Jesus, he thought, his waist was normally thirty-two inches! Where the hell was his stomach and liver going to re-locate? He was getting tired of holding his hands over his head and was about to ask for some relief when he heard a "zip" followed by a click of a second lock."What was that?" he asked."It's the lace lock. The laces are folded inside a sac which is zippered to the back of your corset, within a flap which covers the laces. It's locked shut so you can't tamper with the laces, at least not without destroying the corset. I'll warn you now, once and only once, that if you destroy any part of these corsets, you will be punished severely. Got that?"The tone of her voice made it very clear. He did not want the bondage and whipping that he had received earlier on in his training. That was clearly etched in his brain."Yes ma'am," he said. He put his hands down and immediately felt the compression increase in his chest. His breasts were forced upward and outward, while his ass was. It stinks in her innocent ickle upturned nostrils. It stinks up her pretty blonde head. It stinks real bad to her. But she sniffs, and sniffs, and sniffs, her sniffs become deeper, and deeper. Her lips pout a little. She oohhhhhhhs softly. The smelliness is making her vulnerable little mind think strange, un-girly thoughts. Sniff. Sniff. It stinks. It Stinks. She is beginning to want the stinks. It stinks like cravings. It stinks of wet yearning for fetid, unclean Paella. It stinks like a delicacy. The paella deeply, deeply disgusts innocent lickle Shelly. She knows that it is wicked. She knows it will destroy her brain. She hates it so, so much. But it stinks so, so good to her. The cravings begin to work upon her. She tries to resist. She tries so, so hard. Lips part slightly. Lips moisten. Wet tongue laps at lips. Hands claw. Lips whisper no, no, must not eat. Must not. Must not. Must not. But the hot raw stinks of the Paella work upon her, whispering, seducing the delicate lickle.
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