[Quinnette Way, on the hunt for the runaway slave.->Quinn Start]]] (if: $NunCheck is true)[[[Sister Euphoria, near the Convent->Nun Hub]]] (if: $IsabellaCheck is true)[[[Isabella, on her bench.->Isabella Hub]]] (if: $OffworlderCheck is true)[[[Michael, at his customary corner.->Offworlder Hub]]] (if: $TruantFound is true)[[[the Truant Officer.->Truant Hub]]]] (if: $Strike is > 20)[You continue on your way, towards... [[...what becomes a loop, returning to the area near the transit platform.->Street Hub]] (if: $Quinn is true and $TruantQFound is false)[[[Quinnette Way, on the hunt for the runaway slave.->Quinn Start]]] (if: $NunCheck is true)[[[Sister Euphoria, near the Convent->Nun Hub]]] (if: $IsabellaCheck is true)[[[Isabella, on her bench.->Isabella Hub]]] (if: $OffworlderCheck is true)[[[Michael, at his customary corner.->Offworlder Hub]]] (if: $TruantFound is true)[[[the Truant Officer.->Truant Hub]]]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Iq1v84O.png" width="30%" height="30%"> Sister Euphoria kneels among the strange plantlife, hands clasped, red eyes closed in silent prayer. The muzzle across her lips hides the movement, but her lips must of parted as she speaks. "Yes(if: $Slave is true)[, Sister]?" (if: $NunEnd1 is true or $NunEnd2 is true)[Sister Dahlia kneels off to the side of the clearing, the white of her laminate bright despite the shadows that fall upon her.] You have: (print: $debt) Credits. (if: $TruantQuest is true and $TruantQuestEnd is false)[[["Could I ask you something about that runaway slave, Amadori?"->NunTruantQHub]]] (if: $Slave is true)[[["May I ask why you called me 'Sister'?"->AskSister]]] [["Can you tell me... more about your Convent?"->AskCon]] [["Can I ask about yourself? Euphoria cannot be your real name."->AskPers]] [["Can I make a donation to the Convent?"->DonateNun]] (if: $NunCon is false)[[["You mentioned... a program of Contemplation?"->NunContem]]] (if: $NunSens is false)[[["You mentioned... a program of Sensation?"->NunSens]]] (if: $NunCon is false or $NunSens is false)[[["You mentioned... a program of Revelation?"->RevelationNO]]](if: $NunCon is true and $NunSens is true)[[["I have completed Contemplation and Sensation, can we discuss Revelation now?"->NunRevelationYES]]] (if: $NunPath is true)[["I want to discuss the fourth program, Conversion."->NunRevelationFINAL]] (if: $NunPath is false)[[["You mentioned... four programs. Can I ask about the fourth?"->ConvertNO]]] [["You wouldn't have a Train Pass by chance, would you?"->TrainAskNO]] (if: $NunPick is false and $NunHave is false)[[["You mentioned needing help with some other sort of task?"->PickupTalk]]] (if: $NunEnd1 is true or $NunEnd2 is true)[[[Approach Sister Dahlia.->Dahlia Hub]]] (if: $Donate is true and $DonateEuphoria is false and $DonateEnd is false)[[["Sister Euphoria, would you by chance like to make a donation to the Liberty Society?->DonateEuphoria]]] [[For now you exit the garden, looking elsewhere for help.->TransitChecktoHub]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/lXSBXLs.png"> Michael breaks from his hawking of pamphlets, standing tall as he spots you on approach towards his corner. You have (print: $debt) credits. (if: $TruantQuest is true and $TruantEnd is false)[[["I've seen some posters about a runaway, Amadori. Could I ask you some questions about that?"->OffTruantQ]]] (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[[["Can we talk about... my nipple piercings?"->OffNip]]](if: $Level is 2)[[["Can we talk about getting this damned armbinder off?"->OffArm]]](if: $Level is 1)[[["I've only got this hobble chain... could you remove that?"->OffHobble]]] (if: $debtSec is false)[[["How about that interview for 25 credits?"->OffInterview]]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["You're really offering 100 credits for a few pictures? What's the catch?"->OffPhoto]]] (if: $Donate is false)[[["Donation collection? I could do that."->OffDonate]]](if: $Donate is true and $DonateTrans is false)[[["I think I'm all done with collecting those donations, Michael."->OffDonateFail]]](if: $Donate is true and $DonateTrans is true)[[["Hey, I think I'm all ready to turn in those donations I've been collecting."->OffDonateEnd]]] (if: $Slave is true)[[["With everything you offer... can do you anything about this suit I'm wearing?"->OffRemoveSuit]]] [["Can I ask a question? You're not at all... distracted, by the way we all dress here?"->OffAsk]] [["Any way you could get me a train pass?"->OffAskPass]] [[For now you step away, looking elsewhere for help.->TransitChecktoHub]]

Given the intended production of a full scale regulation mask, the promised makeup is applied next. Mechanical arms seize your head, holding it tight as nozzles approach your face. A quick blast of air instinctively causes your eyes to close, and in that brief moment the Wardrobe does its work. Your eyelids have been darkened and your eyelashes extended, producing an alluring effect. And your lips are now a bright red coloration, an interesting detail given what comes next. That would be your mask, listed for *breath regulation*. You already have been provided with a thin hood much akin to the rest of your catsuit, but this secondary mask is much thicker, several armatures working together to forge it upon your face. A handful of metal components are integrated as well, but your field of vision had already been restricted enough that you barely notice. Indeed, before you know it a curved glass panel is being placed just before your eyes, the laminate seals along the edge flash-cooling. Your next breath, the first within your new enclosed environment, is thus harder. *Much* harder. You gasp, trying to suck in enough oxygen-- only for your corset's constriction to assert itself. It's a devious combination, one you would have almost certainly cursed had not the machine (and thus your own focus) already shifted elsewhere. Several attending arms move back up to your throat, casting thick laminate in yet another layer until several steel segments (much like those trimming your waist) are sunk into the material. The Wardrobe was ensuring your head remained up, but you're hit with the immediate sensation that was no longer necessary-- the collar would ensure your posture going forward. Yet another componenent of your outfit comes with the sensation of your own feet rising, the sensation unequal and primarily at your heel. Without the restraint arms you would have toppled over, but they hold you tight, tall stilleto heels and a thick platform for your toes being extruded into place. Black laminate follows, coating your feet and providing the anchor on which laces are quickly assembled. [[You're becoming something else... is it over?->Get Slave 4]]

The words slip from your mouth so readily, any trepidation you may have held is left behind. *This* was the real promise of Torei. Not its medical advances, or the credits that could be earned from some technology deal. No-- the magic of Torei came from how easy this all was. To be on your knees, in laminate from head to toe, giving away your rights word by word... It ends with a congratulations from the employee, who returns your ID card before leaving. *Freewomb* is still visible along the top, but over the red letters in bold black print something new has been stamped: **SLAVE.** Reaching down, Isabella snaps a small silvered pendant to your collar, the laser engraving upon it reading *Property of Isabella Naram-Sin.* Taking your leash again, she guides you to your feet. "Come on," she smiles, casually pressing her palm between your legs-- inducing a moan from you as your plugs tease your wet cunt so readily. "We have a train to catch." [["Yes, Mistress."->IsSlaveEND]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/eYFZt2O.jpg" width="45%" height="45%"> You find Truant Officer Nikaido where she had promised to be, near her patrol car. The checkpoint you had seen earlier has apparently been dismantled, and she alone waits, leaning against her vehicle with crossed arms. (if: $TruantQuest is false)["Took you long enough."](if: $TruantQuest is true)["What do you want, freewomb?"] (if: $TruantQuest is false)[[["Can I ask you something?"->TruantAskNo]] [["Okay, you... had a job offer for me?"->TruantQuestExplain]]] (if: $TruantQuest is true)[[["Could I ask you a few things about your Ministry?"->AskTruantMin]] (if: $TruantQuestEnd is false)[["I need to discuss the runaway slave, Amadori.->TruantQuestHub]] (if: $NunPick is true and $NunPaidFine is false)[[["I was hoping you could a small fine waived, for a Sister I know...->TruantNun]]] (if: $DonateTruant is false and $DonateEnd is false and $Donate is true)[["Um, is there... any chance you would like to donate to the Liberty Society?"->TruantDonate]] ] [["Actually... I don't need anything right now."->TransitChecktoHub]]

You emerge from your most recent encounter, so many thoughts still on your mind. The memory loss, the black card and its deal, your ticket off this planet... and of course the slick sensation of your laminate, glistening with every step. It's a heady combination, and soon you realize your time spent with your thoughts has compromised your sense of direction. You're lost, with only the Transport Platform's looming presence to guide you. Returning to the streets near it will let you set out again, if you like. [[The streets are tight, the buildings high. It's so easy to get turned around.->Street Hub]]

Your greeting catches his attention immediately, perhaps the first attempt by someone *else* to initiate a conversation in some time. Turning to you, his eyes cast quickly over your laminate body-- appraising your intentions, but for once not lewdly staring. "Good day!" He replies, beckoning you to come closer. You can see a backpack resting against the wall nearby. "Offworlder, right? Please do not be alarmed, I am very much *not* Torean. I'm not sure how long you've been on this planet, ma'am, or what you've been subjected to... but I can assure you, I am one of the few men on this planet who will not take advantage of your situation. The Liberty Society is here to help." [["Liberty Society?"->Offworlder Greet 3]]

Breaking into the clear between the man and those passing by, you give him a proper Torean greeting. (if: $Sec is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you grab the bottom of your skirt, pulling it up. Your slit is briefly exposed as you bend your knees, performing something akin to a curtsy as his eyes widen. Holding the pose for a long moment, you smooth your skirt back down afterwards.]](if: $Brand is true or $Smoke is true or $Blue is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you grab hold of your zipper, performing a smooth bow as you expose your slit to him briefly.]](if: $Slave is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you kneel before him, folding your arms behind your back in due deferance.]](if: $Slave is true or $Brand is true or $Smoke is true or $Blue is true or $Sec is true)[(if: $Level is > 1)[Eyes down, you kneel before him, spreading your legs and pushing your hips forward, unable to do much else given your armbinder.]] "A reverence..." he seems to bite down on a comment, instead waving for you to abandon the posture. "Please, please-- that is not necessary. Unwanted, even. Offworlder, right? Please do not think you need to practice such abhorent customs in my presence, I am very much *not* Torean. I'm not sure how long you've been on this planet, ma'am, or what you've been subjected to... but I can assure you, I am one of the few men on this planet who will not take advantage of your situation. The Liberty Society is here to help. [["Liberty Society?"->Offworlder Greet 3]]

It's hard to ignore how naturally tall he is, despite your heels helping the situation somewhat. (if: $Level is 1)[With your hobble chain, you couldn't escape him if you wanted.](if: $Level is > 1)[In your armbinder and hobble chain, he's just naturally masculine enough to do anything he wished with you.](if: $Sec is true)[And standing next to him, you feel for the first time just how feminine your laminate skirt and blouse are.] Michael doesn't seem to notice your staring, but nods enthusiastically. "The Liberty Society, yes! We are a coalition of individuals, interest groups, and corporate donors who all share a deep concern for the women of Torei-- both those born to the planet, and Offworlders like yourself! You're a prime example of our cause, in fact!" [["I'm an example?"->Offworlder Greet 4]]

"Very much so!" Michael asserts. You're getting the sense that he is just naturally this energetic. "You're an offworlder, as I said, right? I can tell... at least, for awhile. After a few years, after you've been forced through the Ministry of Improvements, after so many lessons and punishments and tribulations... you will change. Become Torean in thought. You're already Torean in dress. What is your situation?" You tell him-- a *bit*. Yes, you're an offworlder here on business. No, you haven't been on the planet for long. And... yes, you did not exactly have a choice in everything you're wearing. "I hope I will not offend you ma'am," he continues, "but do you understand how your situation looks, to us in the Society? You're young, vibrant, a sharp eyed prospector on the fringes of know space. An adventurer... who has become a victim of your own gender, captured by this planet and its culture." He sweeps an arm down, indicating you in one bold movement. "(if: $Blue is true)[Forced to give up your modesty, your body sealed into tight blue laminate. Made into a creature of fetish and desire, being ruled by sex. You're exposed-- and so nearly defenseless, ma'am. A proud woman like you, consigned to wear a collar like some sort of pet? A belt, cuffs so that you can be restrained?] (if: $Smoke is true)[Forced to give up your modesty, your body sealed into tight laminate through which anyone can see so readily! You've been made into a creature of fetish and desire, being ruled by sex. You're exposed-- and so nearly defenseless, ma'am. A proud woman like you, consigned to wear a body harness, cuffs on your thighs like some sort of pet, ready to be restrained?] (if: $Brand is true)[Forced to give up your modesty, your body sealed into tight laminate that *advertises* your submission so blatantly! Whatever you were before, you have been transformed into a creature of fetish and desire, ruled entirey by sex. You're exposed-- and so nearly defenseless, ma'am. A proud woman like you, consigned to remain on your toes for hours at a time? To be corseted? To have the name of slavers, this world's rich, branded upon your body?] (if: $Sec is true)[Forced to give up your modesty, your body sealed into tight laminate, a mockery of proper professional attire. You're not ready for the workplace, no, you've been made into a creature of fetish and desire, ruled entirely by sex. You're exposed-- and so nearly defenseless, ma'am. Look at your skirt, the way you're perched on such shoes! The expectation, and everyone knows it, is that you spend at least part of your days on your knees... are you proud of that?] (if: $Slave is true)[Forced to give up your modesty, your body sealed in tight laminate. And that's not any oridinary outfit, ma'am. I'm sure you *know* what it means to wear that particular standardized set. Being treated as property, more then a proud woman? To have something as simple as breathing regulated, forced into corsetry, and of course those inserts... I understand it's a terrible experience.]" And of course, you're hobbled. "(if: $Level is > 1)[Forced to wear an armbinder as well, unable to resist anything that is done to you, arms most certainly aching.](if: $Level is > 2)[ I see you've even had your nipples pierced... a small, but profound 'improvement', by Torean standards.]" He shakes his head. "But... there must be something the Society can do for you?" [["There is, actually..."->Offworlder Greet 5]]

You explain more of your situation, at least regarding your battered memory and desire to get into Grand Aekora proper. A desire that would greatly helped by a financial contribution. The male seems empathetic, but his smile turns a bit strained. "Getting downtown is a good idea, a high speed rail line can take you from there to the Way Up in a matter of moments. Then you can ascend, and leave behind this planet." Michael shifts on his feet. "But... the Liberty Society is primarily concerned with generating awareness. We do not have the resources to provide assistance to *every* freewomb, or slave, who comes to us. We triage cases, and some that we deal with are... nevermind." [["Then what can you do?"->Offworlder Greet 6]] [["That's not helpful at all."->Offworlder Greet 6]]

"I can still help!" Michael asserts, raising both hands. "While I cannot address the *exact* details of your situation, the Liberty Society does have several programs that could interest you." (if: $Level is 3 or 4)["Perhaps most immediately, we do provide financial assistance for the early removal of debt-related... adjustments, made to any woman. Your nipple piercings, ma'am, would qualify. Given their permanence, they would have to be our first concern. Followed by your armbinder, and then that hobble chain. Were it up to us this would be provided free of charge, our donations covering the early-release fees... but Torean law does not allow debt assumption of that sort. You will need to pay for a *portion* of the cost yourself. But it's very small! 50 credits for your, ah, chest-- 50 more to have your arms released, and a final 50 for the hobble chain!"](if: $Level is 2)["Perhaps most immediately, we do provide financial assistance for the early removal of debt-related... adjustments, made to any woman. Your armbinder would qualify, at least. That hobble chain too, but the armbinder would need to be first. Were it up to us this would be provided free of charge, our donations covering the early-release fees... but Torean law does not allow debt assumption of that sort. You will need to pay for a *portion* of the cost yourself. But it's very small! 50 credits to have your arms released, and then another 50 for the hobble!"](if: $Level is 1)["Perhaps most immediately, we do provide financial assistance for the early removal of debt-related... adjustments, made to any woman. Like your hobble chain. Were it up to us this would be provided free of charge, our donations covering the early-release fees... but Torean law does not allow debt assumption of that sort. You will need to pay for a *portion* of the cost yourself. But it's very small! Only 50 credits."] The man rests his hands on his hips. "I could certainly provide financial assistance from my small personal stipend, if you were willing to help with some of our awareness campaigns-- there are three opportunities right there! First, we're collecting interviews from freewombs such as yourself who are living on this planet. I'd give you 25 credits for that. Second, we're collecting pictures as well-- although given the nature of those I could pay quite a bit more... say 100 credits? And there is one more, although it requires a bit of walking... and you are in those heels. Are those comfortable? Nevermind. What it entails, anyway, is asking for donations from anyone of importance around here. You would be given another 100 credits for that." He rubs his hands together. "So-- what can I do for you?" [[Opportunities about!->Offworlder Hub]]

For a moment, he looks to your chest, but quickly draws his gaze back up to meet your eyes. "I'm deeply sorry you had to undergo the application of such things," Michael commiserates. He sounds quite genuine. "If you're capable of paying that small 50 credit fee, I can get those removed for you. And even if you don't have the credits right now, I want you to know there is no shame in being outfitted with... *them.* On Torei, it's a very common thing for women-- slaves and Freewombs alike-- to eventually be *improved*, as a Torean would declare, in such a way. And as things go, they're... relatively minor. The Society has helped-- if you will excuse my using the Torean term-- *painslut* with far more then what you're enduring." [["I don't have that many credits. Perhaps we can explore this later.->Offworlder Hub]] (if: $debt is >= 50)[[["I've got 50 credits right here. I want them out!"->RemoveNip2]]]

Michael nods, rubbing his hands together. "Absolutely. With outfits, we generally have to go to a wardrobe to have something removed. But accessories? I can cut that off you in just a few moments. I bet that would feel *quite* good, huh? That looks to be a particularly strict one, I cannot imagine how your shoulders must be feeling. I hope no one has tried to take advantage of you either, with your arms pinned like that it's so hard to do *anything.*" Going to his backpack, he returns with a particularly heavy-duty looking set of shears. "You will still need to pay that 50 credit fee, of course." [["I don't have that many credits. Perhaps we can explore this later.->Offworlder Hub]] (if: $debt is >= 50)[[["I've got 50 credits right here. Get this thing off of me!"->RemoveArm2]]]

His enthusiasm for the topic is immediate. "Ah, so you're interested in the interview? Great! Or perhaps you're justing looking for more details? Well-- the Society publishes a quarterly report on our work here, planetside. Mission goals and achievements, financial spending, that sort of thing. But we also have a section reserved for what we call *the voices of Torei*. Testamonies from the Torean-born, or freewombs like yourself. Anyone who has been subjected to the horrors of Torean culture! Wait here." Moving to his backpack, he pulls forth a small recording device and a datapad of some sort. Tapping a button, he peforms a quick microphone check, the machine repeating his words with a second press. Clearly working as intended, he approaches you again. "So, let me explain how this works-- it's really simple. I will ask you a few questions, and you will answer the questions truthfully. And I mean that-- don't say what you think the Society wants to hear, speak from your heart. That's important, we categorize every *voice* added to our archives based on their views, I can tell you where you will be placed afterward." He smiles, awfully handsome in the afternoon light. "So-- how does that sound? Pretty easy, right? And then you will get your 25 credits. I only wish I was authorized to give you more." [["Is this anonymous? Will my name be attached, I mean?"->OffInterviewPreQ]] [["This sounds like something I can do. Give me the first question."->OffInterviewQ1]] [["I'll have to rethink this, Michael. Maybe later."->Offworlder Hub]]

"No catch!" Michael assures you, but you can read something else in his eyes. A *'but'* was coming, and it doesn't take long. "But we're aware it's a substantial enough sum. There is a reason for that." He pulls at his jacket's collar a bit, obviously uncomfortable. "The photoshoot is supposed to generate awareness for slaves and freewombs, and the bondage you undergo here. But the local authorities are, obviously, resistant to our activities. It is not what we would prefer, but we have managed to achieve a compromise of sorts: they allow us to operate if we ensure our photoshoots and the like show *real* Torean scenarios. That means no actors, nothing staged. We've... acquired the services of a Governess, and just need volunteers to undergo her work for-- just until the photoshoot is completed!" He gives you an apologetic look. "Obviously, it can be difficult to find freewombs who are willing to become the face of Torei for hundreds of worlds, ma'am.(if: $Slave is true)[ Your mask would hide your identity somewhat, of course, but your name would still be included.] Thus the 100 credits if you help our cause." [["I've had enough bondage, and I don't need your money that bad. No thank you."->Offworlder Hub]] [["I'm willing to do it, regardless."->OffPhoto 2]]

Your fellow offworlder raises a hand to his chin, apparently considering your offer. He doesn't consider long. "Yeah, I think you can. Alright, here is how this works. All you need to do is use your natural charm--" he pauses, eyeing your full laminate ensemble. "I mean *talk* to people, and ask for donations to the Society. Usually it works best if you have a personal connection with someone, you know, that you've done something else with them before. So try that, explore a bit, see you can approach." He takes you by the shoulder, a raised hand directed over the nearest rooftop. In the distance the Transport Platform looms over most everything else in the district. "Then there is one other spot I'd want you to hit. Up on the Platform we have a permit for a small stand, for marketing or education or whatever we like. Today it will be donation collection, with you heading it. The literature and the signs mostly sell the idea themselves, but if anyone has any questions just encourage them to contact our hotline. Sound good? At the end, you come back to me, and you get a cut of whatever you collected. Call it an incentive for good work!" [["Sounds easy enough, I'm in."->OffDonateYes]] [["Actually... let me think about it. Maybe later."->Offworlder Hub]]

He looks over your enclosure suit with more empathy then desire, despite the way it demonstrates your every curve-- for any curious onlooker. "That suit you're wearing... it's a travesty, I must say that first. Between inventive Masters and the Ministry of Improvements, *much* worse fates can be found here on Torei, but there is something to be said for the ubiquity and effectiveness of your particular uniform. It's designed to remove your identity, to make you just another black masked *doll*. To have you focus on your body, your breath, your... desire, and not much else." You have to agree with the effectiveness. Were you given a bit of privacy, you're not sure if you could have resisted grinding your plugged cunt against the nearest solid thing. Even then, in public like this, you find yourself constantly shifting your hips. It's a lingering symptom Michael notices as well, but he only shakes his head slightly. "I can get you out of it early-- but there are... complications. The first being cost. The Society can pay for your early emancipation, but Aekoran law requires that you pay an attendant fine yourself-- it's *clearly* designed to make just this sort of thing more difficult. 200 Credits is not easy to scrape together, not for a slave suited woman. But if you bring me that, I can take you to a wardrobe and get you changed in something... still laminate, but as professional as can be managed. Skirt, blouse, heels... you're a woman on Torei, you best get used to heels." [["I don't have that many credits. Perhaps we can explore this later.->Offworlder Hub]] (if: $debt is >= 200)[[["I've gotten my hands on the 200 credits. I want out of this suit!"->RemoveSuit2]]]

"Of course I am," Michael replies, any hint of mirth you may have suspected not surfacing. "I would have to be blind not to... I mean, look around you. Look at yourself. It is... very distracting." He looks out towards the other women walking past, a riot of colors and gloss. "It would be so easy... you girls are all but *required* to give me whatever I desire. The way it's expected that you perform reverence, the opportunities that come every night as your curfew starts... it's why the Society focuses on women exclusively. Torei is not easy on you." The taller man sighs a bit, shaking off the malaise with a spirited display of focus. "I manage by keeping myself seperate. No laminate whatsoever, even if finding laundry for textiles is... difficult. And I focus on our mission. The Ministry of Truants is..." He smiles, looking away. "Let's talk about something else." [["Sure..."->Offworlder Hub]]

Michael works a hand along the collar of his jacket, adjusting it slightly. "As I'm sure you're aware, such a pass is not required of me. I arrived here by train, in fact. We of the Society refuse to patronize the carriages, and our cause is so much more necessary here-- a bit further from the Way Up. I'd love to try again in the Antipodes, but if you think the cause is difficult here-- imagine Ringdoms with archaic technology, where Offworlders are so rare they don't even think to *question* slavery..." Clearly its unthinkable to the man, and he brushes off any attempt to discuss the matter further. Besides, he hadn't exactly answered your question. "A pass, though. I do have one, but it's reserved for someone else. That's all I can say about it." [[He's quite intent on that last point.->Offworlder Hub]]

"Really?" He responds, somewhat incredulously. "I mean... excellent! That's great! Please, follow me. I'm sure you're eager to get out of that thing." (set: $Slave to false)(set: $Sec to true)(set: $debt to it - 200)(set: $TruantQuestPamph to true) You don't have to travel far-- Michael leads you down a nearby alley and through a door within. You enter into what appears to be an office space of some sort, subdivided and rented out. The Liberty Society's section is small, and currently deserted, but packed with supplies-- you get the clear impression Michael isn't its only member operating on Grand Aekora's outskirts. Passing by several boxes of pamphlets much like the ones your escort had been handing out, you notice one of a different style, the name *Convent of Perception* written in stark letters along the top. Your attention turns towards the back of the domicile, however, where a familiar device awaits-- a wardrobe, this one appearing to be mobile. Michael works the control panel as you step up, the door gliding open before you. Within, a dozen different armatures await. [[Step forward.->Remove Suit 3]]

You're seized as soon as you enter, the door snapping shut behind. Much like the hotel's Wardrobe, this one has a drain in the bottom of the unit, its use revealed by the first stage of your re-dressing-- the removal. Instead of peeling the laminate from your body, a simple solvant is applied by a spraying arm, and in mere moments the material is dripping off your body like so much wet paint. Removing your plugs is a different matter-- that requires a pair of arms to seize them directly, but as you squirm in your restraints they're pulled free from your tortured cunt. You take a deep breath, the first in some time, as you are no longer masked. A brief, tantalizing taste of nudity follows... but not for long. With a fresh whirl, the Wardrobe begins working on your new outfit as a ring descends from above. Thus your outfit is quiet literally printed on, first applying bright white but transitioning to an equally vibrant shade of red as it passes your waist and forms a stylish pencil skirt. The ring descending bit by bit, rendering soft flesh into equally soft but so very *different* laminate. Secondary arms follow it down, providing spot treatment along seams and friction points-- although often the effect is for merely aesthetic purposes. Sometimes that takes the form of a second application of laminate, other times it lingers to produce something more substantial-- such as the small folded collar just beneath your chin, or the buttons that almost immediately strain to keep your bust constained by your bodice. You're given no time to rest as the base layer concludes, the ring rapidly ascending as other arms move into the space to begin work on your accessories. The peplum skirt you saw pictured is thus formed, starting with the belt at your waist. Small pre-forged rivets are sunk into the still molton laminate before it is sealed, as is the belt loop that is seated directly over your naval. Still held in place, small arms flair the laminate that extends over your rear, achieving the look most of the galaxy would label as *slutty* but Torei saw as merely coquettish. The final componenent of your outfit comes with the sensation of your own feet rising, the sensation unequal and focused primarily at your heel. Without the restraint arms you would have toppled over, but they hold you tight, tall heels being extruded into place. More red laminate follows, coating your feet excepting the stylish hole at the very front. Almost as an afterthought, makeup is applied last. Mechanical arms seize your head, holding it tight as nozzles approach your face. A quick blast of air instinctively causes your eyes to close, and in that brief moment the Wardrobe does its work. Your eyelids have been darkened, a crimson secondary coat added that flashed only when light slid across it. Pores and blemishes have been rendered impotent as well, while your cheekbones have been highlighted. And your lips are now a poignant, inviting red. (if: $Level is > 0)[The only remaining step is the reapplication of your bondage, the hobble chain at your ankles (if: $Level is > 1)[and armbinder behind you] being quickly build back up.] Then, with a final flash of white light and a conclusive hiss, the armatures withdraw. [[You emerge.->Remove Suit 4]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/mEoSzB3.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> You step back out of the wardrobe, utterly transformed. Once more you're allowed to breathe freely, regulation no longer being applied by mask and corset. You've also been liberated from the consistent teasing of the infernal plugs, although curiously your tortured womanhood almost seems to ache from their absence. Most importantly, though, you will no longer be recognized as little better then a slave-- the outfit you're now wearing instead at least approaches the Torean definition of *professional.* It's a change that Michael clearly approves of immediately, a fact he demonstrates by giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Very good! I wish we had more offworld textiles to give you, I know, but this will have to do. I'm sure I don't have to remind you, but... do watch how you sit, ma'am. That outfit does not come with panties." He gestures for you to follow, and leads you back out into the alley, and then the street beyond. His corner is much as you had left it, except for the half-circle of passersby avoiding Michael's attempts to speak with them-- something he is quick to reconstitute, returning to his job. [[It feels good to feel the wind in your hair again.->Offworlder Hub]]

Michael nods, rubbing his hands together. "Absolutely. With outfits, we generally have to go to a wardrobe to have something removed. But accessories? I can cut that off you in just a few moments. I bet that would feel *quite* good, huh? Having every step restricted like that, I would imagine it must be easy to fall over. And forget about running, or anything else that requires more then walking speed." Going to his backpack, he returns with a particularly heavy-duty looking set of shears. "You will still need to pay that 50 credit fee, of course." [["I don't have that many credits. Perhaps we can explore this later.->Offworlder Hub]] (if: $debt is >= 50)[[["I've got 50 credits right here. Get this thing off of me!"->RemoveHobble2]]]

As promised, the shears make short work of your armbinder. Starting just behind your left shoulder, he slides the blade beneath the laminate, then works it upward. The muscles and tendons that are freed from the enforced position behind your back nearly spasm from the sudden liberty, but already you can feel the harsh ache in your arms finally peak and begin to start coming down. (set: $Level to 1)(set: $debt to it - 50) Michael is all smiles, as he tosses the laminant remains in a nearby recycling chute. "Great! Remember-- we can address that hobble chain now, if you have another 50 credits. If not, don't worry, I'll be here all day." [[You work one of your arms in a slow circle. Damn, that feels good.->Offworlder Hub]]

It takes a bit of effort on Michael's part, but with a sudden snap he manages to cut through the laminate cord strung between your legs. Removing the rest of the components is simple enough, and after a few more precise cuts the last bits fall away. Michael disposes of them in a nearby recycling bin and you, for the first time in awhile, stretch your legs. (set: $Level to 0)(set: $debt to it - 50) "Happy to be of service, ma'am." Michael smiles, returning to his pamphlets. "Let me know if you need anything else from me, or the Liberty Society." [[If you could just find some regular clothes, you would be wholly free of Torean influence.->Offworlder Hub]]

"Great, great!" He claps his hands together. "We can't do that here, though, not with your laminate in the way like that. This is will require a Wardrobe device, but we have one nearby. Please-- follow me." (set: $debt to it - 50)(set: $Level to 2)(set: $TruantQuestPamph to true) You don't have to travel far-- Michael leads you down a nearby alley and through a door within. You enter into what appears to be an office space of some sort, subdivided and rented out. The Liberty Society's section is small, and currently deserted, but packed with supplies-- you get the clear impression Michael isn't its only member operating on Grand Aekora's outskirts. Passing by several boxes of pamphlets much like the ones your escort had been handing out, you notice one of a different style, the name *Convent of Perception* written in stark letters along the top. Your attention turns towards the back of the domicile, however, where a familiar device awaits-- a wardrobe, this one appearing to be mobile. Michael works the control panel as you step up, the door gliding open before you. Within, a dozen different armatures await. [[Step forward.->RemoveNip3]]

The Wardrobe Device may be mobile, but it's just as effective as the one you endured in the hotel. The laminate clinging to your chest is removed by a solvant that precisely dissolves the material, momentarily leaving you topless as lasers cut the steel embedded in your chest. A healing solution is applied afterward, intended to repair your nipples now that they're no longer studded. Beyond that, you merely must wait for the suit to reproduce the laminate across your chest-- and you're free, emerging to Michael waiting expectantly. Again he looks to your chest, only to think better of it. "Everything is... good?" He asks, glancing away. "If so, we can make our way back up. And... maybe discuss getting that armbinder off of you? That's an option now." [["Everything *is* good. Let's go."->Offworlder Hub]]

"Ah," he replies, nodding. "I understand your concern-- it certainly cannot be dignifying to speak publically about what you have undergone. This *is* a public statement, however, with your identity made clear. If you perfer we not do this, I would of course understand." [["No, I'm fine with this. As your first question."->OffInterviewQ1]] [["On second thought, I'm not sure I want to do this."->Offworlder Hub]]

"Excellent, just... excellent! Alright! Please remember: do not be afraid to answer these questions truthfully. Our data is greatly improved by answers that speak to your true views, and our supports abroad prefer those as well. Okay? Here we go." (set: $debtSec to true) He looks to the datapad, holding the microphone in the space between you and him. "This first one is very easy: Torei is perhaps best known for the widespread use of *laminate*. Given that you are wearing the material right now, what are your thoughts on it?" (set: $PlayCheck to 0)(set: $ring to 0) (link: "If I could wear anything else, I would. I hate it.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview2")] (link: "It's not something I would recommend, but... it's not as bad as I expected.")[(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview2")] (link: "I think... I like it.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(goto: "Interview2")] (link: "It's so tight and glossy, I... feel empowered by it.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(goto: "Interview2")] (link: "I love how it puts me on display, how I'm not allowed anything else.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview2")]

"Good, alright-- another question: prior to this interview, you mentioned having been in rather intensive bondage. Physical restraint is another common facet of Torean culture-- how do you feel about that?" (link: "I feel like every other sane person: that it's a terrible thing to inflict upon a person.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview3")] (link: "Honestly, I try to avoid it at all times. But it's just something we have to put up with here, as women.")[(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview3")] (link: "I hate it... and I... I like the feeling, alright?")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview3")] (link: "It feels... good, but that doesn't make it right.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview3")] (link: "It can be a lot of fun, actually.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(goto: "Interview3")] (link: "It's... natural. Most of us, we're at our best in bondage!")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview3")]

"My interviewee today is an offworlder, as I'm sure the background file on this recording will indicate. Thus she is a freewomb by this planet's horrendous terminology. Ma'am, what would you say to any woman thinking about traveling to Torei, as a freewomb?" (link: "Don't. Stay as far away as possible, and donate to groups like the Liberty Society as often as you can.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview4")] (link: "It's obviously an embarrassing thing to have stamped on your ID card, I wouldn't recommend it.")[(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview4")] (link: "It's not proper to say, but... I don't know, maybe they're onto something here. Come try it out.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview4")] (link: "Torei is something special. Strange, but worth a trip.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it 1)(goto: "Interview4")] (link: "Come down the Way Up, and you will find a role that fits you. I certainly have.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview4")]

"Let's try something else-- what we call a *Torean decision.* These are scenarios constructed to resemble what women actually are forced to consider, here on Torei-- and to demonstrate the indignities forced upon them." Michael clears his throat. "Ma'am, consider you are enslaved by a wealthy landowner here on Torei. Your Governess-- for those listening to this recording, please check the included vocabulary guide for definitions-- is looking to move you into a new role. Which would you prefer?" (link: "None. I know I'll get punished, but I don't care.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview5")] (link: "Something that lets me keep my dignity, relatively. Receptionist, at my owner's business, perhaps? I met one today who only had wrist cuffs and a semi-transparent blouse.")[(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview5")] (link: "Maybe a truant officer.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(goto: "Interview5")] (link: "Concubine, my specialty is pleasure.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview5")]

"Let's try another *Torean decision.* You're walking down a street, ma'am, and find another freewomb bound outside a local Ministry of Truants office. In some Ringdoms on this planet, public exposure is a common punishment for misdemeanors such as petty theft. What do you do with her?" (link: "I do whatever I can to free her. Escaping the Ministry of Truants is supposed to be difficult... but she should be given the chance.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview6")] (link: "I ignore her, like most other people passing by would.")[(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview6")] (link: "I'm angry someone can do that to her... but Toreans are really good and binding women...")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview6")] (link: "I go inside to plead for her case-- a proper session with a riding crop would be far quicker, and the freewomb could set to earning credits for her fines, afterward.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview6")] (link: "Maybe play with her a bit, that is the point after all.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(goto: "Interview6")] (link: "Steal something small myself, I'd like to join her up there!")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview6")]

"The Ministry of Improvements is a staple of Torean culture-- and very indicative of the corruptive influence of Torean society. Gifted with medical advancements most colonies abroad can only dream of, it is primarily used here for the so called *improvement* of physical features. Often of a sexual nature. Ma'am, would you ever consider visting such a place?" (link: "Not a chance.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview7")] (link: "No... but others can do as they like.")[(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview7")] (link: "I wouldn't like, but if that's what I was told to do...")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview7")] (link: "I would! But I would use it solely for its medical capabilities, nothing beyond that.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview7")] (link: "Yes I would-- many freewombs use that Ministry to improve their chances of getting a collar, or for other things I guess.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview7")]

"Torei was originally formed and made into a habital planet by two of its three AI-- Mazos and Dahom. They also bred the strain of humanity that now derives from this planet, and are known for their cruelty. Ma'am, what are you views on the AIs?" (link: "They're disturbing, and untrustworthy. Dealing with them should be avoided at all costs.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview8")] (link: "Everyone hates them, and I do too.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview8")] (link: "If they came for me, I would do whatever it takes to fight them.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "Interview8")] (link: "I remember... rumors of things they do to those under their control... it's fascinating, fascinating and terrifying...")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "Interview8")]

Michael checks the device at his wrist, a time keeping unit of some sort. "Alright, one last question as we wrap this up. Ma'am, could you describe your experience on Torei thus far-- in one word?" (link: "Horrific.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it - 1)(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "InterviewEND")] (link: "Bad.")[(set: $ring to it - 1)(goto: "InterviewEND")] (link: "...surprising.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it + 1)(goto: "InterviewEND")] (link: "Wonderful.")[(set: $PlayCheck to it 1)(set: $ring to it + 1)(goto: "InterviewEND")]

Double tapping the small recording device, your interviewer ends its capture. "Very good!" He concludes, enthusiastically. "Not that hard, right? Your 25 credits will be added to your account... any moment now. This interview will be taken by the next courier out of system-- it's just cheaper to bundle recordings like that together, and move somewhere less out of the way then Torei before broadcasting it to headquarters." (set: $debt to it + 25) He taps the top of his datapad. "Want to hear what your category will be, though?" [["Sure, what's my category?->InterviewENDYES]] [["I'd... rather not know, let's just call it good there."->Offworlder Hub]]

"Well, we grade these by two scores. They're automatically generated, and honestly I'm not fully supportive of the system... but it's what we do. The first checks what we refer to as your *personal approval* of Torei and its culture." (if: $PlayCheck is < -5)["You came in with very low personal approval, ma'am. That's *great* to see, for obvious reasons. Can you imagine someone actually liking what happens to women here?"] (if: $PlayCheck is -4 or -3 or -2)["You came back with moderately low levels of personal approval, ma'am. I would recommend being more obviously outraged at the situation here, but obviously that's your decision to make."] (if: $PlayCheck is -1 or 0 or 1)["Your score came back as relatively neutral, with regards to personal approval. What it *doesn't* tell me is if that's because you're feeling conflicted, or if you're not articulating your views clearly. Just something to consider."] (if: $PlayCheck is 2 or 3 or 4)["Your score came back as indicating moderate approval of Torean culture, ma'am. I have to ask... you're not liking ths, right? The things they do to you? Nevermind... just, think about it."] (if: $PlayCheck is > 5)["Your score come back as indicating exceptional personal approval of Torean culture, ma'am. That's... honestly a bit distressing, if I'm being perfectly honest. There are advocates for Torei out there... but most of those are male. Women like yourself end up in a collar, thinking like that."] Michael moves his finger down his pad, obviously reading off a list. "The second score grades-- I mean indicates, yeah, that's better... it indicates your level of *defiance* to Torean social norms." (if: $ring is < -5)["You came in as extremely defiant, when it comes to Torean norms and expectations! You're positively lion-like, I must say. Great job!"](if: $ring is -4 or -3 or -2)["You came in with relatively high levels of defiance towards Torean norms and expectations. That's pretty average, its usually only former slaves who rank higher."](if: $ring is -1 or 0 or 1)["You came in with very average defiance scores. I'm not really sure what to tell you that you don't already know yourself. Just be careful with that sort of think."](if: $ring is 2 or 3 or 4)[You came in with relatively low levels of defiance towrds Torean norms and expectations, ma'am. I've got some great books, if you would ever want to challenge your... very Torean viewpoint?"](if: $ring is > 5)[You came in as extremely receptive to Torean social norms and expectations, ma'am. I feel... I must remind you this will be available on our public-facing archives, at some point. It's not exactly a progressive viewpoint...] (if: $PlayCheck is > 5 and $ring is > 5)[He looks to you with something approaching sadness. "I'm sorry to inform you of this, ma'am, but you will be labeled in our system as a *willing submissive* given your scores."](if: $PlayCheck is < 5 and $ring is < 5)[He looks to you earnestly. "You should really consider working with the Liberty Society, once your current situation is cleared up. We always need more advocates, especially those that have firsthand experience."(set: $TruantOffer to true)] Well, perhaps you have a little clearer view of yourself. Or, at the very least you have 25 more credits. [[You give Michael some space as he steps away.->Offworlder Hub]]

"I feel the need to confirm with you again," Michael hesistates. You get the distinct feeling he considers the offer unsavory, despite the righteousness of the cause. "I know that standards on Torei are... different, but it will still be intense for you. The Society is required to get sign off from the Governess to use this material afterward, and... knowing their sort's reputation, she will be thorough in what she deems a proper representation of Torean culture." [["Wait-- what exactly is a Governess?"->OffPhotoGov]] [["I understand, but I need those credits. I'll do it."->OffPhoto3]] [["Perhaps you're... right. That doesn't exactly sound fun. I have to think about it."->Offworlder Hub]]

"Great..." he sighs. "Well, luckily for you, we have a photo session going on right now. We will need to move to the Society's local operating base. Governess Yennifer should already be there, working with the two other girls." Michael grabs his backpack, slinging it casually over one shoulder as he leads the way. "Oh, did I not mention the other girls? Obviously, we're trying to get a few different volunteers. Different perspectives, reactions, things like that." He leads you through the streets, the passing crowds of women parting before him-- at least it's easy to follow in his wake. Eventully you divert into an alley, then a door that enters into what appears to be an office space of some sort, subdivided and rented out. The Liberty Society's section is small, and currently deserted, but packed with supplies-- you get the clear impression Michael isn't its only member operating on Grand Aekora's outskirts. Passing by several boxes of pamphlets much like the ones your escort had been handing out, you notice one of a different style, the name *Convent of Perception* written in stark letters along the top. Your attention turns towards one of the myriad side doors, however, as Michael leads you through several. After the third, you come face to face with another woman waiting beside yet another door, her expression troubled. Her is black, and she looks worried. (set: $debt to it +100)(set: $debtSlave to true)(set: $TruantQuestPamph to true) "Are they nearly done?" Michael greets. The woman shakes her head. "She hasn't even allowed the cameras to start yet, hells-- it's been three hours for the first girl, nearly two for the second. That... *harpy* says she has to get the girls warmed up. Michael, I do *not* like this." Michael only signs again, a hand gently on your back as he guides you towards the door. "Just head on in," he instructs you, opening the final door. As you step through, he moves towards the woman, most of his words lost as he lowers his voice. "...for the best... knew she would be harsh... can only help keep tourists away..." [[That doesn't sound promising. Step through the door.->OffPhoto4]]

The man leans back a bit. "Right, your... memory issues. Well, many households and organizations on this planet can get very large. And Torean culture, regrettably, generally involves a variety of unconscionable things be done to women associated with, working in, or enslaved by those groups. Obviously leaders, be they CEOs or household heads, cannot manage such practices wholely by themselves. Thus the Governess-- they're usually enslaved themselves, but serve as overseers." [["That makes sense, I suppose. Should we get to it?"->OffPhoto3]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/ueFwYim.jpg"> "What do we have here...?" The voice rings out as you enter a larger room, the majority of it draped with a heavy white laminate tarp. Pulled tight along the walls and floor, it serves as a stage towards which a half-dozen cameras are arrayed. They sit idly, but the woman who had addressed you is anything but. Her outfit is uniformally black, a long sleeved laminate leotard that exposed plenty of the pale flesh between her hips and the knee high boots she is perched upon. The cut of the outfit is low, exposing the tops of her breasts, a heavy strap running just above them. Above *that* she is securely collared, a hint of submission amongst so much dominance. (if: $Strike is >= 8)["Ah," she purrs, her advance towards you marked by a bold stride and snapping heels. Her bright red lips curl into a smile, the one hint of color between her uniform and black hair. "I *know* you. We met on the street! Such a small... delightful world. And now you're another naughty slut!"](else:)["Ah," she purrs, her advance towards you marked by a bold stride and snapping heels. Her bright red lips curl into a smile, the one hint of color between her uniform and black hair. "Another naughty *slut.*"] Who she meant by 'another' requires only a glance beyond the Governess. In the center of the makeshift stage, three poles run from ceiling to floor. Two are... occupied. In the center a girl in a pink laminante dress has her hands bound behind her back, a shiny ring gag pressed between her teeth, forcing her mouth open. The cups of her dress have been pulled down, both revealing her pierced nipples and stripping her of anything approaching dignity. Her expression is a mixture of frustrated and distraught, but it takes you a moment to recognize *why* beyond the obvious causes-- but you eventually do notice a laminate cord, running down from the top of her pole, then down behind her back. Just what purpose that cord served is demonstrated by the second woman. Much like the first, she has her own pole, her hands bound behind her back. Her laminate outfit is a pale blue, her breasts likewise exposed. Unlike her compatriot in bondage, however, she isn't standing angrily-- she's *hanging*. Her legs are folded up, straps encircling her thighs (and thus her calves), one to each side her pole. And the cord from above? She doesn't have a skirt to hide the fact that it was connected to a heavy device currently installed in her ass, supporting her weight entirely. Her head is bowed, drool running from her gagged mouth to the floor. [["Oh no."->OffPhoto5]] [["Uh... Michael?!"->OffPhoto5]] [["Stay away from me!"->OffPhoto5]]

"Don't be so *shy*," the black-clad woman interrupts, seizing you by the throat. She's strong, stronger then you would have expected of her. Truly, did Torean biotechnology have any limits? "What have they sent me?" Her free hand glides over your laminate hips. "(if: $Blue is true)[Another freewomb in blue, but I do say-- the restraints on this one are quite agreeable. The collar suits you. But are you worthy of it? I'll be the judge of that.] (if: $Smoke is true)[An offworlder freewomb, something that so often disappoints. But this one has cloaked herself in smoke. She enjoys being exposed, to have her modesty to be so ill-defined.] (if: $Brand is true)[A girl who sold her own body to the words of others. Isn't that amusing? Properly corseted at least, and those boots! I can work with this.] (if: $Sec is true)[A professional, clearly. Someone who enjoys looking put together. A false sense of modesty. I'll have to do something about that.] (if: $Slave is true)[A slave, per all the usual regulations. Corseted, heeled, masked, plugged. I don't even need to ask if you're enjoying yourself, slut. If I were to pull out that front cock, I know it would be slick with desire. Those suits don't give you a choice on that.] (if: $Level is 0)[Ah, and that's it? No further bindings. An industrious freewomb.](if: $Level is 1)[The hobble is a proper accessory-- what need does a girl like you have of a long stride?] (if: $Level is 2)[The hobble is a proper accessory-- what need does a girl like you have of a long stride? Or *arms*, for that matter. I'm sure your shoulders are burning. Well, we won't be touching that.] (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[The hobble is a proper accessory-- what need does a girl like you have of a long stride? Or *arms*, for that matter. I'm sure your shoulders are burning. Well, we won't be touching that. Can't say the same about those piercings, though.]" She pivots, resting her arm across your shoulders. You get the sense she has absolutely zero sense of personal space. Together you look towards the three poles, and two bound girls. The Governess' black lips slide into a wicked grin. "Ready to join them?" [["Y-Yes."->OffYes]] [["No!"->OffNo]] [["Michael, get me out of here!"->OffNo]]

"Already submissive," she purrs. "That's a good start." She leads you forward, approaching the woman in the middle. Raven haired and pretty, her opened mouth drools a bit onto the floor, her eyes trying to stay focused. This much closer, you can see the telltale red marks of some device-- whip or crop-- along her flanks. She's standing on her toes, barely, the toes of her boots barely managing to hold her steady. That last bit, *steady*, is demonstrated to be quite important when the Governess uses her shoulder to push her to the side. She pivots, moaning desperately, without the footing to halt the process despite her muted attempts to do so. "Your ID indicates you're... quite new to Torei," the Governess explains, flicking the thick laminate cord to which the steel that emerged from the girl's ass attached. The cord thrums in response, and so does your fellow freewomb, the sound pleading. "You've probably not seen an anal hook in person, but that's what is buried inside her. An *excellent* tool if rigged correctly. Perfect for what those fool Offworlders think they're getting here." The bound girl's wriggling ceases, her breathing heavy. Her moans turn towards something else, a concerted attempt to communicate. It sounds unintelligble to you, but the Governess has the experience to translate. "She wants her pole now, in full," the Governess cups her cheek, smiling with those bright red lips. "I knew we would get there. In just a moment, dear." [["What does she mean, in full?"->OffFull]] [["What... have you done to her?"->OffFull]]

"Oh, let's not start with *that*," she growls. She leads you forward, approaching the woman in the middle. Raven haired and pretty, her opened mouth drools a bit onto the floor, her eyes trying to stay focused. This much closer, you can see the telltale red marks of some device-- whip or crop-- along her flanks. She's standing on her toes, barely, the toes of her boots barely managing to hold her steady. That last bit, *steady*, is demonstrated to be quite important when the Governess uses her shoulder to push her to the side. She pivots, moaning desperately, without the footing to halt the process despite her muted attempts to do so. "Your ID indicates you're... quite new to Torei," the Governess explains, flicking the thick laminate cord to which the steel that emerged from the girl's ass attached. The cord thrums in response, and so does your fellow freewomb, the sound pleading. "You've probably not seen an anal hook in person, but that's what is buried inside her. An *excellent* tool if rigged correctly. Perfect for what those fool Offworlders think they're getting here." The bound girl's wriggling ceases, her breathing heavy. Her moans turn towards something else, a concerted attempt to communicate. It sounds unintelligble to you, but the Governess has the experience to translate. "She wants her pole now, in full," the Governess cups the girl's cheek, smiling with those bright red lips as she wipes away a freshly shed tear from her victim. "I knew we would get there. In just a moment, dear." [["What does she mean, in full?"->OffFull]] [["What... have you done to her?"->OffFull]]

"It's a technique," she explains, leading you again, stepping towards the other bound woman. "That few Freewombs experience, unless they get a proper collar. This is a breaking pole, and it's *torture*." The final woman is as you glimpsed her before-- bound like the previous, but with her legs lifted, knees a few feet from the floor. Supported solely by the hook, you also notice something lodged in her exposed womanhood-- the obvious base of cock, churning relentlessly. "Present," the Governess commands, and the bound girl instantly complies. Her face is covered by the fall of her hair and she doesn't raise it now, but she does arch her back, pressing out her chest. It's an effect that clearly takes some effort, the girl moaning lewdly. "Good *slave*. Do you want down?" The freewomb shakes her head *no*, barely perceptible compared to the line of drool that runs down onto her own chest. The Governess seems ready to continue, but a sharp snap suddenly sounds, replacing the hum of the vibrator lodged within the girl. A shock. "Almost orgasmed," comes the commentary. "Come, let's get you setup on yours." [[Resist. Once you're further bound, there will be no other opportunity.->OffResist]] [[Let it happen.->OffLet]]

You may have grown accustomed to your laminate by now, but the Governess is so much *more*. Faster to react then you had expected, still so much stronger, and with a discerning eye towards the restrictions upon you-- manipulating the interplay of fashion, laminate, and details like heels with ease. You barely make it two steps. "This isn't acceptable, but I can see you're the sort of Offworlder who *needs* this. Don't you want to look proper for your photos?" By the time the Governess finishes speaking, you've been forced towards the pole with a commanding force applied to your (if: $Level is > 1)[your armbinder.](else:)[your arms.] (if: $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[A collar awaits, ready to be snapped around your neck.] (if: $Level is > 1)[The ring at the end of your armbinder is hooked into, forcing it down, to be painfully placed between the pole and yourself](if: $Level is 0 or 1)[Your arms are forced behind your back, cuffs at wrist and bicep both linking them together and folding them up and behind.] "And now..." You already know what she's reaching for before she displays it so prominantly, chromed steel glaring in the bright light of the studio lights. A wicked, curved hook, the tip formed into a rounded ball. She does not even give you the chance to comply. [[Scream.->OffPhoto6]] [[Scream louder.->OffPhoto6]]

You follow in her wake, meekly. The girl in the middle meets your eyes as you pass, pity in them. "The transformation is more grand if you resist," the Governess notes. "But this will have to do. Presented with your own breaking pole, the governess seizes (if: $Level is > 1)[your armbinder.](else:)[your arms.] (if: $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[A collar awaits, ready to be snapped around your neck.](if: $Level is > 1)[The ring at the end of your armbinder is hooked into, forcing it down, to be painfully placed between the pole and yourself](if: $Level is 0 or 1)[Your arms are forced behind your back, cuffs at wrist and bicep both linking them together and folding them up and behind.] "And now..." You already know what she's reaching for before she displays it so prominantly, chromed steel glaring in the bright light of the studio lights. A wicked, curved hook, the tip formed into a rounded ball. She does not even give you the chance to comply. [[Scream.->OffPhoto6]] [[Scream louder.->OffPhoto6]]

There is no ceremony to it. (if: $Slave is true)[Reaching down, you see a brief glimse of a holographic confirmation of Governess credentials before the locked zipper between your legs is disengaged. The sudden sensation of your plugs being pulled out is *intense*, your muscles left twitching from a sudden sense of absence as they're dumped lewdly upon the floor. Somewhere along the way you certainly moan.](if: $Sec is true)[Reaching down the Governess hikes up your skirt, revealing the warm holes normally hidden from view.](if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true)[Reaching down the Governess seizes upon the zipper of your catsuit, pulling it down in one smooth motion.] Path cleared, you're hooked. The steel is devilishly cold as its forced in, following a curving angle as she positions in precisely. Arms bound and with one of her hands still at your waist, there is little you can manage in resistance besides (if: $Slave is true)[another] wet moan. "There..." You feel the hook reach its destination as much as you're told, the tip somewhere deep within coming to rest against flesh that normally avoided such direct stimulation. Nerve clusters fire in response, registering pain and pleasure in strange combinations. Yet that's only the start of it-- the feeling *builds* as she adjusts the laminate cord that linked it above, drawing you up... up... until you can barely stand on your toes. [["Get me down from here!"->OffPhoto7]] [["Please don't, Governess!"->OffPhoto7]] [["T-Thank you, Governess..."->OffPhoto7]]

She ignores your speech, focusing instead solely on your body. (if: $Slave is true)[Her Governess credentials allow her to remove your regulation mask, leaving only the tight laminate hood that clung to your face.] A gag follows, the same ring-shaped device attached to a harness that the other girls wore. She positions it upon your head, a final tug on a laminate strap securing it into place. The ring between your full (if: $Blue is true)[navy] (if: $Smoke is true)[black] (if: $Brand is true)[red] (if: $Sec is true)[red] (if: $Slave is true)[red] lips denys you the option to prevent anything being inserted into your throat. And then you're ignored. The Governess shifts her attention back to the girl in the middle, leaving you awkwardly bound, a line of drool running from your gagged mouth. It's almost... frustrating? Did you want to be freed, though, or merely the Governess' attention? It's something you consider as the pink laminated girl loses her right to stand, instead submitting to her pole completely with a moaned whimper. As reward-- or perhaps merely to serve as further torture-- she too is given a vibrating insert. It takes only a few moments for the first whip-crack like snap to emit from the device, preventing an orgasm as the girl wriggles helplessly on her hook with a delirious moan. Your world, meanwhile, has grown so very small. Escape is out of the question, and who *knows* what else the Governess planned. You have but two choices: to resist, or to submit-- and one goal. *Endure.* (set: $PlayCheck to 0) [[Resist.->OffPhoto8R]] [[Submit.->OffPhoto8S]]

You resist. Stepping forward you force yourself to the limits of your bondage, moaning a gagged demand for release. Stepping forward only shifts your anal hook, however, and the Governess never meets your eyes. What concern are you worthy of now? Do you think you're worthy of attention? It doesn't matter-- the Governess is not looking for your compliance. She demands only that you undergo her ministrations. They come in the form of a laminate whip, the thick-wrapped handle descending into a handful of thin strands. You're the only flagellant, and she does not give you mercy. Even your gagged shouting is ignored as she works you over, the hook upon which you're perched pulling ever deeper inside you as you're commanded to turn, exposing your rear to the same means of punishment. This is even worse, in fact, as without the protection of laminate your tender flesh is all the more exposed. [[Resist.->OffPhoto9R]] [[Submit.->OffPhoto9S]]

Your eyes drop towards the floor, trying to smooth your own passage forward. At least the girl in pink laminate had tried the path of resistance, and look what that had got her-- little more then a harder route to the same destination. A Torean Governess could not be beaten, not at something like this. You submit. It doesn't matter-- the Governess is not looking for your compliance. She demands only that you undergo her ministrations. They come in the form of a laminate whip, the thick-wrapped handle descending into a handful of thin strands. You're the only flagellant, and she does not give you mercy. Even your gagged begging is ignored as she works you over, the hook upon which you're perched pulling ever deeper inside you as you're commanded to turn, exposing your rear to the same means of punishment. This is even worse, in fact, as without the protection of laminate your tender flesh is all the more exposed. [[Resist.->OffPhoto9R]] [[Submit.->OffPhoto9S]]

You try to disrupt her work whenever you can-- anticipating her strikes to turn your flank, at least lessening the effect of repeated whips upon the same section of flesh or laminate. Again, however, it hardly seems to matter to the Governess. You do not have unlimited real estate to give, and she appears in no rush-- instead merely continuing until you're *forced* to present areas of your rear that burn from the resultant attention. After several sharp strikes to your cunt she then suddenly changes tactic, seizing upon a thick, phallic piece of laminate that she holds to your mouth. Still gagged with the ring between your teeth, you're in little position to prevent her cock from being shoved in. Deep, deeper then you have ever known. Back all the way to your throat, the triggering of your gag reflex only narrowly avoided. You're left panting, utterly violated, as she nonchalantly switches back to the whip. [[Resist.->OffPhoto10R]] [[Submit.->OffPhoto10S]]

It may hurt like *hell*, and your sense of dignity still screams from the dark corner you shove it into, but you are too keen to not notice a losing scenario when presented with one. The Governess is in no rush, and you are in no position to negotiate. What was the point in drawing out the inevitable? It's a question you're forced to ask yourself again and again as she works you over with the whip, focusing the snapping licks upon particular sections of your body that soon burn, so very raw, as a result. Yet after several sharp strikes to your cunt she then suddenly changes tactic, seizing upon a thick, phallic piece of laminate that she holds to your mouth. Still gagged with the ring between your teeth, you're in little position to prevent her cock from being shoved in. Deep, deeper then you have ever known. Back all the way to your throat, the triggering of your gag reflex only narrowly avoided. You're left panting, utterly violated, as she nonchalantly switches back to the whip. [[Resist.->OffPhoto10R]] [[Submit.->OffPhoto10S]]

It doesn't matter what you do. You cannot escape the whipping, or your violation via ring gag. Delaying the inevitable buys a few moments, but the Governess' work only turns towards the more aggressive afterward. You lose track of time, and the harsh treatment only continues. Soon you're slick with sweat, panting in the moments she does not have that cock jammed between your lips. Somewhere along the way she pauses, only to focus instead on one of your legs. Lifting it, she secures it in a folded position behind your thigh with a thick laminate strap. You cannot even stand comfortably anymore, the stiletto heel of your shoes keeping you perpetually offbalance as the whipping begins again. [[Resist.->OffPhotoRepeat]] [[Submit.->OffPhotoRepeat]]

It doesn't matter what you do. Allowing the Governess to whip you, to violate your mouth, doesn't sate her. She wants *more*, and keeps up the cycle you've been subjected to without mercy. You lose track of time, and the harsh treatment only continues. Soon you're slick with sweat, panting in the moments she does not have that cock jammed between your lips. Somewhere along the way she pauses, only to focus instead on one of your legs. Lifting it, she secures it in a folded position behind your thigh with a thick laminate strap. You cannot even stand comfortably anymore, the stiletto heel of your shoes keeping you perpetually offbalance as the whipping begins again. [[Resist.->OffPhotoRepeat]] [[Submit.->OffPhotoRepeat]]

Beside you, the other girls on their poles occasionally moan quietly. The Governess keeps her attention you, cycling between the whip and the cock-- endlessly. (set: $PlayCheck to it + 1) (if: $PlayCheck is 2)[The whip snaps against your rear, pain shooting upward as you try to maintain your balance. Despite yourself, you moan through your gag.](if: $PlayCheck is 3)[The laminate cock is shoved into your throat, running back and forth several times.](if: $PlayCheck is 4)[The whip returns, focusing on your flanks this time. Shimmying your hips does nothing to blunt the experience.](if: $PlayCheck is 5)[The cock is shoved down your throat, this time being held. Tears form as you begin to struggle, but the Governess holds her position, only eventually pulling it forth when *she* thinks you have had enough.](if: $PlayCheck is 6)[The whip once more is applied to your rear, drifting down in the last few lashes to strike along the back of your thighs. That's fresh territory, and fresh pain spikes through your neverous system.](if: $PlayCheck is 7)[A second round of deep throat and hold occurs, your near-gagging on the cock carefully observed by the Governess. Her beauty seems only to be emphasized in that moment, the black of her hair framing an expression of intense attention. Beautiful and terrible to behold.](if: $PlayCheck is 8)[You follow the Governess' command to once again present your rear with resignation, panting from the effort she continues to subject you to. Back and forth, back and forth...](if: $PlayCheck is 9)[The cock returns, sliding between your full lips so easily. You cannot resist. Why would you?](if: $PlayCheck is > 9)[Whip and cock. Back and forth, back and forth...] [[Resist.->OffPhotoRepeat]] (if: $PlayCheck is < 10)[[[Submit.->OffPhotoRepeat]]](else:)[[[Submit.->OffPhotoFinal]]]

Finally-- *finally* your gagged begging is answered. The Governess ceases her work, turning those hands that had tortured you so to your cheeks, directing your gaze into her's. "You want the full pole?" You nod, the only option left to you. That had always been the goal. She directs you carefully, pulling up your leg, then securing it. Your full weight now rests on the hook. The vibrator follows, being slid between your legs without any sort fanfare. "You will *not* be allowed to cum," the Governess reminds you. The vibrator is cold, but your cunt takes it in willingly. You know what's coming next. The hum, the undulating sensations that drive pleasure up between your legs... until you near that crest, and the inbuilt shock device knocks you back down. [["Mmmgh!"->OffPhotoFinal 2]] [["Hmmmgh!"->OffPhotoFinal 2]]

How long does it go on? You still have no sense of time, not within the windowless room. All you have is the ecstasy, a rising tide broken by the sharp interruption of the shocks. It's *relentless.* Eventually your head dips (if: $Slave is true)[the laminate coating your face as your eyes grow unfocused.](else:)[and your hair covers your face, eyes growing unfocused.] It's only then the Governess is satisfied. You're lost to the pole as she finally allows the cameras to capture your torment, preserving in digital form what true Torean submission looked like. That sentient spark buried in your overworked mind can only reel at the idea of such images being spread across the galaxy, your abject submission made the subject of so much discussion, inquiry-- and perhaps interest. Torei had that alluring effect on some, after all. [[Time passes...->OffPhotoFinal 3]]

Your mind rouses properly sometime later, only for you to notice your situation had changed. (if: $Slave is true)[Unfortunately that takes the form of your regulation mask and inserts having been return, the latter shifting so obviously within flesh so hungry now for release.] (if: $Level is > 1)[Your armbinder as been replaced, the tight laminate already causing the ache in your shoulders to return.] But you're free of the pole, and that's all that truly matters. The other girls, even the Governess is gone. Only you remain, deposited on the white of the floor, Michael standing above you. "I'm... sorry," he manages, helping you to your feet. (if: $Level is 1)[Your hobble chain pulls momentarily taut(if: $Level is > 1)[ and is hands are strong on your armbinder].] "It's for a good cause... but... there is nothing I can really say, I suppose. If you don't want to work with us going forward, I would understand. I'll walk you out... and you can talk to me again only if you desire, ma'am." He does as he promises, guiding back out of the apartment-like complex, back onto the Torean streets. So you're just another woman among the many making their way, so many colors and heeled boots snapping against the pavement. Returning to Michael's customary corner, he releases you. "For what it's worth, the credits you earned should already be in your account." [[Was it worth it?->Offworlder Hub]]

With her hands firmly guiding you by your (if: $Level is > 1)[armbinder](if: $Level is < 2)[arms], the Officer directs you towards the slaves, to be segregated from the freewombs proper. "Another standard slave-grade," your attending officer tells one of her compatriots, who approaches. "Get this slut restrained, we'll check her ID in a bit. Protocol means we start with the freewombs." [["Wait! I'm a freewomb!"->TruantSlaveResist]] [[Don't say a thing."->TruantSlaveCon]]

The woman behind you finally speaks, her grip on your (if: $Level is > 1)[armbinder](if: $Level is 0 or 1)[arms] strong and unyielding. "This is a Ministry of Truants operation, and you're being detained. Up against the wall!" She all but forces you anyway, as you try to figure out what exactly you had done wrong. The Ministry of Truants-- you may have heard of them-- did *not* have a good reputation on Torei. They were efficent, well-staffed and supplied, that wasn't the problem. No, they were *feared* by many freewombs precisely because they were so good-- a less thorough organization may have been less strict with the myriad of laws and regulations that could quickly find a freewomb like yourself in trouble. You're lined up facing a wall beside a few other similarly bewildered freewombs. "Spread your legs," comes the order from behind, alongside a tap of her boot against your own. (if: $Level is > 0)[Your hobble chain quickly pulls taut.] (if: $Level is > 1)["Forehead against the wall, armbinder out.](if: $Level is 0 or 1)["Hands up, palms against the wall."] [["What is the meaning of this?"->TruantRegResist]] [[Remains silent.->TruantRegComply]]

A baton, heavy and hard, is slid up between your legs. It rests where they meet, at your very nexus. "You will speak when spoken you," the officer commands, her steely voice calm but unyielding. "Or I *will* shock you." [["Like hell you--"->TruantRegResist2]] [[Nod with understanding.->TruantGreet3]]

You don't even get the full sentence out before the officer follows through on her threat, the baton emitting a shock of incredible potency. The freewomb to your side eyes you with pity as you yelp, the officer behind sighing. (set: $debt to it - 25) "And... you just earned a 25 credit fine as well. Lesson learned?" [["Lesson learned.->TruantGreet3]]

"Good," the Officer continues. Reaching out, her hands glide down your laminate oufit, frisking you. By Torean standards the experience is quite tame, but by those of the galactic community it's barely above being groped. She's very thorough as well, (if: $Blue is true)[nimble fingers slipping beneath your various cuffs and restraints. Given the moment to consider, and perhaps trying to ignore the sensation of her hands up against your inner thighs, you have to admit that lacking pockets that would be a devious place to store something.] (if: $Smoke is true)[nimble fingers slipping beneath your harness, following the dark material along your sloping shoulders, down to the heavy band beneath your chest.] (if: $Brand is true)[gliding along the bright adverts of your suit, then checking among the laces of your corset.] (if: $Sec is true)[hiking up your skirt with little regard for your dignity.] In the end, however, she seems satisfied. "You may turn," she instructs afterward. "And present your ID." [["Yes ma'am."->TruantGreet4]] (if: $PlayE is true)[[You remember Isabella's training. She's an officer of the Ministry of Truancy, a position of immediate power. Greet her in the Torean fashion, with a reverence.->TruantGreetRev]]

Your silent holding of the commanded pose is met with momentary silence from the officer, followed by a hand on your (if: $Brand is true)[corseted] waist. "Good girl." [[You look down.->TruantGreet3]]

You turn, offering up your ID, and for the first time get a good look at the Officer. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/eYFZt2O.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Her uniform is bright blue with black streaks, a single piece that ends in a short skirt roughly halfway down her thighs. The badge of her Ministry is clearly imprinted above her breast and on each shoulder, as well as above the brim of that hate she wears. A tight bun corrals a considerable amount of raven hair while her auburn eyes scrutinize your identification card closely. At her belt she wears several sets of restraints, and a heavy looking cylinder-- a military grade shock baton. "Everything... appears to be in order," she concludes, sounding a bit disappointed. She hands back your ID, and allows you to a more casual position. "Where are you heading today?" [["Actually, I'm trying to make some credits."->TruantGreetCollect]] [["Downtown, once I collect the credits for the fare."->TruantGreetCollect]]

(if: $Sec is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you grab the bottom of your skirt, pulling it up. Your slit is briefly exposed as you bend your knees, performing something akin to a curtsy as the officer smiles slightly. Holding the pose for a long moment, you smooth your skirt back down afterwards.]](if: $Brand is true or $Smoke is true or $Blue is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you grab hold of your zipper, performing a smooth bow as you expose your slit to her briefly.]](if: $Slave is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you kneel before her, folding your arms behind your back in due deferance.]](if: $Slave is true or $Brand is true or $Smoke is true or $Blue is true or $Sec is true)[(if: $Level is > 1)[Eyes down, you kneel before her, spreading your legs and pushing your hips forward, unable to do much else given your armbinder.]] "It's always good when a Freewomb remembers her place," the Officer muses, taking the ID you offer. As she examines it, you're given a good look at her for the first time. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/eYFZt2O.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Her uniform is bright blue with black streaks, a single piece that ends in a short skirt roughly halfway down her thighs. The badge of her Ministry is clearly imprinted above her breast and on each shoulder, as well as above the brim of that hate she wears. A tight bun corrals a considerable amount of raven hair while her auburn eyes scrutinize your identification card closely. At her belt she wears several sets of restraints, and a heavy looking cylinder-- a military grade shock baton. "Everything... appears to be in order," she concludes, sounding a bit disappointed. She hands back your ID, and allows you to a more casual position. "Where are you heading today?" [["Actually, I'm trying to make some credits."->TruantGreetCollect]] [["Downtown, once I collect the credits for the fare."->TruantGreetCollect]]

"Well, your entry with the Ministry of Wombs came up clean. We have no outstanding warrants, and this ID is valid-- until the end of tomorrow, at least. You're clearly not who we're looking for. I suppose you're free to go." She turns to go, but pauses, a hand resting on the baton's holster. As if reaching a conclusion, she looks to you again, eyes drifting down your outfit. "Hmm... perhaps you could be of use to me, however. For our current investigation. (if: $Blue is true)[In that laminate, with all those cuffs,] (if: $Smoke is true)[In that sheer laminate, showing off your tits,] (if: $Brand is true)[In that laminate, wearing those brands,] (if: $Sec is true)[In that cute outfit, and all that laminate,] (if: $Slave is true)[In all that bondage gear,] they certainly wouldn't suspect you... *yes*. Alright. You mentioned you're looking for credits, girl? Come find me in a bit. By my Ministry cruiser," she points to one of the transports nearby. "I've got something you could do to *really* earn some credits. I'm Truant Officer 2nd Class Kaori Nikaido, by the way." She waits, very quickly becoming impatient as she points out of the alley, towards the street. "So yeah, come find me. Right now, though? Get the hell out of my checkpoint." (set: $TruantFound to true) [[Working with a Ministry? A lucrative offer... but for now, continue on your way.->TransitCheckReturn]]

You're not even given the dignity of an immediate response-- the officer behind you merely slides a heavy feeling cylinder up between your legs, tapping it against your plugs. When you moan, unavoidable given the circumstances, she answers the sound with a click. The cylinder proves to be a shock baton, the excrutiating pulse of electricty passing into your womanhood leaving you twitching as you're lowered to the ground. (set: $debt to it - 50) "That's a fifty credit fine for speaking out of turn, slave," she growls. To the other officer, she snaps a hand. "Restrain her. I'll be back. And if she talks again, give her another jolt." [[You try to catch your breath->TruantSlaveCon]]

The officers are not gentle. Forcing you down, you're soon laying on the pavement alongside a row of other slave-suited girls. Each are bound, their legs pulled up and above them, linking to their arms or heads-- the method varies. What doesn't vary is the uncomfortable look each of them give you, and how quickly you join them. (if: $Level is 0 or 1)[Forcing your arms behind your back, they're linked by a pair of wrist cuffs that are quickly snapped upon you. A similar set is applied to your ankles, whereupon a chain is run between them-- fiendishly short, forcing you to bend your legs so far back your ankles can be hooked to a 3rd set of cuffs affixed just above the elbow. If that wasn't cruel enough, the officer completes the ensemble with one more chain, this last one pulling your head up and back. The harness of your regulator mask is used to link from head to ankles.](if: $Level is > 2)[Unlike some of the girls who are wearing cuffs, your armbinder ensures no such devices are needed beside those the officer snaps onto your ankles. A chain is then run between the ring of your armbinder to the ankle cuffs, fiendishly short, thus requiring you to bend your legs up and back. If that wasn't cruel enough, the officer completes the ensemble with one more chain, this last one pulling your head up and back. The harness of your regulator mask is used to link from head to ankles.] Altogether you're left on your stomach, bent all but backwards, your limbs collected together. Hogtied, one black suited slave in a line perhaps a half dozen strong. [["You can't do this!"->TruantSlaveResist2]] [["Officer, there has been a misunderstanding..."->TruantSlaveResist2]] [[Focus on your breathing. It's so hard with your mask, and your head pulled back...->TruantSlaveGood]]

The attending officer doesn't even look down-- she just pulls forth a shock baton, casually places it against your glossy rear, and depresses the trigger. Volts pour into your body, momentary spasms giving way to abject pain as the officer walks on. (set: $debt to it - 50) "Fifty credit fine for that, per the Slave Code. Quiet now." [[Whimper impotently.->TruantSlaveGood]]

After that, the officers leave you alone. A few more slaves in similar attire, or obviously collared, are added to your small collection but mostly they focus on processing the freewombs pulled from the checkpoint. It leaves you with little to do but watch the passing crowds, and focus on the growing discomfort rising from your bonds. Of the former, you do start to recognize a pattern in those they take for further questioning in the alley-- they seem to be using a scanner in one of the Ministry vehicles to check IDs from afar, a smattering of overheard conversation revealing they seemed to be looking for those with recent ID alterations. Of the latter? Your shoulders ache, your neck throbs, and breathing remains a challenge. It takes quite some time for the officers to address the slaves, and even then you're hardly first in line. By the time they reach you several hours have passed, and even then you are not given much in the way of conversation-- an officer approaches, and begins frisking you. She is not gentle, nor does she care about your dignity. Her hands move all across your tightly bond form, between your legs, checking your (if: $Level is 3 or 4)[pierced] breasts, even examining the lacing of your corset. Only *then* does she check your ID. "A freewomb," she notes, sounding only a bit surprised. "Must be quite the slut to have ended up locked in there. I'm going to unlock you." She does, removing the Ministry-stamped components of your bondage. Even still, your suit and its accessories are restraint enough. "Most of the slave code still applies to you, in that suit," she notes. "So if you got any fines, don't think we're changing them. Now get up." [["Yes ma'am."->TruantSlaveCon2]] (if: $PlayE is true)[[You remember Isabella's training. She's an officer of the Ministry of Truancy, a position of immediate power. You're little better then a slave. Greet her in the Torean fashion, with a reverence.->TruantSlaveRev]]

You rise, offering up your ID, and for the first time get a good look at the Officer. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/eYFZt2O.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Her uniform is bright blue with black streaks, a single piece that ends in a short skirt roughly halfway down her thighs. The badge of her Ministry is clearly imprinted above her breast and on each shoulder, as well as above the brim of that hate she wears. A tight bun corrals a considerable amount of raven hair while her auburn eyes scrutinize your identification card closely. At her belt she wears several sets of restraints, and a heavy looking cylinder-- a military grade shock baton. "Everything... appears to be in order," she concludes, sounding a bit disappointed. She hands back your ID, and allows you to a more casual position. "Where are you heading today?" [["Actually, I'm trying to make some credits."->TruantGreetCollect]] [["Downtown, once I collect the credits for the fare."->TruantGreetCollect]]

(if: $Sec is true)[(if: Level is 1)[Eyes down, you grab the bottom of your skirt, pulling it up. Your slit is briefly exposed as you bend your knees, performing something akin to a curtsy as the officer smiles slightly. Holding the pose for a long moment, you smooth your skirt back down afterwards.]](if: $Brand is true or $Smoke is true or $Blue is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you grab hold of your zipper, performing a smooth bow as you expose your slit to her briefly.]](if: $Slave is true)[(if: $Level is 1)[Eyes down, you kneel before her, folding your arms behind your back in due deferance.]](if: $Slave is true or $Brand is true or $Smoke is true or $Blue is true or $Sec is true)[(if: $Level is > 1)[Eyes down, you kneel before her, spreading your legs and pushing your hips forward, unable to do much else given your armbinder.]] "It's always good when a Freewomb remembers her place," the Officer muses, while you're given a good look at her for the first time. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/eYFZt2O.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Her uniform is bright blue with black streaks, a single piece that ends in a short skirt roughly halfway down her thighs. The badge of her Ministry is clearly imprinted above her breast and on each shoulder, as well as above the brim of that hate she wears. A tight bun corrals a considerable amount of raven hair while her auburn eyes scrutinize your identification card closely. At her belt she wears several sets of restraints, and a heavy looking cylinder-- a military grade shock baton. "Everything... appears to be in order," she concludes, sounding a bit disappointed. She hands back your ID, and allows you to a more casual position. "Where are you heading today?" [["Actually, I'm trying to make some credits."->TruantGreetCollect]] [["Downtown, once I collect the credits for the fare."->TruantGreetCollect]]

You enter, the glossy reflections on your laminate muting as soon you pass beneath the shadow of the canopy above. So too does the bustle and noise of the world beyond seem to lessen, the cacophony of modern Torean life replaced by... *silence.* Advancing further, you lose sight of the gate-- the plot of land may be small, but the wave-like foliage seems to encompass all, smothering you in its embrace. Stepping past a particularly thick trunk-analogue, you catch sight of movement. A figure, kneeling in a small clearing. Their cloak, bright red, is a blast of fresh color among so many shades of dark purple. [[Time to get the HELL out of here!->Street Hub]] [["E-Excuse me?"->NunGreet3]]

The figure turns and rises in a flourish of red laminate, revealing... a woman, wide-hipped and feminine, wearing garb only this planet could hold up as religious. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/Iq1v84O.png" width="30%" height="30%"> (set: $NunCheck to true) The red of her cloak is offset by the dark black of her catsuit, the heavy corset and strict collar (if: $Slave is true)[very much like your own.](else:)[very much like a slave's.] Red stockings and panties offset so much darkess, as does the gag-like muzzle pulled tightly against the lower half of her head. You notice a heavy septum piercing hanging from her nose, as well as the unmistakable markers of similarly invasive adornments to her nipples, visible so easily given how tight the laminate covering her matronly bust is. Her hood casts a deep shadow over her eyes, but you notice they seem to be red as well-- giving her gaze an inhuman cast. "Welcome(if: $Slave is true)[, Sister]." Her voice is soft, as if each word is carefully considered. The laminate across her lips muffles the effect somewhat. "Welcome to our Convent." The long sleeves of her cloak allow her gloved hands to remain hidden as they entwine before her, but you catch a brief glimpse of shackles adorning each wrist. "My name is Sister Euphoria. What is it you seek?" [["I was... just exploring."->NunSeek]] [["What... do you mean, seek?"->NunSeek]]

"Mhm," the Sister purrs, crossing the distance before you. She's tall-- *very* tall, even with your heels you barely make it to her shoulder. "Many are called to the Convent, even if they cannot place the reason why. It matters not(if: $Slave is true)[, Sister]. All are welcome." She pauses, those red eyes searching out your own. When they meet, she gazes deeply, leaving you with a chill sensation running up your spine. "You intend to travel," Euphoria concludes. "But you lack the means." [["How did you know? Yes, I need to get Downtown."->NunGreet4]] [["That means... credits, yes."->NunGreet4]]

The quiet Sister, this Torean Nun, seems to smile beneath her muzzle. You definitely get the sense of lips shifting beneath the laminate. "As I said, many come to our Convent in dire need. Few *truly* understand what it is they seek... but we can provide. You need credits?" It almost seems strange to discuss such mundanities with this almost otherworldly woman, but she takes to the topic readily. "Credits are but a means to a particular end, and perhaps not even the most appealing end available to you. What you *need* is the opportunity to consider your situation. The Convent can provide both. Indulge me(if: $Slave is true)[, Sister], with a dedication towards reflection and prayer. A few hours. Perhaps that will help you on your path. Even if it does not, the Convent will provide you alms. We offer four programs of prayer: Contemplation, Sensation, and Revelation. Contemplation and Sensation will reward you with 50 credits apiece. Revelation another one hundred... if you make it that far." (set: $NunCon to false)(set: $NunSens to false)(set: $NunPath to false)(set: $NunPick to false) [["That... doesn't sound too bad, actually."->NunGreet5]] [["You said four prayers, but you mentioned only three."->NunGreetAsk]]

Euphoria turns away from you, casting her gaze over one shoulder now. "The Convent has other needs, of course, beyond your own preceptions. We always accept charity, and there is another task we could discuss if you wish." She kneels again in the clearing, head bowing. "But for now? Consider the paths before you. They *are* myriad." [[A quiet breeze blows through the alien trees.->Nun Hub]]

"Perceptive," the Nun notes. "A good sign. The fourth program is Conversion, an entirely different undertaking." Those bright red eyes seem to flash, perhaps a play of light across them. "Are your needs that dire? Perhaps we will see." [["I... understand, I think."->NunGreet5]]

"Perhaps you have noted my collar," the Nun replies, still kneeling. She doesn't even look up. "Much as I have noted your own. Is it not a divine feeling? To be marked so readily as subservient, as a *thing* that can be owned? This is what makes us Sisters, a bond stronger then blood. You may be a Freewomb by designation, but you stray close enough. We perceive all slaves as Sisters." [[Well, now you know.->Nun Hub]]

Sister Euphoria's eyes open, the nun rising in a muted display of fluttering red laminate. "Of course," she replies. "The Convent of Perception is but one sanctum maintained by the Order of the Primrose, but I can address most anything you desire." She leans in, towering above you. "What would you like to ask?" [["What exactly is the Convent of Perception?"->AskCov]] [["What exactly is the Order of the Primrose?"->AskPrim]] [["Something is... strange, about this garden."->AskGarden]] [["How many are in your Order?"->AskOrder]] [["How exactly do men fit into your beliefs?->AskMen]] [["I see you're wear... a collar?"->AskNunSlave]] [["Do you... accept new members?"->AskNew]] [["I have no other questions, currently."->Nun Hub]]

"You may ask... to a degree," the Sister replies, holding up one slender finger. "You are correct in believing Euphoria is not my birth name, nor is it technically a name at all-- it is an eponym, a title of sorts for what we in the Order believe is important. The Vow of Anonymity we take upon entering the Order strips us of our names and past identities, and our eponym change with some frequency." The silence of the grove you both stand in grows momentarily oppressive, thick and foreboding. It passes as Euphoria continues. "The related Vow of Uniformity requires several stays with the Ministry of Improvements, adjusting our bodies towards identicality with each other. Thus the red of my eyes, which it turn symbolizes yet another Vow... but I digress, theology can be quite convoluted and entwined at times. Suffice it to say, that is as much as I can tell you regarding myself. To do more would be to Sin." [["I understand, but I do have other questions?"->Nun Hub]]

Sister Euphoria rises from her kneeling position, sleek and graceful despite the cloak and her heels. She's also considerably taller once you stand before the woman, a fact you cannot help but consider as you look up into those red eyes. "You think you seek the 50 credits I have promised," she replies, mouth just perceptible beneath the laminate of her muzzle. "But perhaps you will find other paths as well, in this pursuit. You will need nothing but an open mind, and several hours to spare. Do you find such terms acceptable?" [["On second thought... let me reconsider."->Nun Hub]] [["Yes I do."->NunContem2]]

The Sister rises, looming above with her red-eyed gaze. A study in contradiction: intense, yet serene. "*Sensation.* Perhaps the most fundamental component of perception. Raw. Primal. Well worth exploration, and for some of our lay adherents... the most commonly repeated program we offer." Stepping towards you, even her gait is carefully considered-- one foot in front of the other, hips swaying back and forth. Alluring. "I do recall promising you 50 credits for experiencing the topic nevertheless.(if: $NunCon is true)[ You have already undergone Contemplation, at the very least you know the nature of our Convent. Some of what you perceive will be familiar, but much will be new.]" [["On second thought... let me reconsider."->Nun Hub]] [["Sign me up."->NunSems2]]

The Nun remains kneeling, her hands clasped before her. Picture-perfect religiosity, in the Torean mold. "Revelation is an intensive program experience, and one that requires some experience with Sensation and Contemplation. Return to me when you have completed the other programs, and we can explore Revelation." [[Prerequisites? Is this a religion or a University?!->Nun Hub]]

The heavy laminate garters running from the Sister's corset to her stockings strain momentarily, as the kneeling woman adjusts her position. She does not open her eyes, despite responding. "We do offer a fourth program, that of Conversion. For obvious reasons, it is a rare day indeed that we come across someone who *needs* guidance down that particular path." Her head bows further. "Prayer and service are the only means to even *approach* such things." [["O-Okay.->Nun Hub]]

(if: $Slave is false)["A simple enough thing," the Sister responds, opening her eyes. They find you as she rises with considerable grace, despite the heavy corset she wore. "One of our Sisters is arriving from another Convent today, via the local transporation hub. We require someone escort her here." Her long sleeves pull apart, revealing the black of her gloves underneath. "Once you return, the Convent will compensate you for the time and effort. 100 credits, perhaps?" [["I've done enough walking today, no thanks.->Nun Hub]] [["Why does she need an escort?->Pickup2]]](if: $Slave is true)["I am sorry, Sister," the Nun responds, opening her eyes. "But the nature of the task requires a freewomb in good standing, and by the laws of this Ringdom you are under too many of the Slave Codes to sate that requirement. If you were to escape your current predicament we could perhaps discuss this again, and the 100 credit reward the Convent is offering. But until then? We can only take solace in our collars." [["I understand".->Nun Hub]]]

The Nun remains kneeling, her head still folded in prayer. "Revelation is not something one embarks upon lightly, (if: $Slave is true)[Sister](else:)[child]. By its very nature, Revelation is a public affair. Display, confession, contemplation, and sensation-- all have a role to play in such a ritual. We do not ask it of the weak-willed." She turns to regard you, her red eyes so vibrant beneath the shadow of her habit. "It *is* something frequently required of members of my Order, however. I can attest to it being a harrowing experience, yet enlightening. We will reward you 100 credits for such an effort, regardless." [["It is, Sister. I wish to walk the path of Revelation."->NunRev2]] [["I should reconsider. Let us discuss something else?"->Nun Hub]]

"I do not," the Sister replies, still kneeling. "Such things require many credits, or influence. We in the Convent take vows of poverty, of service, of anonymity. Thus? Such a pass is beyond us. We utilize the Lead." [[Well, it never hurts to ask.->Nun Hub]]

"The Convent always welcomes donations," she purrs, red eyes suddenly open. Rising, her hands come together at her waist, long sleeves enveloping them. "Our Order is ancient, with many illustrious benefactors. But every small bit helps. And, of course, poverty on Torei has its own *rewards*... How much were you considering?" [["Actually... I don't have enough."->Nun Hub]] (if: $debt is >= 5)[[["5 Credits."->Nun 5]]] (if: $debt is >= 10)[[["10 Credits."->Nun 10]]] (if: $debt is >= 25)[[["25 Credits."->Nun 25]]] (if: $debt is >= 50)[[["50 Credits."->Nun 50]]] (if: $debt is >= 100)[[["100 Credits."->Nun 100]]]

Your donation is accepted with a nod, Sister Euphoria's red-eyed gaze closing behind deep black lids as she dips her head. "We perceive grace from this donation of 10 credits, and wish you well." (set: $debt to it - 10) [[A good deed done quietly.->Nun Hub]]

Your donation is accepted with a nod and a muzzled smile, Sister Euphoria's red-eyed gaze closing behind deep black lids as she dips her head. "We perceive grace from this donation of 25 credits, and wish you well." (set: $debt to it - 25) [[A good deed done quietly.->Nun Hub]]

Your donation is accepted with a nod and a muzzled smile, Sister Euphoria's red-eyed gaze closing behind deep black lids as she dips her head. "We perceive grace from this donation of 50 credits, and wish you well." (set: $debt to it - 50) [[A good deed done quietly.->Nun Hub]]

Your donation is accepted with a nod and a muzzled smile, Sister Euphoria's red-eyed gaze closing behind deep black lids as she dips her head. Reaching down, she flairs her cloak in a classic Torean reverence. "We perceive grace from this donation of 100 credits, and wish you well." (set: $debt to it - 100) [[A good deed done quietly.->Nun Hub]]

(if: $Strike is < 10)["Do you?" She asks, rhetorically. "I question not your zeal, only your perception. The path you contemplate is long. Arduous. It would be a Sin to omit that I think you *are* suited to it, regardless, but I must recommend you consider the situation further. Walk these Torean streets, speak to its people. Explore. If, as dusk approaches, you still desire this... then speak of it to me again."](if: $Strike is >= 10)["The hour grows late, child." Euphoria rises, red cloak shimmering. "But in your eye, I see conviction. You still wish to discuss this path?"] (if: $Strike is < 10)[[[You nod and leave, to explore and learn more.->Nun Hub]]] (if: $Strike is >= 10)[[["I do."->NunRevFinal2]]] [[You remain unsure, your path unclear. For now you shake your head, stepping back.->Nun Hub]]

"Ah, a proper question to ask, considering where we stand." Sister Euphoria's arms stretch out, the tight cling of most of her uniform offset by the loose draping of her cloak. "You are standing in the vestibule of the Covenent of Perception." She gestures towards a set of doors on the far side of the small clearing, mostly obscured by the wave-like leaf-analogues. "Through there would be our chambers of prayer, open to all those will to submit to a particular program. Contemplation, Sensation, and Revelaton being offered here. Further in would be the Order's chambers, and other more private prayer areas. "The Order maintains a number of Covenants such as this across Torei, each dedicated to a particular ideal and serving a variety of public programs. As a whole the Order is dedicated to achieving Bliss, but approaching such things directly is very difficult. Thus the ideals, where Sisters can contemplate and explore individual facets of the greater whole more readily. Our ideal here, as the name suggests, is *Perception.*" [["That's all I wanted to know, thank you."->AskCon]] [["What exactly do you mean by 'Perception.'"->AskPercp]]

"The Order of the Primrose is greater faith to which I, and all our Sisters, ultimately serve. It is... ancient, from the time of Sharecropping Wars-- the conflict that ultimately broke the majority of the Torean population from AI control. Freed from our Gods, we sought new perspectives, new faiths. One of these became our Order, dedicated to the exploration of *Bliss.* "Pleasure can be easy to find here on Torei, but rarely does that alone bestow contentment. Thus *Bliss*, a sublime state of physical pleasure, mental contentedness, and societal stability. It is divinity incarnate, the goal of every Torean soul. And we assist those seeking Bliss, however can. Alms, prayer, sanctums for study. There is no set path to Bliss, but witht he proper guidance all roads do lead to it. Those that do not we know as Sin." [["Sin? Your Order has a concept of Sin?"->AskSin]] [["Interesting. I want to ask about something else."->AskCon]]

"Ah," she looks up, towards the strange boughs of the nearest tree, and the heavy canopy overhead. "Of course. Were you aware that Torei is a new planet, but most galactic standards? Formed artificially by the AIs, a long time ago by our count, but in a mere blink in the cosmic eye. These... let us call them trees are from that primordial time. Have you noticed how they seem to stop... everything? Wind, sound, *perception.* We believe they were originally bred by the AI Gods to shield their first agricultural work upon the surface." Reaching out, Euphoria uses a gloved hand to grab a wave-like branch. It snaps with only the barest of effort, as if sheared off. "They are brittle, but resiliant to weather. And with such strange properties. These days only a few copses exist out in the Badlands. Those who travel such paths call them *Silent Escorts* given how often they are found watching over patches of water. Here at the Convent, they serve much the same purpose-- escorting us Sisters from the predations of sin." [["Sin? Your Order has a concept of Sin?"->AskSin]] [["Interesting. I want to ask about something else."->AskCon]]

"Our Order is old, but not very large," the Sister muses, the fullness of her chest made evident as she folds an arm beneath, resting her other on its elbow as she does some quick math with her free hand. "Perhaps five thousand, across the surface of Torei. We *do* have a claim to being widespread, at the very least. Serving at a Convent here, so close to the Way Up, is quite a different experience from a Convent deep in the Antipodes." [["Interesting, I have other question.->AskCon]]

"Are you asking if we have male members in our Order?" She asks, seeking clarification. "Or our believes regarding masculinity?" [["If you have male members."->AskMale]] [["Your overall beliefs, regarding masculinity."->AskMasc]] [["Actually... let me think about it, I have other questions."->AskCon]]

The collar in question is tight against her throat, thinner along the top and flaring a bit towards the shoulders. It doesn't look comfortable. "You are asking if I am a slave," she deduces, tilting her head slightly to the side. Her hood follows, running down her back like glossy hair. "I am. All members of the Order are." Lifting her arms allows the long sleeves to slide down somewhat, revealing cuffs locked onto her wrists. A second set is visible on her ankles. "When a prospective Sister joins the Order as a Noviatiate, she is enslaved to our Benefactor. It's a temporary arrangement at first, but upon one's Confirmation it is made both lifelong and irreversible. Thus we commit ourselves wholely to the exploration of Bliss, and the rejection of Sin. It is the Vow of Service, but just one of many we must take-- others being the Vow of Poverty, the Vow of Femininity, and the Voew of Anonymity. There are optional ones as well, such as the Vow of Silence, or that of Chastity." [["Did you mention a 'Benefactor'?"->AskBenny]] [["Interesting. I want to ask about something else, though."->AskCon]]

"The Path to Bliss is always open, for those with the conviction to walk it," Euphoria replies, blinking slowly. It's not hard to imagine she must be quite beautiful beneath that muzzle. "We offer that program, that of Conversion, here. But it is a hard path, and most Novitiates drop out when given the opportunity just prior to Confirmation." Her lithe shoulders rise and fall, a a serene shrug. "But if you work through our programs, and if you think you have the resolve, perhaps we could discuss it more later." [[Not exactly a glowing endorsement, but a viable path nevertheless? "I want to ask about something else."->AskCon]]

"Mhm," the red-eyed woman purrs. "A good question. And often debated here, in these very halls. Perception is much like a triangle, I believe. Three sided, each component necessary to maintain the whole, but abstract and strange-- mere lines-- without the others." The Sister mimics drawing a triangle in the space between you, her black gloves so very dark against the red of her cloak sleeve. "The first side is how we perceive ourselves, both via the sensations we experience, and through our individual acts of judgement. The second side is how others perceive us, and much akin to the first-- split between that which others observe, and how they react to our choices. And the third? That one is more... theoretical. Difficult to grasp. It is the sense of perception we have for what our *other* senses have already perceived. An... esotoric concept, but one I think can be explained with an example. Imagine you have cut your hand. The first side is the pain you feel, and how you worry others will react to such a wound. The second side is the *actual* reaction others have, and how they *think* you feel about the cut. The third side, then, is how you perceive that sensation of pain, of concern for others. Are you scared? Ashamed? Angry?" Her gloved hands collect again before her waist. "Thus... *perception.*" [["I see...->AskCon]]

"We do." The Sister looks down at you, momentarily searching your eyes. Whatever she's looking for, she doesn't find it. "Sin is the antithesis of bliss. The abolisment of pleasure, dissatisfaction of the mind, or chaos in society. It is something to avoid, to abhor from afar. But that is not always possible, and in *those* circumstances corrective action must be taken." It's a firm line, yet delivered without a break in the Sister's serene attitude. "We recognize the Order cannot take sides, however. Cannot fix the world. Thus we address only that which we can-- our Sisters. Those outside of it we merely guide. The same is applied to the Ringdoms we inhabit, we do not seek to upset their laws or means of governance." [["Hmm, I see. I want to ask about something else."->AskCon]]

The Nun nods, the thick septum ring piercing her nose shifting slightly. "Another ancient tradition. Legal traditions in most Ringdoms hold that for one to be a Slave, there must be a Master. Our Benefactor would be that Master, although few Sisters ever actually meet him. He is a Lord in an Antipodal Ringdom, and rarely travels. We Sisters actually operate the Order, and manage ourselves according to our own Hierarchy." [["Every slave a master, it does make sense, I suppose. I have other questions."->AskCon]]

"We do not," Euphoria explains matter-of-factly. "Unlike some religious sects, we are not so traditionalist that we reject the notion of male slavery as a *concept*, but the Order is open only to women." [["Your overall beliefs, regarding masculinity then?."->AskMasc]] [["Actually... let me think about it, I have other questions."->AskCon]]

"The Order of the Primrose is of Torei, a necessity given our divine task. Bliss is formed by its surrounding circumstances, after all, making its presence on each planet virtually unique. Thus our views on gender are somewhat traditionalist, following Torean standards. We are of the view that, as women, we are by nature subservient. Beings of sensuality. Requiring guidance and direction, the sort only a collar can provide. We are at our best on our knees, submitting to the masculine." [["And, do you have male members?"->AskMale]] [["The greater galaxy does not hold to those views, at ALL."->AskMasc2]] [["Actually... let me think about it, I have other questions."->AskCon]]

"The Order is quite aware," the much taller woman replies, unfaltering despite the potential sensitivity of the issue. "The introduction of the greater galactic community to our planet has not shifted our views on this matter, however. The Vow of Femininity addresses the subject directly." [["I have other questions."->AskCon]]

"Then follow me." Crossing the small clearing in which you had found her, the Sister leads you to where the strange trees ran up against the wall-- revealing a door obscured by a few wayward growths. Pushing it aside, she uses one hand to open the door, her other gesturing for you to enter. The door yawns deep and black, the subdued shadow of the garden descending into inky nothingness within. [[You step into the midnight.->NunContem3]]

(if: $NunSens is true)[You have been within the Convent before, and know some of what comes next. Behind you Euphoria closes the door, stripping the world of its last vestiges of light. Darkess greets you, then overwhelms, leaving you blind. But the Sister takes her position behind, hands on your shoulders. Your guidance through this world of darkness.](else:)[You stand in a rectangle of light, the last vestiges of the world outside dwindling. Even those are wiped clean as Euphoria enters behind you, dragging shut the heavy door. With its closure, you're plunged into a darkness more absolute then you had thought possible. All encompassing. "This Convent is dedicated to Perception," the Sister explains, her hands falling on your shoulders. Even whispering, her voice in your ear booms in the absolute silence. "To better approach that ideal, we strip ourselves of all competing distractions. Perception is as much what you do *not* perceive as that which you do." The hands on your shoulders tighten slightly. "Through my service, I have been made capable of guiding you," she intones, as you begin to walk. The ground is some hard surface, but that's all you can tell. "Our space for Contemplation is not far." If you were expecting your eyes to adjust, they do not. There are no windows, no portals to the outside beyond the one you entered. Just *darkness*, and the laminate-clad Sister behind you. It's only then you recognize, with sudden distraction, how *she* saw. Those eyes, so unnaturally red. Implants or something less invasive, it did not matter-- her vision had clearly been altered for just such environments.] [[Accept her guidance.->NunContem4]]

As promised, it's not long before you begin to hear other things. The sharp report of heeled boots upon the floor first, followed by the occasional sound of doors closing, of quiet voices in discussion or repeating verses before they're sealed off again. Were you entering into... smaller rooms, perhaps? *Cells?* The Sister breaks you from your wonderings, your fears. "We approach your room. Within it we will find a prayer frame, a device we use to ensure your body's posture follows your mind in total Contemplation. You need only follow my instructs as we install you for the duration of this program. Is that understood?" [[Shake your head yes.->NunContem5]] [["S-Sure..."->NunContem5]]

Could a Sister of Euphoria's Order lie? Would that be a Sin? You're not giving the chance to question such things as her word proves true, the hiss of a door opening being followed by an order to halt, then kneel. The *prayer frame*, as the Sister had named it, you obviously cannot see. But as you're positioned, then strapped in, you at least get the sense of a metal frame to which a series of cuffs and chains are attached. You in turn are attached to *them*, forcing you into the prescribed position for Contemplation. Kneeling, your head is forced down by the collar, eyes fixated on a floor you cannot see. (if: $Level is > 1)[Your armbinder is likewise locked into place in an uncomfortable, slightly raised position behind you.](else:)[Your hands are locked to seperate poles, then maneuvered closer, your palms connecting in a classic example of steeple-fingered prayer.] Further down your knees are spread, the cuffed to the floor. It's an ingeniously simple setup, requiring only a few minutes to secure you, and then giving little in the way of movement afterward-- even straining you cannot shift from the posture of prayer now enforced upon you. [[And then...?->NunContem6]]

Then Euphoria leaves, closing the door on the way out. It locks with a harsh *click.* She explains nothing, nor does she instruct you further. Instead you are left to the dark, to the silence, to your enforced posture, and your own thoughts. *Contemplation* at its most pure. [[What is happening to me?->NunC1]] [[Where am I?->NunC2]] [["Hello?"->NunC3]]

Good question. You're locking into a prayer restraint, your body covered in tight laminate. (if: $Blue is true)[You're covered in cuffs and collared, a belt around your waist ensuring you can be hooked to all manner of devices.] (if: $Smoke is true)[And it's semi-transparent, what little remained of your modesty given its cling utterly destroyed by that. Not to mention the belt around your waist ensuring you can be hooked to all manner of devices.] (if: $Brand is true)[You're covered in advertisements for slavery, strictly corseted and eternally perched on your toes.] (if: $Sec is true)[You're dressed like the office slut, in a clingy bodice and skirt that showed off so much leg.] (if: $Slave is true)[You're dressed as a slave, all black laminate. Strictly corseted, and masked so that your breath is not even your own.] (if: $Level is > 1)[Your arms are restrained](if: $Level is > 2)[, your nipples pierced]. This is not your first bit of bondage and depravity, nor will it be your last. Torei is *getting to you.* [[No its not!->NunD1]] [[I know...->NunD2]]

No one answers. How could they? You just *know* the room is sound-proofed. All you have is the occasional clink as you shift in your restraints, and your own breathing as you consider your situation. (if: $Blue is true)[You're covered in cuffs and collared, a belt around your waist ensuring you can be hooked to all manner of devices.] (if: $Smoke is true)[And it's semi-transparent, what little remained of your modesty given its cling utterly destroyed by that. Not to mention the belt around your waist ensuring you can be hooked to all manner of devices.] (if: $Brand is true)[You're covered in advertisements for slavery, strictly corseted and eternally perched on your toes.] (if: $Sec is true)[You're dressed like the office slut, in a clingy bodice and skirt that showed off so much leg.] (if: $Slave is true)[You're dressed as a slave, all black laminate. Strictly corseted, and masked so that your breath is not even your own.] (if: $Level is > 1)[Your arms are restrained](if: $Level is > 2)[, your nipples pierced]. This is not your first bit of bondage and depravity, nor will it be your last. Torei is *getting to you.* [[No its not!->NunD1]] [[I know...->NunD2]]

Good question. In the belly of a perverted convent, forced into prayer. (if: $Blue is true)[You're covered in cuffs and collared, a belt around your waist ensuring you can be hooked to all manner of devices.] (if: $Smoke is true)[And it's semi-transparent, what little remained of your modesty given its cling utterly destroyed by that. Not to mention the belt around your waist ensuring you can be hooked to all manner of devices.] (if: $Brand is true)[You're covered in advertisements for slavery, strictly corseted and eternally perched on your toes.] (if: $Sec is true)[You're dressed like the office slut, in a clingy bodice and skirt that showed off so much leg.] (if: $Slave is true)[You're dressed as a slave, all black laminate. Strictly corseted, and masked so that your breath is not even your own.] (if: $Level is > 1)[Your arms are restrained](if: $Level is > 2)[, your nipples pierced]. This is not your first bit of bondage and depravity, nor will it be your last. Torei is *getting to you.* [[No its not!->NunD1]] [[I know...->NunD2]]

Liar. Your memory may be punched full of holes, but you recall enough to know this is *not* normal. Out there, in the greater galaxy beyond, you were proud! Strong! An independent prospector, a modern day treasure hunter living among the fringes of known space. A pioneer, an explorer. What are you now? One of the undoubted millions locked into some bondage device on Torei, legs spread, eyes down. The bondage, the humiliation, the laminate-- you've submitted to it all, bit by bit. And it's getting easier. Or... was it always this easy? What exactly do you remember from your fragments of the... *week* before? [["Who are you?"->NunD3]]

Good girl. Your memory may be punched full of holes, but you recall enough to know this is *not* normal. Out there, in the greater galaxy beyond, you were proud! Strong! An independent prospector, a modern day treasure hunter living among the fringes of known space. A pioneer, an explorer. What are you now? One of the undoubted millions locked into some bondage device on Torei, legs spread, eyes down. The bondage, the humiliation, the laminate-- you've submitted to it all, bit by bit. And it's getting easier. Or... was it always this easy? What exactly do you remember from your fragments of the... *week* before? [["Who are you?"->NunD3]]

It's so much easier to focus without glistening bodies walking by, without staring eyes upon you in turn. Start from the beginning. You remember the ride on the Space Elevator, the fabled Way Up... you were going *down*, right? Or were you truly taking the *way up?* Returning to the stars... or escaping to them for the first time? The tenth? You have no way to remember. Perhaps this *isn't* your first week on the planet. Others have commented on it, how easily you have taken the roles "forced" upon you. Isn't everything easier with practice? Now that would be something. An alternate theory, at the very least. Mem-Burn isn't the only means of changing one's memories on this planet, after all. Much stronger options exist, the sort that blanked out *years*, leaving only those so very far back-- and those most recent, somewhat damaged. Did you really check your room as thoroughly as you think you did? If you *had* been planetside before, as a tourist, on another prospecting mission, or something else entirely-- that would make your ID a fake at the very least. An assumed identity, a shadowy deal in motion. Perhaps it *was* illegal. Or dangerous. Or both. [["Either way, why would you bind yourself in your bedroom?"->NunD4]]

You're not sure, hell, you're not really sure of anything right now. Perhaps it hadn't been you, but someone else. "But if it *had* been you?" Then the selfbondage must have been intended to keep you there, until the countdown had ended-- tomorrow, beyond the date of the deal, before your ticket on the Way Up expired. A narrow window, with a singular purpose. Had you tried to stop yourself from completing the Black Card's deal? "Something to contemplate further, I think." Wait... [[That wasn't you, that was a voice in the room... Euphoria. "Hello?"->NunD5]]

"Hello, dear." It *was* her. Had she snuck back in? *How much of what you had just said had been at her prompting?* "You do not need to worry," the Sister continues, her gloved hand finding your chin. Her touch is soft, warm. "It happens to everyone, their first couple times. Denied so much of what we normally perceive, our minds wander. Play tricks on us. Do you know what time it is? You've been in here for *hours." [["And was I speaking aloud?"->NunD6]]

The hand on your chin drifts down, and begins to undo your bindings. It's only then you realize just how sore you had become. Your muscles certainly attested to hours having passed. "Yes," she admits readily. "We explored something you *needed* to contemplate, with a bit of guidance on my part. A memory in such a state is liable to Sin. You must be careful, whatever you choose to do going forward." A final buckle frees you, and the Nun guides you upward, once again placing her hands on your shoulders for further direction through the fathomless black. "You have my full confidentiality, regardless. What we speak of in Contemplation is not to be repeated." [["We never finished, we never figured out who I am."->NunD7]]

"Contemplation rarely brings conclusion," Euphoria replies, guiding you through the sanctum of the Convent. "But you have several possibilites. You are either here for your first week, and merely... well attuned to Torei. Or this is *not* your first time, and your dealings on this planet are less straightforward. Then this note you hold, this Black Card? Either you tried to keep yourself from following through on the deal, or someone else did and tried to hide that truth." You can feel the heavy shackles on her wrists as she directs you around what must have been a corner. "What happened *then* may very well be determined by your *Perception* of the now." She pulls somewhere to your right, and suddenly the darkness breaks-- light. [[You're back at the Front Door.->NunD8]]

You emerge back out into the shadowed garden. Compared to the absolute silence of the Convent, the garden seems almost alive with sound and light as you reaccustom yourself to a world beyond darkness. Euphoria does not ask more of you, but merely returns to her kneeling position at the center of the small clearing. As her hands fold together, she speaks once more. "I hope you found Contemplation to be worthwhile. The 50 credits will be in your account." (set: $debt to it + 50)(set: $NunCon to true) [["Thank you."->Nun Hub]] [[Step back and away...->Nun Hub]]

*Your body walks as your mind wakes, a rising tide of consciousness...* (link: "((Load your Saved Game))")[(load-game: "file A")] [[You're mistaken, a fresh start is needed instead. Return to the start of all things.->Startup]]

--------------------- Save Point Reached! --------------------- (link: "(CLICK ME TO SAVE GAME)")[(save-game: "file A")] --------------------- [[Stand back up and get moving again.->Street Hub]]

"Follow, child." Crossing the small clearing in which you had found her, the Sister leads you to where the strange trees ran up against the wall-- revealing a door obscured by a few wayward growths. Pushing it aside, she uses one hand to open the door, her other gesturing for you to enter. The door yawns deep and black, an abyssal void. [[You step into the maw.->NunSens3]]

(if: $NunCon is true)[You have been within the Convent before, and know some of what comes next. Behind you Euphoria closes the door, stripping the world of its last vestiges of light. Darkess greets you, then overwhelms, leaving you blind. But the Sister takes her position behind, hands on your shoulders. Your guidance through this world of darkness.](else:)[You stand in a rectangle of light, the last vestiges of the world outside dwindling. Even those are wiped clean as Euphoria enters behind you, dragging shut the heavy door. With its closure, you're plunged into a darkness more absolute then you had thought possible. All encompassing. "This Convent is dedicated to Perception," the Sister explains, her hands falling on your shoulders. Even whispering, her voice in your ear booms in the absolute silence. "To better approach that ideal, we strip ourselves of all competing distractions. Perception is as much what you do *not* perceive as that which you do." The hands on your shoulders tighten slightly. "Through my service, I have been made capable of guiding you," she intones, as you begin to walk. The ground is some hard surface, but that's all you can tell. "Our space for Contemplation is not far." If you were expecting your eyes to adjust, they do not. There are no windows, no portals to the outside beyond the one you entered. Just *darkness*, and the laminate-clad Sister behind you. It's only then you recognize, with sudden distraction, how *she* saw. Those eyes, so unnaturally red. Implants or something less invasive, it did not matter-- her vision had clearly been altered for just such environments.] [[Accept her guidance.->NunSens4]]

As you traverse the gloom, blind to the world, sounds soon rise to meet you. Whispers of... ecstasy. Hungry panting, laminate being strained against, the muffled moan. It grows louder with your every step until you're enveloped in what could only be a gagged orgy. Even so, Euphoria keeps her voice low, whispering in your ear. "We have arrived at *Sensation*, as you no doubt can perceive. You will find pleasure here, great deals of it. But a lesson too, hopefully. We have stripped you of sight, and other such restrictions will follow. Voids in your perception, into which Sensation will enter. Are you ready?" [["Y-Yes."->NunSens5]] [["What exactly are you going to do to me?"->NunSens5]]

"You will be locked into a position of prayer," she explains, guiding you towards the floor. Indeed, you can feel a system of steel poles and heavy cuffs. She works you into them slowly, securing each in turn. Kneeling, your head is forced down by the collar, eyes fixated on a floor you cannot see. (if: $Level is > 1)[Your armbinder is likewise locked into place in an uncomfortable, slightly raised position behind you.](else:)[Your hands are locked to seperate poles, then maneuvered closer, your palms connecting in a classic example of steeple-fingered prayer.] Further down your knees are spread, then cuffed to the floor. (if: $Sec is true)[As almost an afterthought, she then proceeds to hike up your skirt.] "(if: $Slave is true)[Most are gagged, but your mask prevents this, Sister. So you will moan for all to hear."](else:)[You will be gagged." It's barely a warning as you feel a gloved finger at your lips, tapping there. When you open, something between a ball and a phallic rod is quickly slide inside, lodging between your teeth. It tastes of laminate and fills your mouth, pressing down upon your tongue. You feel further laminate being pulled over your head, a panel and harness that undoubtedly fit much the same as the muzzle Euphoria herself wore-- only she was *not* gagged.] Somewhere to your left, another woman can be heard moaning louding into her own gag. Clearly, she's climaxing. Euphoria remains unperturbed. "The final component is your source of sensation. Are you prepared?" (if: $Slave is true)[[["Yes..."->NunSens6]]](else:)[[["Mmmgh."->NunSens6]]]

The pitch black of the Convent prevents you from seeing the Sister's movements, but you *can* sense her sliding something between your kneeling, spread legs moments before you actually feel it. It's somewhat round, padded along the portions that contact against your thighs. The component that rises at its apex, however, pressing against your womanhood? That's angular, rounded. An extended portion along the very front even reaches higher, seeking your clit. (if: $Blue is true or $Brand is true or $Smoke is true)[And to ensure it is found, Euphoria pulls down your zipper.] (if: $Slave is true)[It's impossible to ignore the sensation of your plugs pressed up against the hard portions of whatever the device is, and you cannot help but shift your hips, grinding into it with wet desire.](else:)[Immediately the device enters your wet cunt, sliding past eager lips. It doesn't travel terribly deep, but it's not something you could not possibly ignore.] Especially once it starts vibrating. (if: $Slave is true)[[["Oh, yes...!"->NunSens7]]](else:)[[["Hmmhgh!"->NunSens7]]]

Euphoria's hand briefly strokes along your head, then she's gone. And you're left only with *Sensation.* The device between your legs is not gentle, it does not tease. It *churns*, pressing into your (if: $Slave is true)[plugs](else:)[cunt], drowning it in ecstatic vibrations. Your body strains against its enforced posture of prayer of its own accord, acting in vain against heavy cuffs and thick steel. You moan loudly, adding your (if: $Slave is true)[voice](else:)[gagged voice], to the symphony of ecstasy that surrounds you on every side. How many others joined you in this? Perhaps dozens, although its impossible to tell. Their voices are lost to you momentarily anyway as you climax, cumming hard against the vibrating device. It doesn't respond, but keeps it pace, allowing you only a short afterglow before the Sensations build again... (if: $Slave is true)[[[Take a deep breath through your mask.->NunSens8]]](else:)[[["Mmmghhh..."->NunSens8]]]

Pleasure unending. It's a fate you must confront blind, forced into a posture of prayer. You cannot control the sensations, and you cannot escape them. They merely *are*. Whatever remained of your self-restraint soon slips through your fingers, as does your sense of time. Everything is washed away by the buzz between your legs, the heady rush of endorphins that come as your cunt is put through its paces again, and again, and again... [[You moan, then shift your hips, seeking out the Sensation despite it all.->NunSens9]]

You're not sure when exactly you realize it, time having become a nebulous construct to your ecstasy-riddled mind after all, but somewhere along the way you *do* sense a change. Not in yourself, the pleasure between your legs continues to build and build until it bursts-- but in those around you. They too were riding the high of their bondage, their prayer, their Sensations in *exactly* the same cycle as you're experiencing. There are differences, of course, especially among those you hear brought it in after you. Their gagged climaxes come quicker, rushing to screams of pleasure that take your now more well-worked cunt longer to reach. But as time goes on, passing in whatever handfuls or leaps it was, everything seems to... sync up. The purr of your devices, the strained moans you emit, the squirming orgasms. A dozens, dozens-- however many different souls, all brought into unison by this simple, primal act. This *Sensation.* [[You cum with them.->NunSens10]]

"Understanding," a voice suddenly whispers, so near. After... so long without other stimuli, it nearly hurts to hear. "I see it in your body, your expression. You have reached a conclusion. The lesson becomes evident." (if: $Slave is true)[Her hand glides along your masked cheek.](else:)[Her hand glides along your cheek, then carefully unbuckles and pulls forth your gag. You feel a line of drool dripping down your chin.] "Speak it." [["W-We are... all one, together..."->NunSens11A]] [["Perception can be... c-can be shared..."->NunSens11B]] [["T-This is... our s-shared... f-femininity..."->NunSens11C]]

You orgasm moments after the answer, shivering in your bindings from the experience. The woman before you gently strokes your head. "A good start, but go *deeper*." She may not have meant it as a command, but your body would obey most anything at that moment. Your hips shift, pressing the device deeper into your cunt. [["Perception can be... c-can be shared..."->NunSens11B]] [["T-This is... our s-shared... f-femininity..."->NunSens11C]]

"Indeed..." the owner of the voice, Sister Euphoria purrs. "A *shared* sensation can be so much more powerful then one experienced alone. Something to remember." She pauses momentarily, perhaps watching you squirm, before continuing. "What I will do next will feel cruel-- I am going to remove your sybian." At first you balk, as if stopping the vibrations between your legs could ever be cruel. Yet when she follows through, sliding the device back out, you're left with something unexpected-- a static sense of *emptiness*. Had you ever truly existed without the device? [["P-Put it back, g-give me more..."->NunSens12Refuse]] [["T-Thank you..."->NunSens12]]

"Indeed..." the owner of the voice, Sister Euphoria purrs. "On Torei, a woman can lead a thousand different lives. Be a freewomb, a slave. A concubine, and heirmaker. But that does not change our basic femininity. Our shared weakness, our sensuality..." She pauses momentarily, perhaps watching you squirm, before continuing. "What I will do next will feel cruel-- I am going to remove your sybian." At first you balk, as if stopping the vibrations between your legs could ever be cruel. Yet when she follows through, sliding the device back out, you're left with something unexpected-- a static sense of *emptiness*. Had you ever truly existed without the device? [["P-Put it back, g-give me more..."->NunSens12Refuse]] [["T-Thank you..."->NunSens12]]

Sister Euphoria's voice is empathetic, but firm. "No. Your lesson has concluded, and your body is overwhelmed. In the face of such sensations, it lies. You need time to recover." (if: $Slave is true)[Her hand slips between your legs, pressing gently against your sealed cunt. You nearly cum again. "Plugs are a blessing, and a terrible burden. You must be strong, Sister."](else:)[Her hand slips between your legs, pressing gently against the lips of cunt. You're wet, dripping on the floor. "I know, I know," she cooes. "But it must be done.] [[You moan quietly.->NunSens12]]

The Sister remains with you as you slide back down from such peaked ecstasy, returning to someting approaching normalcy despite the orgasmic chorus that still surrounds. It's hard not to be jealous of them. (if: $Blue is true)[Eventually she reaches between your legs, and closes your zipper. Once again your blue laminate is sealed.] (if: $Smoke is true)[Eventually she reaches between your legs, and closes your zipper. Once again your smokey laminate is sealed, but you're still very much on display.] (if: $Brand is true)[Eventually she reaches between your legs, and closes your zipper. Once again your branded laminate is sealed, but your corset still embraces so tightly, and your toes ache.] (if: $Sec is true)[Eventually she reaches towards your hips, sliding your skirt back down as much as possible.] (if: $Slave is true)[Eventually she reaches between your legs, running her palm one last time against your sealed cunt before pulling away.] Unlocking you from the prayer device is quick enough, but it takes some time for your shaking legs to support your weight. Only then does Euphoria guide you through the darkness, heading back the way you came. The sounds of *Sensation* grow quieter and quieter, until the they cease altogether. [[Good riddance...->NunSens13]] [[You already miss it.->NunSens13]]

Eventually she reaches to your side, pulling on something that responds with a mechanical crunch. Light emerges before you, bright and glaring. You emerge back out into the shadowed garden. Compared to the absolute silence of the Convent, the garden seems almost alive with sound and light as you reaccustom yourself to a world beyond darkness. Euphoria does not ask more of you, but merely returns to her kneeling position at the center of the small clearing. As her hands fold together, she speaks once more. "As I promised, there is something like *Bliss* to be found in Sensation. But I hope you learned something as well. Either way, I have deposited 50 credits in your account, child." (set: $debt to it + 50)(set: $NunSens to true) [["It was... a lesson indeed."->Nun Hub]] [[Step back and away...->Nun Hub]]

"Then we must speak of Sin." She rises, casting you in further shadow as she stands above you. It's a position that makes her piercing stare all the more intensive, as if she really could see deep into your soul. What did she find there? "We have spoken of Sin during the path of Contemplation, although indirectly. What do you recall of it?" [["Regarding my... memory?"->NunRev3]] [["I'm not sure what you mean."->NunRev3]]

"We discussed your memories, yes-- and your lack of concrete purpose. Your struggle between what you perceive to be, and what likely is. But that is a symptom of your Sin, not the Sin itself. Remember that Sin is the antithesis of Bliss, the rejection of your natural self. Recall your experiences, your perception of your role in this world." [["My sin... are you referring to my lack of... place? As an offworlder new to this world, or someone very experienced...?"->NunRev4]] [["My sin... are you referring the Black Card, my confusion regarding my own intent?"->NunRev4]]

"Go further," she prompts. [["The... totality of it. Everything? Is that what you mean? That my Sin is the struggle between what I have perceived, and how readily I respond to it? The... way my body responds to laminate, to bondage? That I have felt shame and yet... and yet..."->NunRev5]]

Sister Euphoria collects her hands before her carefully, bowing her head in a display of reverent approval. "...and yet you cannot avoid what you perceive as ultimately desirable. Come." She guides you towards the now familiar doors, and the black abyss within. Once more you are plunged into that eternal solitude, but this time when the Nun takes your shoulders, guiding you, she directs you further back into the Convent. Far further then you had gone before. Along the way you sense several other forms that flank you, exchanging whispered words with Euphoria. Despite your proximity, you catch only the odd syllable. Clearly they're quite experienced in the quiet of the Convent. "We are here," Euphoria finally prompts, raising her voice. You glance around, but the darkness is the same as any other-- beyond your ability to perceive. "My Sisters will assist us in yout assuming the proper position for prayer. You need not do anything more than endure, and set a proper example for the others. Is that understood?" [["The... others?"->NunRev6B]] [["Yes, Sister."->NunRev6]]

Unlike your previous experiences, you are not directed towards the floor. Instead the myriad of gloved hands that slide across your laminate body direct you to remain standing, stepping forward towards what an errant bump of your leg reveals to be a pole emerging vertically from the floor. "Child," a new voice instructs, "(if: $Slave is true)[Your plugs will remain in, but we will be positioning this bar between your legs, pressing up against them. *Hard.*"](else:)[There is a pole before you, atop which is a phallic device. We will be installing you upon it."] You're not given the opportunity to resist, not this far in. Instead several sets of hands merely guide you forward, making good on their promise. In short order the pole is placed, then risen-- pressing up between your legs. When they add chains to cuffs at your ankles, enforcing a wide stance, you quickly find yourself unable to pull free of the pole. You simply lack the slack to lift your torso off the device. It's a prison of sorts, deviously simple. Other restraints follow. (if: $Slave is true)[Already masked, they install some manner of additional filter over your oxygen intake-- making your already difficult breathing a continuous labor, your lungs screaming from the effort.](else:)[A gag much like the muzzle-like device Euphoria wore is installed, a laminate intruder entering your mouth as other components cover your lips and chin, encapsulating and gripping your entire jaw in slick laminate.] (if: $Level is 0 or 1)[Your arms are next, forced behind you in an excruciating manner, palms coming together at the small of your back-- a reverse prayer, where they are secured. The angle naturally forces your head down, the pain that comes with trying to raise it impossible to overcome for more then a few moments.](if: $Level is > 1)[Your armbinder is linked to some manner of descending chain, forcing it up in a way that requires your head to remain bowed-- the pain that comes with trying to raise it impossible to ovecome for more then a few moments.] (if: $Slave is true)[[[You shift your hips, the pole between your legs shifting your plugs in a truly frustrating fashion.->NunRev7]]](else:)[[["Mmmgh...->NunRev7]]]

One last bit of preparation comes in the form of a hard, rounded object being pressed against your womanhood-- just before and above the pole, against your clit. You have enough experience by now to realize what it was before one of the Sisters clicks it on, but hearty hum that rises confirms it regardless-- a vibrating wand, undoubtedly held against your immobile form by an extended boom arm. And it feels *good*. (if: $Slave is true)[By rolling your hips forward you can induce a stronger buzz against your front plug, but it's a hard position to hold, your corset interfering. Neither does your mask, the additional restrictions placed upon your breathing already leaving you to pant-- after a few moments you're almost hyperventilating, trying desperately to seek out the pleasure even as you all but suffocate.](else:)[By rolling your hips forward you can place the vibrator directly against the cock buried deep between your legs, inducing an immediate purr that runs up your entire spine. Had your restraints not held you up you're liable to have collapsed right there, your panting indicative of a pleasure that almost immediately pushed your body to the limit.] Euphoria's voice remains near, her soothing touch on your hip, your thigh. "Peace, (if: $Slave is true)[Sister](else:)[child]. You have yet to even truly begin your Revelation. Are you ready?" That hand on your body slips further down, circling the vibrating wand's tip, tickling the laminate and flesh beneath already so primed by your intruder and the vibrations upon it. "Beg for it." (if: $Slave is true)[[[P-P-Please... S-Sister...->NunRev8YES]]](else:)[[["Mmmgh... Pplhggh!"->NunRev8YES]]] (if: $Slave is true)[[[N-N-No... I... I c-can't...->NunRev8NO]]](else:)[[[You shake your head feebly. "Nnmmgh."->NunRev8NO]]]

The Nun's response is immediate. "Revelation is about disclosure as much as it is your own personal experience." She does not elaborate further. [["Great."->NunRev6]]

Your prayers are answered by blinding light. The darkness of the Convent is *broken* by light bright enough to force your eyes close, tears emerging from the sudden pain that follows. Afterward you blink, bleary eyes trying desperately to adjust to your changed circumstances. It's not an easy transition. The light focuses, becoming less all-encompassing until you can at least determine it had a source-- the wall before you, previously black as anything else, had change. It is now a rectangular portal, perhaps six meters wide by two meters tall. And there are *things* moving past it. People. It is not a portal to some other world, but a *window*, having made transparent what had once been opaque. A window looking out onto what could only be the street behind the Convent, much the same as the one you had entered from: an empty street but busy sidewalks, so many in glossy laminate. Passing by, yes... but suddenly looking at you. **Revelation.** (set: $TransportCheck to 0) [[You look around.->RevHub]]

"It's much too late for doubts." That's not Euphoria, but another voice, off somewhere in the darkness to your left. "Give her a moment." They don't have to wait long. Without your eyes to see, your other senses are stronger-- or at the very least more focused. And nothing overawes like the steady burn between your legs, a sensation you are incapable of escaping. To your credit, you do try, pulling hard against the prayer frame, trying to free your arms. When they fails you attempt at least to raise your eyes, to seek out something besides what could only be the humility of the floor below. But you can't. You can't pull your arms free, you cannot rise your head, and you *cannot* deny the fire between your legs. When Euphoria speaks again, you struggle to determine just how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? More? **"Beg for it."** And you do. (if: $Slave is true)[[[P-P-Please... S-Sister...->NunRev8YES]]](else:)[[["Mmmgh... Pplhggh!"->NunRev8YES]]]

You're bound, armbs behind your back and legs spread, restraining pole and vibrator pressed into your womanhood. Passersby outside stop, several lingering at the window before you, observing your Revelation. [[Look out the Window.->RevWin]] [[Look to your Left.->RevNuns]] [[Look to your Right.->RevEuphoria]] [[Look at your reflection.->RevSign]] [[Struggle.->RevStrug]] [[Pray.->RevPray]] [[Moan.->RevMoan]] (if: $TransportCheck is > 5)[[[Cum.->RevCum]]]

Your restraints prevent much movement, but your eyes can make up some of the difference as you try to look to your left. The window to the world beyond does not go forever, but the darkness of the Convent is intensive-- where the shadow returns you can make out few details. Only that would stood in the halo of light created by the window itself is apparent, and it's here that you notice several other Sisters of the Order of the Primrose. Like Euphoria they wear uniforms of black and color, but the latter components do vary-- one is red as you expect, but two others are white. They each have deep, saturated eye colors to match their uniforms, but their the differences end-- and indeed its their similarity that is most stark. So dressed they are difficult to otherwise tell apart, and their proportions are all but identical. Hands clasped before their full chests, palms together, they appear to be praying. (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) [[You moan quietly.->RevNuns2]]

You fight your restraints, and manage--barely-- to look to your right. There a solitary figure stands, her uniform indistinct, but you've talked to her enough to recognize Euphoria regardless. Her hood still pastes a shadow across her eyes, but you can see those red pupils looking out, observing those who pass by. It's a scene that passes quickly, the Sister's head dipping slightly as she reaches down and flairs her cloak, spreading her legs. (if: $PlayE is true)[You recognize the Torean *reverence*.] Glancing back to the window, you see a male in a sharply cut laminate suit observing your situation. He smiles, then passes before the window and disappears on the far side. (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) [[The Sisters truly respect masculinity.->RevHub]]

You look into the reflection, into yourself. (if: $Blue is true)[The blue of your laminate still gleams, the heavy cuffs you wore integrated into the prayer frame. With your zipper open hints of flesh are visible between your legs, but the thick cock of the pole impaled within you blocks much, along with the strategically placed vibrator.] (if: $Smoke is true)[The smokey coloration of your laminate still gleams, the harness pulled tightly across your upper torso having been integrated into the prayer frame. With your zipper open hints of flesh are visible between your legs, but the thick cock of the pole impaled within you blocks much, along with the strategically placed vibrator.] (if: $Brand is true)[The black of your branded laminate still gleams, the various adverts and slogans painted across your curvaceous form still so bright in comparison. You wriggle, your breasts pushed out by the combined work of the frame and your own corset, the latter having grown somewhat more comfortable the more you wore it. With your zipper open hints of flesh are visible between your legs, but the thick cock of the pole impaled within you blocks much, along with the strategically placed vibrator.] (if: $Sec is true)[The white and red of your professionally attired laminate still gleams, but it's devilishly hard to *blend in* with the similarly dressed outside when forced into such a position of enforced prayer. Your skirt hides your womanhood, but the pole running up between your legs could only be interfacing in one manner-- and few can ignore the allure of the vibrator pressed against the taut laminate before you. To your shame, you return the favor, thrusting your hips forward in search of the heady vibrations.] (if: $Slave is true)[The pure black of your slave suit still gleams, the standardized design a testament to your submission. You wriggle, your breasts pushed out by the combined work of the frame and your own corset, the latter having grown somewhat more comfortable the more you wore it. The zipper between your legs is still sealed, but that only ensures the plugs installed there remain buried, your hips pressing whoreishly forward, seeking the vibrator.] (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) But that is not all you notice-- for in the reflection you see something you would not otherwise have noticed. Behind you hangs a sign, the Torean lettering upon it difficult to read backwards, but you parse it out slowly: *This Sinner offers her penance to this community. She is a whore, who sought out the vibrator between her legs. She is a slut, who revels in the bondage enforced upon her. She is feminine, submissive by nature.* [[And now everyone knows.->RevHub]]

You struggle, as best you can. The Order of the Primrose may be a religious organization, but they *are* Torean. Their bondage work and gear leaves you little liberty, and straining against the various cuffs and chains quickly tires you. Perhaps more importantly, you provide quite a show for those watching from the world beyond the window. Every time you shift your shoulders your chest is emphasized, while further down your hips have a mind of their own, seeking out further pleasure from the vibrator despite your best intentions. (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) The more you struggle, the more pole and vibrator collude to leave you panting, your muscles tensing as they seek release. A vicious cycle. [[You slump back in your bondage.->RevHub]]

Were you a religious person, before Torei? You don't *think* so. But recalling things had never been your specialty. You do not remember any prayers, however. The solace of mythology and metaphysics are denied you. To your sides, however, you do occasionally pick up the murmuring of those Sisters who flanked you. They *did* have prayers, and being so intrinsically Torean they could even have applied to this situation. But those are not available to you, not *yet*. As Euphoria had said upon your first meeting, many are called to the Convent. Few truly understand *why.* (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) [[Perhaps you do now. Or... not.->RevHub]]

It's such a simple thing, to let it out. Catharsis. Your (if: $Slave is true)[masked moans, your gasping attempts at breath...](else:)[gagged moans, your mewling attempts at that which is denied you now. *Speech.*] Nothing much is accomplished, however. (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) [["Mmmggh..."->RevHub]]

It feels so *good*. The first time. Afterward, the Sisters make no effort to release you. Your bindings remain in place, the phallic intruder between your legs as well. And the vibrator seems to only run faster. Nature runs its course. You cum again, then again. And again, and again, and again... By perhaps the first half dozen you couldn't have raised your head if your prayer frame had allowed you, but instead merely drool lewdly onto the floor, chest rising and falling rapidly as you inhale violently-- your body trying to regulate itself. It *fails*. Even further in, the window seems to dim. The world outside loses its luster, growing darker. The pleasure between your legs remains intense, inescapable, but exhausted muscles ache as well. You're spent, and yet your Revelation pushes on. Endlessly. Perhaps you even hallucinate, towards the end. Glancing up, somewhere deep into this waking hell, you see a demon passing outside. Black of suit, black of mask... so... *familiar*... [[And then you pass out.->NunRevEnd]]

They do not respond. But one does effectually step back into the darkness, shadows gliding across her uniform before she disappears. One of those in white and black. She reappears a few minutes later, carrying something as she approaches you. Standing before you, the angle your prayer frame required allows you only to look at a downward angle-- meeting the tall woman's heavy corset with your gaze. But it's her hands you focus upon anyway. In one she has a small vial of some manner of clear solution, and in the other small cloth. Applying the first to the latter, she reaches out-- and begins shining your laminate. You vaguely recall guarantees that laminate retained its gloss and luster for weeks at a time, but the Sister before you doesn't appear to mind. She works slowly, moving in small circles starting at the collar around your neck. From there she shifts downward, to your shoulders, then your breasts. (if: $Level is > 2)[Your pierced nipples get special attention, the Sister passing several times over the laminate of your chest to ensure the alterations are evident.] (if: $Slave is true or $Brand is true)[Your corset is next, the tight curve from bust to waist given a fresh coat of shine.] Then your hips and legs, moving down to your shoes so far below. By the time she returns to your left, you positively shine in the light of the window. (if: $Slave is true)[[[You shift your hips, pressing your ass plug deeper inside. It's more a reflex then a purposeful decision.->RevHub]]](else:)[[["Mmmmmm..."->RevHub]]]

Torei looms beyond the window, and so many eyes are upon you. How could they not be? You are on display for them, bound and humbled, wriggling in bondage as your cunt is teased. This is *your* Revelation. The pleasure between your legs, your ability to endure... perhaps you *are* more experienced with this then you know. And if not? You must be a natural. One passing slave pauses and opens her mouth, the glass soundproof but her amusement clear. The woman accompanying her, perhaps her own, swats her quickly on the rear as they continue on. Another woman makes some sort of hand signal towards you, her eyes empathetic. Others merely ignore your humiliation, but that's almost worse, isn't it? To be displayed so publically, and to *still* be unworthy of attention? (if: $IsabellaCheck is true)[A familiar face even paces, her pure black outfit and bright red lips a signature all their own. You can almost smell the cinnamon her cigarette. Isabella, the Mistress from the bench you met before. She seems to look behind you and frowns, continuing on her way.] (set: $TransportCheck to it + 1) [[You cannot help as you grind your cunt wantonly into the vibrator.->RevHub]]

You awaken in another world. Black and white, the abyss of the Convent and the world outside, is replaced by smooth shades of violent trendings blue. Silence prevails, unbroken by a desperate hum between your legs. You rouse, and find yourself in the garden outside, the *Silent Escorts* shifting quietly in the breeze that does not reach your pool of tranquil afterglow. Above you, red eyes eclipse your vision. Sister Euphoria, looking down at you. She's kneeling, your head resting on her thighs. (set: $debt to it + 100) "What was your Revelation?" (set: $NunPath to true) [["100 credits earned through hell."->NunRevDeny]] [["That Torei is... a place like none other."->NunRevDeny]] [["That... I came here for the wrong reasons. I seek not credits, but Conversion..."->NunRevAcc]]

The Nun smiles, her lips just barely visible as they move beneath the laminate of her muzzle. "There is no shame in exploration. We do not always find that which we seek, but knowing which paths to avoid in the future is almost as important." Gently she guides you back to your feet before retaking her customary kneeling position at the center of the small clearing. Her eyes close as gloved palms come together. "Torei awaits you, Seeker. The Order has donated 100 credits to your account, and you are free to again walk your own path." [[You step back and away...->Nun Hub]]

The Sister peers down at you, those unnatural eyes burning beneath her shadowed veil. "I have perceived much the same. But this is not a path one walks lightly, without due consideration. I would advise that you see what other paths are available to you. Walk some of them." Gently she guides you back to your feet, her cloak glistening as readily as your own laminate. "And if you truly seek Conversion, return to me later." She retakes her customary kneeling position at the center of the small clearing. Her eyes close as gloved palms come together. "Torei awaits you, Seeker. The Order has donated 100 credits to your account, as we promised." [[You step back and away...->Nun Hub]]

Euphoria looks towards the way you came, beyond the gate and to the world beyond. In the tranquil quiet of the Convent's garden, it's easy to forget how close it was. "When we Sisters seek Confirmation in our Order, we undertake several vows. One of these prohibits us from traveling beyond the grounds of our Convents and Missions without a proper escort-- be they an Elder Sister, any male, or a freewomb such as yourself. Myself and the other Elders are occupied, but we would like to get Sister Dahlia started on her training regimen today if possible. She has only recently entered service as a novitiate." (set: $SlavePick to true) The Sister looks to you. "The Lead is also an acceptable means of escort, and that is how she arrived here. Most probably she is waiting for retrieval in the slave pens, at the rear of the raised transport platform." [["Sister Dahlia, bring her back here. Got it."->Pickup3]] [["Before I go, what exactly does she look like?"->Pickup3B]]

"Wonderful," the Sister replies, returning to her kneeling position. "Simply return here with you, and your reward will be granted." As you move to leave, Euphoria provides an addendum. "Do make sure she does not get into any trouble. [["Of course."->Nun Hub]]

"A good question. I have never met Sister Dahlia myself, but the nature of our Order makes certaine expectations obvious." Euphoria replies. "She is neither an Elder nor a Superior Sister, so her uniform will feature a secondary color of white instead of red as mine is. She is not yet Confirmed, so she has not taken the Vow of Uniformity-- expect someone shorter, a more variable build. She would have a habit instead of a full cloak, and... ah! The Vow of Perception, of course-- she would not of undergone that either. So her eye color will be whatever she entered the Order with." The much taller Sister looks to you. "The uniform alone will make her stick out, of course. We are noted whenever we travel." [["Sister Dahlia, shorter then you, white and black uniform. Got it."->Pickup3]]

The loading platforms and their attendant lines take up the majority of the raised area, but you maneuver around them, making instead for a sign labeled *Slave Pickup*. Thankfully the queue for this is much quicker, and it's not long before you're faced with a smiling Transit Attendant in a glossy blue uniform. "Name of the slave you wish to pickup, Ma'am?" Her hands hover over her keyboard, expectantly. (if: $NunPaidFine is true)[[["Sister Dahlia. She had a fine associated with her but that should now be cleared?"->TransPickTRUANT]]](else:)[[["Sister Dahlia."->TransPick2]]]

"One moment," the stewardess responds. It quite literally takes her only the one. "Ah, I see. Sister Dahlia of the Order of the Primrose, registered slave. Arrived via the Lead this morning. Held for escort. I imagine that would be you?" She smiles at the rhetorical question, but her blue lips twitch downward as she reads further. "Ah, ma'am, before I can release your slave there is something we must address. It appears she has an outstanding Truancy violation, and a pending fine of 50 credits." [["What did she do?"->TransPick3]]

The Transit girl shrugs her shoulders, the movement emphasizing the heavy collar around her throat. "The Ministry of Truants does not allow us such information, they only require us to hold the slave in question until the fine has been paid-- or a Truant Officer has waived the requirement. Would you like to address the fine right now?" You certainly could, but that would be coming out of your own pocket. (if: $TruantFound is false)[A small fine on a member of a religious order could probably be waived, if you could find a Truant Officer.](if: $TruantFound is true)[A small fine on a member of a religious order could probably be waived, if you speak to a Truant Officer-- like the one that nearly arrested you at that checkpoint.] Alternatively, Sister Euphoria would certainly pay you back when you bring her Dahlia. (if: $debt is >= 50)[[["I'll pay the fee myself, for her release."->TransPickPaySelf]] [["I'll pay the fee myself for now, but can I get a receipt? I will get reimbursed by the Order."->TransPickPaySelf]]](else:)[[["I don't actually have enough credits, I'll come back when I do...->Transport Hub III]]] (if: $NunPaidFine is false)[[["Actually, let me think about it, I'll be right back.->Transport Hub III]]]

"Wonderful," the attendant smiles. "If you would present your clip?" (set: $debt to it -50)(set: $NunPaidSelf to true)(set: $NunHave to true) She feeds the monetary device into the terminal before then, then returns it. "There we are, 50 credits have been deducted, and your slave's hold order has been revoked. Please take a seat while we retrieve her from storage. She indicates a set of chairs nearby. [[Take a seat.->MeetDahlia]]

"Wonderful," the attendant smiles. "Please allow me to confirm that." (set: $NunHave to true) In a quick flurry of typing, she pulls up the relevant data on her terminal. "I see, the hold order has indeed been revoked by Ministry authority. Excellent. Please take a seat while we retrieve your slave from storage." She indicates a set of chairs nearby. [[Take a seat.->MeetDahlia]]

The Officer's eyes narrow. "No. Not before we discuss that job I will be using before. After we do that... *maybe.*" She makes it seem unlikely regardless. [["...okay."->Truant Hub]]

Nikaido rises from her leaning position against her car, very much *not* looking like you had just offered to potentially help her. "Finally," she growls, grabbing you roughly by the (if: $Slave is true or $Blue is true)[collar](else:)[throat], shoving you up against the vehicle she had just left. "Listen well then, because I'm only going to say this once. And to make *sure* you're listening, I'm going to start with what you offworlders always like. Credits. You do what I tell you, and I'll give you 400 credits. Hell, I'll throw in a Freewomb train pass as well. This needs to get done." She looks to you, imperious and demanding. "*Are* you listening?" [["400 credits? Wow. Yeah."->TruantExplain 2]] [["Yes, Officer."->TruantExplain 2]]

"No." The laconic answer is stark, hard. "The Ministry has PR slaves for that. Just know we reward helpful freewombs, and we punish unhelpful ones. Which are you?" [[Helpful... right?->Truant Hub]]

"Good." She releases her grasp on you somewhat, but a quick glance around allows you to observe others passing by avoiding the Truant Officer's immediate presence. Nikaido hardly seems to mind as she continues. "The checkpoint you passed through earlier was an attempt to find a fugitive slave." You get the sense the Officer is always this straightforward and direct. "One we *know* is in this area, trying to leave via the transport hub. She is owned by a particularly well-connected Master, and he is very much up my station's ass to track her down before she leaves this area and becomes harder to find. What we need from you is only a location. Find where she is, report that to me. And I'll pay you 400 credits and that pass. Simple." [["I have some questions."->TruantExplainHub]]

"Ask your questions," the Officer growls, begrudgingly. It's obvious she's not used to doing anything but directing a conversation. [["Why are you asking me to do this?"->TruantWhy]] [["Who is this slave I'm looking for?"->TruantWho]] [["What did this slave do that you're tracking her?"->TruantWhat]] [["What does this slave look like?"->TruantDesc]] (if: $TruantQuest is false)[[["That's all the questions I have. Do you have any leads?"->TruantExplain 3]]] (if: $TruantQuest is true)[[["That's all the questions I have for now."->TruantQuestHub]]]

"Because of what you are," she replies, as if the answer was obvious. "An offworlder, a freewomb, new to this area. No one would expect you to be working for the Ministry of Truants, and they're more likely to allow you to ask questions. Even *dumb* questions, like this one." [["I see."->TruantExplainHub]]

"Ellia Amadori," the Officer replies, working without a need to check her notes. Either she had a good memory, or her superiors really *were* riding her hard to find this woman. "Offworlder. Native to Arias IV. Twenty-three years old, arrived on-planet at age eighteen. Enslaved at age nineteen. We doubt she will have any identification card on her, however. Thus our checkpoints. Heavy-handed, but we're running out of time. Once a slave moves beyond their immediate surroundings they get difficult to track, despite our various methods. Should have been chipped." Nikaido shrugs her shoulders, as if to acknowledge that was too late now. [["Ellia Amadori, got it.->TruantExplainHub]]

"She's a runaway." Nikaido seems to spit out that last word, with clear vehemence. "Slipped out of her Master's compound six days ago." [[You nod, unwilling to fan her anger further.->TruantExplainHub]]

Again, the Officer does not need to refer to anything beyond her own memories to answer the question. "5'7, slender. Red hair, but shaved. Expect her to be wearing a hood of some sort to obscure that. Green eyes. Has been a patient at the Ministry of Improvement several times, but that's not generally something you can tell visually. Pierced tongue, but that could have been removed. Tattooed with her Master's initials, LV, on her neck." [[A tatoo and rare hair color, that could help.->TruantExplainHub]]

The Truant Officer gestures towards the crowded streets around you. "She is somewhere near here, we know that. *Close.* We suspect she is attempting to acquire transportation-- the Transport Hub should probably be your first stop. After that? You will need to figure that out for yourself. We do know the Liberty Society has a local chapter near here, but their representative has been hostile when we attempt to question him. But perhaps others will know? That's for you to find out." "Shit, almost forgot," she reaches towards her belt, among the various whips, cuffs, and stun batons hanging there. From somewhere among them she pulls forth a small remote, handing it to you. "The tattoo of her Master's initials, LV, will probably be your best means of determining the slave's identity. But you could try that remote as well, it's wirelessly synched to her rainbow implants if you get close enough." [["Rainbow implants?"->TruantAskRainbow]] [["Find the runaway, tell you where she is. Got it."->TruantExplain4]]

"Right," the Officer grimaces, a hand pressed against her forehead. "Forgot I'm dealing with another offworlder. Rainbow implants-- they're a Torean standard many slaves have them. At the erogenous hot spots. Nipples, clit, tongue. They can stimulate, shock, depends on the particular design. The name comes from the glow some give when operating, colors indicating various effects." She reaches out, tapping the small remote. "For your purposes, just hit the stim or shock function-- well, probably *shock*. Damn slave deserves it. Anyway, you should see an immediate reaction if you're close enough. Another way to identify." [["Find the runaway. Got it."->TruantExplain4]]

The Truant Officer reaches up, adjusting her cap slightly. "Good. Even an offworlder should be able to handle this. Find the slave, report her position back to me. You get 400 credits and a train pass, and I get some far too rich Master off my ass." (set: $TruantQuest to true) She crosses her arms across her chest, leaning back against her patrol car again. What comes next is only given grudgingly. "Now that you know what you need to do, you better get to it. But if you need anything else from me... I suppose you can ask them now. Don't make me regret it." [[Ellia Amadori, the investigation begins.->Truant Hub]]

Truant Officer Nikaido's eyes narrow, matching the frown that forms across her painted lips. It's an expression she holds for a considerable amount of time, long enough you just know she's going to refuse you. But she doesn't. "Only because you're helping me. A Sister of the Convent nearby, you mean? Give me her name." Reaching in through her vehicle's open window, she pulls forth a datapad linked to the car's onboard systems by a curled cord. [["Sister Dahlia, she just arrived at the transport hub this morning."->TruantNun2]]

The Officer types quickly, a response from her query coming in the space of a few moments. "Sister... Dahlia, right? Slave of the Order of the Primrose. Yeah, I'm seeing the 50 credit fine and hold order on here. Looks like its for... nothing major. A curfew violation." She looks to you, finger poised over the datapad. "I can clear it easily enough, but you're going to have to ask more formally then you just did. In the Torean manner. Do you know what that means?" (if: $PlayE is true)[[You do. A proper reverence.->TruantNunRev]](else:)[["...no, I'm not sure I do."->TruantNunNoRev]] [["On second thought, nevermind. I will handle it myself."->TruantNunRefuse]]

"Offworlders," the Officer scoffs. "Alright, you're going to need to find someone else if you want all the intricacies of it. But a proper reverence, that's what you do when you're meeting with or requesting something from a superior. Like *myself.*" She flicks two fingers your way. "Spread your legs. If you're wearing a skirt and have your hands free, you lift the skirt. Only a catsuit? Open your zipper. Goal is to display your cunt for a few moments, demonstrate your submission and respect. If you're tied up tight (if: $Level is > 1)[like you are with that binder,] you just spread your legs and press your hips forward." Those two fingers now point downward, swirling. "Show me, and ask nicely." [[Follow her instructions.->TruantNunRev]] [[Refuse.->TruantNunRefuse]]

"Suit yourself," the Officer shrugs. [[Guess you need to pay it yourself.->Truant Hub]]

"Not so hard, is it?" With a grandiose swipe, she overrides the fine and hold order on Sister Dahlia. (set: $NunPaidFine to true) "Done. Now get out of here." [[Back to the Transport Platform, then.->Truant Hub]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/2UPfyWF.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> You're not waiting long before another employee of the transport hub emerges from a side door, towing behind her a woman of laminate and faith. Sister Dahlia is much as you were led to expect, with a uniform bearing many similarities to Euphoria's. The greatest difference is the color change, the reds of the older woman replaced on Dahlia by pure white. Instead of a long cloak her habit is short, passing just behind her shoulders and exposing more readily the cuffs she bears on her wrists. Similar devices are locked to her ankles, and yet another is pulled tight around her throat. It's that last one a simple black laminate leash is connected to, and that you are give. The Sister's muzzle makes it impossible to tell if she is gagged, at least until she demonstrates she was not-- but greeting you enthusiastically. "Oh! You must be the escort the Convent arranged? I'm Sister Dahlia... but I suppose you already know that, huh? Neat! You're going to be taking me to the Convent, right?" It's a bit difficult to match the girl's outgoing personality with the stark religiousness of her uniform. [["Yes, I'm your escort to the Convent."->Dahlia2]]

"Great!" The Sister responds, as you lead her away from the Slave Pen desk. She follows readily, arms held before her due to the chain linking her wrists together. Once you've gotten a bit of distance from anyone else, the Nun speaks again. "You uh... you paid the fine I had, right?" (if: $NunPaidFine is true)[[["No. I had the Ministry of Truants waive it."->DahliaMin]]] (if: $NunPaidSelf is true)[[["Yes, from my own pocket."->DahliaPaySelf]]] (if: $NunPaidSelf is true)[[["Yes, I'll ask for reimbursement from the Convent when we reach it."->DahliaPaySelfRe]]]

Descending the Transport Platform's sloping ramp, Dahlia follows along on her leash. "Oh, so then you... know that it was just for a curfew violation, right? Were you going to tell Sister Euphoria about it?" [["Yes."->DahliaMin2]] [["Probably not."->DahliaMin2]] [["I'm not sure, why?"->DahliaMin2]]

"Oh, well, thank you..." Descending the Transport Platform's sloping ramp, Dahlia follows along on her leash. "So then you might not know that it was just for a curfew violation, alright? Were you going to tell Sister Euphoria about it?" [["Yes."->DahliaMin2]] [["Probably not."->DahliaMin2]] [["I'm not sure, why?"->DahliaMin2]]

"Oh, I see..." Descending the Transport Platform's sloping ramp, Dahlia follows along on her leash. "So then you might not know that it was just for a curfew violation, alright? Could you *not* tell Sister Euphoria about it?" [["Why?"->DahliaMin2]] [["I need to get paid back, Sister."->DahliaMin2]]

"You *can't!*" She speaks a bit too loud, drawing several brief glances from those nearby. Dahlia glances about, her habit shifting along her shoulders, before looking back to you. "I mean... could you make sure you don't? I swear I didn't do it, what they fined me for. Curfew violation. At least not on purpose. I'm just still getting used to it. The Order, I mean, and what... uh, that means. The rules the Sisters have, and the other ones that apply to me now. For being a slave." Her collar glints in the light. [["Why does it matter what I tell Euphoria?"->Dahlia3]]

Dahlia's response is immediate. "Because if you tell her about the fine, she will know I did something wrong. I want to make a good first impression!" She rolls her shoulders, clearly still adapting to her uniform. That heavy corset in particular doesn't look altogether comfortable. "...and because I don't want to be punished for it. You don't know what its like to spend hours and hours performing enforced prayer! And that's *before* they make me perform flagellation, or put me in silence for however long they want!" [["I'll think about it, that does sound cruel."->Dahlia4Yes]] [["You deserve the punishment, if your Order demands it of you."->Dahlia4No]]

"Thank you, thank you, thank you-- yes, think about it! That's all I'm asking!" It's a request she makes just as you turn a corner, the secluded gate of the Convent coming into view. [[Enter the garden.->Dahlia5]]

The Sister only signs in response, perhaps resigned to her fate. It's well timed as you round a corner, the secluded gate of the Convent coming into view. [[Enter the garden.->Dahlia5]]

As had become customary, you find Sister Euphoria kneeling amongst the strange foliage, hands together in silent prayer. She rises at your approach, standing so much taller then the Sister she greets. "Ah, Sister Dahlia! You have arrived, in no small part thanks to the assistance of our helpful traveler." She snaps her gloved fingers. "Supplication." It's a command Dahlia obviously knows, as she moves to her knees, bowing her head as her legs spread. Her linked wrists frame her chest as she plants her palms on the ground, and Euphoria proceeds to ignore her for the time being. "A simple deed done well, the Convent thanks you." Her hands find your shoulders, less an embrace then a compassionate show of true appreciation. "Were there any problems?" [["None at all."->DahliaEndLie]] (if: $NunPaidFine is true)[[["She was being held with an outstanding fine. I cleared it."->DahliaEndTru]]] (if: $NunPaidSelf is true)[[["She was being held with an outstanding fine. I paid it... as a donation to the Convent."->DahliaEndPayNo]]] (if: $NunPaidSelf is true)[[["She was being held with an outstanding fine. I paid it... but should be compensated for it."->DahliaEndPayYes]]]

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Sister Dahlia exhale deeply as you hide her transgression. Euphoria releases your shoulders, a gloved hand drawing an arcane symbol before you as she bows deeply. "Then you need only be paid what you are owed. 100 credits, as we agreed. Take them, and return to your path, whatever it may be." (set: $NunEnd1 to true)(set: $debt to it + 100) [[Step back and away, as Euphoria converses quietly with Dahlia.->Nun Hub]]

Dahlia, kneeling on the ground, breathes a single word. "*Shit*." "I see," Euphoria comments, removing her hands from your shoulders. "It seems Sister Dahlia will begin her tenure at our Convent with a course in discipline. Thank you for addressing the matter, however, and in a fashion that could not have been more agreeable. I recall that we agreed to 100 credits for your work as escort, but given how smoothly you resolved the unforeseen issues-- I will provide a small bonus. 125 credits. Take them, and return to your path, whatever it may be." (set: $NunEnd2 to true)(set: $debt to it + 125) [[Step back and away, as Euphoria converses sharply with Dahlia.->Nun Hub]]

Dahlia, kneeling on the ground, breathes a single word. "*Shit*." "I see," Euphoria comments, removing her hands from your shoulders. "It seems Sister Dahlia will begin her tenure at our Convent with a course in discipline. Thank you for addressing the matter, however, and in a kind and charitable fashion. I recall that we agreed to 100 credits for your work as escort, and you will be provided with that readily. Take them, and return to your path, whatever it may be." (set: $NunEnd2 to true)(set: $debt to it + 100) [[Step back and away, as Euphoria converses sharply with Dahlia.->Nun Hub]]

Dahlia, kneeling on the ground, breathes a single word. "*Shit*." "I see," Euphoria comments, removing her hands from your shoulders. "It seems Sister Dahlia will begin her tenure at our Convent with a course in discipline. Thank you for addressing the matter, however, I only wish it could have been in a smoother fashion. I recall that we agreed to 100 credits for your work as escort, so I will append an additional 50 to cover the fine. Take them, and return to your path, whatever it may be." (set: $NunEnd2 to true)(set: $debt to it + 100) [[Step back and away, as Euphoria converses sharply with Dahlia.->Nun Hub]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/2UPfyWF.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Sister Dahlia kneels much as Dahlia does, but is deeper in the shadows of the garden, and far less distinctive-- she is neither tall nor bearing strange red eyes. Instead her brown pupils emerge as she looks up at you. (if: $NunEnd1 is true)["Thanks again for covering for me, with the fine. Whatchya need?"](if: $NunEnd2 is true)["Thanks for getting me on punishment detail. What do you want?"] [["Sister Euphoria mentioned you're new to the Order?->DahliaQ]] (if: $NunEnd2 is true)[[["Sorry about telling Euphoria."->DahliaSorry]]] (if: $Donate is true and $DonateDahlia is false and $DonateEnd is false)[[["Sister Dahlia, would you... perhaps be able to make a donation to the Liberty Society?"->DahliaDonate]]] [["Nothing more." You step back towards Euphoria.->Nun Hub]]

"Yeah," the Nun replies. "I heard you're an offworlder? I am too. Was-- I guess." [["Really? You're not Torean-born?->DahliaOff]] [[Why did you join the Order?->DahliaJoin]] [[No offense, but you don't seem very... nun-y."->DahliaNun]] [["That's all for now.->Dahlia Hub]]

Dahlia frowns, brows turning downward as her mouth shifts behind her muzzle. "Well... I appreciate the apology, but guess who's going to be scrubbing the floors in the Sensation room for like a month? Yeah. Me." [["Well, sorry."->Dahlia Hub]]

"Yep," Dahlia replies, looking up, past you. The foliage around you hides the sky, but its not hard to imagine it up there, and the stars of the greater galaxy beyond. "Born and raised on an aerostat drifter. Came down the Way Up... hmm, maybe a year ago? Thought I was going to see what all the fuss was about." She glances down to her laminate uniform, and heavy restraints. "Guess I found the fuss, huh?" [["Sure looks like it."->DahliaQ]]

It's a question the Nun not only seems ready for, but embraces. For the first time, her tone actually turns fervent. "Because the Order is *Torean.* The galaxy is huge, and ancient, and... shades of the same grey. You've seen one colony mining world, you've seen them all. New worlds are found every year, but different sorts of rocks and weather and gravity aren't exciting. But Torei? This is something no offworlder could have experienced just a few years ago, traditions and practices... human **stuff** that's radically different." She tilts her head, an inqusitive gesture that shifts her habit slightly. "What about you? Would you join, if you could?" [["No..."->DahliaJoinNo]] [["Absolutely not!"->DahliaJoinNo]] [["...maybe."->DahliaJoinYes]]

"Sister Euphoria says being a member of the Order is a path, not a singular state of mind," Dahlia says, very seriously-- for all of two moments, before she laughs quietly. "Yeah, yeah-- I know. The others, my Sisters, they say that will change over time. All the training and prayer we do, you know? And if I get Confirmed, they *change* you. Make you taller, same proportions as everyone else... wonder how that will be." [[She sounds intrigued.->DahliaQ]]

The Nun merely nods. "It's certainly not for everyone." [[Indeed.->DahliaQ]]

You catch glimpses of a wide smile beneath her muzzle. "Full warning, that would put you in a uniform identical to mine. And, you know, everything *else* that entails." Dahlia shrugs. "I sort of *like* being made to wear this, though, so... you should really talke to Euphoria, I guess. If you haven't already. You don't have any *idea* what you would be getting into..." She nearly stands, only to look around you at her Sister still nearing in the clearing. Presumably Euphoria would not be pleased, so Dahlia sates herself with a knowing wink. [[A uniform just like hers?->DahliaQ]]

(if: $debt is > 0)[Euphoria nods. "Your intentions are clear, but your perception remains weighed down by concerns beyond that of a Sister. You are not wealthy, but we of the Order are allowed only poverty. Free yourself of your credits, donate or spend them. Then return to me."](if: $debt is <= 0)["Your step is light, you purpose clear. I perceive you have demonstrated a Vow, that of Poverty, before it is even forced upon you. This is evidence of intent, one that I welcome. But still I must provide a warning of great consequence."] (if: $debt is > 0)[[["I understand, and will return."->Nun Hub]]] (if: $debt is <= 0)[[["A warning?"->NunRevFinal3]]] [["Let me... let me reconsider...->Nun Hub]]

"A warning," she repeats, leaning in, towering above you. Her red eyes look deep into your own, searching. "A dire warning." She reaches up, pulling down the laminate muzzle that encapsulated her chin and mouth. For the first time her lips are revealed, full and inviting, painted a deep glossy black. And across them, one white word upon each, carefully inscribed in the Torean script: **Slave Sinner** "I believe you capable of entering service within the Order." She continues, as you fail to avoid the truth that her convictions are faulty, mortal, born from the mouth of a sinner and slave. "It would be a furthering of what I observed as you walked the paths of Contemplation, Sensation, and Revelation. Regardless, I must recommend against this path. To enter the Order is to forego much in this life. Wealth. Comfort. Liberty. You will be held to a standard of conduct far above most others, and your Sins carefully recorded. You will be judged, and found wanting. As we all are. But thus is the path towards Bliss, and how we walk it. Being corrected and trained, punished and denied, every step of the way." [["What of... my goals before? My deal, the Black Card?"->NunRevBlack]] [["This is the path I wish to walk."->NunRevFinal4]] [["I must... I must reconsider...->Nun Hub]]

"So be it." (if: $Blue is true or $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[Euphoria leans in suddenly, her branded lips finding your own. The meeting is electric, her tongue entering your mouth, your bodies momentarily one. The kiss of a sinner, a slave, and soon to be your Sister.] Then she retreats, pulling her muzzle back up as she guides you towards the door to the Convent. (if: $NunEnd1 is true or $NunEnd2 is true)[Dahlia is summoned to trail along as well.] Entering the black, she guides you as she had thrice previously. As with Revelation you are directed back, deep into the heart of the abyss. But instead of the windowed room, you sense a different chamber having been entered-- moments before you see it, lights flickering on in the darkness. Red neon in the form of a triangle, the Order's symbol, frames a raised platform upon which you are step upon. Despite the light, gloom still prevails, revealing little more then the dark stone ceiling-- and figures moving above. Only Euphoria remains at your side, occasionally watching the progress with eyes that *pierced* the black. "You will be entering service as a Novitiate, by Torean law a slave for three months. At the end of that period you may renew your vows, or leave. That is your choice. If you renew four times, the fourth will be your Confirmation-- where you become a full member of our Order. That is when the Vow of Uniformity is enforced upon you, and you are made to look exactly as I do." Several other members of the Order have taken up positions surrounding you. Their laminate glows red, reflecting the dim neon lights as Sister Euphoria continues. "You will take five vows. Poverty. Obedience. Penance. Femininity. And Devotion. Then you will be sanctified, shorn of your current outfit and remade anew in the Order's image. The next time you leave this chamber, you will be enslaved. Do you understand?" [["I do."->NunRevFinal5]]

Sister Euphoria nods, then turns to those assembled. Twelve others now encircle your raised platform, two beside Euphoria wearing black and red, the rest black and white. "Sisters of the Order of the Primrose, of the Convent of Perception, we have gathered here to enslave another to our faith. We ask that the supplicant recite the Five Foundational Vows, to take them upon her breast, to bear their weight with grace and humility. We begin with that of Poverty." She turns to you, hands held before her. "Do you accept the Vow of Poverty, to be without wealth or property? To accept neither coin nor digital clip for your services, to offer yourself freely in accordance with the precepts of the Order?" [["I do."->NunRevFinal6]]

"Do you accept the Vow of Obedience, to learn and obey the strictures placed upon you as a Sister of this Order? To wear implements of bondage at all times, so that your obedience can be perpetually ensured? To accept the commands of those deemed superior to you at all times, without hesitation or reservation?" You lower your gaze to the floor. [["I do."->NunRevFinal7]]

"Do you accept the Vow of Penance? Do you understand that you are fallible and incapable of perfection, and that when you transgress against the Order, your Sisters, or its strictures that you must actively seek guidance and corrective action? Do you recognize that in the pursuit of Bliss, you will Sin, and must wear this reminder upon your every word, upon your very lips?" [["I do."->NunRevFinal8]]

"Do you accept the Vow of Femininity? Do you declare that, by the natural laws of your sex that you are inherently weak of will and body? Do you recognize the subservience of your gender, and the ascendancy of the Male? Do you accept that it is your instinctive drive to please others, and to appear pleasing to others in turn?" [["I do."->NunRevFinal9]]

"Do you accept the fifth and final core vow, the Vow of Devotion? Do your recognize the sancity of the scripture you will be taught? Do you submit yourself entirely to the path of the Order of the Primrose? Are you prepared to *serve?*" [["I do. I am."->NunRevFinal10]]

"Great!" Michael responds, clapping you on the back. "That's just great! Alright, like I said, you can try approaching anyone you like for individual donations, but you *have* to get to the Transport Platform and our stand there before I'd consider your work complete. Alright? Sound good? Yeah? Then I'll see you again whenever you finish!" (set: $Donate to true) [[Sounds like you have some walking to do.->Offworlder Hub]]

"Uh... are you sure?" The man asks, looking at you abit quizzically. "Because you definitely haven't manned our station on the Transport Platform, and you need to do that before you can turn anything in. I bet that's where the majority of donations are going to come from anyway, it's so busy up there." Her points to the Platform in the distance. "So go do that first, like we talked about." [["Oops. Ha, sorry about that. I will do that."->Offworlder Hub]]

The man smiles, a hand finding your shoulder. "Hey, great to hear! How did it go?" When you explain it was surprisingly uneventful, he simply nods. "Can't get into much trouble doing work like that, I would think. If you could stick the clips into my backpack, we can your payment squared away." He returns briefly to offering his pamphlets to those who pass, leaving you alone along the corner's wall-- where a choice suddenly presents itself. Michael has not made an effort yet to count the donations, and his back is decidedly turned away from you. Keeping a few clips for yourself, say... 75 credits worth, seems unlikely to be noticed. Some would call that *stealing*, but are you not exactly the sort the Liberty Society should have been more actively helping? [[Take a bit extra off the top->OffDonateEndSteal]] [[No, that will wrong.->OffDonateEndGood]]

The Torean Mistress tips her head down, looking over her mirrored glasses. "By Mazos, don't tell me you're associated with those..." She grits her teeth, biting down on something particularly acrimonious. "Those people are a bad set of cuffs. *Weak.* Offworlders who don't try to understand how things *are*, as if this is one of *their* worlds. And Torei is *not* one of their worlds." Reaching up, she takes a hard pull on her electronic cigarette. The red tip glows, so very bright. As equally crimson smoke escapes her lips, she continues. "I won't give them a credit." [["Well... I'll let you think about it, maybe ask you later..."->DonateIsabella2]] [["Is there anything I could do to convince you to donate?"->DonateIsabella2]]

Isabella shifts her glasses back up, turning away. "You're not going to get a credit for some misguided Society who helps slaves run away from a proud slaveowner. **No.**" (set: $DonateIsabella to true) [[Well, at least you tried?->Isabella Hub]]

"You're collecting for them?" She asks, eyes narrowing. "Sure, I guess I could." [["Wow, thanks!"->TruantDonate2]] [["Wait-- really?"->TruantDonate2]]

"The average person doesn't see things how things are, on the streets," the Officer explains, unprompted. "Cute little groups like that Liberty Society aren't going to accomplish anything in the long run. But I'd rather they operate openly, if only because its easier for us to watch them. Last thing we need are Offworlders *really* pouring money into escape routes for slaves. Legalities become a bitch when they cross borders, you know?" She provides you with her donate, a credit clip loaded with what passed for a universal currency within many of the Ringdoms near the space elevator. "Now get out of here." (set: $DonateTruant to true) [[Well, at least you're making progress!->Truant Hub]]

The Sister opens her eyes, still kneeling among the violet grass as she looks to you. "I'm afraid that would be an impossibility, (if: $Slave is true)[Sister.](else:)[child.] Even were I to believe in the cause of this Society, I could not donate. When I entered the Order, I took a Vow of Poverty. While I may offer and work with the Convent's funds, it is not permitted for I to have personal possessions of my own, even simple change." She smiles, beneath her muzzle. "But I appreciate your intentions, misguided as they may be. Soliciting others for donations is not a path few walk willingly." (set: $DonateEuphoria to true) [[Well, perhaps that should have been expected.->Nun Hub]]

She looks up at you, holding her position of prayer. "Are you fucking with me?" [["Uh, uhm--"->DahliaDonate2]]

Her eyes widen. "You're not!" She laughs, leaning further forward until her forehead touches the ground, literally doubling over in laughter. It takes some time for her to recover, although she makes a quicker effort of it once she notices Sister Euphoria watching from her position across the clearing. "Okay, okay..." she finally manages. "I know you're serious, but-- like, the Order is a religious sect, right? People donate to us, not the other way around. Just... no, I'm sorry, I won't be donating today." (set: $DonateDahlia to true)[[[Admittedly, this one was a long shot.->Dahlia Hub]]]

Whomever dictated the layout of the transport platform had, at least, thought ahead to the prospect of so many travelers moving through it. A section along the eastern side is reserved exclusively for services pandering to those passing multitudes. It's among these stall-like enclosures that you find one featuring a large sign for *The Liberty Society*. That had to be what Michael had indicated. As promised, the small structure is already stocked with several stacks of pamphlets-- much like those Michael was giving out at his corner post-- alongside a few other broadsheets, each pulled forth from a stack labeled for their intent. *In Debt?, We Can Help!, and What to do if Your Passport has been Seized* are some of the titles. Taking up a position behind the counter, you (if: $Level is > 1)[quickly realize this will be somewhat difficult to manage in an armbinder. Perhaps that will help sell the Society's points, though?](else:)[run your hand across the smooth surface, cleaning off errant bits of dust.] [[And so it begins.->DonateTran2]]

You've been through a lot since waking this morning. Laminate and bondage dominate Torei, and in turn had come to dominate you. Every choice you make seems to pull you just a bit further down, into the morass that Torean culture proved to be for so many offworlders. And it's that hard-earned experience that makes your next few hours so surprising. Everything goes smoothly, for once. Your luck with promoting the Liberty Society goes about as well as Michael seemed to be fairing, in that few show interest-- but you are able to direct at least a handful of wandering folks towards the Society's hotline. Donations are rare as well, but you do manage to scrap together a few credit clips. How many of those are legitimate donations, and how many merely approached to inquire about you in particular is hard to tell. The glossy (if: $Blue is true)[blue laminate and restraints] (if: $Smoke is true)[semi-transparent laminate and harness] (if: $Brand is true)[black and brand catsuit] (if: $Sec is true)[sheen of your office wear] (if: $Slave is true)[pure black of your slave uniform] did seem to draw attention. Michael had never indicated an exact amount of time required of you, but eventually you sense now would be as good as ever to wrap up. You do, after all, have much more important work afoot. (set: $DonateTrans to true) [[Well, at least it was easy enough for once.->Transport Hub III]]

With your words, the power to the triangular lights beneath your stage cut. Darkness descends as you become one with the void. "Kneel," a voice from that abyss commands. Another, different one, follows. "And be made anew." [[You kneel.->NunRevFinal11]]

Your transformation proceeds across a timeframe you cannot comprehend. In that perpetual darkness there is nothing for you to do but kneel, awaiting the fate you have so willingly embraced. Torei has claimed another wayward soul. Hands work across your body, occasionally directing, often simply guiding you into new positions. You are progressed towards their unseen goal, but certain sensations give hints. Liquid being poured upon you, sweet yet heady, that seems to evaporate at unnatural speeds-- leaving the flesh that had been warmed by laminate laid bare. (if: $Level is > 0)[Greater concentrations remove your hobble chain(if: $Level is > 1)[ and armbinder].] For a shining moment, you are nude. (if: $Level is < 3)[That exposure is taken advantage of as hands move you to your feet, voices whisperings words of preparation. Before you can ascertain their intent, sharp pain breaks out across your nipples-- while laminate arms restrain the struggle that only follows most naturally. You realize now your nipples have been pierced, such sensitive flesh made all the moreso by the metal adornments you now bear.] The process continues afterward, this time focusing on your nose. Gloved hands seize your neck, your head, forcing you to look up-- just as pain blossoms from your nose, between the nostrils. A dozen hypotheses spring forth, but one is confirmed when you are released, head hanging in a way that allows the ring now piercing your septum to shift slightly. Euphoria bore such adornment, now so do you. [[The transformation continues.->NunRevFinal12]]

Euphoria acknowledges your question with a nod, her hood making the small movement seem so much more grand. "You would be a slave, denied the opportunity to do as you desire. But your Black Card... there is more there, but not which I can speak to a layperson. You must be of the Order, walk our path. We *will explore it." [["I understand. This is the path I wish to walk."->NunRevFinal4]] [["I must... I must reconsider..."->Nun Hub]]

Keeping a few clips for yourself is a simple enough thing. These 75 credits could prove very helpful to your goals, after all. (set: $debt to it + 75) Secreting them, you return to Michael's side. [["All done."->OffDonateEndGood]]

Again stepping away from those passing as you approach, Michael rubs his hands together. "So, it went well. Did you manage any extra credit, so to speak? Find anyone beyond the Transport Platform willing to make a donation? (set: $DonateEnd to true)(set: $debt to it + 100)(if: $DonateTruant is true)[(set: $debt to it + 25)] (if: $DonateIsabella is true or $DonateEuphoria is true or $DonateDahlia is true)[You mention briefly your failed attempts, to which Michael gives an understanding look. "I get it," he explains. "Believe me, we know how hard it is to dredge up support on this planet. Torei is a touch nut to crack."] (if: $DonateTruant is true)[There was the Truant Officer, at least, and you do mention her surprising donation. "Really?" Michael asks, stroking his chin. "Honestly, never would have guessed. I'm not sure that I fully support her reasoning for doing so... but hey, we take help when we can get it. Even if the source is as unexpected as the Ministry of Truants. Great job! I'll toss in an extra 25 credits for the legwork. That will bring your total to... 125 credits, for a good job well done."](else:)["Well ass promised, you will get a cut of the proceeds. Let's call it... 100 credits? That seems fair. If you had found others to donate, I might haved added a bonus, but 100 credits certainly helps. Right?"] He turns from you, looking to the passing crowds. "I should probably return to my work. If you need anything else, just let me know." [["Sure."->Offworlder Hub]]

Michael blinks, glancing over his shoulder for a moment before returning his gaze to you. "Amadori? I couldn't really tell you anything. Aiding or abetting a slave attempting to escape the horrific conditions they are usually subjected to is a... very serious offense in most Ringdoms, including this one. The Liberty Society impresses upon us the importance of not engaging in such activity." It sounds like something he has practiced. (if: $TruantQuestPamph is true)[[["It's probably unrelated, but what is up with the pamphlets in your headquarters? I saw them while we were in there, for the local Convent?"->OffTruantQConvent]]] (if: $TruantOffer is true)[[["When I did that interview you had, you said my score indicated I should work with the Society. You're sure you can't tell me anything?"->OffTruantQOffer]]] [["Well, I suppose I understand."->Offworlder Hub]]

"Pamphlets for the Convent?" He asks, something rising in his expression. He buries it quickly with an easy smile. "Oh that? Nothing really to say, my partner working in this area is given one everytime she passes that place. The Convent is orientated towards women, I'm told. I'm sure they give those to everyone." [["If you say so."->Offworlder Hub]]

"You *did* score exceptionally on our test, for disapproval with local Torean culture..." Michael looks at you again, as if trying to discern something from your expression. It's a long moment, but one that finally passes with a conclusion having been made. He gestures for you to come closer. "Look," he whispers, holding a pamphlet out as if explaining it to you. "I can't say more, not here. But my parter, Elizabeth, can. If you *really* want to help you need to talk to her. She will be up on the Transport Platform, look for the red bench. Alright? Now you need to not ask me about this again." (set: $ElizabethLoc to true) [[[A lead! And it sounds like the Society is involved. You should make your way to the Transport Platform when you have the time.->Offworlder Hub]]]

Nikaido kicks a heeled boot out, a simple gesture to indicate that you should proceed. "I need to find that girl." [["Can I get some basic details about the runaway gain?->TruantExplainHub]] (if: $TruantQLie is true or $TruantQLieNo is true)[[["I think I wrap this investigation up, Officer. I know what happened to Amadori."->TruantQuestTurn]]]

"No," Isabella replies simple, an upward palm gesturing vaguely to the surrounding area. "But I don't live near here, and runaways aren't exactly rare in this Ringdom. We have the markets, and slaves will often run when faced with the auction block." She looks to you. "You're looking for the girl, aren't you?" [["Of course not!"->IsabellaRunQ2]] [["How did you know?"->IsabellaRunQ2]]

She shrugs, black laminate rising and falling as waves of reflections glisten on the material. "Bounty hunting is honest work, and you *do* need credits. But you're not exactly Hunter material..." Isabella seems to consider you for a moment, as if on the verge of speaking further on the issue. (if: $PlayP is false)[In the end, however, she shakes her head. "I would be you're working with an Officer directly, then. And I don't trust them, which means I don't trust you. Not until that tongue of yours proves itself to be something more then just a silvered instrument."](if: $PlayP is true)[In the end, her bright red lips smile. "I know you're working with a Truant Officer, and I don't trust them one bit. But you? You've been between my legs. I suppose I give you a little bit of advice." She points upward and slightly back, the Transport Platform's massive bulk rising above you both. "If a slave is on the run, they need to leave the area. Can't take the Lead, Truant Officers are all over that. Can't take the train, they wouldn't have a pass. But if the slave comes from rich circumstances? Wouldn't be hard to steal a bit, and take a carriage. Given how expensive they are, they don't ask many questions. Go up to the Transport Platform, try asking there."(set: $TruantQuestCarr to true)] (if: $PlayP is false)[[Perhaps if you win her trust, you could try again.->Isabella Hub]](if: $PlayP is true)[[A good lead, one you need only follow to the Transport Platform.->Isabella Hub]]

"Amadori?" Euphoria repeats the name, rising to regard you more directly. "It is vaguely familiar, but I am not sure that I could be of service in this matter. This Convent may very well be the last place a runaway slave would go, given the nature of our faith." The collar at her neck, marking her as a slave is gestured to. "The Order teaches that we, as women, are best suited for service. But I will still endeavor to provide you with any information that I can." [["Are runaway slaves common in this area?"->NunTruantQQ]] (if: $TruantQuestPamph is true and $TruantQuestCarr is false)[[["I saw your Convent's pamphlets in a Liberty Society safehouse... do you know why that would be?"->NunTruantPamph]]] [["Nevermind, that's all I needed on this topic for now."->Nun Hub]]

The Nun nods. "Sadly, they are quite common throughout Aekora. The economy of each Ringdom is unique, of course, and Aekora relies primarily on its location-- straddling the space between those Ringdoms abutting the Way Up, and those further afield. Between them a lucrative slave trade has formed, and the Prime Markets downtown are where the vast majority of this Ringdom's wealth is derived." Her hands come together, wrist cuffs clicking quietly together. "And with slave markets, come runaways. Fortunes can turn quite quickly, if purchased by the wrong Master. Slavery is an ancient and greatly beneficial practice on Torei, of course, but there are always... rough edges. Thus the runaways." [[Euphoria seems genuinely saddened by the prospect.->NunTruantQHub]]

The question seems to catch Euphoria by surprise. "I would have no idea, in truth. We do advertise our programs in some limited ways, but never to anyone associated with the Liberty Society. Our faith expressely condones and encourages slavery, after all. There are very few things with which we would see eye to eye." She considers the subject further, then leans in, towering over you in the process. "A suggestion, if you would have it. Our Convent here is a place of pilgrimage, and on occasion we receive visitors by carriage. I have come to learn from these interactions that the carriages are expensive, and thus do not ask many questions. The Lead system requires ID cards, and the local train system a pass for freewombs. If one were a runaway slave, the carriages may be their best bet at escaping. Try the Transport Platform, ask them about this. It seems a useful thing to do." (set: $TruantQuestCarr to true) [["Thank you, that is a useful suggestion.->NunTruantQHub]]

The portion of the platform dedicated to the carriages is by far the smallest, but also the least busy. Those waiting in the handful of seats nearby look universally wealthy. One woman in particular, dressed in pure black, is attended by a pair of collared girls in bright yellow outfits that provide little in modesty. (if: $Slave is true)[The carriage attendant, a woman in tight blue laminate, immediately tries to drive you away by asserting quite loudly that carriages were not for slaves. It takes several excruciating minutes for you to present your identification card, the red lettering of FREEWOMB along the time finally sating her-- grudgingly.](else:)[The carriage attendant, a woman in tight blue laminate, is quick to offer you a greeting paired with a bright smile.] "Were you interested in finding a carriage ride today? Or perhaps scheduling one?" [["I was wondering if you had a scheduled carriage under the name Amadori?"->TruantQTransNo]]

Like many transporation hubs, the platform has a large area set aside for those waiting for whatever service they intended to engage. While a few men can be seen, the fast majority are women. Your instructions, to look for Elizabeth said to be waiting upon a red bench, becomes immediately clear as you survey the area: every thickly padded seat is black, excepting one. It's bright red finish had to have been what Michael was referring to. *Two* women are found there, however. One sits with crossed legs, a datapad held against her knee that she is reading. Her hair is blonde, and her clothing distinctly un-Torean. In a sea of laminate, she is wearing regular textiles. The other woman is black of hair, and cloaked in a simple one piece black laminate dress. It ends quite high on her thighs. [[Approach the blonde, she is obviously of the Liberty Society.->TruantQLizWrong]] [[Approach the ravened haired woman, who must be of the Liberty Society.->TruantQLizRight]]

Your approach draws a shadow over the seated woman, who ignores the intrusion for at least a minute before looking up to you. Her eyes run across (if: $Blue is true)[your blue laminate and assortment of restraints, a frown forming.] (if: $Smoke is true)[your semi-transparent laminate, and the skin visible beneath as a frown forms.] (if: $Brand is true)[your branded catsuit, reading the various adverts with a pinched look.] (if: $Sec is true)[your glossy secretarial outfit, from tight bodice to hip-hugging skirt.] (if: $Slave is true)[your standardized slave-rated uniform, a frown sharply forming.] [["Would your name be Elizabeth, by chance?"->TruantQLizWrong2]] [["Have you, by chance, ever heard of a particular... Liberty Society?"->TruantQLizWrong2]]

The blonde rises, departing at your approach-- perhaps responding to a boarding call for the carriages across the concourse. You take her position, seated nearby but looking directly at the black haired woman. [["Are you Elizabeth?"->TruantQLiz3]] [["Michael sent me."->TruantQLiz3]]

The blonde blanches, rising suddenly. "I have no idea what you're talking about, girl. You must have the wrong person-- I certainly do not associate myself with women who indulge in this horrid planet's customs. Leave me be." She promptly marches off, leaving you listing in her wake. As soon as she is a fair bit away, however, the remain black-haired woman gestures sharply for you to a seat-- nearby, but not facing her. "Michael send you?" [["You're Elizabeth?"->TruantQLiz3]] [["He did."->TruantQLiz3]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7dctUjB.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> "That idiot," she curses, momentarily holding a hand to face. It allows you a chance to observe her closer. Unlike Michael, who wore the textiles that marked him so obviously as an offworlder, Elizabeth wears laminate as you do. Her outfit is relatively simply, however, especially by Torean standards. A one piece dress with long sleeves and a short skirt, knee high stockings all but unadorned, and heeled shoes that trended far more towards *sensible* then full stilleto. "He must trust you, if he sent you this way. And is must be regarding a certain... missing woman? What's your interest?" [["A Truant Officer asked me to look for Amadori."->TruantQ1]] [["I'm just curious if the Liberty Society is involved."->TruantQ2]] [["I don't have any interest in it."->TruantQ3]]

"Shit, shit, shit," she curses, wide-eyed even as she tries to keep her poise given so many potential observers. "I knew this wouldn't be easy. If they're employing unaffiliated freewombs... anyone could be an informant." Elizabeth sighs. "But if Michael trusts you, we can use you." [["How?"->TruantQ4]]

"Like hell you are," she responds, forcibly. A passerby glances your way, and Elizabeth waits for her to move on before continuing. "Michael wouldn't have sent you to me unless someone sent *you* after Amadori. Which means the Ministry of Truants is using unaffiliated freewombs in their search. Shit." Elizabeth sighs. "But if Michael trusts you, we can use you." [["How?"->TruantQ4]]

"Like hell you don't," she responds, forcibly. A passerby glances your way, and Elizabeth waits for her to move on before continuing. "Michael wouldn't have sent you to me unless someone sent *you* after Amadori. Which means the Ministry of Truants is using unaffiliated freewombs in their search. Shit." Elizabeth sighs. "But if Michael trusts you, we can use you." [["How?"->TruantQ4]]

"It's simple, if you're willing to take a risk. The Liberty Society cannot be caught up in this Amadori situation. Officially? We don't touch runaways. Unofficially?" She glances to you, offering a slip of laminate. Taking it reveals the thin sheet to be a ticket stub, ripped in half as if already used to board what the label across the top identifies as the local train system. "Early this morning we threw the Ministry of Truants off the trail by having someone use the train with Amadori's credentials. Obviously the Officers found nothing when they searched it before leaving. If you present the Officer who hired you with that ticket stub, it should convince them Amadori has fled further afield." [["So the Society does help runaways?"->TruantRunQ]] [["Where is Amadori actually, then?"->TruantRunAma]] [[Take the ticket. "The Officer offered me 400 credits and a train pass for finding the girl."->TruantQ5]]

"I couldn't tell you that if I wanted to," Elizabeth hisses in response, your question having clearly landed a bit too close to secrets deeply held. "The way we operate, each safehouse operates independently. Some don't help runaways, probably most don't. But some of us aren't content with that, we need to do *something*. Even if its a drop in the bucket." Resolve fills her voice. "This is one of those drops." [["Where is Amadori actually, then?"->TruantRunAma]] [[Take the ticket. "The Officer offered me 400 credits and a train pass for finding the girl."->TruantQ5]]

"Somewhere safe, until things cool down. That's all I'm going to tell you. There isn't any reason you need to know more, it would just make you complicit anyway. You do *not* want to mess with the Ministry of Truants if it can be avoided." [["So the Society does help runaways?"->TruantRunQ]] [[Take the ticket. "The Officer offered me 400 credits and a train pass for finding the girl."->TruantQ5]]

"Then we counter offer," Elizabeth replies, sharply. "We don't have... the funding the Ministry has, but we do have a train pass too. Was going to use it for Amadori, but its not needed anymore. You can have that, and 300 credits if you tell the Officer Amadori escaped this morning." She meets your gaze, if only for a brief moment. "Deal?" [["Deal."->TruantQAccept]] [["The slave needs to be returned. No deal."->TruantQDecline]] [["I don't intend to mess with the Ministry. No deal."->TruantQDecline]]

Elizabeth gives you the laminate ticket stub, not quite smiling, but pleased nevertheless. "Good. Like I said, tell the Officer that recruited you that Amadori must have left. That you... found that stub in a bathroom garbage, or something. Just make the lie good. If they know you're lying..." (set: $TruantQLie to true) It's something the woman does not explore further, instead dismissing you with a quick gesture. "I'll find you after we see you speak with the Officer." [[You nod, and rise, stepping away from Elizabeth.->Transport Hub III]]

Her brows fall, a growl rising quietly beneath the words that follow. "Then get the hell out of here." (set: $TruantQLieNo to true) [[You leave her, but remember her face. It could come in handy, and Amadori is still out there.->Transport Hub III]]

The transit employee doesn't even need to check the terminal before you. "I certainly don't, ma'am. There is a standing order from the Ministry of Truants on precisely that name, apparently she's a runaway of some sort? Foolish girl." The stewardess is collared herself. [["I'm actually working with the Ministry of Truants. Did you have any scheduled pickups, perhaps? Anything out of the ordinary?"->TruantQTrans2]]

This time the woman does turn to her terminal, quickly pulling up several pages of data. The first bears a logo for the Ministry of Truants. "I hope you will excuse the necessity, but I had to check to ensure you were cooperating with an Officer," she explains, dismissing the information as she instead brings up a transit list. "As you can see, we do fairly brisk work-- right now we have 35 scheduled pickups. Most of them would be for freewombs fairly well off. The wealthiest have private carriages, and ours services trend towards being too expensive for anyone else." Thirty five scheduled pickups is far too many to follow up on. You have to narrow it down. [["Do any of the scheduled picks seem out of the ordinary, in any manner?"->TruantQTrans3]]

"Hmm..." the attendant hums, running a finger down the list. She nearly reaches the bottom before stopping. "Well, this one is interesting. It doesn't have a name listed for pickup. Whoever scheduled it paid in cash, and indicated the carriage driver is simply picking up a crate of some sort. It's scheduled for pickup in two days, with no one accompanying the crate itself. She looks up. "I must admit some confusion. There are much simpler, cheaper ways to transport a mere crate." And that makes it suspicious. Two days from now would ensure the carriage itself wouldn't get caught in another checkpoint like you had originally been picked up in. It's a solid lead. "Here," the attendant says, giving you a slip of laminate. "I wrote down the address of the pickup for you. Quinnette Way, it's not a far walk." [["Thank you, this has been very helpful."->LizIntercept]] [[Nod, and step away.->LizIntercept]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7dctUjB.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> (set: $Quinn to true) You've barely made it out of the carriage waiting room before a woman in black laminate intercepts you, pulling you behind an advertisement stand for a moment's of privacy. (if: $TruantQLie is true or $TruantLieNo is true)[It's Elizabeth again, her frustration evident. "Why are you investigating this?" She hisses, hands curling into fists at her side. "Michael trusted you, and this is how you're repaying him? Let this drop!" Before you can even response, she pulls away, clearly unwilling to be seen much longer with you. Regardless, you still have the Quinnette Way lead you could explore.](else:)[She wears a laminate oufit, but one that's rather simple by Torean standards. A black single piece top with long sleeves descends to a short skirt, accessorized with stockings below, and shoe with heels that are more sensible then stiletto. Her eyes are wide, giving her a bit of a harried look as she looks to you. "We need to talk."] (if: $TruantQLie is true or $TruantLieNo is true)[[[You step back, looking about the Transport Platform.->Transport Hub III]]](else:)[[["Talk about... what, exactly?"->LizIntercept2]]]

"I know you're searching for the runaway, Amadori," she challenges, bluntly. "I don't know what your motivations are for that, and I don't really care. What we want from you is for the investigation to end. My name is Elizabeth, I'm from the Liberty Society, and I have a deal for you." She sounds earnest, and a bit concerned. Revealing her identity like that had to be a calculated risk. [[["What sort of deal?"->TruantQ4]]]

Navigating the streets of Torei is never a simple task. Between sights so very unique to the planet itself, and the tendency for roads to wander confusingly, its easy to get lost. But with some perseverance you manage to find the address the Transit employee had given you, on Quinnette Way. The intended pickup spot for the "crate" turns out to be a simple warehouse, the building clearly kept up, but currently unoccupied. At least that's what you guess after observing it for a few minutes. The doors do not open, and no one can be seen entering or leaving. [[Try the front door.->Quinn2]] [[Head around back, less conspicious that way.->Quinn2Fail]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/ICJV3gv.jpg"> The door is plastered with a warning sign, indicating trespassers would be reported to the Ministry of Truants. It's hardly a threat to you given your purpose, and with a nudge of your shoulder the portal opens-- it had not been locked. Inside reveals the warehouse to look... very much like you would expect a warehouse to look, stacked boxes and crates competing with heaping sacks for space along the floor and shelves. Dingy lights cast down on the slatted floors you walk along, heels clicking loudly upon the hard surface. It's not a particularly large warehouse, but searching it top to bottom would take all day. Looking around, you try to pick out objects of interest. [[A desk sits near the center of the large room, several datapads upon it. Seems like a good enough place to start.->QuinnDesk]] [[The heavy sacks, over to the side. Those could hold anything!->QuinnSacks]] [[One pallet in particular is quite glossy, and draws your attention.->QuinnPallet]] [[You remember the remote the Officer gave you, for Amadori's implants. Could using that flush her out?->QuinnBadRemote]] [[An entire wall is dedicated to crates, perhaps you will see something there?->QuinnCrates]]

Following a chainlink fence, you make your way around the back of the quiet building. A retaining wall marks the end of the property, and its encroachment on the building provides little room to maneuver. For once, in the history of suspicious warehouses, there is no back door to be found. [[Front door it is, then.->Quinn2]]

You approach the plastic desk, a light positioned over it allowing you examine a variety of papers and invoices strewn across it. The most prominent is a handwritten missive, a reminder to *lock the door when leaving for lunch.* Clearly whomever watched over the warehouse had failed regardless of the note. Other papers note the arrival and departure times of various shipments, a glimpse into the small storage operation obviously occurring here. Running through the list of upcoming departures, you cross reference it with the Transit employee's scheduled pickup time in two days... only to find the page missing. The last entry instead notes the upcoming departure of "pre-formed slave uniforms". (if: $QuinnQ1 is true)[Having found what had turned out to be the missing pages, you again consult the upcoming schedule-- and find exactly what you are looking for. Among the wall of crates on the far wall, in Section X, on Shelf 1, a crate stamped #22B is to be picked up by carriage in two days.(set: $QuinnQ2 to true)] Where to next? [[The heavy sacks, over to the side. Those could hold anything!->QuinnSacks]] [[One pallet in particular is quite glossy, and draws your attention.->QuinnPallet]] [[You remember the remote the Officer gave you, for Amadori's implants. Could using that flush her out?->QuinnBadRemote]] [[An entire wall is dedicated to crates, perhaps you will see something there?->QuinnCrates]]

The heavy laminate sacks number over a dozen, rounding out at perhaps a meter in width at their roundest points. Thick ties close all but one, allowing you a glimpse into what the sacks themselves contained. Beige-colored orbs, pebble-sized and speckled with a variety of colors. Stepping back, you notice the sacks are labeled. *Dehydrated Slave Slurry*, the printing reads. Looking back into the sacks, you can't imagine having to eat the mush adding water would produce. Where to next? [[A desk sits near the center of the large room, several datapads upon it. Seems like a good enough place to start.->QuinnDesk]] [[One pallet in particular is quite glossy, and draws your attention.->QuinnPallet]] [[You remember the remote the Officer gave you, for Amadori's implants. Could using that flush her out?->QuinnBadRemote]] [[An entire wall is dedicated to crates, perhaps you will see something there?->QuinnCrates]]

Approaching the pallet reveals it to be several stacks of transparent laminate packaging, all kept together by thinner laminate wrapping so that it did not topple over during shipping. The transparency allows you to recognize immediately what each package held-- (if: $Slave is true)[prerendered uniforms of the exact type you wore, from heavy regulation mask to the plugs still lodged deep in your cunt and rear.](else:)[you saw much the same as an option in the wardrobe machine, and upon those poor unfortunates forced into wearing them on the streets. Standardized slave suits, featuring everything from heavy regulation masks, to thick plugs intended to be insterted in the front and rear, and tight laminate corsets.] Apparently transporting the individual outfits was an easier prospect then that of an entire wardrobe machine. (if: $QuinnQ1 is false)[Sitting atop the pallet is something else entirely, though-- an invoice sheet, detailing upcoming departures. By itself the page is hard to decipher, but if you could place it in context it could give you just the direction you need.(set: $QuinnQ1 to true)](else:)[You already have taken the invoice sheet that had rested upon the pallet.] Where to next? [[A desk sits near the center of the large room, several datapads upon it. Seems like a good enough place to start.->QuinnDesk]] [[The heavy sacks, over to the side. Those could hold anything!->QuinnSacks]] [[You remember the remote the Officer gave you, for Amadori's implants. Could using that flush her out?->QuinnBadRemote]] [[An entire wall is dedicated to crates, perhaps you will see something there?->QuinnCrates]]

Conceptually, its a sound idea. But pressing the remote's button provides little in the way of response. The Truant Officer had indicated such a device required a very close proximity to work, after all. Perhaps you would have more luck if you could narrow down your area of search further? Where to next? [[A desk sits near the center of the large room, several datapads upon it. Seems like a good enough place to start.->QuinnDesk]] [[The heavy sacks, over to the side. Those could hold anything!->QuinnSacks]] [[One pallet in particular is quite glossy, and draws your attention.->QuinnPallet]] [[An entire wall is dedicated to crates, perhaps you will see something there?->QuinnCrates]]

The wall of crates fills an entire side of the warehouse, stretching from ground to ceiling. Instead of the wood or standard plastic that most galactic warehouses would utilize, however, here on Torei the majority are formed from thick, crude slabs of laminate. The material was too abundant to ignore, it seemed. (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[Having found the missing invoice, and with the cross referenced data you compiled at the desk, you now have a clear means of searching the long lines of crates. Finding the section and shelf in question is thus quick enough, but even then you're still faced with several dozen large crates. The warehouse could also have done a better job of ensuring the identifying stamps were all turned the same way, as several are not readily apparent.](else:)[Any hope of searching this many crates is quickly abandoned, as they tower above and before you. There must be a simpler way of narrowing down that which you seek. Keep looking. Where to next? [[A desk sits near the center of the large room, several datapads upon it. Seems like a good enough place to start.->QuinnDesk]] [[The heavy sacks, over to the side. Those could hold anything!->QuinnSacks]] [[One pallet in particular is quite glossy, and draws your attention.->QuinnPallet]] [[You remember the remote the Officer gave you, for Amadori's implants. Could using that flush her out?->QuinnBadRemote]]] (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[Examine each of the boxes, in order.->QuinnBoxCheck]]] (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[Was that something shiny, between the boxes there?->QuinnBoxCoin]]] (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[It's time to use Amadori's rainbow box remote-- hit the shock button.->QuinnBoxShock]]] (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[It's time to use Amadori's rainbow box remote-- hit the vibrate button.->QuinnBoxVibe]]]

Just over a dozen boxes doesn't seem that steep of an order at first, but it quickly proves difficult. Your laminate was not intended for heavy lifting, and you soon find yourself panting from the effort of shifting the boxes(if: $Level is > 1)[ with your feet, given the armbinder that still holds your arms so securely]. Think smarter, not harder. (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[Was that something shiny, between the boxes there?->QuinnBoxCoin]]] (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[It's time to use Amadori's rainbow box remote-- hit the shock button.->QuinnBoxShock]]] (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[It's time to use Amadori's rainbow box remote-- hit the vibrate button.->QuinnBoxVibe]]]

Leaning down, you manage to pick out the shiny bit-- a credit clip! It appears to be worth 25 credits. (set: $debt to it + 25) Nice! (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[It's time to use Amadori's rainbow box remote-- hit the shock button.->QuinnBoxShock]]] (if: $QuinnQ2 is true)[[[It's time to use Amadori's rainbow box remote-- hit the vibrate button.->QuinnBoxVibe]]]

A response comes immediately. "Mmmggh!" Surprised, pained, *and close*. With the hint, it doesn't take you long to focus in on a singular crate. Perhaps four feet long, the heavy laminate is beige colored. It looks just like any of the others surrounding it, except small holes along the edges. Breathing holes? [[Open it.->QuinnBoxOpen]]

A response comes immediately. "Mmm!" Surprised, wanting more, *and close*. With the hint, it doesn't take you long to focus in on a singular crate. Perhaps four feet long, the heavy laminate is beige colored. It looks just like any of the others surrounding it, except small holes along the edges. Breathing holes? [[Open it.->QuinnBoxOpen]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7CGm4iu.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> You manage to kick off the head rather easily, a stiletto heel being jammed into the side proving effective against the simple nails holding it on. Sliding it off reveals... Ellia Amadori, neatly packaged for delivery. She's lying on her stomach, covered from head to toe in black laminate. Several padded inserts cradle and support her bound form, although given the way her legs are folded back and behind, it hardly looks comfortable. Her arms are locked together in a heavy armbinder, and she's gagged and hooded-- but the remote had already confirmed it could only be her. An ingenious plan, really. The Ministry of Truants was combing the streets and nearby hostels, looking for a slave on the run. Instead she had been here the entire time, securely stored, incapable of endangering herself or those assisting her-- and ready to be moved as soon as the checkpoints and searches ceased. It certainly doesn't look like an easy means of escape, but she *was* a slave. This was a small price to pay for freedom down the line. Her hood and position prevent her from seeing you, but by the way she squirms clearly she knew she had been discovered. Amadori is at your mercy. [[Shock her.->QuinnShock2]] [[Vibe her.->QuinnVibe2]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

The bound girl squirms again within her bondage, the piercing in her clit buzzing with sharp pain. She can neither escape the sensation, nor shift her bindings at all-- it must be terribly maddening. [[Shock her again.->QuinnShock3]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

The bound girl squirms again within her bondage, the piercing in her clit buzzing pleasurably. She can neither escape the sensation, nor shift her bindings at all-- it must be delightfully maddening. [[Vibe her again.->QuinnVibe3]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

Box sealed once again, you step away, backtracking away from the wall of crates and then further, out the door and into the street outside. You have little fear of Amadori wandering in your absence-- she could never escape that bondage, and for the moment you're the only one who knows her exact position. Now would be the time to return to Truant Officer Nikaido, to report on your findings, and to collect your reward. It's not too late, however, to instead take Elizabeth's suggestion and protect Amadori. A simple lie would suffice. (set: $TruantQFound to true) [[For now you step away, looking elsewhere for help.->TransitChecktoHub]]

The second roll of pleasure through her body is much the same as the first, her bound body straining against industrial-strength restraints. All she manages is to provide you with a bit of a show, her rear in particular flexing as she tries to shift her hips. [[Press and hold her vibe.->QuinnVibe4]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

The longer taste of vibration against her most sensative nub earns a further gagged squeal, followed by desperate thrashing. Did she it to end, or did she merely want more? [[One last vibe. Let her cum.->QuinnVibe5]] [[Shock her, just before she orgasms. Deny her.->QuinnVibeDeny]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

You give her the last lick between the legs, pushing her over the top. Her black laminate body quivers as the ecstasy rolls through. "Mmmmmph... mmmgh... mmmm...." Afterward she seems to calm in the afterglow, breathing hard but-- for the briefest moment-- having forgotten her terror at being discovered. [[You begin to reseal the box, but not before leaning down. "You're welcome."->QuinnEnd]] [[You begin to reseal the box, but not before leaning down. "Slut."->QuinnEnd]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

A singular shock, so sudden, so cruel. Amadori's quivering struggle turns into a violent shake as the pain erupts, a moan emerging as you give her a dose long enough to cure any possibility of orgasm. Afterward she collapses further into her bondage. The gag and hood make it difficult to tell, but it sounds like she's crying. [[You begin to reseal the box, but not before leaning down. "You're going back where you belong."->QuinnEnd]] [[You begin to reseal the box, but not before leaning down. "Slut."->QuinnEnd]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

The second shock causes her struggle to turn into a thrash, although the heavy restraints intended to keep her immobile during shipping also do much to limit this. You can hear her trying to communicate through her gag. Perhaps begging for you to stop? The bound girl squirms again within her bondage, the piercing in her clit buzzing with sharp pain. She can neither escape the sensation, nor shift her bindings at all-- it must be terribly maddening. [[Press and hold the shock button.->QuinnShock4]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

The begging turns towards crying as you keep the shock coming, her hips thrusting widely in an attempt to escape the torture. She cannot, and does not, but is instead forced to merely endure your cruel treatment. By the time you let off she collapses into her restraints, panting heavily through the small holes to her nose the mask allowed. A singular shock, so sudden, so cruel. Amadori's quivering struggle turns into a violent shake as the pain erupts, a moan emerging as you give her a dose long enough to cure any possibility of orgasm. Afterward she collapses further into her bondage. The gag and hood make it difficult to tell, but it sounds like she's crying. [[You begin to reseal the box, but not before leaning down. "You're going back where you belong."->QuinnEnd]] [[You begin to reseal the box, but not before leaning down. "Slut."->QuinnEnd]] [[Reseal the box. It's time to talk with Officer Nikaido again.->QuinnEnd]]

The Truant Officer perks up immediately, the dark eyeshadow around her eyes making her gaze all the more intense as her attention falls on you entirely. "Well?" [[(Lie) "I found... evidence that she has escaped us, Officer."->TruantQLie]] (if: $TruantQFound is true)[[["I found the girl, in a warehouse on Quinnette Way."->TruantQTruth]]] (if: $TruantQFound is false)[[["Actually... I'm still looking. Let me get back to you on this."->TruantQuestHub]]]

Nikaido bares her teeth. "Evidence? What evidence. You better not be playing games with me, girl. If that little slut slipped away, that would be... that would..." She grasps, as if intendeding the evidence to be placed into her hand. It comes as a bit of a surprise when you do, giving her the ticket stub indicating the slave had escaped on a train this morning. [["Apparently your Officers missed her, earlier today."->TruantQLie2]]

"A warehouse?" Nikaido asks. "Give me the details." You do, from the lead that pushed you to visit the carriage station, through your search of the warehouse, and to that final crate that contained the fugitive slave. She should still be there now, you report as well, giving both the address and the partcular stamp you had noted that marked Amadori's hiding place. The Officer takes several notes on a small pad along the way, asking for your elaboration on a few minor points. Somewhere along the way she actually starts smiling. "Well, she concludes. "I'll radio to my team, have them check this out. If you want take a seat near by car, we will wait for confirmation. Then I'll give you the reward, 400 credits and a train pass, as promised." [[You take a seat, and wait.->TruantQTruth2]] [["Actually, there was one more thing... a person I met, they were definitely helping Amadori escape."->TruantQRat]]

Snatching the stub, the Officer examines it closely-- then holds it to the light, checking the watermark stamped into the corner. You can tell the point at which she determines its legitimacy by the grimace that overtakes her. "Dahom and Mazos," she curses, violently curling her hand around the stub into a fist and slamming it onto the hood of her crusier. "I *told* those fools they should have sweeped the lines this morning a second time. Runaways are *clever.*" Her eyes close as the Officer takes a deep breath before turning back to you. The mild disdain she had harbored for you only seems to have deepened. "Well, I promised you credits only if we brought the slave in. Which means you failed, and you get a hint of a reward. Only question is if you deserve to be punished." [["Punished?"->TruantQLie3]] [["This isn't my fault!"->TruantQLie3]]

Her hand rests lightly upon the shock baton slung from her waist belt, fingers tapping against the weapon for several long moments before she turns away abruptly. "Just get out of my sight." [[With a sigh, you step away, only to notice a familiar face leaning against a signpost further up the block. Elizabeth.->TruantQLie4]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7dctUjB.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> As soon as you approach, she begins walking, indicating you should follow with a subtle shift of the head. Only after a few minutes, together with a furtive glance over her shoulder, does she finally look to you. (if: $TruantQLie is true)["So you actually went through with it," she marvels. It seems her trust had been slim, but well-placed. "And the Officer bought it. Wonderful. Amadori will be moved out of hiding in two days, and from there be on her way towards safety." Elizabeth finally stops. "Which means you have the Society's gratitude, our thanks, and your reward."](if: $TruantQLieNo is true)["I can't believe you actually went through with it, after saying you wouldn't on the Transport Platform." Her tone is incredulous, her faith in you having been all but nonexistent. "I almost skipped watching for your report. But I'm glad I didn't. Amadori will be moved out of hiding in two days, and from there be on her way towards safety." Elizabeth finally stops. "Which means you have the Society's gratitude, our thanks, and your reward."] [["300 credits, and a train pass."->TruantQLie5]]

"300 credits, and a pass for the train," she repeats, offering you a laminate card. "That's what the Transit Authority calls a Freewomb blank-- they are usually only given out by the Ministry of Truants. So don't lose it, getting that one for Amadori was hard enough. Now she doesn't need it, and its yours." (set: $debt to it + 300)(set: $TrainPass to true)(set: $TruantQuestEnd to true) She begins walking, circling back around towards where you had found her. "This is going to be where we split up, got it? You should at least go back down the road by the Officer, its less suspicious given most landmarks are that direction anyway. And as far as you should be concerned? This entire thing never happened. You never met me, the Society doesn't touch runaways, and Michael is just giving out pamphlets. Got it?" She moves to break from you, just as the round the corner back towards the officer. [["Got it.->Truant Hub]]

You take a position leaning up against the nearby building as the Officer makes her calls, coordinating her subordinates towards the address you provided. It takes some time for the confirmation to come through, but when it does Nikaido slaps the hood of her vehicle loudly-- commending her people before returning the radio to its holster, and approaching you once again. "You were dead on," the Truant Officer declares, already holding out what you can ascertain is the promised train pass. "And the 400 credits will be in your account shortly. The Ministry of Truants appreciates your cooperation in this investigation, and the rightful return of property to its proper owner. I can assure you, Amadori will be properly punished for causing so much trouble. Hopefully her owner will take my advice and just chip the girl. But I digress. You're... free to go, I suppose. Thanks again." (set: $debt to it + 400)(set: $TruantQuestEnd to true) [[Free to go, and quite a bit richer. A good outcome, at least for you.->Truant Hub]]

"Did you get a name?" the Officer inquires, taking a sharp breath. You can almost feel a predatory surge emanate from the woman. "Hell, I hope its a woman. Aiding or abetting a runaway carries a mandatory sentence of enslavement for those found guilty... Give me a name, a description." [["Actually... I didn't get a name, and I can't really remember her..."->TruantQRatHide]] [["Her name is Elizabeth, she should be found on the Transport Platform. Black of hair, black dress..."->TruantQRatIdentify]]

The Officer's eyes narrow, lips pursing. So close to a *true* prize, but you had denied her. Were you not also providing the slave she had been searching for, you get the sense this would not have gone well for you. As it is, she directs you onto the sidewalk. "Wait here while I call my people, confirm your details. Once we have eyes on Amadori, you will get your reward." [[You follow her commands.->TruantQTruth2]]

You give up everything you have on Elizabeth, which Officer Nikaido eventually relates to other Ministry officials near the Transport Platform. Her smile only deepens when, after some waiting, an image comes through on her datapad. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/bHL4K48.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Elizabeth hooded and cuffed, moments before carried off for arrest. Nikaido turns on you, almost unable to contain her excitement. Her hands clasp against your shoulders as she leans in. "That one just earned herself a collar. How *wonderful*. And you? You earned yourself a bonus. I'm going to mark you down for a 75 credit bonus, atop that which we promised for Amadori. You've earned it, for turning in another freewomb like that. An offworlder too. Now... take a seat, or something, and I will call Amadori's position in." (set: $debt to it + 75) [[You take a seat, and wait.->TruantQTruth2]]

Unlike your experience with the wardrobe machine, here things are done in the old manner. Without eyes to see you are guided through dressing in pre-formed laminated, the cool material covering you in several adjoining layers. Just what you bore is hard to determine, but some sensations do provide hints of intent-- stricture at your waist, indicating a corset. Tall heels. And heavy steel, one of the last additions that could only be cuffs, which fastened to your wrists and ankles. Just *what* you had become is only revealed when the light finally returns, this time white and clear, from beneath your small stage. [[And thus comes dawn, a neon glow.->NunRevFinal13]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/2UPfyWF.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> You blink away the darkness as light washes over you, reflecting in slick waves across the laminate uniform you now bear. Gone are your old vestments, dissolved back to their primordial laminate composite and replaced with something far less secular. A black catsuit provides the base layer, but so much more is layered atop it. From the heavy corset, to the long gloves and stockings, to the coif and habit that crown your head-- you are a Sister of the Order now, like Euphoria(if: $NunEnd1 is true or $NunEnd2 is true)[, and perhaps more identically, in the image of Dahlia]. The other nuns kneel around your platform, but Euphoria remains at your side, her red eyes watching your reaction more then anything else. She offers you a hand, alongside a command. "Rise, Sister." [[You comply.->NunRevFinal14]]

Standing proves to be an experience all its own, as you for the first time balance on your new heels-- much like those you had chosen from the wardrobe, but invested with... so much more, when collected together with so much else like this. "You now bear the regalia of our Order," Euphoria continues. "You have been cuffed at ankle and wrist, so that you may at all times remember that you are a slave-- a woman in her natural place, enslaved and providing service for your superiors. Those would be your Elder and Superior Sisters in the Order, as well as freewombs and any male you come across in your duties." In her hands she holds one last circlet of steel, the metal carefully inscribed along the band while the front has a heavy metal look, to be used with leashes or any other sort of restraint. A collar. *Your* collar. Euphoria holds it aloft. "Going forth, you will take a new name to match your new role within our order. By tradition we utilize the names of flowers for our new members, and given that you were born an offworlder we have chosen a name for you to match that heritage-- being from beyond Torei. Do you accept this collar, and your new name, Sister?" [["I do."->NunRevFinal15]]

The words are a fresh struggle, the laminate pulled tight against your jaw making it difficult. But you manage, and and Euphoria steps behind you. You feel her lift your habit, sliding the collar in until its pressed tightly against your throat. It's cold, like the planet itself perhaps, but warms to your touch. And then it snaps closed, magnetic locks clicking shut. Euphoria is joined by the rest of your new Sisters in reverence, their heads bowing as those with cloaks draw them back, exposing the colored panties pulled tight between their legs. "Welcome, Sister *Azalea.*" [["It's... an honor, Sisters."->NunRevFinal16]] [[Bow your head, and perform a reverence in return.->NunRevFinal16]]

Other proceedings follow. Further rules and expectations are given to you. One of the Sisters takes your identification card, returning with a new one later. You have taken a new name, Sister Azalea, and the ID reflects that. Perhaps of more immediate concern however is what's stamped along the top. Instead of the bright red word FREEWOMB, you now are labeled in pure black as a SLAVE. Eventually Sister Euphoria clips a short leash to your new collar, and directs you with it. Together you leave the circle of light so deep inside the Convent, returning to darkness for a time before being led once more to the light of the world outside. The garden, and beyond that the wrought-iron gate. "You're wondering where we are going," Euphoria notes, pausing momentarily to look at you. Your uniforms may be similar, but she seems to fill it out so much more intensely, from the swell of her hips and bust, to her sheer height. It's hard not to be intimidated. [["Yes, Sister."->NunRevFinal17]] [["I am, Sister."->NunRevFinal17]]

(set: $Test1 to 5) [[Next]]

(if: $Test1 is 3 or 5 or 7)[WORKWROK](else:)[FAIL]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/j5fLXo9.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> You turn to find, to your surprise, a vehicle actually utilizing the normally quiet roads. Although perhaps 'vehicle' is a bit of a stretch, as you're confronted with a woman seated primly on a small, one person carriage. Instead of horses or an engine of some sort, another woman is merely hitched to the front, the girl-made-pony providing the necessary locomotion. For now she is stilled however, eyes down and breathing deeply. Drool runs down from the bit gag between her teeth. "You (if: $Slave is true)[, Slave,](else:)[, girl,]" the carriage's rider repeats, gesturing to you with the whip she holds in her hand. "I have need of you." [[Step out into the street, and approach the strange carriage.->Ponygirl2]] [[Ignore her and carry on, you have other concerns.->PonygirlNo]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/qzbJK7u.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> You have come across a small alcove, the architecture of the building above overhanging the sidewalk. In that shadowed space you find a woman bound on her knees, a strict looking bar attached to her throat conspiring with the cuffs and chains at ankle and wrist that have immobilized her. A ball seated behind her teeth prevents anything approaching speech, but as soon as you meet her gaze she clearly tries to gesture for you to approach. "You can ignore her," another woman, seated on a bench nearby, comments without looking up from the book she holds. "Poor thing is almost out of time anyway." [[You do ignore her, and continue on your way->TransitCheckReturn]] [["She's... almost out of time?"->TheBeggar]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/ueFwYim.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> The woman is dressed in pure black, from the laminate leotard she wears with such an aggressive cut across her chest, to the long-sleeved bolero jacket upon her shoulders, to the knee high boots strapped to each leg. A riding crop hangs from her hip as well, as if she needed anything more to so clearly occupy the role of dominatrix. And yet, she is collared. (if: $debtSlave is true)[You know her. From the photoshoot with Michael that had gone so terribly off the rails. The breaking pole, your submission... the *Governess.* "Well look who it is." Clearly she remembers you.](else:)[Her deep black hair frames a pale face and bright red lips as she notices your stare, amusement crossing the latter as she addresses you with narrowed eyes. "Yes, slut?"] (if: $debtSlave is true)[ [["Oh, uh-- hello."->GovMet]] [["Oh, you again..."->GovMet]] [[Turn around and walk away. You are NOT dealing with her again.->TransitCheckReturn]] ](else:)[ [["Excuse me?"->GovNew]] [["I am NOT a slut."->GovNew]] ]

The crowd blocking the path is uniformally female, each of them wearing identical red outfits with matching backpacks. They appear to be moving together through a doorway into a larger courtyard, the sign above labeling it as *Naram-Sin Finishing Academy, Annex 4.* [[You cross the street, avoiding the crowd.->School1]] [["Hello? What's going on?"->School1F]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/MeYcD3a.png" width="50%" height="50%"> Turning the corner, you break into the clear along an elevated stretch of road. It allows you a rare view out over the neighborhood, and beyond that a great swirling storm pouring slowly into the city. A silent tempest, perhaps only a few minutes away. "Beautiful isn't it?" A muffled voice to your side comments. (if: $Slave is true)["Good thing you're masked. Does your owner know you're out like this, though?"](else:)["You better get your mask on, though."] In the distance, a storm siren sounds. (if: $Slave is true)[[["Huh?"->StormSlave]]](else:)[[["Mask?"->StormReg]]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/ltawLLM.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> The line blocking your path turns out to be... something one would only find on Torean streets-- a collection of women, all wearing laminate office attire(if: $Sec is true)[ much like your own], chained together by the collars around their throats and the cuffs linking their hands before them. A slave coffle. You appear to have caught them just before entering what could only be their place of employment, the neon sign out front identifying it as *Conrad and Company Technical Support.* Passing them is easy enough, but you cannot help but marvel at the size of the line compared to that of the company-- Torei's strange demographics apparently ensured any number of slaves could be used in lieu of more modern means of accomplishing something. Did that make them more efficent, or less? You've seen how cheap slaves come here. [[Something to ponder as you continue on.->TransitCheckReturn]]

Among so many laminate clad women, you finally come across something new-- one apparently *walking* another like some manner of pet. Approaching closer, you find what could only be the Mistress standing with leash in hand-- rummaging in her purse. At her feet, a girl in brown laminate crawls. She's covered from head to toe, with the mask in particular lacking any mouth-- but sporting a pair of ears that emerge from the top of her head. A catgirl. [[Walk past, and ignore the scene.->TransitCheckReturn]] [[Approach the pair.->Cat1]]

Pausing in your walk down the street, you glance upward, to a display board. You've passed several on your travels thus far, the neon screens displaying a variety of notices intended for the general populace. Had you been paying a bit *more* attention you might have been warned about that storm coming in, awhile back. Now however, a new message catches your eye: (set: $FreeLead to true) **Curfew Approaching:** free transport via the Lead system is now available for all qualifying freewombs. [[Something to remember, as you continue on your way.->TransitCheckReturn]]

You cannot shake that eerie feeling, that you're not alone-- and indeed you are not, the sidewalks still quite packed despite the approach of dusk. But those strangers are each their own world, separate, mere fellow travelers. What you feel is *different*. Something is watching you, perhaps even following. Maybe you have even felt it all day, being so suddenly in the grips of paranoia distorts everything. [[Ignore the sensation, continue towards your destination.->TransitCheckReturn]] [[A long, quiet alley looms to your right. Enter it suddenly, whomever follows must do the same.->Daemon1]]

The ponygirl in purple laminate looks at you wearily as you approach, but its the rider behind who draws your attention, waving you forward as she disembarks. (if: $Level is 0 or 1)["Yes, you there, good," she greets, checking the chronometer on her wrist before pointing towards her carrige. "You are not busy, I suspect? Of course not. I have need of you." One foot up on the curb, she directs your attention to the ponygirl next with a flick of her whip. The harnessed slave visibly starts, sliding a hooved boot against the ground afterward as she tries to work off the anxiety. "I have an errand to run in this store," the rider continues. "If you were to brush and water my pony, I would pay you 50 credits upon my return. The supplies are in my rickshaw." She meant the carriage. "You will do this, yes?"](if: $Level is > 1)["Yes, you there, good," she greets, checking the chronometer on her wrist before pointing towards her carrige. "You are not busy, I suspect? Of course not. I have need of you." One foot up on the curb, she directs your attention to the ponygirl next with a flick of her whip. The harnessed slave visibly starts, sliding a hooved boot against the ground afterward as she tries to work off the anxiety. "I have an errand to run in this store," the rider continues. "Were you not in that binder, I could use you to brush my pony. As it is, I need you only to watch over her, this particular establishment not having a hitching post. I would pay you 50 credits upon my return." "You will do this, yes?"] [[You're not her slave. Turn around and leave.->PonygirlNo]] (if: $Level is 0 or 1)[[["I can do that, yes."->PonygirlFull]]] (if: $Level is > 1)[[["I can do that, yes."->PonygirlNoArm]]]

You ignore whatever the rider had been demanding next, instead stepping back into the passing crowds, returning to your original goal. [[The rider's frustrated calls are soon lost to the crowd.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Wonderful," the rider replies promptly. "I will return shortly." She marches into the nearby store, leaving you in the street with the violet-laminated ponygirl. Checking the carriage allows you to easily find a bottle of water and small hand brush, the later more a buffer then anything bristled. The ponygirl finally meets your eyes as you approach her, shuffling hesitantly in her harness and restraints. The collar she wears clearly identifies her as a slave, as if the armbinder and gag did not already. Of those, the gag in particularly seems a difficult thing to bear, the metal pulled deep into her mouth, an integrated tongue suppressor preventing anything approaching speech. That functionality is confirmed when the girl attempts to communicate, managing instead only a quiet moan. [[Start with the water.->PonygirlFull2]]

"Wonderful," the rider replies promptly. "I will return shortly." She marches into the nearby store, leaving you in the street with the violet-laminated ponygirl. The ponygirl finally meets your eyes as you approach her, shuffling hesitantly in her harness and restraints. The collar she wears clearly identifies her as a slave, as if the armbinder and gag did not already. Of those, the gag in particularly seems a difficult thing to bear, the metal pulled deep into her mouth, an integrated tongue suppressor preventing anything approaching speech. That functionality is confirmed when the girl attempts to communicate, managing instead only a quiet moan. [["How did you end up like that?"->PonygirlHow]] [["Looks like you're having fun."->PonygirlFun]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/1kPeZLQ.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> She takes to the bottle as soon as you raise it, greedily gulping the water that pours past her gag. Being hand-fed so blatantly in the street doesn't seem to bother her a bit, although you get a sense any resistance had been broken during her earlier work-- the rider had been pushing her hard. In the parlance of such things, she is truly well lathered. [[Brushing, next.->PonygirlFull3]]

Without bristles, the brush more accurately shines the glossy violet laminate of the ponygirl, but you work quickly through the effort nevertheless. It's attention she clearly enjoys at the very least, turning into your hand where ever her bondage allows. Laminate remained slick and reflective for days at a time, making much of the effort little more then small touch-ups-- but the girl's rider clearly cared about maintaining proper presentation if she preferred this means of travel. By the time you're wrapping up only a few minutes of passed, but the rider is quite prompt-- she emerges with a small bag in hand, coming up alongside you to examine the work. The ponygirl shifts between skittish concern and apparent excitement when her owner seizes her reins. A sharp command provides some manner of unspoken command, causing the girl to take several prancing steps forward. It seems to please the rider, as she climbs up into the seat afterward. "Everything appears to be in order," she notes, then flips a 50 credit clip into your waiting hands. You're spared no more of her attention as the rider picks up her whip, hanging it briefly off the side of the carriage before wielding it in a sudden flash of intense motion. The tip cracks in response, moments before striking the ponygirl between her legs, wrapping up against her cunt with a sudden snap. It's another unspoken command, as the ponygirl jolts into motion, high-stepping down the street. The carriage and rider are pulled along, and soon they turn the corner out of sight. (set: $debt to it + 50) [[A lucrative diversion. Now you have to try and remember what direction you were heading.->TransitCheckReturn]]

Her brows fall, the gag between her teeth making an expression there hard, but you manage to make out a frown of sorts. It only takes a moment to puzzle out what her response meant: the fact she hadn't spoken it aloud makes it obvious enough. The gag doesn't really allow her to answer such questions. Perhaps you should try something simpler. [["Having fun?"->PonygirlFun]] [["Does your owner always push you this hard?"->PonygirlOwn]]

The exhausted girl takes a moment, but she does nod her head-- enthusastically even. Despite being bound, displayed so publically, and worked so hard she was still enjoying the experience. It's something to consider, at least. Torei has so *many* opportunities. [["Does your owner always push you this hard?"->PonygirlOwn]]

That question the girl has answer to, nodding immediately. You get the sense she would have happily elaborated on the subject, had the gag not been firmly between her teeth, and if her rider had not returned at just that moment. Like some manner of demon, or perhaps guardian angel, it seemed merely mentioning her summoned the woman. She carries a small bag, but checks her slave before depositing it upon the seat of the small carriage. When she moves up to your side, she carries a small credit chip, which she surrenders. (set: $debt to it + 50) "50 credits," she notes. "Did she give you any trouble?" [["None at all."->PonygirlNone]] [["I think she wanted you to push her harder."->PonygirlHard]]

"As I expected," the rider intones. Reaching up, she taps her slave's chin, an apparent command. The girl tips her head back slightly in response, allowing her owner to press a bottle to her lips, giving her a long drink of water. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/1kPeZLQ.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> She takes to the bottle as soon as its offered, greedily gulping the water that pours past her gag. Being hand-fed so blatantly in the street doesn't seem to bother her a bit, although you get a sense any resistance had been broken during her earlier work-- the rider *had* been pushing her hard. Eventually the bottle is pulled back, and the she climbs back up into her seat. You're spared no more of her attention as the rider picks up her whip, hanging it briefly off the side of the carriage before wielding it in a sudden flash of intense motion. The tip cracks in response, moments before striking the ponygirl between her legs, wrapping up against her cunt with a sudden snap. It's another unspoken command, as the ponygirl jolts into motion, high-stepping down the street. The carriage and rider are pulled along, and soon they turn the corner out of sight. [[A lucrative diversion. Now you have to try and remember what direction you were heading.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Does she now?" The rider asks, amused. Before the pony can attempt a response, however, her owner reaches up to tap her slave's chin, an apparent command. The girl tips her head back slightly in response, allowing a bottle to be pressed to her lips, giving her a long drink of water. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/1kPeZLQ.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> She takes to the bottle as soon as its offered, greedily gulping the water that pours past her gag. Being hand-fed so blatantly in the street doesn't seem to bother her a bit, although you get a sense any resistance had been broken during her earlier work-- the rider *had* been pushing her hard. Eventually the bottle is pulled back, and the she climbs back up into her seat. You're spared no more of her attention as the rider picks up her whip, hanging it briefly off the side of the carriage before wielding it in a sudden flash of intense motion. The tip cracks in response, moments before striking the ponygirl between her legs, wrapping up against her cunt with a sudden snap. It's another unspoken command, as the ponygirl jolts into motion, high-stepping down the street. The carriage and rider are pulled along, but just before the corner where you lose sight of them another strike is delivered to the pony's flank-- moving her from a comfortable canter to a hard gallop. It seems your suggestion to push her harder had been taken up. [[A lucrative diversion. Now you have to try and remember what direction you were heading.->TransitCheckReturn]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/qzbJK7u.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> The seated woman pauses her book, looking to you for a moment. "Offworlder," she notes, licking a finger before turning a page and pulling her gaze back down. "Think of what you see before you as a beggar," she explains. "Usually that means simply being without credits, but this... this is worse. The poor thing is in *debt.* (if: $Level is > 0)[Judging by your gear, you know the feeling.] How does a freewomb escape such debt? Collateral bonds. Accept a cuff, or two, or four... some chains... and find someone to pay them off. Usually with one's body, in the traditional manner." Again she flips to a new page. "But this one is too far gone, I'm afraid. Locked in place, gagged-- a girl at least needs a hole to earn a *few* credits." [["How horrible!"->BeggarHorr]] [["Why aren't you helping her?"->BeggarWhy]] [["Maybe I can help her?"->BeggarHelp]]

The seated woman only shrugs. "Perhaps to you. But Torei doesn't really check with you on things like this, does it? I'd suggest you have a more open mind, but that's usually something one says to an offworlder fresh off the Elevator. You're at least in full laminate. It's a start." [["Why aren't you helping her?"->BeggarWhy]] [["Maybe I can help her?"->BeggarHelp]]

The seated woman holds a finger up, pausing the conversation and she works her way through the last lines of her current page. Only then does she look over the spine to you. "Because I don't particularly care to." [["How horrible!"->BeggarHorr]] [["Maybe I can help her?"->BeggarHelp]]

The bound woman seems to perk up at the suggestion, although whatever her actual response was comes out as "mmmgh!" The one on the bench closes her book, however, looking to you with pointed interest. "I didn't think you would be the charitable type. But yes, that would be completely within your means-- and a good thing too. Soon her time would run out, after all, and with bankruptcy would come enslavement. The only way to pay off her debts at that point. If our little fool is liable to work her way out of this predicament, I would think it would assist her most if you paid to unlock the cuffs or gag. I believe they have 50 credits of debt associated, each." [["I'll pay the 50 credits for those wrist cuffs to be removed."->BeggarCuffs]] [["I'll pay the 50 credits for that gag to be removed."->BeggarGag]] [["I'll pay 100 credits for both the gag and cuffs to be removed!"->BeggarBoth]] [[A foolish endeavor. Let the girl finish her descent down into a collar. Walk away.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Mmmgh, thnng mmg!" It's all the beggar can manage as the seated woman rises, unlocking the wrist cuffs that had bound the girl's hands. Immediately she rubs at her obviously sore wrists, but before any further attempt at conversation can be made the book-reader intervenes. "I'll pay for the ankle cuffs. For a standard agreement? An hour, your hands, whatever I want." The beggar seems to want to say more to you, but the offer is obviously too good to ignore. She accepts with a nod, shifting in her remaining restraints. (set: $debt to it - 50) You're left quite perplexed at just what had happened. [["Excuse me?"->BeggarEnd]] [["What just happened."->BeggarEnd]]

You make the neccessary transaction, allowing the woman on the bench to rise, pulling the ballgag from the beggar's mouth. "T-Thank you," she manages, working her jaw after so long restrained. "Thank you, I--" (set: $debt to it - 50) "I'll pay for the ankle cuffs," the book-reader interrupts suddenly. "For a standard agreement? An hour, your tongue, however I want." The beggar seems to want to say more, but the offer is obviously too good to ignore. She accepts with a nod, shifting in her remaining restraints. "Yes ma'am." You're left quite perplexed at just what had happened. [["Excuse me?"->BeggarEnd]] [["What just happened."->BeggarEnd]]

"Charitable indeed," the book-reader notes, rising from her position. With the pay-locks opened, she's apply to free the beggar's hands, and then pull the ball gag from her mouth. "T-Thank you," she manages, working her jaw after so long restrained. "Thank you, I--" (set: $debt to it - 100) "I'll pay for the ankle cuffs," the book-reader interrupts suddenly. "For a standard agreement? An hour, your tongue and hands, however I want." The beggar seems to want to say more, but the offer is obviously too good to ignore. She accepts with a nod, shifting in her remaining restraints. "Yes ma'am." You're left quite perplexed at just what had happened. [["Excuse me?"->BeggarEnd]] [["What just happened."->BeggarEnd]]

The book reader pulls down the crotch zipper of her catsuit, circling to approach the kneeling beggar from the front. It's obvious now she was merely waiting for someone charitable enough to take pity on the girl, so she wouldn't have to pay more then necessary for simple *street service.* "You can be on your way," the book reader notes, resting a hand on the beggar's head. [["You're taking advantage of her!"->BeggarEnd2]] [[You did what you could. The beggar at least has the chance to work her way back out of the rest of her bonds. You step away.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Sure am," comes the the response. The beggar's freedom is pressed against the book-reader's cunt, a smile forming as her eyes close. "Welcome to Torei, kid." [[You did what you could. The beggar at least has the chance to work her way back out of the rest of her bonds. There is nothing more you can do. You step away.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Don't be so shy," the Governess replies, hooking an arm around your (if: $Brand is true or $Slave is true)[corseted] waist. It's a reminder of how strong she is that you're directed so easily. (if: $Level is > 0)[Your hobble chain(if: $Level is >= 2)[ and armbinder] don't help your cause.] "We never got the opportunity to talk," she continues. "If you enjoyed your time on my breaking pole?" [["I absolutely did NOT."->GovMetNo]] [["I, well-- yes ma'am."->GovMetYes]]

"No need to be so modest," the woman smiles, hooking an arm around your (if: $Brand is true or $Slave is true)[corseted] waist. She's shockingly strong, directly you with ease as you walk along the sidewalk. (if: $Level is > 0)[Your hobble chain(if: $Level is >= 2)[ and armbinder] don't help your cause.] "A Governess can tell when a girl is enjoying herself." She uses her free hand to run down the slick laminate across your chest, down past your waist. "But I saw that look-- you were curious, or merely attracted. Perhaps both. I have time to kill before my next appointment, and am *terribly* bored. So? Governess Yennifer at your service." [["Well... I did have some questions."->GovNewQ]] [["You are... beautiful."->GovNewCute]] [["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]

"Oh?" The Governess releases you, if only to look more directly in your eyes. "I do believe you *begged* for it, at the end." [["Because you MADE me."->GovMetNo2]] [["I didn't have a choice, you weren't going to release me!"->GovMetNo2]]

The Governess smiles wickedly, pulling you even closer, her grip possessive. "Of *course* you did. And it was only your first time. Imagine being given to the breaking pole again, and again, and again... *that's* how a proper slave is made. A girl isn't truly submissive until she's pressing her tits out, begging for more. And now all those other offworlders will see that too. Perhaps some of them will even see you in that horrid Society's printings and want that for themselves. Wouldn't that be delightful?" [["Yes ma'am."->GovMetYes2]] [["I'm not too sure..."->GovMetYesNo]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/ueFwYim.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> "Oh?" She murmurs. "Well, I do a few minutes. Ask your questions." [["You're wearing a collar, are you a slave? You don't seem like one."->GovQCollar]] [["What exactly is a Governess anyway?"->GovQGov]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["You mentioned you have an appointment?"->GovQNewAppoint]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Why are you working with the Liberty Society anyway?"->GovQLib]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["What happened to those other two girls, on the other poles?"->GovQGirls]]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Actually, I really need to get going."->GovMetEnd]]]

"Oh, I like you too, slut," the Governess replies, slapping your ass. "Too bad I am kept to such a tight schedule. The *things* I would do to you. But I really should be going." [["Well... I did have some questions."->GovNewQ]] [["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]

"As you wish." The Governess presses two fingers to her red lips, them points them at you before she spins and moves away. Her riding crop flares along the way, a last glance over her shoulder meeting your gaze. "Maybe we'll see each other again, hm?" [[You watch her go, then begin walking again.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"I didn't give you a choice, it's true," she admits freely. "But that's the point, isn't it? A girl isn't truly submissive until she's pressing her tits out, begging for more. And now all those other offworlders will see that too. Perhaps some of them will even see you in that horrid Society's printings and want that for themselves. Wouldn't that be delightful?" [["Yes ma'am."->GovMetYes2]] [["I'm not too sure..."->GovMetYesNo]]

"That's the spirit," she grins. "I *like* you. If only my Master needed another cunt, I would certainly give you the recommendation. Alas. I suppose I should get going anyway, I do have another appointment coming up soon." The Governess steps back. [["Before you go, could I ask a question or two?"->GovNewQ]] [[Allow her to leave.->GovMetEnd]]

"It's not something you will need to worry about if you stay here, on Torei," she points out. "Down here, you're just another cunt. Begging for cock is just what we're expected to do." The Governess shrugs, stepping back from you. "Alas. I suppose I should get going, I do have another appointment coming up soon." [["Before you go, could I ask a question or two?"->GovNewQ]] [[Allow her to leave.->GovMetEnd]]

The Governess presses two fingers to her red lips, them points them at you before she spins and moves away. Her riding crop flares along the way, its snap against your rear dredging up memories of your session together as she disappears into the crowd. [[You try to remember where you were heading.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Slaves come in many sorts and forms, here on Torei," the Governess replies, flicking the heavy steel attachment point upon the front of her collar. "I *am* one of those sorts, the kind that comes with a title like 'Governess'." [["What exactly is a Governess anyway?"->GovQGov]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["You mentioned you have an appointment?"->GovQNewAppoint]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Why are you working with the Liberty Society anyway?"->GovQLib]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["What happened to those other two girls, on the other poles?"->GovQGirls]]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Actually, I really need to get going."->GovMetEnd]]]

"You're not familiar with the term?" She asks, raising a jet black brow. "Ah, well, many owners on Torei have far more slaves then they can personally oversee. A Governess, such as myself, is one of those slaves, but charged with directing, overseeing, and providing corrective punishment or rewarding pleasure to her subordinates. I think of myself as an instructor, of sorts, in that regard." [["You're wearing a collar, are you a slave? You don't seem like one."->GovQCollar]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["You mentioned you have an appointment?"->GovQNewAppoint]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Why are you working with the Liberty Society anyway?"->GovQLib]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["What happened to those other two girls, on the other poles?"->GovQGirls]]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Actually, I really need to get going."->GovMetEnd]]]

"It is something my Master arranged," the Governess responds, for once sounding a bit perturbed. "He is a Magistrate for House Sargon-- one of the Diarch families that control this Ringdom. I'm working with some horrid offworlder Society to ensure they reflect Torean culture properly." [["You're wearing a collar, are you a slave? You don't seem like one."->GovQCollar]] [["What exactly is a Governess anyway?"->GovQGov]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Why are you working with the Liberty Society anyway?"->GovQLib]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["What happened to those other two girls, on the other poles?"->GovQGirls]]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Actually, I really need to get going."->GovMetEnd]]]

"It is something my Master arranged," the Governess responds, for once sounding a bit perturbed. "He is a Magistrate for House Sargon-- one of the Diarch families that control this Ringdom. I'm working with the Liberty Society to ensure they reflect Torean culture properly. I don't like the entitled members of the Society itself, but I *do* enjoy the sluts I meet along the way. Like yourself." [["You're wearing a collar, are you a slave? You don't seem like one."->GovQCollar]] [["What exactly is a Governess anyway?"->GovQGov]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["You mentioned you have an appointment?"->GovQNewAppoint]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["What happened to those other two girls, on the other poles?"->GovQGirls]]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Actually, I really need to get going."->GovMetEnd]]]

"Hm?" It clearly takes her a moment to remember the other girls that had been tortured alongside you. "Oh, I let them down eventually. One of them wanted to hire me for the experience again, but that's a matter she must take up with my Master." [["You're wearing a collar, are you a slave? You don't seem like one."->GovQCollar]] [["What exactly is a Governess anyway?"->GovQGov]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["You mentioned you have an appointment?"->GovQNewAppoint]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Why are you working with the Liberty Society anyway?"->GovQLib]]] (if: $debtSlave is false)[[["Actually... I just really need to get going."->GovNewEnd]]] (if: $debtSlave is true)[[["Actually, I really need to get going."->GovMetEnd]]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DgoF8Iz.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> As you make your way around the crowd, you notice one uniformed girl seperated from the rest-- peering intently into a small stream of water running next to the road. [["What are you looking at?"->School2A]] [["Hello there."->School2B]] [[Avoid her entirely, and keep moving. No distractions.->TransitCheckReturn]]

The crowd is too busy to respond, most of the uniformed girls speaking to each other. [[You cross the street, avoiding the crowd.->School1]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DgoF8Iz.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> "The water, where I--" She stops suddenly, a glance towards you transforming into a very obvious double take before she rises up to her full height. (if: $Slave is true)["Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were... I meant... well I guess I should greet you properly, but you're a slave like me, so that means..." When you explain you're not a slave, but a freewomb merely wearing the standardized uniform that actually seems to clear up her confusion. She spreads her legs, lifting her skirt to reveal the zipper her catsuit sported between her legs. Further up, she bows her head. A Torean greeting.](else:)["Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were... but you're not... a stranger... freewomb, I should... reverence!" She spreads her legs, lifting her skirt to reveal the zipper her catsuit sported between her legs. Further up, she bows her head. A Torean greeting.] "Student Asami Ventari at your service, Mistress! How can I help?" [["I'm not a Mistress, and you didn't need to greet me like... that."->SchoolNo]] [["What were you looking at, in the water?"->SchoolWater]] [["What's up with the uniform?"->SchoolUniform]] [["Nevermind, I should probably be on my way."->SchoolEnd]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DgoF8Iz.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> "I said I would be right the--" She stops suddenly, a glance towards you transforming into a very obvious double take before she rises up to her full height. (if: $Slave is true)["Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were... I meant... well I guess I should greet you properly, but you're a slave like me, so that means..." When you explain you're not a slave, but a freewomb merely wearing the standardized uniform that actually seems to clear up her confusion. She spreads her legs, lifting her skirt to reveal the zipper her catsuit sported between her legs. Further up, she bows her head. A Torean greeting.](else:)["Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were... but you're not... a stranger... freewomb, I should... reverence!" She spreads her legs, lifting her skirt to reveal the zipper her catsuit sported between her legs. Further up, she bows her head. A Torean greeting.] "Student Asami Ventari at your service, Mistress! How can I help?" [["I'm not a Mistress, and you didn't need to greet me like... that."->SchoolNo]] [["What were you looking at, in the water?"->SchoolWater]] [["What's up with the uniform?"->SchoolUniform]] [["Nevermind, I should probably be on my way."->SchoolEnd]]

"You are to me!" She asserts, readily. One of our very first lessons is the importance of hierarchy, in both our lives and society. Chattel slaves at the bottom, ponygirls and the like. Then regular slaves, like me. Then Supersisters and Governesses, and whatever. Then Freewombs, like you.(if: $Slave is true)[ Even if you're wearing slave gear at the moment.]" She smiles brightly, her lips as red as the rest of her uniform. "That means you're due a reverence when we meet! And that you're a Mistress. Or 'ma'am'. But I like the sound of Mistress, its a perk of wearing a collar." She points towards her own. [["What were you looking at, in the water?"->SchoolWater]] [["What's up with the uniform?"->SchoolUniform]] [["Nevermind, I should probably be on my way."->SchoolEnd]]

"In the water?" The question seems to confuse her for a moment, a finger even rising quizzically to her chin. "Oh! Not *in* the water, I was looking at the water itself! I come from a farming village, further out towards the Lichen line. We don't get much water at all, and we certainly don't have enough to waste it running down ditches like that!" She points over your shoulder, to the mountains that loom in the distance. "But Aekora is so close to the mountains, they get the runoff from the snow. And glaciers." A moment passes, her face screwing up. "Okay, Mistress? I might have lied there. I don't actually know if there are glaciers up there. In the antipodes there are mountains that have them though, I just read about them in history class!" [["I'm not a Mistress, and you didn't need to greet me like... that."->SchoolNo]] [["What's up with the uniform?"->SchoolUniform]] [["Nevermind, I should probably be on my way."->SchoolEnd]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/J14XI68.png" width="30%" height="30%"> Asami looks down, flicking her skirt coquettishly as she lifts a leg, smiling broadly. "You like it, Mistress? It's my school uniform. I'm a first year student at the Naram-Sin Academy." She shimmies her hips, the short skirt providing little coverage. "It's an even day, so all red. But on odd days we have to come with a corset and a different hood, they're black. I'm not really sure why." [["Is that a collar, and a leash? You're a slave?"->SchoolSlave]] [["First year? Was it hard getting used to that?"->SchoolHard]] [["I'm not a Mistress, and you didn't need to greet me like... that."->SchoolNo]] [["What were you looking at, in the water?"->SchoolWater]] [["Nevermind, I should probably be on my way."->SchoolEnd]]

"Oh! Sure! I suppose I should be getting to class," Asami replies, looking towards the gateway, now mostly cleared of her fellow students. "It was like, really cool to meet you though! See ya!" Despite her youth, she proves quite nimble in those heels as she makes her way into the Academy's Annex. [[You watch her go, then turn back, intent on continuing on your way.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Yep," she replies, but then gestures wildly with her gloved hands. "But only, like, technically? When you apply to the Academy, you're enslaved for the duration. At graduation we get to choose to be freed, or for the Academy to identify a proper owner for us." She indicates the leash hanging from her collar, the length of flexible laminate hooked into a slot on her backpack. "The leash is for the teachers, Mistress. Or older classmates. As a first year, I'm not allowed to say no to them either." [["First year? Was it hard getting used to that?"->SchoolHard]] [["I'm not a Mistress, and you didn't need to greet me like... that."->SchoolNo]] [["What were you looking at, in the water?"->SchoolWater]] [["Nevermind, I should probably be on my way."->SchoolEnd]]

"Oh yeah," Asami replies, immediately. "Not everyone grows up with laminate, you know? A few students these past few years have even been offworlders! But on the first day we're all taken to the Academy's wardrobe devices, and we all come out wearing red, you know? Talk about awkward!" She shrugs, smooth laminate shoulders gliding through the movement with ease. "By the third day we were taking turns wearing strap-ons to practice fellatio, though, so its all been downhill from there." [["Is that a collar, and a leash? You're a slave?"->SchoolSlave]] [["I'm not a Mistress, and you didn't need to greet me like... that."->SchoolNo]] [["What were you looking at, in the water?"->SchoolWater]] [["Nevermind, I should probably be on my way."->SchoolEnd]]

You turn to find a woman at your side, pulling at the straps of a regulation mask much like your own. Unlike you, she is neither collared nor bound. "Your owner, slave. Do they know you're about to be in this storm? I love to watch them come in, but the nearest public shelter isn't far." [["I'm not a slave."->StormSlave2]]

You turn to find a woman at your side, pulling at the straps of a heavy looking gas mask. Her simple black laminate outfit catches the reflection of the incoming storm, bright orange. "Yeah, mask," she taps her own. "You need to get yours on, that storm will be here any moment." [["I don't have one!""->StormReg2]]

She doesn't believe you until she checks your identification. A sudden burst of wind accompanies her returning it. "Offworlder, huh? Well, can't say much good comes for a freewomb wearing the standard slave gear. But you're lucky on this one count. That getup you're locked into is designed for what's about to hit us. A storm blowing in off the badlands isn't common this deep into the Belt, but it happens on occasion. It's a sight to see." [["Storm? What sort of storm?"->StormSlave3]] [["What's the 'Belt'?"->StormSlave3]]

"These storms are... as old as Torei itself," the stranger responds, raising her voice as a sharp crack echoes off the buildings nearby, emanating from the encroaching storm. "From before the area around the equator, the Belt, was easily habitable. It's rare they blow in this deep, probably pisses the AIs off when it does-- but *stars* is it something every tourist should see first hand." By now she's nearly yelling, the wall of brownish-orange approaching rapidly. "Too late for you to make it to a shelter, so just... HOLD ON." [[The storm overtakes you.->StormSlave4]]

The storm arrives with a sudden, and unexpected, blast of *cold.* Grit suspended in the air quickly reduces visiblity as it whips by, the narrow confines of the surrounding buildings amplfying the effect. You're forced to lean forward, into the howling wind, just to keep from being barreled over. Even then you can feel your heels beginning to lose traction on the pavement below. The stranger beside you had disappeared into the cold, what little you can see out past your mask rendered in sepia tones. But a hand on your shoulder announces her return, light reflecting against her mask as she gestures to your left. You follow, only requiring several steps before you manage to hit relative calm-- the building nearby shielding the blunt of the raging storm. [["Holy hell, that was INCREDIBLE!"->StormSlaveWow]] [["It's so cold!"->StormSlaveCold]]

The storm continues to pour past, the open space beyond the wall's protection little more then a swirling wall of dust and wind. In the pocket of calm you occupy, however, only snow-like sprinkles of dust float down upon the sepia world. That which lands on your suit mostly glides off, laminate proving the perfect defense. "Pretty crazy, right?" The stranger asks, still standing near the wall of the storm. Reaching out, she allows her hand to disappear within the passing torrent, pulling it back out afterward. "Most just bunker down for these, but I never could. There is just something... raw, in experiencing it full blast. Don't expect it to last much longer, though. The storms out near the Lichen line can last for hours, but they burn out coming these deep into the Belt. Storm wall only last a couple minutes." As if listening in, already the storm seems to be lessening. [["Anything else I should know? It's my first storm... that I can remember, at least."->StormSlaveQ]] [["Thanks for showing me the ropes."->StormSlaveQ]]

The storm continues to pour past, the open space beyond the wall's protection little more then a swirling wall of dust and wind. In the pocket of calm you occupy, however, only snow-like sprinkles of dust float down upon the sepia world. That which lands on your suit mostly glides off, laminate proving the perfect defense. "These usually originate at the poles, on the Badlands they can freeze entire areas in a few hours!" The stranger marvels, still standing near the wall of the storm. Reaching out, she allows her hand to disappear within the passing torrent, pulling it back out afterward. "Most just bunker down for these, but I never could. There is just something... raw, in experiencing it full blast. Don't expect it to last much longer, though. The storms out near the Lichen line can last for hours, but they burn out coming these deep into the Belt. Storm wall only last a couple minutes." As if listening in, already the storm seems to be lessening. [["Anything else I should know? It's my first storm... that I can remember, at least."->StormSlaveQ]] [["Thanks for showing me the ropes."->StormSlaveQ]]

The wail of the storm siren becomes audible again just as it cuts out, the torrent having passed through. In its wake, only ember-like flakes still fall buffeted by the occasional rogue gust of wind. (if: $Slave is false)[You pull of the borrowed mask yourself, taking the first deep breath allowed to you in the space of a few minutes. Handing it back to the stranger, she takes it back and moves to leave.] "Just keep an eye on the news, going forward," the stranger advices, looking back to you. "We always have warning when a storm is coming in, and you do *not* want to get stuck in one without a mask-- or something solid to get behind." She steps out into the unprotected space between buildings again, her passing shifting the lingering dustfall. "Catch you later." She's gone quick enough, as others begin to emerge from nearby buildings. You should probably get back to whatever you were doing before. [[You never even got her name.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Offworlder, huh?" Your unpreparedness must have given you away. "I've got another mask, but they're expensive to clean afterward. I'll let you use it for 25 credits to cover that, though-- and I do recommend it, every tourist needs to experience one of these head on!" As if to underline her point, a burst of wind rips through. "Otherwise there is a public shelter... a few blocks down that way, but you would need to haul ass to reach it in time!" With one hand she holds out the mask, as the other points down the street towards the shelter. (if: $Brand is true)[Your ballet heels make running an impossibility-- you will need to take her offer.] [["I'll take the mask!"->StormRegMask]] (if: $Brand is not true)[[[Follow her finger, and make for the shelter.->StormRegShelt]]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/iXKXd9O.png" height="50%"> (set: $debt to it - 25) "Great choice!" The stranger shouts in response, a sharp crack of something much like thunder rolling in from the storm. "Hold still, I'll get this on you *real* quick!" She makes good on her promise, pressing the mask to your face. It smells heavily of laminate, but the glass viewport allows you to watch as the stranger secures the straps holding the entire device in place. "There! Breath in-- and expect it to be hard, that's the filters!" You comply, and find her warning to be true-- the first inhalation is like drawing air in through a straw. Your lungs scream for more oxygen, but your attention is already shifting back out over the city-- most of it now hidden by the wall of the storm. "These storms are... as old as Torei itself," the stranger explains, raising her voice as a sharp crack echoes off the buildings nearby, emanating from the encroaching storm. "From before the area around the equator, the Belt, was easily habitable. It's rare they blow in this deep, probably pisses the AIs off when it does-- but *stars* is it something every tourist should see first hand." By now she's nearly yelling, the wall of brownish-orange approaching rapidly. "Watching your footing, and... HOLD ON." [[The storm overtakes you.->StormReg4]]

"Good luck!" The stranger calls, as you begin moving down the street. By the time you make it to the next space between buildings however, allowing you to see the storm's approach, you realize walking won't make it-- you will need to run. (if: $Level is > 0)[Your hobble chain will make this a challenge.] A hard gust of wind blows in just as you make out a neon sign in the distance, PUBLIC STORM SHELTER making your goal quite obvious. [[Run!->StormRegShelt2]]

The storm continues to pour past, the open space beyond the wall's protection little more then a swirling wall of dust and wind. In the pocket of calm you occupy, however, only snow-like sprinkles of dust float down upon the sepia world. That which lands on your suit mostly glides off, laminate proving the perfect defense. "These usually originate at the poles, on the Badlands they can freeze entire areas in a few hours!" The stranger marvels, still standing near the wall of the storm. Reaching out, she allows her hand to disappear within the passing torrent, pulling it back out afterward. "Most just bunker down for these, but I never could. There is just something... raw, in experiencing it full blast. Don't expect it to last much longer, though. The storms out near the Lichen line can last for hours, but they burn out coming these deep into the Belt. Storm wall only last a couple minutes." As if listening in, already the storm seems to be lessening. [["Anything else I should know? It's my first storm... that I can remember, at least."->StormSlaveQ]] [["Thanks for showing me the ropes."->StormSlaveQ]]

You run as best you can in your heels. (if: $Level is > 0)[Your hobble chain quickly proves to be well named, *hobbling* your every attempt at anything more then a quick shuffle. (if: $Level is > 1)[The constant pull of the chain also threatens to upset your balance, the sharp pull of your armbinder making staying upright difficult.]] And then there is the storm-- what had been growing quiet now cracks with repeated strikes of not-thunder, alongside a growing sense of *cold.* It's a close thing, but you do make it. Barely-- stumbling into the safety of the shelter's vestibule just as the grit truly starts to fly. You're allowed a moment to glimpse out into a sepia colored world before the storm wall overtakes you, and you shove your way inside. [[Safety!->StormReg3]]

The shelter, little more then a concrete warren carved out below street level, holds only two others. One appears to be a freewomb like you, her eyes never leaving the datapad she's playing with upon her lap. Beside her another stands in full regulation slave gear, glossy black and nearly faceless given her regulation mask. Of the three of you, the slave appears the only one who could have ventured out into the storm. It doesn't take long to pass-- a few minutes at most. You emerge to find the last lingering hints to be snow-like flakes of dust drifting slowing down from the sky, the storm itself visible in the distance, retreating as quickly as it had arrived. As others return to the streets, you try to remember where you were heading in the first place. [[At least you made it.->TransitCheckReturn]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/ZZd6TtJ.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> It takes a moment, but the Mistress does apparently notice you. The golden brown of her laminate blouse seems to be complimented by the darker shade of the girl at her feet. "Yes?" (if: $Level is < 2)[[["Can I pet your slave?"->CatPet]]] [["Is that slave your... pet?"->CatQ]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/3gdYLL1.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> The Mistress nods, returning her attention to her purse. "Of course, it's not like she can bite." Clearly the catgirl had heard your conversation, she already had approached you. Kneeling down, you reach out, running your hand between her faux ears. Her laminate is smooth and slick to the touch. Without a mouth to speak, the creature instead purrs, approaching you closer. You notice she's corseted, and that her hands are little more then padded mitts, rendered utterly useless and stamped with feline designs. Behind, a tail flicks from her rear. She seems to like you. [["What did she do to deserve this?"->Cat3]] [["Is this some sort of... debt thing?"->Cat3]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/3gdYLL1.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> The Mistress nods, reaching down to pet the girl between the ears. Without a mouth to speak, the creature instead purrs, then approaches you closer. You notice she's corseted, and that her hands are little more then padded mitts, rendered utterly useless and stamped with feline designs. Behind, a tail flicks from her rear. She seems to like you. [["What did she do to deserve this?"->Cat3]] [["Is this some sort of... debt thing?"->Cat3]]

"Offworlder," the Mistress finally concludes, having reached the same point of reference numerous others upon your path thus far had as well. "First time with a petgirl? Sure-- some can find their way into something like this against their will. By my Minx chose this." [["She did what?"->Cat4]] [["She chose this?!"->Cat4]]

The Mistress had returned to searching her purse again. "Petgirls are rare, but not terribly so," she replies, offhandly. "Minx is very dedicated to this lifestyle." Below, the catgirl presses up against your legs. [["Incredible."->CatInc]] [["How horrible."->CatHorr]]

"Isn't it?" The owner asks, moments before she finally fishes out what she had been looking for in her purse-- a train ticket. "Going to be dusk soon," she notes, tugging on the catgirl's leash. "I know you're an offworlder, so remember curfew. Don't want to get stuck out in it. Anyway, nice meeting you." She turns to leave, her pet lingering only as long as the leash allows-- when it goes taut, she eventually follows. [[What strange things you see on these streets.->TransitCheckReturn]]

"Horrible for you perhaps," The owner replies simply, moments before she finally fishes out what she had been looking for in her purse-- a train ticket. "Going to be dusk soon," she notes, tugging on the catgirl's leash. "I know you're an offworlder, so remember curfew. Don't want to get stuck out in it. Anyway, nice meeting you." She turns to leave, her pet lingering only as long as the leash allows-- when it goes taut, she eventually follows. [[What strange things you see on these streets.->TransitCheckReturn]]

You abruptly shift course, diverting into the alley. Here the buildings crowd your narrow path, conspiring with the setting sun to cast everything in shadow. You give yourself a few moments, to get deep enough down the path that *whatever* was following you would be forced to enter the alley as well. Then you-- [[--turn around suddenly, catching your stalker!->DaemonTurn]] [[--listen for footsteps behind you before turning!->DaemonFoot]]

With sudden alacrity you pivot, keen on catching whatever had followed you. The alleyway, the crowd passing at its mouth in the distance, and... *nothing.* [["Hello?"->DaemonHello]] [["Huh."->DaemonCon]]

You step strategically on a bit of cardboard left abandoned, the snap of your heels so briefly muffled-- and there, a *second* set of heeled shoes echoes through the alley! You turn, so keen on catching whomever followed you... and yet the alleyway is empty. The only other beings visible are those passing the mouth of the alley, so far away. [["Hello?"->DaemonHello]] [["Huh."->DaemonCon]]

Perplexed, you linger for a moment, listening. Further out the sounds of the city drift in, but here, in a quiet artery of this great heart of civilization, there is silence. A *growing* silence. The reverie of the world beyond seems to dampen, a cosmic rug thrown over the cacophony. You're suddenly very much aware of your own breathing, *that* sound seemingly growing louder alongside what only you can describe as... a *ringing.* High-pitched, as if a whistle could imitate an oncoming migraine. Yet the tone changes even as you listen, garbling, shifting more towards the sound of static... and *something else.* You've heard this before, that's a fact that is suddenly, **dramatically** clear. Something instinctual shifts inside you, flight or fight responses emerging from the primordial hippocampus. Terror, raw terror. Walking hand in hand with curiosity, *longing* even. All for that sound, and it's moving closer, and closer... [[Hold your ground.->DaemonSound]] [[Run!->DaemonSound]]

You words ring out, unanswered. Perplexed, you linger for a moment, listening. Further out the sounds of the city drift in, but here, in a quiet artery of this great heart of civilization, there is silence. A *growing* silence. The reverie of the world beyond seems to dampen, a cosmic rug thrown over the cacophony. You're suddenly very much aware of your own breathing, *that* sound seemingly growing louder alongside what only you can describe as... a *ringing.* High-pitched, as if a whistle could imitate an oncoming migraine. Yet the tone changes even as you listen, garbling, shifting more towards the sound of static... and *something else.* You've heard this before, that's a fact that is suddenly, **dramatically** clear. Something instinctual shifts inside you, flight or fight responses emerging from the primordial hippocampus. Terror, raw terror. Walking hand in hand with curiosity, *longing* even. All for that sound, and it's moving closer, and closer... [[Hold your ground.->DaemonSound]] [[Run!->DaemonSound]]

It doesn't *matter* what you want to do. Had it ever, in the face of that infernal sound? A soft caress, the strict hand on an imperceivable leash, that clarion signal promises it all. It's upon you now, so close... and then beyond, moving further down the alleyway. You follow it. Past an overturned dumpster, deeper into shadow. The buildings here are *old*, and you notice for the first time the alleyway below is cobbled with smooth expanses of stone. Had this been a proper road once? Old storefronts seem to loom out of the darkness, black eyes looking out for passersby that no longer visited. And it's to one in particular the signal seems to pull you, despite whatever reservations you held. To a plate glass window, the mask of a building otherwise abandoned. Peering into that window, you see little more then gloom and falling water-- a pipe within perhaps, burst and leaking. As you stare, the signal seems to fade, a slight headache emerging in place of the simulated one. Your concerns and paranoia suddenly seem so *silly*. No one had followed you into the alleyway, and looking back down it you see no one occupying it now. You're alone, as you turn back to the window... [[...where a figure emerges from the dark.->Daemon5]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/nOCeWIP.png" width="50%" height="50%"> A silhouette. Had the water not been falling upon its head and shoulders, you may not have even noticed it at all. Male, but only vaguely so. Black laminate seems to cover it from head to toe, cloaking a face without eyes to see, or a mouth to speak. Yet you can all but *feel* it staring at you, regardless. It *knows* you, and you know it. Daemon. Emmissary. The word matters not. For that briefest of moments, you're face to face with a far greater whole, a mortal form cloaked by divinity. Native Toreans often called them *Gods*, not this isolated sould entombed in laminate before you, but the thing pulling its strings-- thousands of kilometers away, entombed in ice at either pole. The AI builders of this world, its silent shepherds: Mazos and Dahom. What made you worthy of consideration by such beings? The figure doesn't tell, but steps back instead, disappearing into the gloom as suddenly as it had appeared. In its wake, you're left only with that lingering headache as the sounds of the city reassert themselves. What had just happened? [[You don't know...->DaemonEnd]]

Eventually you pull yourself away from the long abandoned storefront, trying-- and failing-- to come to grips with that which you had just saw. Felt. *Known.* (set: $Daemon to true) [[You stumble back out of the alley, sometime later. Utterly lost...->TransitCheckReturn]]

With one hand still holding your leash, the other moves to your chin, lifting your head in a manner that prevents any escape from her gaze. "The Black Card that concerned you so, do you know from whence it came?" [["N-No..,"->NunRevFinal18]]

"Neither do I," Euphoria admits. "But I have a hunch, and if I am right we must address this... *Sin*, before you can be committed to more regular duties. So we will be traveling downtown, to the address marked upon it. Together." (set: $Nun to true)(set: $Slave to false)(set: $Blue to false)(set: $Smoke to false)(set: $Sec to false)(set: $Brand to false)(set: $Level to 0)(set: $Pierced to true) [["By carriage? Train?"->NunFinalType]] [["I could attend to this alone, Sister."->NunFinalAlone]]

"Of course not," Euphoria replies, sounding a bit amused. "Neither option is available to slaves, which we are, Sister. We will be taking the Lead. I hope you're ready for some walking? It will certainly serve to accustom you the rigors of your new uniform." [["The Lead?"->NunLead]]

"You most certainly could *not*," your Elder Sister replies. "Need I remind you of your Vows of Femininity and Devotion? Our scripture teaches that we, as women, should not be allowed to travel without a proper escort. A male, a freewomb-- or an Elder Sister, like myself." She turns to leave. "Now, we must really be going. We will be taking the Lead. I hope you're ready for some walking? It will certainly serve to accustom you the rigors of your new uniform." [["The Lead?"->NunLead]]

"You will see soon enough," she replies, guiding you back into the streets. Dusk threatens as you approach the Transport Hub, Sister Euphoria leading you by the leash. But your attention is on the surrounding crowds-- many eyes turn towards you, even as they give space for your passing. The uniform of the Order clearly proved distinctive enough, its presence rarely far from your mind. Your heavy corset makes every breath a new experience, while your habit keeps shifting into your line of sight. Reaching up to push it back you catch sight of your wrist cuffs, the similar set affixed to your ankles clinking quietly qith every step. You're focusing on the tight laminate across your chest when you are brought to a sudden stop by the red figure before you, Euphoria having pulled up before security checkpoint. Somewhere along the way you had missed the beginning of her conversation with the transit attendant, but you catch the end. "...the standard, yes. Full restraint." Just what *that* meant is left briefly to your imagination, as Euphoria pulls you forward again, following the attendant who hefts a briefcase from behind her desk. [[Full restraint?->NunLead2]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7Lkt4v0.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Just what exactly you're in for becomes apparent as soon as you clear the security checkpoint, a Truant Officer examining your ID card before letting you through. The Lead platform is little more then a concrete patch beneath a suspended wire line, from which descend a length of steel cable every few feet. As you watch, those freewombs or slaves capable of hooking their collars to the cables do so-- those too heavily bound(if: $Level is > 1)[ such as yourself] are assisted in the effort by attendants. A few of the waiting chains seem to have empty collars affixed to them as well(if: $Smoke is true or $Sec is true or $Brand is true)[, for outfits such as your own]. After a few moments, the Lead moves of its own accord, 'escorting' its charge forward-- down a sloping ramp and back into the city proper along a raised corridor that disappears between the distant buildings. This will cost you 200 credits. [[This is your last change to turn back.->Transport Hub III]] (if: $Level is 0 or 1)[[[It's time to leave, approach one of the Lead lines.->LeadLeaveSelfPay]]] (if: $Level is > 1)[[[It's time to leave, approach one of the Lead attendants for help, given your armbinder.->LeadLeaveHelpPay]]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/yNfV45r.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> Despite the Lead drawing longer lines, its the trains that take up the largest portion of the platform. They loom sleek and majestic as you approach the security checkpoint, an enslaved Transit Authority attendant working alongside a Truant Officer checking IDs. (if: $TrainPass is false)[You have the 400 credits necessary, but when you try to pass the Truant Officer stops you. No unescorted Freewombs without a transit pass," he explains, brusquely. (if: $Slave is true)["And you're in slave gear too? No slaves on the train, period. Get to the Lead before I work up enough energy to fine you."]](if: $TrainPass is true and $Slave is false)[The security guard looks you over, checking your ID for a moment before waving you the attendant. She smiles brightly. "It will be 400 credits to ride the train, ma'am. And I see you have a pass, that is necessary for unaccompanied freewombs."](if: $TrainPass is true and $Slave is true)[The security guard needs only a look to gesture sharply back the way you came. "No slaves on the train, girl. Doesn't matter if you have a pass, or if you're *really* a freewomb. Get out of here!"] (if: $TrainPass is true and $Slave is true)[[[Damn. You turn around, having forgotten that little detail.->Transport Hub III]]] (if: $TrainPass is false)[[[Damn. You turn around, having forgotten that little detail.->Transport Hub III]]] (if: $TrainPass is true and $Slave is false)[[[This is your last change to turn back.->Transport Hub III]]] (if: $TrainPass is true and $Slave is false)[[[Pay the 400 credits, and board the train.->TrainLeave]]]

The carriage station, tucked away on small corner of the Transport Platform, clearly catered to a more exclusive clientele. Where others wait in lines, you approach the open booth. Within, a collared girl waits, her blue transit uniform gleaming. (if: $Slave is true)[That smile disappears as you walk up. "We do not offer our services to slaves," she reminds you, sharply. "Now clear the line for actual *people* who may need assistance. Despite your slave status being only a technicality of your uniform, it seems this will not be an option.](else:)["Welcome!" She greets, warmly. "Would you be needing a carriage into the city? The cost is a mere 600 credits!"] (if: $Slave is true)[[[You step back and way.->Transport Hub III]]](else:)[ [[This is your last change to turn back.->Transport Hub III]] [[It's time to leave. "I would like a carriage, please."->LeaveCarriagePay]] ]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7Lkt4v0.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> Dusk threatens as you approach the line to the Lead, having waited long enough-- or perhaps merely strategically, saving your credits, for this last and longest path to open. Just what exactly you're in for becomes apparent as soon as you clear the security checkpoint, a Truant Officer examining your ID card before letting you through. The Lead platform is little more then a concrete patch beneath a suspended wire line, from which descend a length of steel cable every few feet. As you watch, those freewombs or slaves capable of hooking their collars to the cables do so-- those too heavily bound(if: $Level is > 1)[ such as yourself] are assisted in the effort by attendants. A few of the waiting chains seem to have empty collars affixed to them as well(if: $Smoke is true or $Sec is true or $Brand is true)[, for outfits such as your own]. After a few moments, the Lead moves of its own accord, 'escorting' its charge forward-- along a raised corridor that disappears between the distant buildings. [[This is your last change to turn back.->Transport Hub III]] (if: $Level is 0 or 1)[[[It's time to leave, approach one of the Lead lines.->LeadLeaveSelf]]] (if: $Level is > 1)[[[It's time to leave, approach one of the Lead attendants for help, given your armbinder.->LeadLeaveHelp]]]

You wait until one of the hanging chains is free, then approach it. With your hands free you don't need assistance at least. (if: $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[You are without a collar, something rectified by aiming for one of those with the implement included. It's not a particularly fun sensation to close the heavy laminate around your throat, but it merely buckles instead of locks, and soon you are secured and ready.](if: $Slave is true or $Blue is true)[As you already wear a collar you need only approach one of the vacant lines. Then its only a matter of snapping the waiting hook to your throat, and you're secured, ready to go.] Just in time too, as your section of the Lead lurches slowly into motion. What now serves as your leash quickly goes taut, requiring you to follow along with several other similarly chained women. The Lead takes you from the platform, collecting together with several others before running united along the raised path through the center of the city. In the distance, downtown awaits. [[The long walk begins.->Lead Walk]]

You wait until one of the Lead's attendants is free, another slave in blue laminate. She waves you over, holding an empty Lead in one hand, gesturing with a white laminate glove. (if: $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[Noticing your lack of collar she prepares one, fastening it first to the line as you step up. The heavy laminate is then closed around your throat, secured by heavy buckles. It might be without a lock, but given your armbinder it's not like you can escape anyway. Either way, you're ready to go.](if: $Blue is true or $Slave is true)[Noticing you're already collared, she merely reaches snaps the Lead to your throat. It might be without a lock, but given your armbinder its not like you can escape anyway. Either way, you're ready to go.] Just in time too, as your section of the Lead lurches slowly into motion. What now serves as your leash quickly goes taut, requiring you to follow along with several other similarly chained women. The Lead takes you from the platform, collecting together with several others before running united along the raised path through the center of the city. In the distance, downtown awaits. [[The long walk begins.->Lead Walk]]

You wait until one of the hanging chains is free, then approach it. With your hands free you don't need assistance at least. (if: $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[You are without a collar, something rectifying by aiming for one of those with the implement included. It's not a particularly fun sensation to close the heavy laminate around your throat, but it merely buckles instead of locks, and soon you are secured and ready.](if: $Slave is true or $Blue is true)[As you already wear a collar you need only approach one of the vacant lines. Then its only a matter of snapping the waiting hook to your throat, and you're secured, ready to go.] Just in time too, as your section of the Lead lurches slowly into motion. (set: $debt to it - 200) What now serves as your leash quickly goes taut, requiring you to follow along with several other similarly chained women. The Lead takes you from the platform, collecting together with several others before running united along the raised path through the center of the city. In the distance, downtown awaits. [[The long walk begins.->Lead Walk]]

You wait until one of the Lead's attendants is free, another slave in blue laminate. She waves you over, holding an empty Lead in one hand, gesturing with a white laminate glove. (if: $Smoke is true or $Brand is true or $Sec is true)[Noticing your lack of collar she prepares one, fastening it first to the line as you step up. The heavy laminate is then closed around your throat, secured by heavy buckles. It might be without a lock, but given your armbinder it's not like you can escape anyway. Either way, you're ready to go.](if: $Blue is true or $Slave is true)[Noticing you're already collared, she merely reaches snaps the Lead to your throat. It might be without a lock, but given your armbinder its not like you can escape anyway. Either way, you're ready to go.] Just in time too, as your section of the Lead lurches slowly into motion. (set: $debt to it - 200) What now serves as your leash quickly goes taut, requiring you to follow along with several other similarly chained women. The Lead takes you from the platform, collecting together with several others before running united along the raised path through the center of the city. In the distance, downtown awaits. [[The long walk begins.->Lead Walk]]

You pay the fee and pass through, stepping out onto the platform yourself. Some load baggage into storage compartments along the sides of the cars themselves, while others move to board. Traveling so lightly, you board, and eventually find yourself a seat. (if: $Level is > 1)[With your armbinder, you need to sit a bit sideways, but you manage.] (if: $Brand is true)[It's nice to get off your feet, at least. Those damn ballet heels.] (set: $debt to it - 400) Before too long last calls are made, and after that the train lurches into movement. Makings it way out from the platform, it quickly breaks free and plunges down-- below streetlevel, into the underground. With every passing moment, you know downtown approachs. [[Torei passes in a blur.->Train Ride]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/n6QsMmO.jpg" width="50%" height="50%"> (set: $debt to it - 600) If you were expecting a horse-drawn carriage, or some Torean analogue, you haven't been paying enough attention. Your carriage is pulled by a quartet of women in full tack and harness, large feathers affixed to their head harness at a jaunty angle. They're mostly nude as well, excepting hooved laminate boots that rise to their knees, and heavy armbinders that pin their arms behind them. Blindered, only one manages a glance at you, but she's clearly more focused on her work as she drools lewdly from the bit gag slotted between her teeth. The carriage itself is sumptuous, a small enclosed cabin being opened by a transit attendant. She helps you up the pair of steps and waits until you sit down before closing the door. The seats are a dark burgundy laminate inset with recessed buttons that give a very archaic, very old fashioned sort of look. A driver had been seated up front, and its she that prompts the ponygirls into action with a crack of her whip. Leaning your head out the window, you can see them high-stepping as they lean into their harnesses, drawing you and the carriage forward. A slight slope brings you back down to the Torean streets, along which you clatter. Every step by the enslaved quartet draws you closer to downtown. [[You settle in for a comfortable ride.->Carriage Ride]]

Your donation is accepted with a nod, Sister Euphoria's red-eyed gaze closing behind deep black lids as she dips her head. "Even the smallest donations are worthy,"" (set: $debt to it - 5) [[A good deed done quietly.->Nun Hub]]

Welcome to *Lost in Laminate*, an interactive fiction story set on the planet Torei-- a (relatively) recently reopened planet infamous for its distinct culture, centered around pervasive slavery and the laminate material. <img src="https://i.imgur.com/4Nj1r8y.png" width="30%" height="30%"> This project assumes zero prior experience with Torei, but it is a shared setting, and has dozens of different stories and artwork already set within it. Hungry for more? Come join us on the dedicated Discord server for more information, by (link: "clicking here.")[(goto-url: 'https://discord.gg/Y9TPgZg')] This is an interactive story, allowing *you* the opportunity to make important decisions along the way. Currently it is over 100,000 words, effectively novel-sized, and is 2/3rds completed. Multiple playthroughs are encouraged, events can differ signficantly! To navigate the story, click the blue highlighted links. You can click the 'back' and 'forward' arrows on the left if you want to change your decision, but don't use the refresh, back, or forward buttons on your browser. And if you enjoy, I *love* hearing feedback. What did you like? Do you have ideas for further scenes? Hit with a comment, or find me on Discord-- several of the included situations were derived purely from reader suggestions! VERSION: 3.2 [[Let's get to it!-->Startup]]

Your destination looms ahead, dark buildings lit by brilliant lights, but the distance to them is quite substantial indeed. It's little wonder the Lead system seemed reserved for slaves, and those freewombs incapable of paying for better transport-- somewhere past the first hour mark of your forced march you're starting to regret going with this particular route. You've been on your feet most of the day after all, and given your outfit that meant doing so in sharp stilleto heels. Your toes ache and your ankles burn(if: $Brand is true)[, the ballet heels you wear making the effort absolutely grueling]. (if: $Level is > 0)[The hobble chain between your ankles doesn't help matters either, the restricted gain requiring nearly double the amount of steps you would have naturally taken.] (if: $Level is > 1)[For once its your armbinder that hardly proves troublesome, your aching arms having gone from acute discomfort to a dull ache somewhere during your actions in town.] At least you have plenty to look at as you march. The Lead winds its way through the buildings of the outlying district, usually upon a platform raised above street level. It almost seemed as if you were on display: leashed and dressed in glossy laminate, paraded past the rare individual still on the streets post-curfew. More are visible within the windowed rooms that look out to the Lead, other offworlders given the perfect opportunity to gaze out upon your sort-- locked into a high tech slave coffle. [[Your march continues.->Lead Walk2]]

Diving down beneath the cityscape, the train reemerges on the far side, apparently running at ground level for the distance between the city center and the outskirts you had just left. The ride itself takes only fifteen minutes, but you cover a considerable distance. Had you taken the Lead, you imagine you may have been walking for *hours.* With your heels, clearly a considerable discomfort had just been avoided. And in that warm feeling of choices well made, you consider the next one before you: the Club and the Way Up. The Black Card had given an address, 356 Cross Street, and a time-- dusk. Both rapidly approached. Despite all your misadventures along the way, you could still make it. The deal of a lifetime with a party unknown could still go down. *If* that was what you still wanted. A safer option presented itself, of course. The ticket you held for the Way Up. It expired at midnight tonight, and to chase the Black Card's promise would be to risk missing your ride. And that was ignoring your battered memory, the mystery that still held sway there. Could you have erased your own recollection of recent events, and tied yourself to that bed, in some attempt to prevent a meeting with that Black Card? Why? Either way, a decision would have to be made soon. Glancing out the window again, you are greeted with another transit hub, much like the one you left in that it had been built on a raised platform. But this one is towered over by the buildings around it, and on approach you can already see the platform is much busier then the outskirts. [[Next stop: Grand Aekora!->Train Ride 2]]

Your trip is made in comfort, and glancing out the window, a fair bit of style too. The carriage was not particularly fast, but the quartet of harnessed girls providing your transport draw eyes which soon fall upon *you.* You had witnessed how rare vehicles tended to be, after all. It's not hard to consider the curiosity that filled those you passed, wondering who had the wealth to travel in style. It's a tantalizing prospect, but one you eventually push aside. The ride itself takes only an hour, but you cover a considerable distance. Had you taken the Lead, you imagine you may have been walking for *hours.* With your heels, clearly a considerable discomfort had just been avoided. And in that warm feeling of choices well made, you consider the next one before you: the Club and the Way Up. The Black Card had given an address, 356 Cross Street, and a time-- dusk. Both rapidly approached. Despite all your misadventures along the way, you could still make it. The deal of a lifetime with a party unknown could still go down. *If* that was what you still wanted. A safer option presented itself, of course. The ticket you held for the Way Up. It expired at midnight tonight, and to chase the Black Card's promise would be to risk missing your ride. And that was ignoring your battered memory, the mystery that still held sway there. Could you have erased your own recollection of recent events, and tied yourself to that bed, in some attempt to prevent a meeting with that Black Card? Why? Either way, a decision would have to be made soon. Glancing out the window again, you are greeted with another transit hub, much like the one you left in that it had been built on a raised platform. But this one is towered over by the buildings around it, and on approach you can already see the platform is much busier then the outskirts. [[Next stop: Grand Aekora!->Carriage Ride 2]]

Flashes of neon blur the train's windows, but from your kneeling position upon the floor you can make out little of the passing scenery. Instead of immediately continuing however, Isabella takes a moment to pull her electronic cigarette from her purse. The tip glows a familiar red as she gets it going, allowing you a moment's rest. [[Ensure your posture is perfect, stick our chest out just a bit further.->SlaveTChest]] [[Glance about the train car, keeping your eyes down.->SlaveTGlance]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/7Lkt4v0.jpg" width="30%" height="30%"> The Lead platform is little more then a concrete patch beneath a suspended wire line, from which descend a length of steel cable every few feet. As you watch, those freewombs or slaves capable of hooking their collars to the cables do so-- those too heavily bound are assisted in the effort by attendants. After a few moments, the Lead moves of its own accord, 'escorting' its charge forward-- along a raised corridor that disappears between the distant buildings. The attendent brings you to a segregated loading position, red marks on the floor spelling out FULL RESTRAINT. Unhooking your leash, Euphoria returns it to her belt as she leans in. "As I said, we will be taking the Lead into town, Sister Azalea. We are slaves, after all, and are not allowed other options. It is traditional within our convent that we do so utilizing Aekora's full restraint package, to which you will be fitted shortly. I would recommend you take the opportunity for self-reflection this trip will provide. Now pull down your muzzle, and open your mouth." [["Do we need... whatever this is, though?"->NunLead3No]] [["Yes, Sister."->NunLeadYes]]

Euphoria's red eyes loom out from beneath the shadow of her habit, catching you in their stern gaze. "You are new to the Order, and I will remember that-- this time. But know that if you speak out of turn again, I will perform corrective action upon you. Women are best seen, not heard, and are we Sisters not that femininity exemplified?" She doesn't give you an opportunity to protest, but instead makes her demand again. "Pull your muzzle down, and open your mouth." You're in too deep now to truly resist. [["Yes, Sister."->NunLeadYes]]

Reaching up, your gloved hands momentarily shift the ring piercing your septum as you seize the laminate muzzle below it. Pulling the thin material down reveals your lips, and while you cannot bear witness yourself, you have seen already upon Euphoria what had been done there-- a paired set of words are carefully written, one one each lip in bright white. **Sinner. Slave.** You cannot speak to another without their being so reminded. But you're not asked to speak here. Instead Sister Euphoria provides you with a black rubber ball, seating it behind your teeth before securing the strap behind your head. The gag is then covered by your muzzle again, a slight bump the only hint that you had been denied speech. Then its the attendant's turn, opening her briefcase to reveal the implements of *full restraint.* Your arms are positioned behind your back then linked together with a small clip that utilizing your cuffs. A chain is then run up, forcing your hands up in a terribly unnatural way, until it can be connected to the waiting d-ring at the back of your collar. The result is a position of reverse prayer, an aching pain already rising in your forearms. Your ankles are given a similar, if less restrictive treatment, the cuffs there being linked together with a short bit of chain. You could still walk, if only barely. "Ah, a familiar experience," Euphoria muses quietly, watching as the final implement is affixed to you: a blindfold of black laminate, returning you to a darkness much like that of the Convent. [["What now?"->NunLead3]]

"Mmmmgh." It's all you can manage, the ball gag very much doing its work. Your moan seems to have drawn Euphoria however, who gently runs her hand along your habit as if it were hair. Her tone is soothing. "Hush. You need only focus on your walking. Without eyes to see, and hobbled as you are it will be difficult." The sound of further metallic rustling announces the Lead's chain running to the system above being snapped to your collar, just before you feel its weight. Euphoria's doing, provided with a final bit of advice. "Let your leash guide you, and remember: I'll be right behind you." That explains the wait that follows, the sounds of Euphoria being similarly restrained drifting back to you. Eventually the attendent inquires if anything further was required, to which the Elder Sister responds with a gagged moan of her own. That would be a no, presumably. You don't have to wait much longer before Lead kicks suddenly into motion, pulling you forward. Stepping, your hobble chain almost immediately goes taut. The Lead hardly cares, requiring a great deal of effort as you struggle to take your next step. Blindfolded, it takes you a longer moment to notice the curving of your leash, the Lead moving to join into a singular track, merging with its fellows as it entered the city proper. Already you're panting. [[It's going to be a long walk.->NunLead4]]

It's little wonder the Lead system seemed reserved for slaves, and those freewombs incapable of paying for better transport-- somewhere past the first hour mark of your forced march you're feeling the effects of your fresh uniform. You've been on your feet most of the day after all, and given your outfits thus far that meant doing so in sharp stilleto heels. Your toes ache and your ankles burn, joining the sharp pain that comes from your strictly pinned arms. Meanwhile the gag between your lips and the muzzle atop it effectively deny breathing through through the mouth, requiring your pierced nose to perform the heavy labor all the while fighting the strict embrace of your corset to pull in oxygen. You cannot help but struggle somewhat, moaning lewdly into your gag as shift your shoulders. All that does is wiggle your breasts, the piercings embedded in each nipple making themselves known as the soft flesh shifts. Had you more control over yourself perhaps you would have considered the way the raised walkway seemed designed to put you on display, the Lead being little more then a high tech slave coffle, your humiliation and submission so clearly demonstrated for any passerby. [["Mmmmh..."->NunLead5]] [[Push your chest out.->NunLead5]] [[Try to pull against the Lead.->NunLead5]]

Another hour passes, and then another. The last rays of sunlight glide along the horizon, running down your body in a glossy reflection amongst the laminate, as the city builds up around you. You're not far now, and that turns your thoughts to the choice ahead. The Black Card had given an address, 356 Cross Street, and a time-- dusk. Both rapidly approached. Despite all your misadventures along the way, you could still make it. The deal of a lifetime with a party unknown could still go down. *If* that was what you still wanted. A safer option presented itself, of course. The ticket you held for the Way Up. It expired at midnight tonight, and to chase the Black Card's promise would be to risk missing your ride. And that was ignoring your battered memory, the mystery that still held sway there. Could you have erased your own recollection of recent events, and tied yourself to that bed, in some attempt to prevent a meeting with that Black Card? Why? Either way, a decision would have to be made soon. The ache in your legs is rewarded by the sight of another transit hub, much like the one you left in that it had been built on a raised platform. But this one is towered over by the buildings around it, and on approach you can already see the platform is much busier then the outskirts. [[You've arrived.->Lead Walk 3]]

The Lead queues you automatically into a one of several offloading terminals, (if: $Level is < 2)[and it is to your great relief that you realize the lines for those capable of unhooking themselves from the Lead such as yourself is much shorter. It takes only a few minutes for the chain leading from your collar to reach its terminus, and the link itself to come loose when you reach up a hand. You're free.](if: $Level is > 1)[although unfortunately the line for those incapable of unhooking themselves from the Lead such as yourself is much longer. It takes another twenty minutes for the slow progress of women before you to reach the attendant manning the station. Reaching up, it is simply a matter of undoing the link that had maintained your bondage-- but your armbinder had prevented that entirely. Nevertheless, you are eventually free.] There are no security checks or other impediments going forward, although the crowds do require some navigating before you pull free, slipping into an empty balcony overlooking the city beyond. [[Welcome to Grand Aekora.->Transit Arrival]]

It does not matter what you do-- the Lead has no mercy. If you fail to step forward, it all but drags you by your leash. The pace is automatically set, and your blindness is ignored.

The sleek train pulls into its station with a mechanical purr, the doors along the right side of each car opening automatically. You rise(if: $Level is > 0)[, your hobble chain snapping taut with each carefully regulated step], making your way out with the other passengers. There are no security checks or other impediments going forward, although the crowds do require some navigating before you pull free, slipping into an empty balcony overlooking the city beyond. [[You've arrived.->Transit Arrival]]

The carriage pulls into the station with the snap of the driver's whip, and a sudden halt in perfect unison by the ponygirls that had pulled you all this way. Your door is opened by a waiting attendent, who offers you a hand as you descend(if: $Level is > 1)[ ,guiding you carefully down given the armbinder you still wore.] There are no security checks or other impediments going forward, although the crowds do require some navigating before you pull free, slipping into an empty balcony overlooking the city beyond. [[You've arrived.->Transit Arrival]]

You focus on yourself, taking a deep breath that your mask and corset make exceedingly difficult. With your eyes down you are presented only with your own image, a creature of black laminate kneeling before her Mistress. You fight the urge to shift your hips, or to make any attempt at shifting the pair of plugs buried deep within your womanhood and rear. Walking from Isabella's bench to the train had slickened your cunt, the muscles their sucking greedily on the laminate phallus. That Isabella had noticed your self reflection is noted with her heeled boot intervening, sliding between your kneeling legs. "Wider," she commands, tapping the inside of your thigh with a toe. "A good slave knows when to spread her legs." [[Spread your legs further.->SlaveTLeg]] [[Try to press your cunt against her toe.->SlaveTC]]

Carefully you shift your head, the mask locked onto your head having killed much of your peripheral vision. This particular train car is perhaps half-filled, and its only then you notice that each of the small seating areas have a place much like the one you currently occupy-- an out of the way position for a slave to kneel in. At least two others like yourself are visible, one of them fully geared in a standard slave suit. Even at this distance, you make out a slight humming sound... which perhaps explained the occasional slight twitch from her hips that you notice. Isabella seizes your attention again by her heeled boot intervening, sliding between your kneeling legs. "Wider," she commands, tapping the inside of your thigh with a toe. "A good slave knows when to spread her legs." [[Spread your legs further.->SlaveTLeg]] [[Try to press your cunt against her toe.->SlaveTC]]

You comply, demonstrating your submission by spreading your legs further. Below your plugs shift subtly, momentarily sending a surge of adrenaline into your veins. Above, Isabella seems satisfied. As the cinnamon scent of her cigarette descends, so does her hand, stroking your head much like one would pet a dog. "You're a natural at this," she muses, pausing as she withdraws her leg. Only then does she reach down, a hand beneath your chin drawing your gaze upward, meeting hers. [["Now tell me once more about this Black Card you have."->IsTrain]]

You seek out the greater pleasure, the mere thought of her toe against your cunt. It's a reward she denies you, drawing her foot up quickly, pressing it against your head. The pressure forces you down, further and further, until your forehead is against the ground. Only then does she release you, a simple corrective action completed. "I appreciate the... enthusiasm, but I expect my slaves to do as I command them to. The alternative is a round of punishment." Her nonchalance never breaks, despite the obvious threat. Instead she takes another draw from her cigarette, the sweet scent of cinnamon descending alongside her hand. It finds purhase beneath your chin, raising it up so that she can meet your gaze. [["Now tell me once more about this Black Card you have."->IsTrain]]

You tell her everything-- it isn't much. Your waking to find the Card, its strange nature, and your initial attempts to make the meeting. Quite obviously, the collar around your neck meant everything had changed in that regard. That's a fact that Isabella makes clear by requesting your ticket for the Way Up, still valid until the end of the day. Holding it up to the light briefly, she then proceeds to rip it in half. "No longer valid," she explains, setting the pieces down. "Offworlder or no, slaves are not allowed anywhere near the Way Up. Were you to somehow show up there, the Ministry of Truants would detain you, and I would be notified to come pick up my property. And I would punish you *severely*, of course." (set: $IsLie to false) That last bit she had delivered with particular venom, leaning in to emphasize the point. It makes the question that follows all the more intense. "Have you seen a... I would hardly call it human. Have you seen a humanoid figure following you, at any time since you woke up this morning? It would be in pure black laminate, perhaps doing... strange things." (if: $Daemon is false)[[["No, Mistress... I have not."->DaemonNo]]] (if: $Daemon is true)[[["I... yes, actually... in this alley..."->DaemonYes]]] (if: $Daemon is true)[[["No, Mistress... I have not."(Lie)->DaemonNo]]]

Isabella stares at you intently, as if reading your very mind through the panel that allowed you to look out from your restrictive mask. What she finds there isn't clear, but she does eventually pull back, returning to a more relaxed position. Holding up the Black Card, the smoke from her cigarette wreaths it in crimson smoke. (if: $Daemon is true)[(set: $IsLie to true)] "Good. Hopefully my suspicions are unfounded then. My curiosity however... let us say it is engaged. We will travel to this address, and we will see what deal you setup and can no longer remember. Besides, it would be good to clear any outstanding obligations you have before you start in on your enslavement proper." [["But... what did you mean, ask about the... creature in black laminate?"->DaemonNoAsk]] [["As you wish, Mistress.->IsabellaRemove]]

"Kamn." It appears to be an explitive of some sort, reading the displeasure that crosses her face. "Well, let us hope I am wrong, and that it is not a Daemon." She pulls back, returning to a more relaxed position. Holding up the Black Card, the smoke from her cigarette wreaths it in crimson smoke. "My curiosity however... let us say it is engaged. We will travel to this address, and we will see what deal you setup and can no longer remember. Besides, it would be good to clear any outstanding obligations you have before you start in on your enslavement proper." [["But... what did you mean, ask about the... creature in black laminate?"->DaemonNoAsk]] [["As you wish, Mistress.->IsabellaRemove]]

"Eyes down." The command is delivered like a whip's snap, even if Isabella remains reclined-- honestly it was quite amazing how easily she slipped into the role of the domineering. "It is none of your concern. If it becomes relevent, we will discuss it at *my* leisure. And if not? I do not need my slave worrying about such things. Is that clear?" [["Yes, Mistress."->IsabellaRemove]]

"Good." She extinguishes her cigratte with a flick of a switch, returning it to her purse. "Now, we're almost at our destination(if: $Level is > 0)[, and I am dreadfully tired of you wearing those time-locked restraints. My slaves are bound in *much* better gear. It's about time we removed them. Remain still]. (if: $Level is 1)["At least you only have that hobble chain. Here, raise your rear." Reaching down, the small indicator light on the chain linking your ankle cuffs flashes-- followed shortly thereafter by the ends snapping open. Removing the chain, Isabella sets it aside, glancing out the window along the way. "And just in time." (set: $Level to 0)] (if: $Level is 2)["An entire day in an armbinder is something of an accomplishment," she intones, circling you. "Raise your rear. It's not a particuarly strict one, however. Perhaps someday soon I'll get you into a proper one." It's hard to follow, but you do notice the small indicator lights on your binder and hobble chain flashing-- followed shortly thereafter by the binder's loosing, and the chain going slack. Isabella pulls them both off, glancing out the window along the way. "And just in time." (set: $Level to 0)] (if: $Level is 3 or 4)["An entire day in an armbinder is something of an accomplishment," she intones, circling you. "Raise your rear. I'm quite pleased you've been pierced as well. Such improvements are mandatory for my slaves." It's hard to follow, but you do notice the small indicator lights on your binder and hobble chain flashing-- followed shortly thereafter by the binder's loosing, and the chain going slack. Isabella pulls them both off, glancing out the window along the way. "And just in time." (set: $Level to 0)(set: $Pierced to true)] Taking up your leash once more, she guides you to your feet. [[You follow.->IsabellaDisembark]]

You follow your black-clad Mistress off the train, merely one of several slaves being led off on leashes in such a manner. While passingly similar to the transport platform you had departed from, this one is much larger, and far more busy. Nevertheless Isabella guides you with purpose, obviously familiar with the place. There are no security checks or other impediments going forward, although the crowds do require some navigating before you both pull free, slipping into an empty balcony overlooking the city beyond. [[Welcome to Grand Aekora.->Transit Arrival]]