“Aaark!!!”
It was a sharp little puppy’s bark of a scream. When the sound fell on my ears, I popped my eyes open instantly, but I could just as well have left them closed, the room was now pitch black.
Wait … That might be where it started for me, but I need to back up just a few minutes to give you a little context.
The hot water sluiced down my back, washing away my sweat and easing my aching muscles, both were the result of a great workout that was long overdue. I’d missed four in the past week, and I’d done my best to make up for them all at once, pushing myself harder than I ever did. I’d combined all four of my workout programs: thirty minutes of cardio, both of my arm sequences, and my leg workout. All four programs included a core-strength element of declined-sit-ups, knee-raises, and roman chair, and I hadn’t skipped that either. In fact, I’d done those sets twice, once at the beginning of the evening and just before I’d come to the showers.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no weekend warrior. I’m dedicated to my training and I have the shoulders, arms, abs, and legs to prove it. I’m not freakishly, mannishly built. I prefer to think of it as feminine, yet muscled. I’d been busy lately, a personal project.
It was two A.M. and the gym was empty except for me and Marcella. We were friends, but not close friends, at least, not as close as I’d like to be. We often collided here at the gym, and that happened frequently enough that we’d first exchanged names, then gone for coffee after workouts, next the occasional movie, and now sometimes out for drinks. I just couldn’t seem to get to the next step in a way that worked for me. I’d dropped a hint that I’d be here late tonight, and Marcella had responded by promising to make it too, even though it was very late.
“You sure worked hard today, Ash,” Marcella said from the next shower stall over. She insisted on calling me Ash, saying that I didn’t seem at all like an Ashley. Ashley was usually a bitch in one way or another. She didn’t actually say bitch, she said poxy cow, but I was learning to translate her brit-slang into my own terms.
“You don’t know the half of it, I was here an hour before you got here. I missed so much lately, that I had to, Mar.” I figured that if she could call me Ash I could call her Mar , it was only fair, and she didn’t seem to mind, though I actually preferred Marcella. “I’ll pay for it tomorrow.”
“And the next day, too,” she added, with a giggle. She was a girly-girl in that way, her giggle came unabashedly and easily. It was always uplifting for me to hear it.
“Probably. I find that the best thing to do to sore muscles is work them light and long. Drop the weight and increase the reps.”
“Yeah, me as well. Have you got some shampoo I could borrow?”
“Sure. Just a sec,” I said. I squeezed a dollop into my hand and tossed the little tube over the wall between the shower stalls to her.
“Thanks.”
My eyes closed as I massaged the stuff into my scalp, chasing around the tension of a long hard week. I turned my neck side-to-side with some cracks and pops, and massaged my neck muscles, using the shampoo as a make-shift lubricant. “Mmmmm,” I sighed as I let the water rinse the last of the lather out of my hair. I kept my eyes closed while I turned off the water, bent over, and wrung the water out of my long blond hair while stretching my calves and hamstrings at the same time. It was heaven.
“Aaark!!!”
It was a sharp little puppy’s bark of a scream. When the sound fell on my ears, I popped my eyes open instantly, but I could just as well have left them closed, the room was now pitch black.
“What the fuck?” I said to Marcella and the darkness.
“The electric’s gone, I suppose,” Marcella said with a slight quiver in her voice. “I’ve got a torch in my bag on the bench, let me see if I can get to it.” She shut the water off, and I heard the slap of her foot on the tile just outside.
Marcella was English and black. She had the cutest accent and called a flashlight a torch, an umbrella a brolly, and a delivery van a lorry. She also used expressions like All mouth and no trousers, whatever the fuck that meant. She did, in fact, also use the word trousers. She was just so bloody English. She was also very pretty, with milk-chocolate skin, big eyes and lips, a cute little nose, and long brown hair that she usually kept in micro-braids. But her most charming feature was her smile. It started even, expanded slowly to the sides, but then the left side stopped moving while the right side kept going, forming a dimple just on that side. It was so friendly and genuine that I couldn’t help but like her the first time I saw her grin. I’m sure the guys were more attracted to her long perfectly muscled legs, nice heart-shaped ass, and breasts that were just this side of large. Actually, it wasn’t just the guys, I was too. She was shagable, as she’d put it, but I could never tell for sure if she was interested.
I pulled back the curtain, and the darkness outside the shower was as absolute as it was inside. There were emergency lights — those lunch-pail shaped boxes on the wall filled with batteries with a head-lamp mounted on the top. They should have come on automatically.
“Bollox!” she cursed. “I can’t find my bag. Your’s isn’t where I remember, and both towels are gone as well.… Okay, I’ve got it sussed. Someone’s codding us.”
Codding? That was a new one. I plugged in codding equals messing with into my Marcella-ese dictionary.
“Oi! You’ve had your giggle, now put the lights back on!” Her shout ricocheted weirdly around the tiled women’s changing room and died out eerily in the dark, as if it had been suffocated.
“I’m going out to kick seven bells out of this blighter’s skinny arse!” she announced.
“Wait,” I cried. She seemed to be handling the situation much better than I was, and I was suddenly afraid to be separated from her in the dark. To cover my fear, I said, as brightly as possible, “Two is better than one when there’s ass to be kicked. Where are you?”
“Here,” she signaled.
I moved in the direction of her voice and my hand poked into her firm abdomen. She giggled, took my hand, and raised it to rest on her shoulder. Along the way my fingers brushed her breast and I felt a stiff nipple. There was a bit of a twitch between my legs, and I let a little gasp. She giggled again and turned her back to me. When she moved toward the door, I followed along behind her using her shoulder as a guide.
“Mind the bench,” she said as she stepped over it. I found it with my foot and made my way across. “Nabbed the sink counter,” she announced. “Now the wall.” Then we were in the privacy turn, out of the changing room and, into the hall. The stairs were to my left and Marcella was to my right.
This building had served some other purpose in its previous incarnation. It wasn’t your usual one huge room filled with machines, apparatus, and weights, with an office, and a couple of changing rooms grafted onto the sides. No. This place was a three-level warren. The women’s changing room behind us was on the lowest level and below the street. The men’s was the next one down on the same side. There was some storage down here, the boiler and heater, and, across the hall from us, one large room that contained, a pommel-horse, vaulting horse, parallel bars, and a balance beam. The entire room was floored in thick mats. There was a gymnastics class that used that space on a regular basis. It was empty at this hour, of course. The rest of this floor was blocked off by doors marked staff-only and I had no idea what was in them.
A little light filtered into the gymnastics area through the frosted street-level windows high in the wall, but more light was seeping down the stairs from the ground-level rooms above.
When I first joined this gym, I was worried by the security issues the layout posed, then I noticed that the whole place was covered by video cameras, except for the private areas — the changing rooms and bathrooms. I glanced down the hall, looking for the little red L.E.D. that announced the location of the camera, but I didn’t see it. The power outage must have taken out the camera system as well.
I was scared. Actually, I was naked and scared. It was not a happy combination. If not for Marcella … I didn’t pursue that thought any further. My hand was on her warm shoulder and I thought I could feel the body-heat radiating off the rest of her just inches away from me. It was very comforting. I wanted her to hold me, but I couldn’t figure out a way to ask that wouldn’t make me appear weak and scared.
Without warning, there was an electric snapping just on the other side of Marcella with flashes that lit up the area, bright as a camera flash. I caught a glimpse of a man standing close to Marcella. The strobing light painted his face from below, making his visage over into a grotesque mask. His grin was the very essence of evil.
“Run,” Marcella groaned and pushed me feebly toward the stairs.
I shrieked and ran. I’m not proud of it. I found the stair-rail and vaulted up several steps at once. It’s a wonder I didn’t stub a toe or fall face-first onto the treads. I was so panicked that I didn’t stop until I was at the front entrance. I pounded on the locked door for several moments before I realized that was doing no good.
I turned around, looking for any sign of menace. All I could see were the lumpy shapes of the weight machines and the vertical and horizontal slashes and arcs of the dim light reflecting off the chrome-steel parts. My eyes snapped from one shape to another trying to identify anything that could be a person. I noticed the phone on the front desk and picked it up, thinking to dial 911, and … nothing, not even line-hiss. Then I heard the moaning. It wasn’t pleasure. More like fear, pain, or both.
“Marcella?” I called out in a near-whisper. The sound wasn’t coming from the stairs I’d come up, but from the other side of the long room, far off to the left. I move cautiously in that direction. The more I thought about it, the more I concluded that Marcella couldn’t be making the sound. I had left her only moments before, and there just wasn’t enough time for her to get from downstairs all the way across the long room to where the sound was coming from.
As I moved down between the long rows of leg and arm machines, I continued to look for movement or anything that might be the man that I was sure was going to jump out and rape me. All that I saw, was the black vinyl seats and pads, black weight stacks and their cables, and the chrome sliders and other parts. Until I reached the huge multi-gym at the end.
The chin-up handles were close to eight feet off the floor. I’d had to jump hard to reach them the few times I’d made use of them, and I doubted that this tiny woman could make the jump from her four-foot-ten starting point. I might have thought she was a child by her height, except that even in the dim light, the size of her bust and hips marked her as an adult. She was hanging from the chin-up handles by wide cuffs strapped around her wrists. My eyes could just pick out the chrome rivets and buckles glinting in the dim light. Two work-out steps were stacked below her toes and she could just reach them to take some of the strain off her arms. She was dressed from neck to ankles and wrists in a black form fitting suit of some shiny material. The suit had an open crotch and an opening for each breast. There were thick black leather cuffs locked around her ankles, and then there was the collar. It was also black leather, high and stiff. It was molded across both shoulders, cupped her chin, and covered her mouth, but it didn’t stop there. It swept across the bridge of her nose with just a small opening through which she could breathe. The final piece of the ensemble was the belt; wide, thick, and heavy. An additional strap ran snug between her legs. The crotch strap was held in place by a buckle at the front of the belt, and the buckle was secured by a tiny padlock. Her pale flesh, hands and feet, the face just around the eyes, the globes of her breasts, and two little patches of thigh on either side of the strap that ran between her legs, seemed to glow against the dark background of the black suit and her just-as-black hair.
“Uh, uh,” she said when she saw me and she twitched her head side-to-side as much as the collar would allow, which wasn’t much. She continued, insistently. “Uh, uh,” and shaking her head.
The message was obvious, no, but no what?
I took another tentative step forward and the floor where I set my foot felt different. The woman screamed and thrashed, jerking herself up by her arms and kicking her legs. I backed away and a half a minute later, the fit subsided. I knelt on the floor and ran my hand lightly in her direction. Then I felt the edge of it. The pad was about a quarter inch thick and was obviously a pressure switch that must be triggering some kind of shock mechanism. It was fastened to the floor, perhaps with glue. I followed the edge and it completely surrounded the woman creating a circular barrier around her six or seven feet deep.
If I could find the wires and cut them, I thought, but then, It could be wireless.
I didn’t even bother to try searching for something that might not even exist. Instead, I scaled the workout stations at one end of the multi-gym. Once I had a grip on the cross-piece she was hanging from, I began to slowly inch forward toward her, my feet dangling a foot or more off the floor.
She couldn’t turn toward me, the collar wouldn’t allow that, but she continued to signal no, over and over.
What if he put the pressure switch up here, too?
I probed forward feeling for that quarter inch thick edge until I found it.
Damn, I thought and backed off, dropping back to the floor to think it over.
Maybe I could just run across? was my first thought. Then I realized that I couldn’t be sure that the shocks wouldn’t get more powerful the further in I went. Maybe even to lethal levels.
“Damn and blast!” I said aloud, borrowing one of Marcella’s favorite expressions of frustration.
“Ash?” I heard Marcella say from over toward the stairs.
“Here,” I said, and shortly she came into view.
“Look what that poxy prick has done to me!”
Her gait was strange, bent over with her hands at knee-height and wrists together. When she got close by, she pulled her hands up in front of her crotch, her feet together, and finally stood erect. Her outfit was just like the victim hanging from the multi-gym, black suit, wide belt, including the strap running between her legs, and wrist and ankle cuffs. The collar was different though, just a two inch high band around her throat with a ring mounted in the front of it. There was a loop of metal cable that made a figure-eight through the rings in her wrist and ankle cuffs. If she stood straight up, as she was now, then her wrists and ankles would be pulled together. If she bent over then she could get some mobility in her extremities, but it was all a trade-off. If she wanted to move her feet then she limited the use of her hands and vice-verse. While her flesh was darker, it too seemed to glow in the dim light or maybe it was just that I had the hots for her.
“What happened?” I asked stepping toward her and putting my arms around her. I saw a tiny flash of chrome below her nose and noticed that there was a little ring mounted in her nasal septum.
“The berk, tased me,” she replied. “He was stuffing me in this suit when I came around and he zapped me again. Later, when I came to, he was putting something in my cunny and up the wrong’un. I can’t get them out because of this strap. Then he put this thing in my nose. I feel like a bloody cow!”
“It that a piercing?” I asked, touching the ring.
“No, it’s just clamped there. Can you get it off? Wait. Never mind. Let’s try to get out of here and then we can chat about it. What about the front?”
“Locked,” I replied. “Also, there’s her.” I pointed.
“Why haven’t you got her down?” Marcella asked, taking a couple of shuffling steps toward the other woman and looking her over.
“There’s a pressure switch all around her. If you touch it, she gets a shock. Her belt looks the same as yours and there’s plenty of room in there for batteries and electronics. I bet those things he stuck in your ass and pussy are electrodes, same as her.”
“Well I’ll be buggered. No, wait. He already did that to me.” Marcella wiggled her hips as if, now that she knew what the things inside her were, they felt more uncomfortable.
“Do they hurt?” I asked.
“Not really. It feels … Well, never mind. What about climbing up and doing a hand-over-hand across to her? You’re brick enough to do it easy.”
“No good,” I said. “The switch is up on top of the cross-bar, too.”
“Run out quick as you can?” she suggested. All the while we were speaking, the woman continued to express her opinion in the negative.
“Yeah. I could, but I don’t like it,” I said, and explained my fears.
“I have an idea.” I took a portable weight bench and put a stack of two steps a couple yards away from it, trying to get the distance the same as the radius of the switch. I took a running start, jumped onto the bench, one running stride to cross its length, and jumped again. I almost overshot and landed close to the far side of the steps. I couldn’t stop, and jumped to the floor. The next time I tried it, I landed dead center and almost managed to stay on top.
“I think it should do,” Marcella said and flashed me her lovely smile.
I positioned the bench at the edge of the switch, ran, and jumped. Either I was nervous about falling short, or I’d misjudged the distance when I did my experiment; I slammed into her body before my feet came down. She went, “Oooph!” then I was falling over backward off the steps. I grabbed the woman around the chest to steady myself. She whimpered, it must have hurt her chest when I crashed into her, and probably wrenched at her wrists, too.
The straps that fastened her wrist cuffs to the chin-up handles were just buckled in place. If they’d been padlocked, like the cuffs themselves, or the collar and belt, it all would have been for nothing. I think that whoever was fucking with us intended for me to free her. Even so, it felt pretty good.
The first thing she did, after I released her hands, was to throw her arms around me and give me a big hug. She was so sexy that if I’d been a man and naked as I was, my arousal would have been obvious to all. I’d just rescued a damsel in distress, and that was hot. I held her briefly and stroked a hand low on her back almost onto her ass. I wanted to look into her eyes to see if this was more than just simple gratitude, but that damn collar wouldn’t let her look up at all.
She rubbed her wrists and stretched her arms. The space was so small, and every move threatened to push one or the other of us off our precarious perch. Every loss of balance was followed by one of us grabbing the other. I could reach the handles and used them as an anchor point. Every time she brushed against me, the tingle intensified.
Oh, you are so fuckable! I thought.
I think Marcella could tell what was going on because she said, “I hate to piss on your party, but what now? How are you two going to get back?”
That really did put a damper on things. I’d been so focused on getting here, that I hadn’t thought it through that far. To be fair, Marcella could have mentioned it before I jumped, but I was pretty sure she hadn’t thought beyond either.
“A six or seven foot standing long jump from two feet up should be doable.” I hoped I was right. “Worst case, you’ll have to take another hit like before. I wish I knew your name.” Hell, I wish I knew you in the biblical sense.
“O-ee,” she said through the gag.
“Zoe?” I said after I rolled that around in my head for several moments. It could have been Jody, but I hoped not. I’ve never known a Jody I liked.
She nodded a little yes.
The bench was positioned right at the edge of the switch and marked the distance. “Can you make it?” I asked.
She nodded and then jumped, clearing it easily. When I jumped, I realized that I’d over-thought the whole thing. I could probably have made a standing jump from the bench to the steps and I wouldn’t have hit Zoe so hard.
The congratulations were short-lived; cut off by the men singing:
[To the tune of Drunken Sailor] What do you do with three little lasses, We’re really gonna slap slap their asses, What do you do with three little lasses, Er-lie in the morning? Way! Hey! And up they rises, Stiffening our cocks o’ different sizes, Way! Hey! And up they rises, Er-lie in the morning.
It was coming from the direction of the stairs and front door. In any other context, it might have been funny, but here and now, it chilled me to my bones.
“Run!” I shouted, breaking through the paralyzing fear. I shoved Zoe the other direction, away from the singing. Marcella’s speed was severely limited by her restraints, but I got her moving after Zoe, and I brought up the rear.
Brought up her rear! Heh! the quip sprang unbidden into my thoughts. I resisted the urge to give Marcella a hard slap on the ass to make her move faster.
Zoe stopped at the opening into the room full of cardio equipment and waited for us to catch up. I directed them down the hall toward the stairs to the second floor, as the approaching voices launched into the second even more chilling verse:
Shave their heads with a rusty razor, Clean their snatches with candle wax, Pierce their nips with sewing needles, Er-lie in the morning. Way! Hey! And up they rises, Stiffening our cocks o’ different sizes, Way! Hey! And up they rises, Er-lie in the morning.
“Hide here and I’ll draw them away,” I said, pushing the pair back into the blackness under the stairs. I raced up the stairs to the free-weight area to the sound of the third verse and a repeat of the chorus:
Tie em’ to the rack and whip em’ silly, Chain em’ to the rails and fuck em’ stupid, Put em’ on their knees and cream their faces, Er-lie in the morning. Way! Hey! And up they rises, Stiffening our cocks o’ different sizes, Way! Hey! And up they rises, Er-lie in the morning.
They’d stopped singing for a little while and then I heard one of the men say, “That dark little English twat couldn’t possibly move this fast, not the way I trussed her up. She must be hiding behind us somewhere.”
I was running down past the racks of free-weights toward the other set of stairs. I was hoping to lead them in circles for a while. Damn, I thought.
“You’re right,” the other said. “Backtrack and chase her down, but don’t start the fun without me. I’ll keep after these others.”
I lifted a pair of three pound weights from the end of the rack. Maybe I could get in a lucky punch, and a fist-load might really make it count. When he rounded the corner, I decked him, and it worked, more or less. I ran back the way I’d come, leaving the man on the ground. I wanted to get back to Marcella and Zoe before the other man could find them.
I wasn’t really in time. He had Zoe at the foot of the stairs and was sitting on her, fastening the chain he’d put between her ankle cuffs to the one he put between her wrist cuffs. The lock clicked closed. She was hogtied and going nowhere. Marcella was shambling around the bend back toward the front door.
The guy must have heard me coming. He jumped off of Zoe and turned to face me. He ducked my first swing and pummeled me in the gut with his fist, driving the wind out of me. I fell to my hands and knees gasping for breath that wouldn’t come and my fist-loads clattered beside me.
My only punch that hit home worked rather less than more, since the man I struck upstairs seized me from behind, one arm across my throat and the other wrenching my arm up behind my back. “Your ass is mine! ” he growled into my ear as he pulled me to my feet. “Run the black bitch to ground and meet me down stairs. It’s playtime.”
I fought him, and even managed to claw his face, drawing several bloody furrows down his cheek. He blackened my eye for that and strapped me into a chair while I was dazed from the punch. It wasn’t any normal chair, though. It was a heavy blond-oak thing with a high back and had straps for ankles, thighs, waist, chest, neck, forehead, arms, and wrists. By the time he was finished, I couldn’t move at all.
The other man dragged Marcella in. He was leading her with one hand by a leather lace he’d hitched through the ring in her nose and he was slapping her ass with the other. “Ya! Get along you little heifer!” he jeered. He brought Marcella up next to my chair and lashed her reigns to the back. She couldn’t reach up high enough to untie them, and I couldn’t move at all, so she was stuck.
“I’m going back for the little piggy,” he announced as he past the other guy who was bringing in some gear that included our workout bags. They’d turned the power back on, but the L.E.D.s were still out on the surviellence cameras. The one I’d clawed, set up a video camera of his own, mounted it on a tripod, and pointed at me in the chair.
“Smile, bitches. You are gonna be famous!”
“I’m sorry, Marcella,” I said. “I tried to get us all out.”
“I know Ash,” she replied. “This is going to be really horror show, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Marcella was on my right, gripping my forearm with her hand, and Zoe was standing next to her with her knee pressed against my thigh. They’d removed the link between her ankle and wrist chains so that she could stand, but the chain between her feet allowed only very short steps and her hands were behind her back on a short chain. At least they’d removed the collar-gag from around her neck. She stood, turning her head to stretch out the muscles.
She really is an elf, I thought, looking at her small nose and mouth, triangular face, and her flaring, slightly pointy, ears, poking out from under her spiky black hair.
When they got to it, it was almost like the song. The razor they used to shave my head was electric rather than rusty, and clippers, maybe, rather than a razor at all, but none of that changed the fact that all my long blond locks ended up on the floor. To start, he gathered my hair in one hand and then placed the combless-clippers against the hairline at my forehead. The first pass went from there right up and across to the nape of my neck in one clean motion, like a long-haired buck private on the first day of boot-camp. The long tresses dropped around my shoulders and to the floor. The shock of loosing them like that brought tears to my eyes. Zoe turned away blinking back tears and sobs of her own, but Marcella stayed with me, lending her strength. Pretty soon, I was down to nothing but stubble and tears.
“Which one is next?” one man asked the other.
“Neither,” he said, touching the deep scratches on his face and glaring down at me. “We’ll do it all to Baldy here first, then back-fill the other two cunts. Watch carefully ladies, this is what’s in your future.”
He reached under my chair, undid some latches, and pulled a large wedge of wood out of the seat. That left my pussy and asshole completely unprotected. I refused to beg for those two pricks, but I couldn’t stop the sobs while the next line of the song ran through my mind: Clean their snatches with candle wax. I didn’t know what kind of wax it was, but it was kept molten in an electric pot rather than by a candle flame. The process was simple, smear a swath of wax into the pubic hair with a craft stick, press a strip of cloth onto it, then rip back the cloth, taking the wax and the hair with it. It didn’t hurt as much as I expected it to, but they were not gentle about it. They leaned the chair back against the wall to get to my lower parts, then flipped the chair over with me hanging from the straps and cleaned the fine hair from around my asshole.
“Now for the sewing needles,” Scarface said with an evil smile.
“No, don’t,” Zoe pleaded.
“Shut up, little piggy!” He took a remote from his pocket and pressed one of two buttons on it. Zoe screamed and fell to the floor writhing in pain.
“Stop,” I said flatly, after about twenty seconds.
He did stop. “Just remember what we can do to your friends if you don’t please us.”
The other man returned with a tray. He put on surgical gloves and cleaned my left nipple with alcohol. Then he put a dot of ink on each side to mark the path the needle would follow.
“Want me to use lidocaine?” he asked Scarface.
“Fuck no! I want to hear the bitch scream.”
“Better tighten the straps then, so she doesn’t wiggle too much.”
Scarface took care of the straps while Piercer prepared his kit. It was clear, from his well practiced motions and the quality of his equipment, that he knew what he was doing. He put a clamp on my nipple that had an opening in the jaws. The pressure was intense, but not more than I could stand. He held the needle in front of my face and it was huge! Short, but thick.
“Yeah!” he said. “This is gonna hurt!”
When he shoved it through the opening in the clamp and the flesh of my nipple, I almost did scream, but I didn’t want to give Scarface the satisfaction. Piercer removed the clamp leaving the needle sticking through my flesh. The pain was searing, and I sucked breath in and out through my clenched teeth.
The nipple ring had a small gap in it, and the free ends by the gap were threaded. Piercer pushed one end into the hollow opening in the point of the needle. When he withdrew the needle, it pulled the ring through the hole in my nipple. He brought it around in a circular motion until it was halfway through and the gap was just south of my aching nipple.
He squeezed a tiny drop of superglue into the threaded hole on each side of a metal bead, and opened the ring with a pair of bent-nose pliers. He placed the bead between the open ends of the ring, let it close, and screwed the bead down tight.
“She’s tough,” Piercer said.
“Yeah,” Scarface agreed. “Do the other one quick, I want to get to something more fun.”
The other nipple hurt just as bad, but I was more prepared and gave them nothing, both piercings oozed little beads of blood.
“You want to me do anything else?” Piercer asked. “Pussy lips? Nose? Tongue?”
“Nah,” Scarface said and began unstrapping me. He pulled me roughly out of the chair and pushed Zoe down onto it. Then he dropped his pants and his huge cock, with it’s glistening head, bobbled out. “Get on your knees and suck this, Baldy!”
I hesitated a moment too long, and Scarface pressed a button on the remote in his hand. Marcella screamed and fell to the floor in agony. I dropped to my knees and grabbed his cock. “Stop, please,” I begged and slid my mouth down around him until he filled me up. Marcella stopped screaming and I continued to do my best for her sake. Tears were streaming down my face and my nose was runny. I could hardly breathe. Then he grabbed the back of my stubbled head in both hands and rammed himself deep into me until I gagged.
“No teeth,” he admonished, “or I’ll fry your friends.”
I got myself back under control and glanced over toward them. Zoe was sitting in the chair and Marcella had crept close and had her hand on her thigh. Both wore expressions of shock, horror, and pity.
I was not a novice at sucking cock, and I could tell that Scarface was almost ready to launch. Before he did though, he pushed me roughly away and I tumbled down onto the mat.
“You want to do the parallel bars next?” Piercer asked.
“In a minute, let’s see a little girl-on-girl action first. Li’l Piggy, crawl over here.”
Zoe shook her head, but when Scarface produced the remote from his pocket, she slid to the floor and knee walked toward me. He put the device away.
“Kiss,” he barked.
I brought my face close to hers. “Sorry,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t.
“Don’t be,” she replied in my ear. “If only …”
“Get on with it, bitches,” Scarface screamed, breaking the mood.
Our lips met, tongues probing each other, and it was heaven, even in this hell of a situation.
“Now, suck each other’s titties,” he directed a minute or two later. “And get over here, Heifer.”
Marcella, hobbled over.
Piercer had turned camera-man and was doing hand-held shots. Both Zoe and I were breathing hard. Scarface, our director, said, “Get on your back, li’l Piggy, and you straddle her face, Baldy.… No, the other way, so your asshole’s in her face.… Now lick her cunt, li’l Piggy.”
I nearly lost it when she did. There was nothing tentative about her moves. They were bold and skillful. She’s done this before, I thought. Many times.
“Oh, god!” I moaned and pinched her nipples. “Please …”
“Yeah, that’s good, but don’t you dare come, Baldy. Now, Heifer, suck Baldy’s nipples.” Marcella straddled Zoe’s hips. She leaned down and fastened her lips on my newly pierced nipple.
“Oh, please. No!” I groaned. The pain and pleasure were exquisite.
I tried not to come. I really did, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Scarface was pissed, but he mostly took it out on me. He strapped me to the parallel bars, face down with my body between the horizontals, bent at the waist and my legs strapped in several places to the uprights. He took a whip and beat me furiously until I screamed. I wasn’t sure about whipped silly, but I sure couldn’t think straight.
“Now, we’re gonna play a game. Li’l Piggy, Heifer, come!” He menaced them with the remote, and they shuffled over.
“First to set this thing to full power,” he muttered and did something to the remote.
“Heifer, you’re up first,” Scarface said, tugging on the lace through her nose ring. “Either you beg me to whip her more, or …,” he fingered the remote suggestively.
“No,” she said, defiantly.
He pressed and held the remote button and said, “One thousand one,” while she screamed.
“Now, it’s your turn, li’l Piggy. Beg me to whip her again, or scream.”
“Fuck you!” she snapped.
Her screams went on while he said, “One thousand one, One thousand two.”
“Next round for a count of five, and you go first this time, li’l Piggy. Beg or scream?”
No one can really withstand torture, I thought. It’s just a matter of holding out long enough that you can live with yourself after you break. “Do it, Zoe,” I sighed.
She thought for a moment, then said, “Please whip her?”
“You call that begging?” Scarface laughed, and Zoe screamed for five seconds.
“Okay, Heifer, you’re up for ten. What’ll it be?”
She hesitated, then buckled to her knees. “Sorry, Ash,” she whispered to me. Then louder, “Don’t shock me, please. Whip her instead!”
And Scarface did. The dominoes had fallen. Zoe gave in on the next round, too.
I was still strung up on the parallel bars, and the fucking machine hammered my pussy with a huge dildo. They made Marcella kneel under me and hold a Hitachi Magic Wand against my clit, Zoe was kissing whatever she could reach, and Scarface dared me to come again. In fact, he double-dog-dared me to come again. Scarface’s dick was pumping in and out of my mouth. He pulled out just as he came and pasted his thick load of come right on my face.
Well, I don’t know about fucked stupid, but that’s the creamed face, for sure, I thought.
“Lick me clean,” he commanded. I shuddered and nearly lost it as I did my best. I didn’t think I could take much more, of either the machine or the whipping.
“My turn,” Piercer said, handing the camera to Scarface and mopping the goo off my face with a cloth.
“Wait,” Scarface said. “You two, leave off a second.” Marcella and Zoe stopped, and Scarface switched off the machine. It felt like a reprieve, but I wasn’t fucked stupid enough to believe it really was. He pulled out the dildo and loaded it up with lubricant. “Let’s put this in her ass this time!”
“No, please!” I begged and thrashed as much as the straps would allow.
“Finally,” Scarface said with delight. “Something real out of this filthy whore!”
I did scream when he shoved it in. It didn’t help when Marcella and Zoe were ordered to continue their tasks. The only upside was that Piercer’s dick was smaller than Scarface’s. A line from the song: Stiffening our cocks o’ different sizes, drifted through my mind. He and I came at the same time. It’s a wonder I didn’t bite his cock off when I seized.
“What the hell was that?” Scarface asked. He was about to whip me to death. I was sure of it. He’d discarded the multi-tailed whip for a long single-tailed bull-whip. Piercer was set to get all the angles with the camera.
“Sounded like a door being unlocked,” Piercer said.
I’d heard it, too.
“You check the front,” Scarface ordered. “I’ve got the back.”
Zoe and Marcella rushed to my side the instant the two men left the room.
“If you can get that buckle, I should be able to get myself free,” I groaned to Zoe. She backed herself up to me and began fumbling with the strap.
“Do you think we should? What about these shock-belts?” Marcella worried.
“We’ve got to do something.” Zoe cried, working at the buckle. “They’re going to kill her!”
“Anyway, they left the keys, remote, and the stungun on the table. Now, quick, Zoe. Marcella, please get this fucking dildo out of my ass!”
Zoe got the buckle undone, Marcella pulled the giant chunk of silicone out of me, and I began undoing the rest of the straps.
When Piercer came back into the room, Zoe was loose and going through my workout bag. The distraction worked, he jumped her from behind, and I returned the favor on him, zapping him into semi-consciousness.
We’d dragged Piercer’s twitching body out of sight, and waited for Scarface.
“Fucking kids,” he muttered, coming down the hall a short time later. The same distraction worked on Scarface, with similar results.
Marcella pulled on her jeans and shirt from her workout bag, once she unlocked the restraints, pulled out the electrodes, and removed the suit. She began putting on her shoes. Zoe shucked the cuffs and belt, removed the electrodes and put on my clean T-shirt over the black suit. It was long enough to cover her to mid-thigh. Since I’d gone to unlock the back door, I was lagging behind the others getting dressed, but since I had less to do, I was almost caught up, and though my sweat-damp workout clothes were cold, they were quick to get into.
Scarface groaned just as I tied my second shoelace. I went to zap him back into unconsciousness, when he sat up and produced a pistol from somewhere.
“Gun!” I shouted, shoving the others toward the hall and the back door.
The gun went, Bang! but he must have still been groggy, because he missed. I grabbed the workout bags — containing wallets with IDs, and more importantly, my car keys — and caught up with Marcella and Zoe just as they reached the back door.
“The blue Taurus,” I said, shoving my keys and the bags at Marcella.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, and Zoe stopped to hear the answer.
“Never mind!” I cried in frustration. “Move your pretty little asses. Now!”
I still had the stungun in my hand. I knew I had to slow them down somehow. I found a wedge-like scrap of lumber and fitted it under the door, just as I heard the Taurus peal-out. I pounded it into the gap with the stungun and tossed the heavy thing away on my way to the car. I heard someone slam into the door, but the wedge held while I hopped in the car, and we got out of there.
“No police?” Zoe said to me when we were safely inside my small apartment.
“N-no,” I said with difficulty past my sobbing. I’d shattered into pieces in the car the minute the danger was past, and Zoe had climbed into the back seat to hold me. She stroked my head and back, but I couldn’t get myself to stop crying and shaking. It was a good thing that Marcella had been driving, because I couldn’t have. “I couldn’t stand the questions, and the poking and prodding. I’ve been violated enough as it is!”
“Look, Zoe,” Marcella said. “Ash took the worst of it, if she doesn’t want to involve the Bill, then I’m with her.”
“Bill?” Zoe asked, looking puzzled.
“Police,” Marcella translated.
I tried to go straight to the shower and rinse the filth off, but they stopped me. I let them talk me into taking some photos of my piercings, bruises, and other injuries, scrapings from under my nails where I’d scratched Scarface, and swabs of the dried on semen moistened with a little water. All bagged and labeled. Just in case.
“Oww!” I heard as I came back into the living room after my shower.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Zoe had my Vice-Grips in her hand and my other tools next to her on the floor. Marcella lay before her, holding her nose.
“I can’t get this thing out,” Zoe said. “I think we need professional help.”
“No, you’re just going about it wrong. In the drawer where you found these tools, you should find some leather boot laces. In the next one down, you’ll find a length of plastic pipe. Fetch, Zoe!” I said, snapping my fingers, and she ran off.
“Let me see what you guys have done, Marcella.” I pulled her hands away. There wasn’t any real damage. “It’s not bad, sweetie. I’ll have that off of you in a second.” I cupped her cheek, she gave me her fabulous smile.
“Ash,” she began. “About what you did for us …”
“Never mind that,” I said.“Jeez, you’re bossy!” Zoe said when she returned with the things I’d asked for.
“Sorry, but somebody’s got to take care of you two,” I muttered, while I worked.
“I guess,” she said stroking my back. “So what are you going to do?”
“The trick is to apply steady pressure to the sides until the ring opens,” I said as I lashed the middle of the lace through the ring on one side. “You can’t do that with any of these tools.” I threaded the doubled lace through the pipe, brought the lines back around to the ring on the other side, and tied them snug into place. “But if you’re clever, you can do just about anything.” I took off my sock, used it to pad the jaws of the Vice-Grips, and clamped them tightly to the bottom of the ring.
“Zoe, hold this steady.” She took the Vice-Grips from me. “It’s going to want to twist. It’s your job not to let it.”
“Marcella, hold the pipe steady,” I ordered
I inserted a screwdriver between the lace and the pipe at one end and began to turn it in a circle, twisting the lace and shortening it. I could feel the ring begin to open. “Let me know when it’s wide enough to remove, Marcella.”
A couple of minutes later, I held the chrome ring in my hand. It was really more of a horse-shoe, with two large beads on the ends. The gap between the beads was less than an eighth of an inch. It was spring-steel and had resumed its shape after we released the tension.
“Mind if I keep this as a souvenir?” I asked.
“It’s yours,” Marcella said, rubbing the tip of her nose.
I had played my part so completely in character and so well, that even I believed the act at times. I was very pleased with myself. True, it had cost me. The thousands of dollars I’d spent didn’t matter, they were an investment against future returns, but I hadn’t let anyone whip me like that in years. I was somewhat anal, but that was much more than I was used to. My ass still ached, but the results were perfect. Now to finish with the tedious part so that I can get back to the real fun, I thought.
“Here’s the cash,” I said, and deposited the fat envelope containing twenty-thousand dollars on the table in front of me. I couldn’t have managed the sum myself, but the girls had pitched in to get it together. “Give me the camera.”
He exchanged it for the envelope. I hit the release on the DAT tape compartment, but it wouldn’t open. The sealing label with my initials looked intact. I could see the little tape through the window and Scarface-Sheldon’s scrawled title: Bitches Get What’s Coming To Them! was visible there. I dropped the camera into my bag. I’d specified the model of the camera, and Sheldon had bought it with his credit card, leaving a nice paper trail if I needed it. I’d super-glued the DAT tape compartment closed and disabled the output ports, so I was sure there was no copy. I’d even got him to label and load the tape first, so there were plenty of his prints on it, and I’d done all my work on the inside of the camera wearing surgical gloves. The cat-suits, bondage gear, fucking machine, bondage chair, electro-sex gear, all of it would appear on his credit card. I’d given him cash for those purchases. Cash that I’d hoarded over several years so nothing was going to look funny in my finances. The evidence trail was complete and none of it could come back to me.
“You know, Ashley,” he said, fingering the healing but still red scratches on his face, “… you fuck, take a whip, and suck cock like a pro. We could use another round, and maybe twenty-K’s not enough.”
“You and your partner are rapists, kidnappers, and now blackmailers,” I said for the benefit of any recording devices present, including my own. I’d add the recording to the other evidence I’d collected. From my perspective, it was best if this never got to the cops, but if it did, I’d want Scarface-Sheldon and his buddy Piercer-Derek to do hard time for making me sit through a trial where the video would be exhibit A. “Are you crazy enough to think that I’m in love with you or something? Even after what you and your friend did to me and my friends? I’d have you arrested, if I didn’t want the whole thing done and over with, and I’m only paying you to keep the video off the Internet. If I ever see either of you again, I might change my mind.”
“You bitch …” he began, then stopped.
I watched and smiled inside as the look of abject horror spread across his face. He was slowly putting the pieces together and knew that he and Derek were completely fucked. I stood up and walked out of the coffee-shop, anxious to meet with my two brand-new and ultimately fuckable love-slaves to be, Marcella and Zoe.
Marcella had been the planned target. Zoe was a bonus, target of opportunity. I’d found her in the changing room when I’d arrived. Sheldon and Derek, posing as gym employees, had gone around telling everyone that the place was closing for maintenance, and Zoe was the last one out. As soon as Marcella was in and everyone else was out, they were to put up the closed signs and lock the doors. They’d killed the surveillance cameras first thing, so there was no record of them or me being there.
I watched the sweet little elf getting undressed and couldn’t resist taking her, too. I remembered the first cat-suit that idiot Sheldon bought that was too small for me or Marcella, but was probably just her size. It was still in with the gear I’d had them purchase. Besides, there were elements of my plans, both the short-range plan for tonight and my long-range life-plan, that worked better with a third. I stunned her before she could see me, blindfolded her with her own sweaty gym shorts, tied her wrists and ankles with the pantyhose from her bag, then locked all her other shit away in a locker using her lock. I got her delivered to Sheldon and Derek before Marcella arrived, and I told them about the last minute rearrangements in the plan. They weren’t unhappy they’d have someone else to play with, but they doubled their price anyway. The second electro-sex unit and chastity belt had been meant for me, and the posture collar had been for Marcella. We had enough gear to accommodate a third, besides, Zoe seemed worth it in so many ways.
In the aftermath, Marcella and Zoe were both so grateful for my heroics and sorry for what I’d suffered on their behalf that it was easy to get them not to pursue things legally. I was, after all, the most injured “victim,” and they let my decision stand. When the blackmail demand arrived, they offered up the cash even before I could ask. I had their minds right where I wanted them, their bodies had already begun to follow. They now both had a hard-limit where electrical-play was concerned, but that was a small price to pay. Besides, I could get them past that if I wanted to. By working their guilt and displaying the right amount of strength punctuated by the aftereffects of my “trauma,” I could slowly get them to agree to anything. There was already talk of renting a bigger place for the three of us to reduce costs and help make up the 20K loss.
It did raise an eyebrow when I told my girls I intended to keep my piercings and bare pussy. Badges of courage, I called them. “It was the point during the whole nightmare where I was the strongest,” I’d said. “I need that reminder.” Marcella was thinking about getting some piercings of her own, and I think even Zoe was wavering. I bought a waxing pot, cooked a batch of sugar-wax, and asked the girls to help me remove my returning hair. They both said they liked the look of my hairless cunny and were considering following suit. I loved the attention.
It made me crazy, that I couldn’t find a way to screw Scarface out of the money. Derek was as dumb as boiled gravel, and no threat at all, but Sheldon was a stupid, psychotic misogynist and didn’t deserve the cash. Still, it was the pin in his guilt should he try to come back at me. And they had performed the task I’d hired them to do without slip-up or modification. A fair wage for an honest day’s work, I guess. No matter what I told myself it still rankled. I got a concealled carry permit, bought a Glock, and went to the range three times a week. None of that seemed strange to my girls considering what they believed had happened. If Sheldon did come after me, I’d put three rounds into his chest and call it self-defense. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that; hoped that fear of imprisonment would keep him away.
It was going to cost a lot to outfit me and my girls the way I wanted and the 20K would have helped. My job was a dead-end. Having a successful career was never my priority, but my girls were up-and-coming. Marcella was in insurance and Zoe was a software engineer. Both were gunning for management, where the money is. I could help guide them right to the top. There was no one better than me at politics, and everything is political in the end.
They say that behind every great … hmmm … person there is a great woman. I would be that woman for both of them. My future was bright. In two years my hair would be back down to my shoulders. Until then it would be wigs for me. Tonight I was a redhead. By then, I’d have quit my job to be the homemaker for my girls. Soon after, I’d need a maid for the bigger house, and we’d be able to afford both. There were some investment ideas I had that should pan out, if I could get the capital, and they would give it to me. Ten years from now, it would be beaches for me and mine, perhaps even an island. Well before then, they’d be what I wanted them to be: my complete and utter slaves, ready to perform whatever task I gave them no matter how perverse or depraved. Every part of them would belong to me and me alone. Nothing creates a submissive better than a high-stress job with too much responsibility. To come home and have no decisions to make would be heaven for them. The fact that they’d be servicing my desires would be irrelevant to them and gravy for me.
You might ask, do I love them?
The answer is, of course, if by love you mean, do I want them to be happy. The problem with most people is they don’t know what they want and so they don’t know how to be happy. I don’t have that problem. I know exactly what I want and I’ll do anything to get it. As to Marcella and Zoe, I will define their desires and those desires will be fulfilled. Those desires will include, servicing my needs, and by doing so, they will be happy. Maybe it’s not your kind of love, but it works for me.
“What do you do with two little lasses,” I sang under my breath as the door closed behind me. There were a couple of verses of the song I’d written that I hadn’t given to Sheldon and Derek and an alternate chorus I’d just made up to fit the new ménage à trois arrangement:
If I need you, then I’ll use you, If I don’t, then forget you, Get from my way, or I’ll crush you, Er-lie in the morning. Way! Hey! And up I rises, With my gals o’ different sizes, Way! Hey! I’m their Goddess, Er-lie in the morning. Make them strong, and they’ll love you, Make them weak, and they’ll need you, Make them beg, and they’ll please you, Er-lie in the morning. Way! Hey! And up I rises, With my gals o’ different sizes, Way! Hey! I’m their Goddess, Er-lie in the morning, (noon, and night, too)!