A/N: I wrote 01-05 in two days so if there are plot holes, I apologize.
A display restaurant? Emma had never been to one. Never even seen one. The perils of living in a small town was that she didn't get exposed to such things. Her 3 semesters at Clarkson, meeting Scott, his proposal, the wedding, it all still felt like a dream sometimes.
Scott seemed to be quite excited though. He picked out an outfit for her. Since married women weren't allowed to touch their piercings without permission, he had to dress her. First, he put on the dark red collar. Instead of her name, he clipped her "fuckpuppy" tag onto it, letting her know that for the rest of the night, not only would she be in puppy mode, she would have to respond to the name "Fuckpuppy".
Then, he pulled her arms behind her and put them into a red leather sleeve that bound her arms close together from elbow to wrist, forcing her to stick her chest out. The position was very uncomfortable, but Emma knew she would have to get used to it if she wanted to be a good submissive wife.
Next, Scott brought out the spray-on tattoo gun and sprayed the words "painal slave" on her stomach and her lower back. He made her spread her legs, then attached two soft silicone clamps on her pussy lips. He clipped a silver chain on each of them, ran it around the outside of her thighs, then attached them to another two clamps in the back to keep her pussy wide open. Scott stood back for a moment, then took a few moments to spray on a few more tattoos, decorating Emma's thighs and flat stomach with stars. The final touches were the red stiletto boots that went up to Emma's knees, and a burgundy cloak that he swung around Emma's shoulders.
"There's something missing," he mused. "Oh, I know!"
He pulled a penis gag from the rack. Emma opened her mouth obediently and let him insert it. It pressed against her palate and tongue comfortingly, reminding her of the time at Clarkson's she spent getting comfortable with constant submission.
Unlike Emma, Scott was fully dressed. He wore a burgundy long-sleeved shirt that matched Emma's cloak, and black trousers that accentuated just how long his legs were. The sleeves did nothing to hide his large biceps that could manhandle Emma so easily. She felt very submissive, very small, very happy.
"Alright, time to go," Scott said at last, pleased with himself. He clipped Emma's leash to her clit, a silver one as well, then led her out of the house.
The cloak was long enough to hide most of Emma's body, but the clit leash unmistakably snaked out from the lower part of the front opening, indicating that she was clit led. Scott, when he was younger, had the privilege of learning how to lead a girl by the clit by practicing on the gardener's painslut. He used what he learned now, careful to leave enough slack that wouldn't damage Emma, but also pull at a rate that would keep Emma constantly aware of her pierced glans and give her an incentive to follow closely.
The passenger's seat was still damp with Emma's juices from the drive over. Scott lifted her and she spread her legs obediently, letting him guide her holes down onto those large cocks. She moaned through the gag, a little bit of drool escaping her mouth as her pussy and shitter were filled with silicone. With her arms bound tightly behind her, she had no choice but to lean forward a little, which made the toys press together inside her.
Scott petted her hair, pride in his eyes, then pulled the seat belt around her to buckle her in.
Emma closed her eyes. She was bound, impaled, decorated, soon to be humiliated in front of a lot of people, but her pussy was gushing from the thought of it, eager because it knew that Scott only had her best interests in mind and it was good for her to embrace her inner pup.
"That's a good Fuckpuppy," Scott praised. He got in at the driver's seat then started the car.
--
The drive took forty minutes. It was forty tortuous minutes of having her young holes filled, but unsatisfied. The bells that hung from her nipples jingled every time she squirmed, seeming to fill Scott with pleasure.
Emma watched the scenery go by, trying not to think too much about how every passing car could see that she was gagged. The trees grew sparse, replaced with buildings as they reached the city.
The Daschund was converted from what seemed to be a small warehouse closer to the industrial side of the city. There was a large sign over the entrance that said "THE DASCHUND" followed by "Display Restaurant" in smaller letters. Scott had to park a little further from the entrance, passing by John's car as they did so. He got out to help Emma out of her special seat.
Emma moaned as her holes were lifted off the dildos. She was sure that both of them were gaping wide open. Scott set her down carefully on the asphalt and she shivered lightly, glad for her cloak.
"It'll be better in the restaurant," Scott told her with a comforting pat on her bottom.
He took hold of her leash and gently guided her across the parking lot towards the entrance.
There were a few men and their wives waiting for a table. All of the young women were leashed in one way or another and all wore some sort of warm covering. Emma didn't doubt, however, that all of them were similarly bare and decorated like her under their cloaks or shawls.
"You made it! Just in time!" John called from the front of the line. He waved Scott and Emma over to where he was standing with Carla, who was collared, leashed and gagged like Emma.
"Four people for Bell, please," he told the receptionist.
The receptionist, a pretty woman who wore an employee collar, nodded. She consulted the list and then pressed a button to summon a waitstaff. She motioned for them to head on inside.
The main entrance had double doors with frosted glass that most of what went on inside. So Emma wasn't quite sure what she was expecting. John held the door open for everyone else. Emma tottered in, led by Scott, followed by Carla, who turned around to wait for John.
"This is the coat room," John said.
There were at least twenty different pieces of outerwear on pegs behind the counter where a young man sat. He smiled at them.
"Welcome to the Daschund, you can check your coats and cloaks here!" he announced. John was already unfastening Carla's covering and handing it over.
Emma couldn't help but stare.
During the short few hours between the visit from their new neighbours and coming to the restaurant, John had seen fit to decorate Carla's generous chest with lashes from a cane. Carla wasn't wearing a tit support strap, instead, John lifted her nipple chain and hooked it onto the front of her gag, pulling her tits upwards sharply. The bottoms of her breasts had not been spared either. Permanent marker had been used to scrawl "CUMBUCKET" on the top of her right hip, and "FUCKMEAT" on the top of her left hip. Her bottom had been caned as well, the redness of her pale skin accentuated by the gold chains that John had draped around her stomach and hips. Between her legs, large weights hung from her pussy lips.
"That looks amazing," Scott said with admiration.
