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THE MONIQUE TASMAN STORY
Monique Tasman, the young African-American television actress, was particularly tired when she arrived at home. She had risen early this Friday as one of the scenes from her current program required a retake. A quick breakfast sandwich and orange juice in the car enroute to the studio and she was ready. By lunchtime, with the shooting completed, she made her way to the dance studio for a rehearsal in preparation for next week’s dancing program. At least there was time for a light lunch before the practice and a supper with some of the other dancers after the rehearsal. It had been a busy day. Really, it had been a busy week.
When she arrived at home, Monique filled the tub with a nice warm bubblebath and sat in the water soaking and relaxing for a while. It felt so good that she nearly fell asleep, not only because of the warmth of the water and the scent of the aroma therapy bubbles, but also because of the soft music she had put on in the living room of her Los Angeles apartment. But she caught herself drifting away and got out of the bath. She dried herself with the luscious, thick towel that she had prepared, applied some soft powder all over her body and slipped on a camisole top and panties for bed. She fell asleep almost immediately after she got into bed.
Monique tried to turn in her sleep but she found that she was unable to move. For some reason, she could only remain on her back. She tried to move again, wanting to turn over onto her side, but it was to no avail. She could not move. With her arms over hear head, though, she did stretch and it felt so good. Then she opened her eyes, ever so slightly, before going back to sleep. Sleep did not come, though, since her mind quickly came to the realization that something was amiss. She opened her eyes.
“What the hell,†she said to herself as she came to realize that she was no longer in her bed, her bedroom or even her apartment. She found herself, instead, in some kind of a medical laboratory with stainless steel cabinets, baby blue walls and darkly tinted glass panels and doors. She looked up at her hands only to find that her arms had been secured beside and over her head by leather straps on her wrists and upper arms. Her hands were placed beneath hand grips that she could grasp simply by curling her fingers and placing her thumbs around them. She tried to lift her head and look down the length of her body but found that a leather restraint around her neck prevented her from raising her head more than an inch or two. She was able to look along the sides of her body, though, and see that her legs had been widely separated and secured with leather straps around her ankles and above her knees. Her feet were beyond the end of the table. As she tried to move her body, she found that only her hands and feet would move slightly, and she could turn her head from side to side. She also realized, especially from the coolness of the air around some of her most sensitive parts, that she was naked.
“How the hell did I get here,†she asked herself, “I had a bath at home, went to bed and fell asleep. Maybe it’s only a dream.â€
Once again Monique tried to move, to fight her restraints and to free herself. She took hold of the handgrips and pulled on them with all of her might to free her arms or her legs. But nothing would give. She did not realize that she had activated anything by pulling on the hand grips. To her right, without warning, a glass panel slid open and two large dogs, very similar to Doberman pinchers, entered the room.
“Hey, doggie,†she started, “where is your master?â€
The two dogs, though, paid her no attention and moved to the foot end of the table to which Monique was secured. Unknown to her, a thick meat sauce had been generously applied to her feet and allowed to set while she was unconscious.
“Aaaah, shit,†she cried as she felt one of the dogs start to lick the sole of her right foot. She tried desperately to move her leg and her foot but she could only move her foot about as much as her ankle would allow in its range of motion and that very movement excited the dog even more. A moment later the second dog started to lick the toes of her left foot.
“No, doggies,†she said as softly as she could while trying to ignore the sensations on her feet and looking down the sides of her body, “don’t! That tickles!â€
“No-hoh-, dohohogie, pleeheeheese,†she laughed, “that tihihihickles so-ho bahahad.â€
The two dogs, however, continued to lick the soles her feet from heels to toes, forcing their tongues into every possible crevice between and beneath her toes to get every little bit of the delicious meat sauce. Monique was in agony as the two dogs continues the licking of her pretty size eight feet.
“Hehehelp,†she cried, “pleeheeheese make them stohohohop. I knohohohow you’re thehehere. Pleeheeheese, it tihihickles so bahahad. Aaahahahaha! I’m gohohoing to peeheehee!â€
And so Monique lost control and wet herself. The dogs, of course, took no notice as they continued to lick the thick gravy that had been applied to Monique’s feet. It wasn’t until more than half an hour had passed that the dogs finally finished the relentless licking. Monique was a sweating, straining, panting mess strapped down spreadeagle on the table. She didn’t even notice the dogs leave the room as she tried to catch her breath.
“Hey, whoever you are,†she called out, “I know you’re watching me. Are you happy now? Let me go!â€
But there was only silence. As she continued to call out to the unknown, alternately begging, swearing and trying to reason, she received no response. She was, of course, unable to move. When she recovered some of her strength, though, she tried to struggle against her bonds one again pulling on the handgrips with all her might to see if she could at least loosen a strap on an arm or a leg. It was, of course, to no avail. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Suddenly, she heard the whirring of some machinery coming to life, below her and to the left. She turned her head to look but the neck restraint prevented any useful movement. Then the table began to move, slowly lowering her feet and raising her head to a vertical position. It was particularly uncomfortable to Monique as there was nothing supporting her feet. She could only almost hang there, still secured to the table, but she was able to hold herself by way of the two handgrips. Once she was in a vertical position, she felt a receptacle of some sort, perhaps a bowl, lift into place between her legs and beneath her. Then, as a warm oily fluid began to enter her bowels, she noticed that a hose or tube of some sort had been inserted into her asshole. She had not noticed that before, even though it had been there all the time.
“No, please don’t,†she pleaded, “that’s so nasty! Please leave my ass alone. My God, please. Who are you? Where are you? Please stop this!â€
Over a period of about ten or fifteen minutes, a gallon or more of the oily liquid was pumped into her bowels by the tube up her ass. Monique was miserable, restrained as she was and receiving a major enema without even seeing anyone.
“Aaah, it hurts,†she cried, “please stop! I can’t take anymore!â€
Over her protestations, though, the liquid continued to enter her bowels, causing her to feel very, very full as her abdomen began to distend. It was, indeed, starting to become painful. Then, suddenly, there was a new sensation that came a few minutes after the pumping of the oily liquid into her bowels had stopped. She felt the tube slowly being pulled out of her asshole. The sensation was unbelievable, causing her to squeeze her eyes and grit her teeth.
It wasn’t long before the liquid started to pour out of Monique into the basin positioned between her legs. After she had emptied her bowels, she felt two streams of warm water washing her genitals and her ass. Then the table returned to the horizontal position and Monique was again flat on her back.
“Now what,†she cried to some unknown person, as she saw two spigots, like small taps, descend from the ceiling and position themselves directly over hear breasts. Little drops of water started to fall onto her breasts – drip – drip – drip – drip. She didn’t think much of it for the first fifteen or twenty minutes, noticing only that her nipples had started to harden. After that time, though, it started to become uncomfortable. Her breasts felt as though they were on fire and her nipples felt as if they would explode. Desperately she tried to move her breasts even slightly as the drops continued to land in the exact same spot on each breast over and over again.
“Aaaah,†she screamed, “please, whoever you are, make it stop. I can’t stand it anymore. Aaaah, God, please stop it.â€
She continued to scream, suffer and plead for two and a half hours as the water drops pounded onto her breasts, each one worse than the last. Her whole world had become one of pure agony, and she couldn’t even form the thought to call out and plead anymore. All Monique could do was scream. But finally the dripping of the water did stop and the panting, sweating girl was at last able to recover her breath. Quietly, without speaking, her super sensitized breasts heaving up and down, she lay there on the table and regained her senses.
“My, God,†she cried, “why are you doing this to me?â€
Monique Tasman, the young African-American television actress, was particularly tired when she arrived at home. She had risen early this Friday as one of the scenes from her current program required a retake. A quick breakfast sandwich and orange juice in the car enroute to the studio and she was ready. By lunchtime, with the shooting completed, she made her way to the dance studio for a rehearsal in preparation for next week’s dancing program. At least there was time for a light lunch before the practice and a supper with some of the other dancers after the rehearsal. It had been a busy day. Really, it had been a busy week.
When she arrived at home, Monique filled the tub with a nice warm bubblebath and sat in the water soaking and relaxing for a while. It felt so good that she nearly fell asleep, not only because of the warmth of the water and the scent of the aroma therapy bubbles, but also because of the soft music she had put on in the living room of her Los Angeles apartment. But she caught herself drifting away and got out of the bath. She dried herself with the luscious, thick towel that she had prepared, applied some soft powder all over her body and slipped on a camisole top and panties for bed. She fell asleep almost immediately after she got into bed.
Monique tried to turn in her sleep but she found that she was unable to move. For some reason, she could only remain on her back. She tried to move again, wanting to turn over onto her side, but it was to no avail. She could not move. With her arms over hear head, though, she did stretch and it felt so good. Then she opened her eyes, ever so slightly, before going back to sleep. Sleep did not come, though, since her mind quickly came to the realization that something was amiss. She opened her eyes.
“What the hell,†she said to herself as she came to realize that she was no longer in her bed, her bedroom or even her apartment. She found herself, instead, in some kind of a medical laboratory with stainless steel cabinets, baby blue walls and darkly tinted glass panels and doors. She looked up at her hands only to find that her arms had been secured beside and over her head by leather straps on her wrists and upper arms. Her hands were placed beneath hand grips that she could grasp simply by curling her fingers and placing her thumbs around them. She tried to lift her head and look down the length of her body but found that a leather restraint around her neck prevented her from raising her head more than an inch or two. She was able to look along the sides of her body, though, and see that her legs had been widely separated and secured with leather straps around her ankles and above her knees. Her feet were beyond the end of the table. As she tried to move her body, she found that only her hands and feet would move slightly, and she could turn her head from side to side. She also realized, especially from the coolness of the air around some of her most sensitive parts, that she was naked.
“How the hell did I get here,†she asked herself, “I had a bath at home, went to bed and fell asleep. Maybe it’s only a dream.â€
Once again Monique tried to move, to fight her restraints and to free herself. She took hold of the handgrips and pulled on them with all of her might to free her arms or her legs. But nothing would give. She did not realize that she had activated anything by pulling on the hand grips. To her right, without warning, a glass panel slid open and two large dogs, very similar to Doberman pinchers, entered the room.
“Hey, doggie,†she started, “where is your master?â€
The two dogs, though, paid her no attention and moved to the foot end of the table to which Monique was secured. Unknown to her, a thick meat sauce had been generously applied to her feet and allowed to set while she was unconscious.
“Aaaah, shit,†she cried as she felt one of the dogs start to lick the sole of her right foot. She tried desperately to move her leg and her foot but she could only move her foot about as much as her ankle would allow in its range of motion and that very movement excited the dog even more. A moment later the second dog started to lick the toes of her left foot.
“No, doggies,†she said as softly as she could while trying to ignore the sensations on her feet and looking down the sides of her body, “don’t! That tickles!â€
“No-hoh-, dohohogie, pleeheeheese,†she laughed, “that tihihihickles so-ho bahahad.â€
The two dogs, however, continued to lick the soles her feet from heels to toes, forcing their tongues into every possible crevice between and beneath her toes to get every little bit of the delicious meat sauce. Monique was in agony as the two dogs continues the licking of her pretty size eight feet.
“Hehehelp,†she cried, “pleeheeheese make them stohohohop. I knohohohow you’re thehehere. Pleeheeheese, it tihihickles so bahahad. Aaahahahaha! I’m gohohoing to peeheehee!â€
And so Monique lost control and wet herself. The dogs, of course, took no notice as they continued to lick the thick gravy that had been applied to Monique’s feet. It wasn’t until more than half an hour had passed that the dogs finally finished the relentless licking. Monique was a sweating, straining, panting mess strapped down spreadeagle on the table. She didn’t even notice the dogs leave the room as she tried to catch her breath.
“Hey, whoever you are,†she called out, “I know you’re watching me. Are you happy now? Let me go!â€
But there was only silence. As she continued to call out to the unknown, alternately begging, swearing and trying to reason, she received no response. She was, of course, unable to move. When she recovered some of her strength, though, she tried to struggle against her bonds one again pulling on the handgrips with all her might to see if she could at least loosen a strap on an arm or a leg. It was, of course, to no avail. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Suddenly, she heard the whirring of some machinery coming to life, below her and to the left. She turned her head to look but the neck restraint prevented any useful movement. Then the table began to move, slowly lowering her feet and raising her head to a vertical position. It was particularly uncomfortable to Monique as there was nothing supporting her feet. She could only almost hang there, still secured to the table, but she was able to hold herself by way of the two handgrips. Once she was in a vertical position, she felt a receptacle of some sort, perhaps a bowl, lift into place between her legs and beneath her. Then, as a warm oily fluid began to enter her bowels, she noticed that a hose or tube of some sort had been inserted into her asshole. She had not noticed that before, even though it had been there all the time.
“No, please don’t,†she pleaded, “that’s so nasty! Please leave my ass alone. My God, please. Who are you? Where are you? Please stop this!â€
Over a period of about ten or fifteen minutes, a gallon or more of the oily liquid was pumped into her bowels by the tube up her ass. Monique was miserable, restrained as she was and receiving a major enema without even seeing anyone.
“Aaah, it hurts,†she cried, “please stop! I can’t take anymore!â€
Over her protestations, though, the liquid continued to enter her bowels, causing her to feel very, very full as her abdomen began to distend. It was, indeed, starting to become painful. Then, suddenly, there was a new sensation that came a few minutes after the pumping of the oily liquid into her bowels had stopped. She felt the tube slowly being pulled out of her asshole. The sensation was unbelievable, causing her to squeeze her eyes and grit her teeth.
It wasn’t long before the liquid started to pour out of Monique into the basin positioned between her legs. After she had emptied her bowels, she felt two streams of warm water washing her genitals and her ass. Then the table returned to the horizontal position and Monique was again flat on her back.
“Now what,†she cried to some unknown person, as she saw two spigots, like small taps, descend from the ceiling and position themselves directly over hear breasts. Little drops of water started to fall onto her breasts – drip – drip – drip – drip. She didn’t think much of it for the first fifteen or twenty minutes, noticing only that her nipples had started to harden. After that time, though, it started to become uncomfortable. Her breasts felt as though they were on fire and her nipples felt as if they would explode. Desperately she tried to move her breasts even slightly as the drops continued to land in the exact same spot on each breast over and over again.
“Aaaah,†she screamed, “please, whoever you are, make it stop. I can’t stand it anymore. Aaaah, God, please stop it.â€
She continued to scream, suffer and plead for two and a half hours as the water drops pounded onto her breasts, each one worse than the last. Her whole world had become one of pure agony, and she couldn’t even form the thought to call out and plead anymore. All Monique could do was scream. But finally the dripping of the water did stop and the panting, sweating girl was at last able to recover her breath. Quietly, without speaking, her super sensitized breasts heaving up and down, she lay there on the table and regained her senses.
“My, God,†she cried, “why are you doing this to me?â€
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