Justine's head pounded. The urge to vomit was stronger than ever; no sooner had she woken up than she was overcome and dry-heaved onto the floor. She heaved again, and then a third time before the urge finally passed. Oh, god. I'm going to die if I keep drinking like that.
Her head still clouded by pain, Justine moved to stand up, but stumbled when her arms refused to support her. "Ow! W-what...?" As the fog lifted, she realized that her hands were restrained behind her back by cool metal cuffs. "But how--oh!"
No longer clad in her skin-tight, urine-soaked catsuit, Justine now wore a purple-and-black corset cinched tight around her waist; no doubt a contributor to the aches in her body she currently felt. She tried to stand again, now aware of her restraints, and pushed herself onto her unsteady feet, which were now adorned in a pair of high heels that matched the color of the corset. Straps secured around her ankles prevented her from simply kicking them off.
Justine sighed as a new worry began to fill her. Her captor, or maybe an accomplice, had to have changed her out of the catsuit while she was passed out. But with her hands cuffed behind her back and her torso in a stiff corset, draining the rest of the tequila from that tank was going to prove more troublesome than ever.
Sun Mar 11 15:38:20 2012