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From: Mahgirb@webtv.net
Subject: ThunderShark's Lair (m/f,bd,tor,rub,ballet heels)
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Be warned the following is not to be read by anyone other than
consenting adults who know that they are not violating any laws, whether
local, national, or international, in reading this adult-in-nature
drivel which contains to one degree or another, scenes and/or semantic
depiction of bondage, sex organs, torture, and general painful high heel
mayhem. Heed the warning and then decide whether ye may proceed!

"ThunderShark's Lair"
by Mahgirb

The man looked with consternation at his timepiece. Quickly removing the
chained Timex to his inside coat pocket, he returned his focus to the
girl on the floor of the dimly lit cavern. He ran his meticulously
manicured fingers through his perfect raven-black coif and quietly
muttered at the display.

ThunderShark had hired the girl as a dancer in his downtown club,
knowing that after she began to feel comfortable he would "promote" her
to the lesser known club; a mansion to be more accurate. Its geography
was not widely distributed and its clientele list was only the subject
of rumors. This girl with the waist-length brown hair and warm cocoa
colored eyes would fit in quite well among his higher-paying customers
who expected enhanced service. Interactive service, if you will.

"What is the hold up down there my good man?"

The "Installer," as the brutes were nicknamed, wiped some of the specks
of blood from his face and turned up to see the boss directly.

"She's got a lotta fight in her, sir. I've been trying for half an hour
to get her jewelry in place. The bitch even managed to cut me with her
nipple ring before I got it connected. I think that---"

"Listen, I do not pay you to think," ThunderShark interrupted, "Just
finish the girl and deliver her to Dr. Sisdat."

ThunderShark shuffled with his silk tie, tightening the noose slightly,
trying to regain  comportment in his dress and voice.

"You do a fine job. I trust you with this girl, but do not take longer
than necessary."

ThunderShark gestured for the greasy Hercules to continue. As he broke
off from the conversation, he found his eyes remaining on the near naked
form of the girl. She was admittedly much like the other young treasures
he had transformed into flesh slaves, but his instinct told him this
capture was of an exceptional breed. 

He watched below as her feet struggled in their new home. A pair of
steel-toed ballet shoes with heels easily seven narrow inches in height.
The tips of her toes were painfully squashed as the shoe had the effect
of forcing them into one fine point. She had been used to dancing with
black platform heels at the club, but her feet could barely keep
balance; that is what the chains overhead were to provide. That and a
certain degree of immobility while the Installer outfitted the subject
with a full array of titanium rings.

The time was 11:34:16 by ThunderShark's watch---which was the official
time of the Lair---and his prospective VIP client was due in at 5. Not
much time to have this pretty young thing prepared. 

Ah, how he wished he had the time to prepare her himself; he missed
those salad days of his youth, when he captured innocent school girls
and later convinced them to be his willing slaves. Had it been so many
years ago, he thought to himself. Now, too many business meetings, too
many reports to read, too many decisions to make.  In short, too many
responsibilities. Some days, he wished that he could change places with
one of his Installers or B.A.s (Body Artists). He missed getting his
hands dirty, and wet.
    


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