Im not sure exactly what it is about her here (besides the hair, obviously) but something just makes her look totally different. Regardless, I cant wait until we get to this point in her story, if it is a point in LC.
First, I love the watercolor-esque effect employed in the rendering of this scene/panel!
Second, I like the mystery in this scenario as to if this is a glimpse of what Allison might look like after years have passed and has long forgotten her old male self and his merc lifestyle and the forced feminization experience he endured and the sex-slave conditioning which followed or if this might be a parallel universe Allison whom we may never see in a future issue of Lighter Chains, 'cuz her timeline diverges at some point away from where LC Allison's future ultimately leads?
The expression on her face as she looks down at the inverted spigot of the water faucet (which kinda looks like an erect penis with the water coming out evoking ejaculate or perhaps urine) is priceless!
I think she's just figured out she's no longer collared. I wonder how long it took her to realize her new freedom. Could be that morning, could be a few days... when the chains get light enough one stops noticing.
As she's staring at the water faucet spigot, I can't help hearing her inner voice saying: "Why does everything remind me of him?*"
(my fanfic synopsis for this is that perhaps Torrin has cut her off from their routine sexual encounters and has found interest in a new initiate kept unknown to her (or maybe she is aware). The longer he denies her sexual satisfaction, the more she craves it -- and especially with him. She has tried it with other partners (being that she is, afterall, a succubus designed to be the sexual outlet for others who want it with her), but none of them so completely please her quite like he does. Now, she wanders the empty halls of her palace apartment (more of a very spacious penthouse suite, wherein she's involuntarily cloistered, tormented by the sight of otherwise innocent-looking inanimate objects that her sex-starved mind ever-increasingly sexualizes -- like this inverted water faucet spigot we see in this image. Moments earlier, it was the sudden, and unyieldingly solid, impact of the knob standing at attention at the end of the handrail at the bottom of the staircase -- said handrail that she rode down quite unladylike, lasciviously lubricating its woody length with the juices from her pantiless, and now always moist pussy. Moments from now, it'll be the handle of the exquisitely ornate hairbrush that she retrieves from her vanity drawer to straighten her hair that really doesn't need to be straightened, but she's compelled to do so anyhow in her mad desperation to get those invasive thoughts out of her head -- but to no avail, because they just latch onto the handle of that hairbrush
And so on like this for all the hours of the day and night...
When will Torrin at long last show mercy and free her from this torturous and constant torment she can only just endure and finally give her the epic fucking that she's gone so very long without?
