Chapter 3

Many of Jason's dinner guests, over the months, had been quite amused to see this new tit-rag, since it really worked well on the heavy breasted Tula, making her try extra hard to thrust out her bust. The covering was minimal- the rag ended just below the nipples, leaving the bottom curve of the breasts, and also the sides completely naked. Yet, any girl of course valued the tiniest covering she was allowed; the most pathetic rag was better than nothing, particularly when serving in the presence of guests or walking the streets on an errand, for a Master. Yet the rag was hard to keep in place, and would slip away when a girl bent forwards, or lent sideways and settle in between her breasts leaving them exposed, again.

Tula, who treasured her modesty like other girls, often felt embarrassed when Jason sent her out with a note between her teeth, and her hands tied behind her back, to run some where quickly. Topless, the weighted rag swinging between her full, jiggling breasts, pussy-patch obviously naked and available under her belly rag, she had often been mistaken for 'a stray' who'd been, lost, or thrown out by her Master. Such girls would often walk the street until rounded up by the men of the City-Lord; recollared, they would be put to work cleaning streets and drains and collecting garbage. Some times, a stray might be pretty enough for a second look, and street hooligans would often times would tie up Tula and fuck and beat her for fun before they believed her protestations that she had a Master, and was only out on an errand. And by then, she'd either lost the note, or swallowed it in fright, earning another beating from her Master.

After thinking about it for months on end, Tula had thought up and taught herself a trick. She was really proud of it, since it was the only important thing she remembered working out all on her own after being collared. Usually she felt too confused, and uncertain to think up new things. Tula's trick was this: she would rotate her body slightly to one side, moving forward at the same time, catching the breast rag with a nipple, and then, turning her chest upward with a jerk so that the second weight would fall over to the other breast, anchoring the rag over the entire bust. Now this took many months of practice to get right, but Tula was now so good at it now, that it had become almost unconscious for her. Jason's friend Marcus, had found the slave girl's efforts at modesty most amusing, and had watched closely several times, declared that there were several benefits that he detected in the trick, and said he was going to have his own girl, Sipa, trained to do it,

First, was the benefits of minute and constant attention to posture, that the clothing arraignment seemed to promote, encourage or even enforce in Tula. Every time the girl demurely repositioned her breast cloth, not only did she, just as quickly and eagerly, thrust out her breasts out to keep the rag in place, but would also unbidden and unsupervised pay renewed and extra attention to the other required rules of her posture, which had effect of keeping her looking hot and available. So even as she adjusted her breast rag, Tula would also keep her belly rags smooth and snug on her right thigh and butt cheek, by raising her knot high on the left hip; part, lick and pout her pink glossed lips afresh; toss her blond hair onto her right cheek so that it half covered one eye, and if she was kneeling, as was often the case, ensure that her thighs were well spread, while finally pushing apart her butt cheeks with her heels.

And in addition, to all this, Marcus pointed out, was an added bonus. The entire performance seemed raise Tula's heat. Indeed the breast cloth could only be in place for long, if it rested on hard, aroused nipples --and Tula's were now constant stiff points.

"You mean she thought this tit-move up? asked Jason, "I didn't think the air head could think. Usually everything has to be explained to her five times, and then she is confused again the next day."

Marcus grinned at that, "You know what I tell my bimbo, all the time? Keep your ears away from the wind blondi, or your head will be cleaned out."

"Sipa?" Jason chuckled, and slapped his hands together at the joke, "I can imagine she'd need to do that! Right you are -- but you've got watch out for water too."

"How do you mean?" asked Marcus.

"You'll see," smiled Jason, "lets ask this bimbo."

"Well, Tula you douche if you get fucked don't you?" Asked Jason.

"Yes, Master," nodded Tula eagerly, fingers going absently to her light shiny blond mane, fluffing it, before fingering her collar.

Marcus looked amused.

"Every time?" he ask, as if surprised.

"Yes, Master," nodded Tula again, more subdued now. She seemed worried.

"And how do you douche?"

"I get on my hands and knees and raise my butt..."

Marcus laughed at her.

"But isn't that what you do to get fucked?" he asked still laughing.

"Yes, Master. Usually Master."

"What do you usually do?"

"Raise my butt to get fucked?" Tula trailed off, biting her lip, looking confused. Marcus laughed uproariously.

"Don't confuse her now," said Jason, shaking a finger at Marcus in mock warning, "Tula, we are talking about what happens after you get fucked, OK?"

"Yes, Master"

"Imagine you've been fucked, right, and you are full of cum. What have I told you to do?"