“ONE CAR IN the driveway,” Chantrea whispered from her perch in the tall grasses to my right. I nodded. The red Mercedes - a midlife crisis car if I’d ever seen one - was parked in the well-lit driveway of the sprawling exurban home. The BMW, the wife’s car, had been away since the afternoon.
“No security system you could see?” she asked for maybe the third time.
“Not so much as one of those doorbells with the little camera.” Some of the neighbors had cameras set up, but I had picked out a route between the house’s side door and where we’d parked that should allow us to avoid any of their fields of view.
“Left your phone at home?”
“Of course. I even have my roommate checking Twitter for me now and then.”
“Well, Clover, who doesn’t love a little breaking and entering on a summer’s night?” Chantrea grinned.
“No time like the present,” I agreed. “Let’s get the bastard.” My soft voice didn’t reveal the rush of anticipation I felt, a heady mixture of excitement and fear. We may have been embarking on a home invasion and robbery, but the guy completely deserved it. I was still nursing some bruises from what he’d done to me, in fact.
We pulled our dark cloth masks over our heads and crept along one side of the front yard. There was a breeze coming off the sea, stirring the long rushes planted there. I could hear the waves lashing the shore, below a short cliff at the edge of the house’s backyard.
I allowed the lovely Chantrea and her well-muscled arms the honor of prying the side door open with a crowbar. I grinned under my mask when no alarm sounded. The two of us raised our metal batons, and I pulled out my pepper spray, as we advanced into the house in search of Mister Jack Dormer. After all, we owed each other. I owed him a thorough beatdown, and he owed me a hundred twenty dollars. Plus as much interest as we could carry.
The modern-looking house wasn’t exactly a McMansion, but I got the sense the restraint was born out of taste rather than a lack of funds. It was still huge, compared to anywhere I’d lived. We were pretty sure Dormer would be in one of the bedrooms upstairs this late at night, so we padded our way through a well-appointed kitchen and a dining room with a massive wooden table in search of the stairs. The house was dark, and when Chartrea bumped into the corner of an end table in a plush den, I couldn’t help but gasp. It knocked against the wall with a muffled thump, but she caught the ornamental jug perched on top before it fell to the floor. Crisis averted, we found the foyer and ascended the gently-curving staircase. No creaky floorboards in this house, happily enough for us.
No sooner had we stepped upstairs when the tall, wiry figure of Jack Dormer stepped out into the broad hallway and turned on the lights. He jumped at the sight of us, and we rushed at him, Chantrea in front. He was completely nude - all the better for our purposes. We hardly had any compunctions against cheap shots.
But as Chantrea reached him, swinging her baton, he leaned backward to avoid the hit, then sprung forth, catching her in the belly with a wicked punch. Winded, she fell back. I tried to advance on him myself, clutching the bright pink pepper spray canister, but the hallway wasn’t quite wide enough to give me a good shot. Before I could push past Rea, Dormer lunged to wrap his arm around her neck. As he punched her twice more in the stomach, I sprayed at his eyes, but the angle was bad and he only squinted, eyes watering.
“Throw down your weapon or I break one of her fingers!” he cried. “No, I will break one of her fingers anyway!” He grabbed Rea’s middle finger and bent it backward, eliciting a scream. I froze, and heard an audible snap. At that I dropped the pepper spray and the baton, and threw myself at the pair of them. But he was quicker, and shoved Rea at me. We went down in a tangle of limbs, and Dormer, practically frothing at the mouth, kicked at us over and over. Rea grabbed his foot and pushed it upward just as he kicked out, and he stumbled against the wall.
Gasping, the two of us stood, only to find a woman had appeared between us and the staircase. She was short, dark-skinned. She was the wife whose car was missing, who we’d thought was away, and she was holding a stocky baton and fixing us with a steely look.
Desperate, Chantrea charged at her. But the woman barely even flinched as she jabbed the weapon into Rea’s flank, sending her writhing to the floor. It had delivered an electric shock, I realized. In the next second, Jack caught up with me. He wrestled me to the floor easily, pinning me beneath him.
“What the fuck do you mean by this, this attack?” he spat, furious. I struggled against his grip as he tugged off my mask and recoiled at the sight of my face. “Oh.”
“Oh?” his wife asked testily. She was wearing a thin, skintight bodysuit. It was cut low, with shorts almost to the knee and spaghetti straps, almost exactly the same dark brown as her skin. She’d briefly entered one of the rooms along the hallway and retrieved a few pairs of leather-padded cuffs, which she was fastening to Chantrea’s wrists and ankles. “If you have any insights, please do enlighten me.”
“It’s not a big deal, Mona,” Jack growled. “Just get them secured.”
“He fucked me, actually,” I mumbled. “For money. But he got rough and he didn’t pay me either. If you just let us go the cops don’t have to get involved.”
Both of them were silent for a moment. Mona sighed, scowling. “He didn’t pay you, so you come here to collect?”
“Look,” Jack interrupted, “she’s just a pathetic tranny bitch. She doesn’t have a leg to stand on here. Even if we were gonna call the cops it’s not like she could prove anything.” He rolled his still-watering eyes.
“I see your point, but we aren’t finished talking about this. Help me get them downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” I asked, but Jack cuffed me across the side of my face. My vision swam for a moment.”
“You could stand to be a little gentler,” Mona admonished him as she cuffed my wrists behind my back. “As I’ve told you before.”
“Yeah, well,” Jack muttered, hauling me to my feet. Mona pointed the Taser at me as Jack hoisted the insensate, bound Chantrea over his shoulder. His unimpressive dick was rock-hard, I noticed. But he was hardly about to do anything with his wife right here and the police soon to be on the way.
We marched downstairs, through the foyer and into a living room. Mona flicked on the lights. Jack placed Rea on a leather sofa and crossed the room to a heavy-looking, glass-fronted bookcase. Mona and I followed as he fumbled at its side for a moment, then pulled it out from the wall. It swung away easily, on hinges, to reveal a red-lit concrete stair plunging steeply downward.
Suddenly I was afraid of more than just the police getting involved. “What the fuck -” I started to ask, and then Jack gave me a hard shove through the opening. I would have been pitched down the stairs head first, unable to throw out my hands, if he hadn’t caught the chain of my handcuffs and yanked me back.
“Honestly, Jack,” Mona sighed as he returned to Chantrea and hoisted her up.
“Whore needs to learn when to keep her mouth shut,” he spat.
My heart was still racing from the close call as Jack took Chantrea down the stairs. Mona and I followed, and she pulled the bookcase closed after her. The tunnel was lined with red, emergency-style lighting. “Watch your step, it’s steep.” Indeed, I was almost impressed at Jack’s ability to carry someone as heavy as Chantrea down them, but he was doing so easily. He’d surprised both of us with his strength earlier, and now we were going to pay for it, although I still wasn’t sure exactly how.
I hadn’t been expecting a basement rec room, but the space behind the heavy door at the bottom of the staircase still took me by surprise. We stood in a wide hallway tiled with white linoleum, the ceiling low. The wall opposite the door we’d come in was entirely made of wide vertical and horizontal, a thirty-foot-long, floor-to-ceiling window looking onto a larger space. A door was set into each end of the bars, a short flight of stairs set below each one onto the lower floor of the bigger room. The door to the stairs up was near the left end of the hallway, and there was a similar door on the same side of the hall to the right, as well as a sliding closet door near the middle. There were doors at either end of the hallway as well.
The revelation of this bizarre facility buried under the Dormer house did nothing to quell my pounding heart. Neither did Jack’s next proclamation.
“I’m going to take - what was it, Trixie?” He didn’t wait for me to correct my name. “Take her into the dungeon and give her a little payback for that pepper spray.”
“Jack, honestly,” Mona frowned. “We have to cover our tracks, find out if anyone might know where they are. Surely you can have your fun tomorrow.”
Jack scoffed. “Look, why don’t you ask the big one a few questions while I take care of my business with the tranny? Here, hold on.” He placed Chantrea, still insensate, on the tiled floor of the hallway, and grabbed me by the arm.
“I’ll be right back to help you get her into the centipede room.”
“Centipede room?” I asked incredulously as I was dragged through one of the barred doors to the larger space below. I had to get out of this place.
Casually, Jack gave me a backhanded cuff across the face. “No one said you could talk, bitch.” In response, I twisted, wrenching my arm out of his grasp. He’d started down the stairs hastily, and his footing wasn’t very stable, and since I was behind him I took the chance to kick him as hard as I could in the stomach. He grabbed at the railing, but I didn’t stick around to see how bad his fall was down the short staircase before turning to run.
Mona stood between me and the stairs out, looking almost bored as she raised her taser. “Sweet thing, you’re only making things -” I cut her off by charging at her, going low in an attempt to knock her feet out from under her. She stepped almost lazily to one side and kicked me to the ground, then bent down and jabbed the stun baton into my neck.
My entire body seized up. I writhed on the floor, trying to work the cramped feeling out of my muscles. I don’t know how long it was before I found myself draped in Jack’s muscled arms as he took me downstairs. I protested weakly, but he paid me no mind.
Through a throbbing headache, I took in my surroundings. The “dungeon” was a large concrete room, a few drains set into the floor. The main area was thirty feet long by twenty deep. Below the wide, iron grid window, between the two staircases, was a low, wide arch with a few concrete steps spanning its width, leading down into an alcove below the hallway in which I spotted a couple shower heads sticking out from the walls. On the opposite side was another alcove, separated from the main space by two wide pillars, rising into arches over the three openings. A small laptop rested on a wheeled cart set in front of one of the pillars. The rest of the main space was filled with what I realized was bondage equipment. Steel shackles were fixed to the walls in many places, allowing ropes or chains to be attached; a few wooden or metal frames with straps or shackles stood in corners, some with padding in certain areas; a whole rack of various whips, paddles, gags, and other paraphernalia stood against one of the staircases; there was other equipment placed around the room I didn’t recognize. It really was a full-blown dungeon concealed under an otherwise normal suburban home.
I expected Jack to bring me to one of the pieces of equipment here, but instead he eagerly carried me through one of the arches into the empty alcove. Fifteen feet wide, semicircular past the first five or six feet of straight wall, the vaulted ceiling lowering in a dome toward the back. I thought so, anyway. The ceiling was painted a deep black, such that I could hardly see the shape.
Standing at the center of the room with me in his arms, he spoke. “Alexa, hold her.”
My first thought was “weird they would keep a wiretap in their secret underground dungeon.” Then the dark ceiling stirred and convulsed. “What the fuck is that?” I demanded. My question was answered in the next moment as half a dozen strands of the dark material extended down from above. I screamed, piercing, as the tentacles wrapped around my wrists, ankles, and waist, hoisting me into the air. They were a couple inches thick, with a slick outer coating over some kind of padding or fat, and a stiff, rock-hard core.
Jack had no comment beyond a satisfied nod before he wheeled the little laptop cart in with us.
“What is this? Is this alive? Please, tell me what’s going on.” I begged him, but he was preoccupied with the computer.
“I told you to shut up,” he said after a moment. “Trust me, you’re going to regret every word you say. Starting with those, hm, twelve.”
“Jack, come on. This isn’t - this isn’t a proportional response,” I insisted. Just then, he looked up from the computer as the tentacles acted. Two additional tendrils, thinner, with one sharp edge, descended upon me. Rapidly, they wormed under my clothes and flicked outward, cutting them open. My cotton t-shirt, my jeans, even my leather jacket and combat boots were in a matter of moments lying slashed apart on the floor. I was left in nothing more than a black sports bra and rose pink, bikini-cut panties. (About an inch on the sides were replaced with double-strings, which I’d thought was so cute that I’d shoplifted about ten pairs. I wasn’t feeling so cute about them now.)
My position in the air was also adjusted. I’d been in a more or less neutral, upright position in the center of the alcove. Now I was lowered closer to the floor, my upper body almost horizontal, my wrists held up by my head, bent at the knees and waist almost like I was kneeling, legs spread wide. The tentacles wrapped around my upper arms, wrists, knees, ankles, and collarbone. Horrified by these developments, I screamed again, took a breath, and screamed some more. This had to be some terrible nightmare!
“Bitch, cut that out.” Jack returned from the main dungeon room holding a bright pink orb. It was a ball gag, I realized. He tried to stick it in my mouth, but I clamped my teeth firmly shut. He cuffed me across the face, lightly, then again, sharper, when I didn’t react. He seemed disapprovingly silent as he stepped over to the computer again.
“Wait!” I cried, realizing he was going to make the tentacles do something more.
He gave me an exasperated look. “What, now you want to cooperate?” he said nastily. I didn’t say anything as he came back over to me and wedged the gag between my teeth, buckling the leather straps behind my head. The gag was huge, rigid. It was coated in rubber, but whatever was underneath was quite hard, and my jaw was held open uncomfortably wide.
He stepped back to take in the sight of me, walking in a slow circle around where I was suspended. When he returned to my field of view, he was idly stroking his penis. He looked me in the eye for the first time since he’d placed me here, and smiled. “I bet you’ve got some regrets now, little bitch, and they’re only going to get worse.”
He came closer and placed his hand on my cheek, still sore from when he’d hit me. I tried to hold his gaze, but his gaze was disturbing, cold but practically shaking with excitement. Or was it that I was shaking with fear?
“Me, though,” he whispered, “I don’t have any regrets at all. Actually, I think I’ve been waiting for you. You’re one of the hottest bitches I’ve ever laid hands on. I think I’ve been waiting for you, even.” I blinked tears back from my eyes as he stepped back and gave me an evil smile. “Although you really know how to make things worse for yourself. I mean, talking out of turn, that’s something most bitches will do now and then. Keeps things interesting, punishing them for it. But the pepper spray? Pushing me down the stairs back there? You’re really going to pay for that.” I found I couldn’t stop myself from crying, turning away from him as much as I could in a futile attempt to hide the tears.
When he stopped talking, I glanced back. He was carefully rolling a condom onto his dick - which was bizarre because it looked like he had already put one on.
“Yeah,” he said when he saw me looking. “I’m not typically big on condoms but in this case I really want the protection.” I wasn’t sure what he meant. He picked up some kind of lotion and applied it to his crotch, belly, and inner thighs where the condom didn’t cover. Then, pulling on a pair of latex medical gloves, he added, “Alexa, remove her bra.”
In moments, my bra was slashed apart and on the floor with the rest of my clothes. I moaned through the gag, wishing I could disappear. My B-cup breasts flopped down, hanging below me. Jack grinned at me and picked up a little bottle, lube, I thought, and walked behind me.
I cringed as he yanked my panties down. My cock flopped out too as he squirted cold lube into my asshole. Then his dick began poking around my buttocks, and he slid it in. I resisted, but he reached around my hips and grabbed my nipple, twisting it cruelly. His gloved hand was cold and he got lube on my boob. In my surprise, I relaxed for a moment, and gave him the opportunity to slip his dick through my anus. I cried out, muffled as it was by the gag.
Shamefully, I realized my own dick was stiffening a little. Despite being frightened, exhausted, and in pain, the sensation of getting fucked in the ass was one I couldn’t help but enjoy at least a little bit. Although his dick was larger than I remembered, I thought. The pressure from it was painful.
No, wait. It wasn’t his dick at all. A horrible burning sensation was rising within me! When I began to feel it on my nipple too, I realized what was going on. The lube he’d used was hurting me, hurting a lot!
When I squealed through my gag, Jack laughed and slapped my ass. “Feeling it, bitch? This is for getting goddamn Mace in my eyes!” He thrust, hard, as he squirted some more lube onto his gloved hand and reached around my hips again. He slathered the caustic gel liberally onto my nipples, then fondled my penis. I howled, knowing how much pain I would soon be in, and he laughed again. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he told me, giving my slightly stiff dick a few more strokes.
In fact I hadn’t known how much pain I would be in. The burning sensation from my most sensitive areas, especially from my clit and within my ass, tore through my whole consciousness. I was barely even aware of him pleasuring himself in me by now. I struggled and pulled against the tentacles holding me rigidly in place, desperate at least to touch my own body, wipe off the lube, anything, but to no avail. I was powerless to resist. I bit into my gag as my jaw clenched hard, tears streaming down my face.
What felt like hours later, but was probably well under fifteen minutes, Jack came in me. He pulled out with a primal hoot and pulled my panties back up high, getting them wedged in my ass. “Good job! You did so good,” he told me, stripping off the condoms and the gloves. “I’m going to check if Mona needs help with anything. But I’ll be back soon so we can have some more fun.” With that, he hurried out, and I heard him close the heavy door to the upstairs corridor behind him.
Meanwhile, I was left to writhe in agony. The burning sensation was dying down, but given how tired I was I could hardly think about anything else. It was somewhere between ten and twenty minutes before I could take a deep breath, or at least as deep as I could around the pink gag between my teeth.
I wanted to come up with some kind of plan to get out of here, but I couldn’t even put my feet on the ground right now. What did the next day look like for me? The next month, or months? For all I knew, my life as I knew it could be over. At least I was alone, and could cry about it in peace.
Eventually I was all cried out, and was hit with some urgent messages from my body. I needed water, food, and a bathroom, and not in that order. I held on for what felt like ages, hoping despite myself that Jack or Mona would come back. Eventually, though, my bladder simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. I had to give up and piss myself. I tried to stop after the first trickle leaked through my panties and down my legs, but I had waited too long and now I had no control over it. I could feel myself flushing at the spattering sound on the concrete floor - where it wasn’t hitting the torn-apart clothes that were still lying there underneath me.
Now I was even thirstier, my head pounding from dehydration, my jaw cramping against the ball gag, my sodden panties riding up, and I was unable to move an inch toward fixing any of it. I hung there despondently, waiting for Jack to come back and complete his punishment.
A LIGHT SLAP to the face was what finally snapped Chantrea to consciousness. “Awake now, baby? Maybe I should lower the power setting on that thing,” Mona mused. The stun baton wasn’t supposed to result in a full loss of consciousness, so Chantrea’s reaction had worried her. “Note to self. Anyway, we’d better get started, don’t you think?”
In a sense, Mona had already started with Chantrea. She and her husband had stripped the girl naked and tied a blindfold over her eyes. Mona had taken a moment to admire the girl, who she thought was remarkably large for an Asian. She was nearly six feet tall, with impressive hips and buttocks, although her B-cup breasts left something to be desired on such a frame. Still, her boobs were shaped well, her belly was toned, and Mona even thought her pussy was prettier than average.
Now Chantrea was in the Centipede Room. It was a small space with only one notable feature: a swarm of a dozen biomechanical centipedes which had been granted to the Dormers by their “church.” Eight of the mechs were about six feet long, as thick around as a basketball, with two rows of short, ineffectual legs and with a gaping circular mouth at the end lined with tiny teeth. The remaining four were closer to eight feet long, tapering along their length to a baseball’s thickness. These mechs’ legs were longer, sharp-tipped; their mouths were a narrow slit framed with a pair of protruding toothlike mandibles. They sheathed not in hard carapace but in soft, almost velvety skin.
In this case, half the centipedes were powered-off and retracted into their slots in the ground. The others were holding Chantrea fast in a position halfway between standing and sitting, her hands held behind her. The large-mouthed mechs held her limbs. Each had swallowed a leg or arm up to the knee or elbow, keeping her limbs trapped in their warm throats. Their mouths were lined with blunt little teeth that scraped against her skin, while thick fluids sloshed around her hands and feet. One of the more slender mechs passed between her legs, bearing some of her weight, its prickly legs brushing against her inner thighs. The other had draped itself loosely across one shoulder, its head waving gently back and forth in front of her chest.
Now Chantrea was awake, and although she was blindfolded she could immediately feel the bizarre sensations of the mechs holding her captive. She shrieked and kicked at them, which only caused the centipedes holding onto her limbs to constrict, and the teeth at their mouths to dig sharply into Chantrea’s skin. The girl stopped struggling for a moment, then tried again, screaming. “Where am I? What the fuck is going on? Clover? Can you hear me?”
Mona rolled her eyes at these dramatics. “Hey, girl,” she said, “why don’t you calm down for a second so I can tell you?”
“Who are you? I don’t, what is this? What’s going on?”
“First off, the machine you’re in isn’t dangerous unless I tell it to be. So it would be in your best interest to listen to me.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mona, baby. You and your friend broke into my house. She’s fine, by the way. Fine as you are, anyway.”
“I - I didn’t - wait, you’re Jack Dormer’s - look, the guy hurt Clover, we couldn’t exactly sue him so we were only here to get back at him. He’s the bad guy here, I mean you’re his wife, right? Doesn’t it bother you that he likes to beat up whores?”
“That’s not relevant to what’s going on here,” Mona said. “Fact is, you made a bad mistake breaking in here. I need you to answer some questions for me.”
“Um. Can you take the blindfold off? I’m, I need to see where I am. Please?”
“Well, all right, but if you get annoying I’m gonna put it back on.” She reached up and untied the blindfold.
Chantrea, seeing the centipedes that were holding her, began to hyperventilate. She looked at Mona with horror in her eyes. “What - what -”
Mona sighed. “I know it looks weird, but it’s just a robot. A simple, well, actually it’s pretty advanced. But it’s only a machine. I can control it,” she said, holding up her phone.
The girl looked up at Mona, getting a good look at her for the first time. Mona was black, with particularly dark skin, and her braided hair was bound into a neat ponytail. She was only about five and a half feet tall, but her muscles were toned and Chantrea remembered how easily she’d jabbed her with the shock baton earlier. She wore only a bodysuit in a color almost identical to her skin. It was meant as underwear, thin and tight, the legs coming down almost to the knee but with a low neckline and held up by spaghetti straps.
Chantrea seemed struck dumb, so Mona took the opportunity to start questioning her. “What’s your name, baby?”
“It’s Chantrea,” said Chantrea.
“That’s a nice name. Is it Vietnamese?” Mona guessed.
“I - it’s Cambodian.”
“Close enough,” Mona shrugged. “Were you born here?”
“Why do you care? Why does this -” Chantrea was cut off when the centipede mech draped around her shoulders jabbed its mandibles into her left nipple. They weren’t sharp, but Chantrea jumped at the mild electric shock that stung her.
“Chantrea, baby, I need you to calm down. It doesn’t matter why I want to know, okay? Your job is to answer my questions and not freak out on me, that’s all.”
Chantrea seemed torn, but decided to play along. “I was born in California. My parents are the ones who immigrated.”
“The other girl, Clover, where do you know her from?”
“I guess we met through a mutual friend.”
“How do you two know this friend?”
“Okay, what kind of -” Chantrea shrieked as the centipede threaded between her legs delivered a shock to her pussy. “Fuck! I’m going to knock your teeth -” A shock to her nipple. “I -” Shock to her ass cheek.
“Seriously, calm the fuck down, girl. I’m gonna put the blindfold back on and you’re gonna answer the rest of my questions. You just don’t have any other options, it’s that simple.”
Chantrea was quivering with rage as Mona covered her eyes again. “Now, how do you two know this friend?”
“I met her in high school. I don’t know where she met Clover.”
“How often do you pleasure yourself?”
Chantrea was silent. A centipede shocked one of her nipples. “Uh. Once or twice a week.”
“What do you do for work?”
“Stocking in a grocery store.”
“Do you cook?”
“Did you drive here in a car?”
“Uh, we took a bus and walked,” Chantrea replied. Immediately, a centipede drove itself into her ass and shocked her right on the anus. She shouted at the intrusion and the stinging pain.
“The mechs don’t have a lot of patience for liars,” Mona told her. She’d found the car keys in Chantrea’s pockets. Now, though, she nodded to herself. That should be enough to set baselines for the mechs’ sensors. She tapped at her phone, telling the mechs to detect lies and automatically deliver shocks in reaction.
In the brief silence, Chantrea asked, “What are you going to do to me?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. You’re answering my questions. Did you drive here?”
“Okay, yes, we drove.”
“Where did you park your car?”
The questioning continued, with Chantrea mostly forthcoming from that point on. At one point, Jack came to see if Mona needed anything. She told him to wait a few minutes until she was finished and to get ready to drive the girls’ car to a different location with her.
Eventually Mona had satisfied herself that any investigation into the girls’ disappearance wouldn’t get anywhere. She and Jack took Chantrea to her new room and then headed out to tie up loose ends.
THE SOUND OF the door to the dungeon slamming shut jolted me out of my half-sleep. Fearful, I watched the entrance to the tentacle alcove as Jack’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. My heart leaped as I realized he was holding a jug of water.
“That took longer than I thought it would,” he admitted as he unbuckled the gag from my mouth. “I guess I can forgive pissing on my floor, under the circumstances.” He held the jug up to my mouth and tipped it up so I could drink. He stopped after several large swallows.
“More,” I croaked, my head throbbing. I’d been here for at least six hours, I was sure, maybe as many as twelve, and I felt like death warmed over.
“You can have more in a minute. I don’t need puke on my floor too. So where were we?” He seemed calmer, more cheerful even, than he had earlier. “I suppose it’s time for me to punish you for talking out of turn. But to be honest, I’m tired after a long night of concealing evidence, so I think I’ll forgive you for the breach in etiquette if you give me a real good blow job.”
“Gracious of you,” I muttered.
“It so is.” He used the computer to adjust the tentacles’ hold on me. Looping across my shoulders and hips, they hung me upside down such that my head was at the height of Jack’s hips. In my weakened state, the blood rushing to my head saw me black out momentarily. My arms were held behind my back, knees bent, such that my ankles and wrists were more or less aligned behind my butt.
“I’ve never done an upside-down blowie before,” I complained.
“Well, better figure it out fast, because if I feel your teeth on my dick I won’t be pleased. I’m perfectly happy to give you a rain check for that punishment instead of letting it go.” He pulled down his jeans and gave his dick a few strokes to firm it up. Then he stuck it into my waiting mouth.
I had given quite a few blow jobs over the last couple years, and I was pretty sure my position wouldn’t make it that much different, although the muscles involved were different. From Jack’s reaction to my first tentative sucks, I wasn’t wrong. His was far from the biggest cock I’d dealt with, so the whole process was probably the easiest experience I’d had since breaking into this house of horrors.
“Swallow it,” he commanded just before he finished. “Any drop you spill, you’ll lick it up.” His cum was thick and plentiful. Swallowing it down - or up, as it happened - was awkward, but I managed, only a slight dribble running down my upper lip. Anxious of Jack’s threat, I licked it off my face, my tongue flicking up toward my nose.
He sighed, content, and patted me on the hip. “You know your stuff, I’ve got to admit.” He hiked his pants up and left the alcove to get something from the racks in the larger dungeon room. What now?
“We’re almost done for today,” he said cheerfully. “Do you remember the last item on our agenda?” I didn’t say anything, hoping it was a genuine question and he’d somehow forgotten. He appeared at the entrance to the alcove, face suddenly drawn with rage, holding something behind his back. “I asked you a question, bitch!”
Through the terror coursing through me, I managed to stammer, “You’re going to punish me again.”
“Am I really?” he hissed. “And what am I punishing you for?”
“For - for pushing you.”
He approached me. “For pushing me down the stairs, yes. Let me tell you why that’s a black mark on your record.”
“But you were -” I started to say before he loudly interrupted.
“The pepper spray, I was angry about that, sure. But you were a free woman, up there, fighting for your freedom. Painful, but I can forgive and forget.”
“You put burning lube on -”
“But down here, things are different. You belong to me down here. And still you tried to escape, and not only that, you actually hurt me while you were doing it. That’s not something either of us will forget. So, it’s like I said.” He revealed what he was holding: a rod with a glowing-hot tip, a rectangle about one by one-quarter inch across.
“Wait, NO!” I cried, realizing what he was about to do.
He ignored me, moving behind me. “A black mark on your record!” he declared, and branded me on my left shoulder blade.
The pain was, for several moments, overwhelming. I’m pretty sure I threw up. But I’m not sure because, with all the stresses on my body coming together in that one moment, I passed out almost immediately.
THE DORMERS SLEPT late the next day, after a long night of inflicting torment and covering their trail. Jack called his office to let them know to cancel his meetings for the day. That afternoon, they sat at their kitchen table, each nursing a cup of coffee, looking for all the world the picture of a normal couple discussing their taxes.
“Are you kidding me?” Jack was saying incredulously. “After eight months, the perfect slaves just fall into our laps, and you want to just turn them over to someone else?”
“They haven’t even gotten basic training, Jack,” Mona sighed. “Aside from the outside chance they’re traced here somehow, I hardly see how they would even be adequate slaves, let alone perfect ones. That Latin girl can’t have been so exceptional a fuck.”
“Don’t kid yourself.” Jack rolled his eyes. “I saw you with the Asian bitch and you were getting plenty hot under the collar yourself. You enjoyed yourself plenty.”
Mona considered. “I have some conditions.”
“You always have conditions,” Jack muttered.
“Just that,” said Jack, seeing the look on her face, “I’m eager to hear what you have to say about it.” After a moment more, he added, “Thank you for reconsidering.”
“Indeed,” Mona said frostily. “Firstly, we don’t touch them until Sunday morning when we get them ready for their initiation.”
“It’s only Thursday,” Jack said, but shut up quickly.
“It’s for the best,” she explained. “There’s no point in taking any risk they could escape, our routine will seem more normal to anyone observing us, and in any case they could do with a chance to worry about what we’re going to do to them.
“Secondly, we turn them over to the Resort for at least some portion of their basic training.”
At that, Jack couldn’t help but interrupt. “That’ll take ages,” he protested, “and we can do it ourselves.”
“I swear to the gods, Jack, I am not doing all the work in this. I would be perfectly happy buying pre-trained slaves from the Resort.”
“We’ve been auditioning those slaves for months now and none of them are half as good as these two’ll be!”
“You may be right, but that won’t be any less true after they iron out some of the biggest wrinkles. We both know you aren’t about to spend ten hours a day on the gritty work, even if you did take that much time off work. You have plenty of avenues to fuck someone fun while they’re away. Just pay them next time, you bonehead.”
Jack grumbled, but couldn’t realistically object. “Anything else?” He barely restrained himself from adding “your highness.”
“Those are my two terms. Exceedingly fair, I think.”
“I guess so. It’s a deal.” Jack was annoyed he wouldn’t be able to fuck Clover for a few weeks, but he couldn’t deny Mona’s terms were sensible. Well, he could, but he was worried she’d change her mind about keeping them if he protested, so he’d deal.
They made the phone call, letting the Resort know their plans, and settled into domestic life as they waited for Sunday.