“Next!”

 At Smith’s barking command, the next woman in line stumbled forward, uncertainly. Behind her, the rest of the women forming the long line that stretched down and around the corridor and out of sight took a couple steps forward, those close enough to see watching what would happen with mounting dread as they got a foretaste of what would happen when their turn came.

 “Don’t move!” Smith growled as he positioned his current subject in the center of his workspace. She was a short, slender thing, with mousy brown hair pinned back in a large, curly mass spilling across her shoulders. A pair of large round glasses were placed atop of pert, freckled nose. Her outfit was conservative: a brown cardigan over a white blouse, long tweed skirt, stockings or hose and sensible flats. A librarian, or perhaps a more modest secretary. But Smith could see that under her humble demeanor she was pretty enough. They wouldn’t have picked her up otherwise.

 Miss Librarian was trembling with fright, her eyes wide with shock as if she couldn’t believe how she’d wound up in a place like this. She looked like she desperately wanted to say something, to beg to be let go or just ask what was going to happen to her, what they were going to do with her, but all that escaped the thick bands of tape covering her lips was a quiet whimper. Behind her back, her hands tugged fruitlessly at the cuffs locked around her wrists.

 Her distress was only increased as Smith and his assistant came at her with heavy duty shears. In moments, the frumpy clothes she’d been wearing were reduced to tatters on the floor. As Smith’s assistant quickly swept them into a small chute on one side of the floor, he took a moment to admire the petite but quite pretty naked figure that had been formerly hid. The young woman hung her head, cheeks flushed red beneath the silver tape.

“Armbinder.” Smith called. His assistant nodded, grabbing a heavy leather sheath from a crate which contained a dozen or so identical restraints. More crates, unopened, stood ready nearby when the current one was exhausted. From his belt, Smith took a small universal handcuff key and unlocked the shackles chaining the young woman’s hands. His assistant was ready nearby to grab hold and keep her restrained. This one didn’t look like the kind to cause trouble, but you never could tell, really. The shackles were tossed into a bin, containing the cuffs from the previous women who’d already passed through.

Meanwhile, Smith took the arm binder and positioned the open end underneath her trembling fingers and began to guide it upwards, enveloping her hands, then forearms and upper arms. The going got hard towards the end, as the arm binder narrowed at the bottom, gradually forcing her arms closer and closer together and yanking her shoulders back. This had the pleasant side effect of forcing her to thrust her chest forward, making her small, but perky breasts stand out all the more. As Smith went to work, fitting and tightening the shoulder straps and the laces which ran down along the length of the armbinder, bringing it from merely strict to crushingly tight, he couldn’t help but cop a quick feel, eliciting a muffled squeal from young lady.

“You’ll need to get used to this.” Smith told her, chuckling. “Belt.” He nodded to his assistant. From another open crate, the young man grabbed what appeared to be two leather belts, sewn together to form a large T. One of these went around the captive girl’s slender waist, tightened so it lay taut against her bare skin, leaving the other dangling from the front, down between her legs.

“Plugs.” The young woman had seen this process before, when the young redhead who’d been in line ahead of her had gone through the process, but even so, she shook her head as she saw the long, thick rubber plugs come out of their own crate, grunting into the tape gag frantically. Such begging had done the other women little good and was equally futile on her part.

The assistant took told of the captive, keeping her in place as Smith casually rubbed a dab of lube over both plugs and then, one at a time, positioned them between the young woman’s legs and pressed upward, drawing another indignant squeal as they slid in easily enough. As soon as both had disappeared, Smith pulled the strap between her legs and attached it to a short buckle, dangling from the end of her armbinder, tugging until she yelped again before securing it in place.

Next was the hood. The young woman whimpered as she saw the thick leather hood turned inside out, revealing the built in plug gag. “Mmmnn-No please...ple-Mmmmppphhh!!!” She had time for a quick plea, which was ignored, in the moment from when the tape was pulled off her lips until the tip of her new gag was pressed against them. She fought a moment to keep this third intruder out, but eventually she was forced to open her mouth and allow the thick gag in, until it filled it completely, making her gag slightly. The rest of the hood was soon pulled over, convering her head completely, but for a small slit beneath her nose to allow her air. Grunts and sobs, significantly softer then before, escaped the hood as the straps and laces were tightened, so the leather pressed tightly against her from all sides.

The final piece was a thick collar, buckled snug around her throat, covering the opening of the hood. A short chain leash was clipped to the front. As Smith sent her shuffling forward, made awkward by the plugs strapped tight between her legs, she stepped through an open door into the next corridor. Waiting on the other side was a long line of women secured just like her: naked apart from the hoods over their hands and the armbinders restraining them. Another main waiting on the other side of the door took her leash, pulling her to stand behind the last girl and clipped the front of the leash to the back of her collar. Then the door swung shut once more.

“Next!” Smith called. Unwillingly, a frightened girl with long, straight black hair dressed like a salesgirl in white blouse and black pants shuffled forward, her turn having finally come. Smith and his assistant soon had her out of those clothes and were strapping on the armbinder when one of the superiors came by.

“You need to hurry up!” The man growled, noting with distaste the long line of girls and women still waiting to be processed. “The collection teams are going to be bringing in another 50 girls this afternoon. No ones going home till all of them are processed and stored away!” Without giving Smith a chance to respond, he turned and walked away.

“Geez…” Smith grumbled, yanking the crotch-strap on the current girl tighter with a bit more vigor then was strictly needed, making her squeal. “Talk about a real slave driver…”