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From: tmquin@ibm.net (Thomas M Quin)
Subject: {ASS} SSK: Toyz (M/F, B&D, NC)
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STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it
is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the
author.
The author explicitly prohibits.
1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form.
2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express
permission.
3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the
written permission of the author.
This work is copyright TM Quin 1997.
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Quin 1997 tmquin@ibm.net
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Scattered Scenes 3a: "Toyz" by Quin
================================
A cold breeze blew through the basement dungeon causing the naked
woman in the cage to shiver and pull the rough blanket tight around
her shoulders.
The woman, who was now known as only as "Slave," sat on a narrow
futon mattress in one corner of the cage picking at the corner of the
leather chastity belt she wore. The short chains which linked her
cuffed wrists to the belt gingled as she poked at the edges of the
leather device looking for a way to her hot cunt. These days she
seemed to be horny all the time a condition she believed was caused
by the numerous injections her master --no! her *captor* gave her.
Today he'd upped the stakes a little and stuffed a low speed vibrator
deep inside her hot little pussy. The vibration was driving her mad
with a combination of frustration and desire. With a trembling hand
she tugged on the lock but the dildo was kept agonizingly out of
reach by the belt. Slave tried again to force her fingers around the
edge but had no luck. Finally defeated she settled back and tried to
clear her mind hoping to find something, anything to distract her
from the wonderful agony between her legs.
How long had see been here she wondered? Probably several months by
now. She sobbed. Why she was here was obvious; she'd been stupid,
doing things her mother had always warned her against. Her mother...
Suddenly she realized that she couldn't remember her mother's face,
she panicked going backwards and forwards over her life in her mind.
At last the face she wanted surfaced but it took a supreme effort.
Like most of her former life the image was fading fast from her
memory to be replaced by the new vivid images of her captivity. The
only memory she had of before, well the only clear one was of *that*
night, when she had lost her freedom. She sobbed again, *that*
memory would haunt her forever.
Her company (which company?) had sent her to New England on a
management seminar. The days had been long and boring, obvious
anecdotes and observations dressed up as some fantastic new
management technique to justify the training consultant's excessive
fees. Early on she'd figured out the score, realizing that she
couldn't really fail anything and that the consultants were hardly
likely to pass a bad report back to head office. In her usual
forceful manner she'd made it clear she was leaving now, she would
give the course a glowing review when she returned if the trainer was
smart enough to play along. He hadn't been stupid, they needed her
endorsement to get repeat business from her company and so a deal was
struck. Then she was free, a two week all expenses paid trip to the
east coast ahead of her. Going to New York had been obvious but she
was still a little cautious and wanted to stay near the seminar for
the first few days. She'd filled her time visiting a few
Revolutionary War sites and when she'd felt it was safe she'd decided
to spend a couple of days in Boston before going on to the Big Apple.
She hadn't been the kind of girl that believed in casual sex but on
her first night in Boston she'd felt a little lonely. So dressed in
an outfit that was stylish and just a little provocative she'd
started cruising the local clubs. How she'd ended up at that bar she
couldn't remember but the moment she'd stepped inside she'd realized
it was a mistake. A large TV was blaring out a football game to a
noisy and excited group at the bar. As she entered one of them had
turned and made some comment. Suddenly the game was forgotten as the
sports fans turned and started making lewd comments and suggestions.
She'd almost left then and there but the night had turned cold, her
feet were tired and she didn't want to walk back to the hotel.
Instead she'd decided to stay for one drink then use the phone to
call a taxi. The barman, probably noticing her distress pointed at a
stool off to one side and away from the yahoos at the bar. She
settled down and not getting any rise from her the sports fans went
back to watching the game.
Suddenly she became aware of a man sitting next to her asking quietly
if she wanted a drink. Turning she'd looked at him wondering what he
was doing in a place like that. He was tall distinguished looking
man in his mid forties, well dress and obviously well educated. He
was in every way the mysterious older man so beloved by romance
novels. She'd been intrigued enough to accept the drink he offered.
They'd chatted for a while and she found him charming and cultured,
not like the sports fans who had renewed their leering and shouting
now the game was in commerc ials. While part of her had initially
been thrilled by their attention, the cat calls and come ons were
starting to become annoying. When he'd quietly suggested a booth by
the door she'd gratefully accepted.
Away from the noise and the lewd comments they'd talked further. He
told her his name was George and that he owned a small computer
company. Looking back she realized that he really hadn't said that
much about himself, he'd happily kept buying the drinks and let her
talk. Now, she regretted telling him so much, the name of her hotel,
of the company she worked for, the fact that she had recently changed
jobs and had no established roots. Worst of all she'd told him all
about the seminar and her devious little deal. She had laughed when
she'd told him that the office didn't know where she was, smiled when
he'd complemented her on her cleverness.
Eventually she'd excused herself to go "powder her nose" he'd just
smiled and offered to get the next round. Looking back she realized
he'd been waiting for this opportunity but at the time she'd been too
distracted wondering if she wanted to go to bed with him. On her
return he'd seemed a little jumpy and nervous. She'd assumed that
the sports crowd had been giving him grief in her absence. He'd
suggested rather loudly that they should move on after this drink and
she'd been happy to play along even making comments about the fan's
antics. They booed and jeered then turned back to the game. Sitting
down she'd accepted the glass he'd offered.
She'd realized she was in trouble part way through that last drink.
Suddenly everything had become hazy and unfocussed. For a while
she'd just sat there confused while she fought to stay conscious.
Initially, while she had still been able to move and speak he'd
seemed concerned suggesting that he should call a doctor. At first
she'd shooed him away embarrassed that she couldn't hold her liquor.
Then, as the fog grew thicker and her ability to move evaporated he
had lent forward and whispered in her ear. "I bet you're wondering
what's going on don't you my stupid little slut?" He'd said with a
twisted little smile, "You see I spiked your drink with Rophinol,
what the newspapers call the date rape drug? Now you and I are going
to go somewhere a little quieter so we can get better aqainted."
Even in her dazed state she'd realized what that meant. Desperately
she'd tried to leave, to run, to scream but it was too late, by then
the drugged haze was just too thick. She was still conscious, still
aware, but had lost her ability to control her body. He helped her
up, leading her towards the door with a parting jibe at the sports
fans.
She could remember him flagging a taxi while she leaned paralyzed
against the wall. With a supreme effort she'd done the only thing
she could think of, she collapsed. Suddenly she was surrounded by
people, summoning her will she'd tried to scream but only a low moan
had finally emerged. She saw him coming through the crowd looking
angry and agitated. Gently he'd "helped" her back to her feet
telling the concerned passers by that she was drunk. In he r drugged
stupor she'd been unable to resist or call out even to those kind
souls who had helped him put her into the taxi. Next came the short
drive the few blocks to the deserted car park where he had left his
car.
A kidnapping done in public with no one any the wiser, even now she
couldn't believe she had been taken so easily. Once he'd paid off
the cabby he'd dragged her the deep into the lot until they reached
his car. He'd paused for a while satisfying himself that they hadn't
been followed and that they couldn't be seen. Opening the trunk he'd
sat her inside.
Gently he took her jaw and moved her face into the light. He tilted
her head back and forwards for a few minutes. She'd been unable to
resist.
"Yes," He'd said with some satisfaction, "I think you'll do nicely!"
Then he'd taken a small torch from his pocket and shone it into each
of her eyes. "Ah, you're fighting it aren't you my little bitch."
He'd laughed, "That's good it means you're strong and healthy. Don't
worry, I won't give you any more, you may have a bad reaction.
Still, we have to make sure you stay quiet until we get where we're
going."
Reaching inside the trunk he'd pulled out a couple of rolls of silver
duct tape and started to tape her wrists together behind her back.
"I know you probably don't appreciate it at the moment but you're
about to be part of an important scientific experiment." He'd
smiled, "It will answer a few fundamental questions about the human
experience. Test a few theories. In a way I think it's a pity I
won't be able to publish my results." He finished on her wrists and
then taped her elbows together. "There, that should hold you. After
I've put you away I'll pick up your things from the hotel. It should
take the police quite a while to realize you're missing, especially
after you covered your tracks so well." Too drugged to resist she'd
just watched as he'd taped her ankles together. Slowly the haze was
starting to clear and as he put the finishing touches to taping her
knees she found her voice.
"Please," She'd croaked, "Let me go!"
"Sush," he said and forced a hard rubber ball into her mouth, using
more tape to seal it in place. "There," he'd said as he'd smoothed
the last of the tape over her lips, "that's much better." She'd
given a muffled groan and begged him with her eyes. He'd smiled,
satisfied that she was muzzled he'd pushed her into the trunk and
taped her wrists to her ankles effectively hog tying her. Next he
had filled a syringe from a small bottle and injected her.
"Just something to remember me by," He'd said with a smile. Then
he'd closed the trunk.
Drugged and helpless she'd fallen asleep almost immediately and when
she finally awoke she was lying naked in this cage. Later he'd
appeared and taunted her. Still gagged she could only suffer in
silence. Then he'd given her another injection. Inside an hour
she'd been so horny she'd have fucked anyone, she hadn't resisted
when he returned. In fact she'd been more than happy when he'd
started to caress her naked body. In a few minutes she'd been so hot
that she'd started begging him through the gag. When he finally
raped her she'd been almost out of her mind fucking him with so much
enthusiasm it seemed to overwhelm him.
Absent mindedly she rubbed her arm feeling the tracks of the numerous
injections he'd given her since then. Now the needles were almost
unnecessary, her body had adapted and a wild unthinking horniness was
now her natural state. Unlike the details of her previous life, she
had no problem remembering every detail of each rape and degradation
he had inflicted upon her. Like last night when he'd tied her to the
rack and......
{Chafing wrists... straining.... his hand brushing lightly against
her thigh, the ache in her pussy. Hand drifting slowly to her
crotch..another stroking her belly... bite down.. taste of rubber..
moan.... then he touched her there ...muffled scream... felt so
good...beg.. beg again.. Please....Oh please Master....please}
The memory was so intense that at first she became lost in it,
reliving it, feeling his cock deep inside her probing..... Somehow
she fought her way back, but the memory had left her pussy begging
for more stimulation than the vibrator could deliver. With shaking
hands she started tugging at the chastity belt, moaning and clawing
to get even one finger inside. Her master had ordered her not to
touch herself but by now she was so horny and frustrated that she
didn't care. The need grew stronger and she moaned in frustration as
she tore frantically at the belt. She was so preoccupied that she
didn't even notice him until he spoke.
"Disobedient again Slave?"
She stiffened and cast him a guilty glance. A few months ago she'd
have challenged him, told him that she wasn't his slave or demanded
her freedom. But that was before he'd taught her a proper attitude
by flogging her with a bull whip. Now all she said was, "Yes
Master." In the pouty, little girl voice he'd encouraged her to use.
"Well, I have a surprise for you later," he said, "One I think you'll
enjoy." She shivered. *Surprises* were almost always painful and
she doubted that *she* would enjoy it. Still upsetting the master
was guaranteed to be unpleasant so for now she just thanked him and
smiled.
Reaching forward he unchained her collar and let her out of the cage.
Of course she glanced longingly at the dungeon door but she could
still feel the whipping he'd given her the last time she'd made a run
for it. It was pointless anyway; the door was always locked and he
was more than a match for her physically. So she just stood there,
waiting patiently while he removed her bonds and left her naked and
unfettered in the center of the dungeon.
Then he showed her the clothes he wanted her to wear. The outfit
itself was brief; a tight leather corset with cutouts to leave her
breasts free, long leather gloves, and a tight pair of thigh high
leather boots with five inch stiletto heels. A few months ago, back
in that other life, she would have died rather than wear something
like this. From choice she had dressed preppy and conservative never
showing this much skin. Before he'd brought her here she had never
even worn a pair of heels and the only vaguely kinky thing in her
wardrobe had been a little black leather miniskirt that she'd bought
but never had the courage to wear in public.
One of his first acts had been to train that out of her, to get her
used to dressing like a slut and more importantly to like it. Now
she was a kinky little thing, the mere smell of leather caused her
young pussy to juice, the touch of vinyl or rubber could literally
bring her to orgasm and she couldn't even imagine wearing flats.
Smiling, he watched the hungry look come into her eyes as she cast
long lustful glances at the waiting outfit. One hand had traveled
unconsciously down to her shaved pussy and was playing with the lips.
For a second he considered punishing her but decided against it,
after all this was the reaction he wanted. Instead he made her dance
as she dressed, sort of a striptease in reverse, and she shocked
herself by actually enjoying every moment. Teasing him made her hot,
rubbing herself with the leather made her hot and when he suggested
that she fuck herself with a boot heel, well she almost came then and
there. Of course he hadn't allowed that. It was one thing for her
to play with herself quite another for her to orgasm. These days she
came only when he commanded and that happened only when she pleased
him. She realized what this was doing to her; more and more her
thoughts were directed towards satisfying his needs so that he would
reward her.
When she was dressed he made her apply makeup to his requirements.
She covered her face with a thick pancake of powder and cream, a
scheme deliberately artificial. Like a Las Vegas showgirl or a
hooker. The image was then intensified by his choice of blusher and
the bright red lip gloss he had her use.
Satisfied, he bound her, with handcuffs and leg irons, then finished
off by pushing a big red ballgag into her mouth and tightening the
strap. Moaning, Slave rubbed herself against him begging him to fuck
her. He just smiled and applied a nipple leash, then he turned and
led her out of the dungeon.
The dungeon had been built into a side cellar of a large house. It
was separated from the main cellar, which seemed to run the length of
the ground floor, by a hidden door disguised as a section of old
wall. Once they were through and the hidden door closed, Slave
started towards the stairs. A sudden painful tug on her nipples
stopped her cold. She stopped and turned asking with her eyes.
"This way," he said leading her down the length of the main cellar to
a smaller, narrower staircase. She had to climb slowly, the hobble
and heels making the narrow stairs treacherous. She shuddered to
think what would happen if she fell back, would the leash tare her
nipples off? That was something she didn't want to find out. She
had seen enough of the place on previous trips upstairs to know that
it was an old Boston townhouse of some kind. She knew that the
stairs that he hadn't taken led to the kitchens but she'd never come
this way before. She could only assume that this was a servant's
staircase. After climbing a few stairs they came to a small landing
which seemed to be on the same level as the kitchens. Though the
open arch came the sounds and smells of someone preparing a meal.
Her empty stomach rumbled and she groaned in sympathy. Then she gave
a little half hearted scream that the gag swallowed completely. She
expected him to be angry but instead he had just pulled her to him so
that her back was against his chest.
"Scream louder he whispered one hand on her breast the other slipping
through the folds of her sex. She gasped, almost too excited to do
anything, but as he removed one of the nipple clamps and the
returning blood set her sensitized nip on fire she screamed. It was
obviously louder than he'd expected, the hand on her breast flew to
her mouth covering it and forcing the ball in deeper. For a second
the sounds in the kitchen ceased as if the staff were listening. She
tried struggling against him but he was far too strong and her cries
died in his hand. Finally work resumed in the kitchen. Again she
believed he would be angry but all he did was reach behind her and
tighten the gag strap another notch.
"Very good Slave," He panted as her turned her to face him. His face
was flushed with excitement. Slave glanced down noticing his
erection as it pushed against his pants. The need in her own pussy
was still intense and suddenly she surprised herself with a devious
plan. Slowly she rubbed the smooth leather of her boots against his
bulge. He gasped pushing her back against the wall of the staircase.
Smiling behind the gag she persisted feeling his body tremble. Of
course he was adept at keeping her horny while satisfying himself,
but here she had the advantage. He wanted relief now, she could see
that in his eyes, but he couldn't risk ungagging her and forcing her
to blow him with the kitchen staff nearby. Slowly he unzipped his
fly, freeing his swollen cock. She opened her legs as far as the
hobble would allow and waited to take him. He plunged straight in
with no attempt at foreplay, after all this was for his pleasure not
her's but all of those hours with the vibrator had left her primed
and she responded quickly.
Screaming into the muffling gag she thrust forward enveloping him
completely fucking him as hard as he fucked her. Behind them the
sounds from the kitchen continued and for once he was at a
disadvantage, for though she could scream her passion into the gag,
he had to keep his bottled up for fear of the staff overhearing.
That may have tipped the balance in her favor because a few minutes
later she came with a mind stunning orgasm that left her weak and
trembling. He came seconds later, obviously annoyed that she had
managed to get off. Scowling he refastened the nipple clamp and lead
his quiet and sated slave upstairs.
When they reached the second floor he led her out onto the landing
and through a door. The room was one she recognized; some sort of
rec. room that adjoined his bedroom, a place he'd fucked her many
times. He led her over near the fireplace where a solid wooded chair
was waiting along with several hanks of cotton cord. She shivered as
he pushed her into the chair but did not resist as he started to tie
her. He took his time as always, gradually robbing her of every
movement until she was completely helpless He started out by tying
her torso tightly to the chair in three places; at her waist and
above and bellow her pendulous breasts. Then, freeing her wrists one
at a time he bound her gloved arms to the chair in three places,
wrists, elbows and upper arms. The little collars of rope were tight
and not that uncomfortable but they left her with little chance of
movement.
She waited patiently for him, it was useless to struggle as he could
easily overpower her. Better, she thought, to see what he had in
mind and hope that she could somehow turn it to her advantage.
Finally he removed the hobble and started securing her legs. Her
booted ankles were tied tightly to the chair legs holding her legs
erect and immobile. Then he tied her thighs to the chair arms at
about the spot where the boots ended. This held her legs open and
had left her shaved pussy defenseless.
He stepped back for a few moments and surveyed his work. Then he
moved forward tightening a bond here or loosening one there before
stepping back again. Finally satisfied he'd rubbed her cheek. She
had thought that was the end of it but he was obviously still annoyed
with her. Walking to a draw he removed a large vibrating dildo.
Thinking he was about to put it in her cunt she resisted but he had
something more devious in mind. Turning it on low, he gently lent in
against her crotch in such a way that any movement would dislodge it.
Smiling at her frustrated moans her tightened one more bond before
stepping through the connecting doors that led to his bedroom.
For a few minutes she managed to stay motionless as the vibrator
teased her pussy. She felt the heat rise anew but couldn't stop it.
Unconsciously her pelvis thrust out seeking more stimulation but
instead the vibrator fell and the wonderful sensation ceased.
Frustrated, she struggled frantically, though more with the thought
of getting a hand to her hungry pussy than to escape. Finding her
position helpless she settled back and attempted to relax. Finally
she managed to fight off the distracting signals from her aching cunt
and look around the room.
He'd brought her here on numerous other occasions but then she'd
never had the time to look around. Now, it seemed, she had all the
time in the world. He had called the place "The Playroom" and she
could see why; it was full of all the things every little boy dreams
of but only a man could afford. With an effort she managed to force
her needs from her mind and let her eyes wander the room taking in
the details. Over in the corner was the glass case full of trophies,
the evidence -- she assumed-- of a great college athletic career.
She remembered his crushing strength, the way he could overpower her
so easily, make her obey him. She nodded to herself *that* made
sense. On the wall were framed sets of baseball cards. Duplicates
she realized, low grade, one of her former boyfriends had been a
collector. Which one? She got a brief flash of a face and then he
was gone. Suddenly she realized that she could no longer remember
his name or indeed when she had known him. Fighting down the panic
she continued to scan the room. Over by the pool table was a display
case of signed bats and balls. She shivered, the last time he'd
brought her here he'd tied her to the table and fucked her to orgasm
with the butt end of a cue. She shivered again, only the fortunate
placement of Babe Ruth's signature had saved her from the Louisville
Slugger that night. Still, even that humiliating and painful
experience was stimulating and the memory it triggered was making her
horny. No! Yet she was helpless to resist as the memory started to
play itself out in her head as clearly as the night it had happened.
Must concentrate, she realized, and with an effort she managed to
regain some of her self control. Somehow she managed to focus on the
bat once more. Babe Ruth? she wondered. A boyhood hero, but her
captor was in his forties, far too young to have seen the Babe play.
Then she realized that these things were trophies too, this time to
his wealth and buying power. He could afford to collect them so he
did. In contrast the trains which littered the room seemed to be
actually used, perhaps just a childhood hobby driven to extremes?
Was that what she was, she wondered, some adolescent obsession that
had gotten out of hand? Or was she a trophy too, something to be
collected and played with, a toy amongst toys? She watched a train
as it went around it's diorama. Had he left it on for her
entertainment she wondered or to cover her faint moans and weak
struggles?
Did it really matter?
A few minutes later he returned dressed in a tuxedo.
"Slave, I'm having a dinner party for a few friends tonight. When
it's over I'll have a surprise for you, something a little special.
I'm afraid that I'll have to keep you like this for a while but don't
worry I have just the thing to keep you entertained."
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small device which he held
in front of her. She moaned, he had used a similar vibrator many
times. It consisted of a little egg that went deep inside her pussy
and a clip that fastened onto her clit. Usually the cable went to a
small battery box with controls for speed and duration but this one
seemed a little different. The box seemed much bigger and the
controls were missing. Smiling he moved forward, she tried to resist
but with her legs tied open he had no trouble gaining access. She
twitched as he pushed the egg inside and gave a muffled screamed when
he fastened the clip. He just smiled and when the device was in
place he taped over her twat with swatches of flesh colored surgical
tape. Moaning, she looked down at her sealed pussy. The tape was
barely noticeable making her look strangely sexless like a store
mannequin. Horny and frustrated she moaned and tried to thrust her
pussy at his hand. Smiling at her reaction, he taped the box to her
thigh.
"I think you'll like this," He told her, "it works by remote
control."
"Here, let me show you." He took out the remote and showed her all
the settings, the variable speed of the egg and the way that the clit
clip could either vibrate pleasurably or deliver a painful shock.
"Anyway, time to go," He said but as a parting gift he set the
vibrator on low before leaving to welcome his guests.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
Jennifer Ross paused to straiten her dress then rang the doorbell.
For the third or forth time tonight she wondered what she was doing
here? It wasn't as if she and Dr. Cunningham were friends, in fact
during her two years at Saint Matthew's they'd had more than one
blazing row. Of the thousand little things that had prompted her
recent resignation her bad relations with Cunningham, who as head of
research was technically her boss, had certainly been the deciding
factor.
She had assumed that her resignation would end the issue, then out of
the blue she had received the invitation to a quiet dinner party at
his home. At first she'd thought that he was trying to win her back,
tempt her to stay, but that was stupid; she was a second year intern,
he the Nobel Laureate, he needed her far less than she needed him.
Finally she'd decided that he was offering her a way out, an
opportunity to crawl penitently back into the fold. She clenched her
fists feeling her nails even through her kid gloves, well if that was
what he believed then he was going to be disappointed.
The door was opened by a footman in full livery who accepted her
invitation without comment making her feel if anything even more
uncomfortable. Her father, a no nonsense country doctor, had always
detested formality and pretension. She wondered what he would think
if she could see his daughter dressed in a two thousand dollar dress
with a hundred dollar haircut, dining with at least two millionaires.
She shuddered at his imagined comment and turned to find the footman
waiting patiently for her wrap. She had just handed it to him when
her host appeared.
Twenty years ago Dr. Joseph Cunningham had been the enfant terrible
of biochemistry. Back then his theories had been on the crackpot
fringes of the science, now he was the Nobel Laureate, universally
accepted as the visionary and genius responsible for much of the new
medicine. One of the reasons she had come here after college was to
work with him and now one of the main reasons why she had resigned
was because she couldn't work with him.
"Jennifer my dear, you look radiant." He bowed slightly and kissed
her gloved hand. "I take it the dress was suitable? When I saw it I
just knew that you would look ravishing in it."
She murmured her thanks. When she had first received the invitation
she'd wondered what to do. In truth she could think of nothing worse
than spending a few hours with Cunningham and his cronies but she'd
been smart enough to realize that she was hardly in a position turn
him down. While it was true that he was no longer her boss, her
research was so advanced that Cunningham was probably the only person
capable of giving it a credible peer review. He could break her
career with just a few well chosen words and they both knew it.
So, she had told him a partial truth, that she had nothing really
suitable to wear and would be too embarrassed to attend. She had
thought he'd accepted her answer and had concentrated on packing up
her apartment for the move. Then, a few days latter the dress had
arrived by messenger, complete with gloves, shoes, purse, even
underwear. At first she'd believed it was a prank but the messenger
had insisted that the dress was for her and had been paid for. The
moment she's seen Cunningham's signature on the card she'd realized
that she was trapped. Still, she was a good loser and had returned
to the exclusive dress shop for a final fitting. Now, of course even
she admited that it was worth it. The gown looked good on her, the
cream silk matched her complexion and the lace bodice panel gave the
suggestion of cleavage while hiding everything important. That the
dress was an outright gift had finally been the deciding factor, it
cost nearly two thousand dollars and that was worth a few boring
hours of Cunningham's company.
"Shall we go through?" He asked, "Some of the others are already
here."
She wasn't sure who to expect, the invitation had given no other
names but the circles Cunningham moved in these days ensured that he
could pick and choose his dinner guests. She recognized Mark
Campbell straight away. The young MIT robotics professor had
received a lot of media attention since one of his machines had been
selected by NASA for the next Mars lander. He was dressed in an ill
fitting tux and stood talking to his young, fresh faced girlfriend.
The girl looked uncomfortable, picking at the edges of what must have
been a rented gown. Jennifer smiled at her and the girl smiled back,
immediately recognizing a confederate. Jennifer continued to look
around.
Hugo Ingram and his wife Stella were the two people Jennifer had
expected to see. Ingram ran a large pharmaceutical and medical
empire that was rapidly becoming the largest in the country. The
research at St. Matthew's was paid for by Hugo's company and he had
nervous intrusive approach to management. It was well known that
Stella owned most of the voting stock, the core business being
inherited from her father, and that she used it as a method of
keeping Hugo in line. Hugo's roving eye was common knowledge and his
taste for bright young women, usually doctors or nurses, had caused
him to haunt the corridors of St Matthew's looking for new conquests.
The joke here was that he couldn't afford to leave his wife, so his
young mistresses never stood a chance of becoming the next Mrs.
Ingram. Worse still was Stella's legendary jealousy, which had seen
the end of more than one promising medical career.
Shortly after Jennifer's arrival Hugo had seemed to take a liking to
her and had pressed his pursuit relentlessly. In fact the stress of
dodging Hugo had been one of the other reasons she'd quit. These
seemed all the guests that were here at the moment. It seemed
obvious that she should mingle and she knew exactly where to start.
Campbell was tall and almost painfully thin, resembling one of his
famous spider rovers more than he did a real person. High strung and
nervous he'd been an instant hit with the media; a real eccentric
rocket scientist to carve up and feed to their viewing public. She
knew that he'd found the attention distracting and intrusive,
especially when a tabloid had published a story linking him with a
teenage starlet. Jennifer glanced at the girl. She'd heard that the
story had almost cost him his relationship with his long term
girlfriend. What was her name? Mabel, Maggie? Jennifer couldn't
remember. Well, now was the time to find out.
"Hi," she said, "I'm Dr. Jennifer Ross, I work with Dr. Cunningham?
I guess you're Mark Campbell?"
The tall man grinned. "I guess so," He said in a soft gentle voice
and offered his hand, "Err this is my fiancee, Meg."
Meg! That was it! Jennifer looked at the girl who flashed a nervous
smile and offered a gloved hand. "Pleased to meet you Meg."
Jennifer said as they shook, "Fiancee, eh? That seems a new
development?"
The girl blushed, "I finally said yes last week. It's formal, I have
a ring and everything," she held up her gloved hand and showed a
slight bulge in the black leather, "it's under here, somewhere. If
we get chance I'll show it to you later. It has 2 diamonds and a
little fragment of moon rock."
Campbell smiled, "NASA owes me a few favors. I think it makes the
ring unique, just like her."
They were starting to get a little too sugary sweet. Jennifer was
almost relieved when Cunningham dragged her away. Hugo leered as she
walked over, a look that she found deeply disturbing. If Stella had
noticed she kept quiet for now graciously shaking the younger woman's
hand. "Ah, yes Jennifer, we met at the St. Matthew's fund raiser
last year?" Stella said in a loud voice. The woman had always had
money and had always known how to use it to get her own way. Despite
not being the hostess on this occasion she still felt herself in
charge and Jennifer was happy to let her take the lead.
"So," Stella said, "You're Joe's date for tonight?" For a second
Jennifer was confused until she realized that Stella was speaking
about Cunningham. Few people had the courage to call him "Joseph,"
much less "Joe." Even now Jennifer could feel the man's hackles rise
but he said nothing; even the great Dr. Cunningham needed to stay on
Stella's good side. Jennifer noticed the older woman's thin lips
crease in a secret smile of satisfaction.
"Date?" Jennifer asked.
Stella laughed, "Come now my dear, you must have noticed that all the
invitees are couples. You are the only unattached woman here and Joe
is the only single man." In truth Jennifer hadn't thought about it,
though it made some degree of sense. She glanced at Cunningham who
was blushing slightly. In the past few years he'd given no
indication of having any interest in her. In fact on more than one
occasion he'd deliberately humiliated her in front of the other
residents.
"Well man," Stella demanded, "What do you have to say?"
Cunningham was saved by the footman who stood in the doorway
signaling discretely.
"If you'll excuse me I'll see what this is about." He said then
slipped gratefully away.
"If you have any sense young woman, you'll take that man in hand."
Stella said in a low voice.
"M..me?"
"Of course you! That man needs a strong woman to keep him on track.
It isn't natural for a man like that to be single and it's starting
to effect his work. We've funded his research for the last few years
and there is precious little to show for it."
"But he doesn't even like me," Jennifer protested, "I mean we fight
all the time."
Stella smiled, "Some men are like that my dear, they get defensive
when they find a woman attractive. I think they fear for their
independence. If he didn't like you, then he wouldn't treat you like
that? Aren't I right?"
"Well?" Jennifer said.
"Of course I'm right! He asked you here didn't he. I bet he hopes
for a last minute reconciliation. If he does be gentle with him, for
his kind it takes a lot of courage."
Cunningham was tapping a wine glass and the tiny bell like sound
somehow managed to get everyone's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen I have some unfortunate news. I'm afraid there
has been an awful accident on the Interstate. Doctor's Warren and
O'Hagan pass on their apologies but they will be unable to join us
tonight. May I suggest that we adjourn into the dinning room?"
Cunningham walked over and waited expectantly. Her mind was still
spinning. Cunningham? He couldn't possibly? Yet why else would he
pay for such an expensive dress just to get her to come here? Her
mind still full of questions when he gave her a small bow.
"May I?" He asked.
She just nodded as he took her arm and led her into the large dinning
room.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Desperately the woman known as Slave struggled against the tight
ropes that bound her immobile to the chair. For a few seconds the
wood creaked but would not give. With a disappointed moan she tried
screaming again chewing ineffectively on the large red ball gag that
so completely filled her mouth. A strangled sound emerged which even
she could barely hear. There was no way it could carry downstairs.
However, she paused to listen anyway in the hope that someone may
have noticed. There was silence for a few seconds then a murmur of
laughter came from the downstairs room. She sobbed with frustration.
Ten maybe twenty feet away a group of people were sitting having a
pleasant dinner ignorant of her presence. She screamed again into
the muffling gag but knew that it was useless. Freedom was
agonizingly close and he was torturing her with that knowledge, using
it to break her. Why else would he leave her here in the house
rather than the soundproofed basement? He was taunting her with the
closeness of rescue, laughing at her helplessness, perhaps getting
off on the danger. Not that there was any real danger of her
escaping or somehow attracting attention to herself. No, he was too
careful for that but he could hold out the illusion of rescue and
place her freedom just out of reach.
How long had she been here? Slave wondered. It was hard to tell
without a clock but it seemed an eternity, one hour, two? If so the
party would soon be over and the guests would leave taking with them
any chance of rescue. Alone in her misery she sobbed. Soon he would
return full of his triumph, laughing at her helplessness, taunting
her. Then he would ...do.. things to her. She shivered
involuntarily as her body responded. She felt the heat build as the
lust swept through her and before long she was squirming her breath
ragged.
No! In her mind she was horrified realizing that he would rape her
again but her traitorous body was already spasming with pleasure
imagining his cock buried deep inside her thrusting, satisfying.
No! her mind screamed again but her crotch continued to heat and
dark perverted thoughts battered her consciousness. She knew that it
would soon overwhelm her, that in a few minutes all she would be
unable to think about anything but that elusive flash of pleasure
that came with every orgasm. Desperately she fought back trying to
keep her mind clear but she knew it was no good. Soon even her
conscious mind would start to look forward to his coming and the rape
that would inevitably follow. Then she'd do anything, fuck anything,
to satisfy the desires that ran uncontrolled through her body. She
sobbed and tried again to focus
It hadn't always been like this, once she had been a free independent
professional woman, with her own life and agenda. Sex had been nice
but it hadn't controlled her life like this. Had it? She couldn't
be sure; these days memories of that former life seemed so distant.
At first she'd believed that her fading memories had been caused by
the terror. After all she'd been kidnapped, raped, used in
unimaginable ways and she'd assumed that the shock had somehow burned
those images into her mind. Now she knew with certainly that he was
working on her mind. Something in the frequent injections he gave
her was effecting her memory causing her to remember each degradation
and humiliation so vividly that her old life was rapidly fading away
. Soon she would be his, a fuck toy he dominated with pleasure and
pain, her
mind under his complete control.
She glanced the large antique mirror he had so thoughtfully set up
before her. It wasn't only her mind he had changed. She looked at
the reflection and at a young woman she barely recognized.
The eyes of course were still her own, soft and brown like they had
been since childhood. These days --she thought-- there seemed to
have a curious mixture of despair and lust in them but perhaps that
was just her imagination, the mind looking for some physical
reflection of the torment she felt. His first change had been the
hair, once long and light brown but now short and a fiery red. Her
nose, well there at least their tastes matched. She had to admit
that she liked the new one better. Her cherry lips, wrapped tightly
around the hard rubber ball, were fuller and more pouty than she
remembered. She could see the straps that held the ball in place
bite cruelly into the sides of her mouth before continuing around to
fasten at the back of her head. On impulse she screamed watching her
mouth strain against the gag but hardly a sound emerged. She looked
in horror at the strange redhead in the mirror, the one with the wild
eyes and the ball in her mouth. It wasn't her, it couldn't be
her.....
As she watched a glob of drool rolled down her chin to land in the
pool that had formed on her breasts.
Her breasts.
Somewhere in that hazy past she could remember them as being small
and delicate, soft and sensitive to the touch. A lover (who, when?)
had cupped them gently in his hands caressed them.... but her new
master had other ideas. Obviously he liked big boobs and had seen to
it that she had them. Her new breasts were large and round,
obviously a double D, huge mounds that felt somehow dead. For a
second she mourned her lost body, trying to remember what it had been
like, but the image in the mirror was too strong and her memories of
her former looks were fading fast. Soon the redhead in the mirror
would be all she had ever been. She sobbed in silence. Recently he
had talked about nipple rings and perhaps changing the shape of her
jaw. It seemed to her that this was the ultimate violation, that
each change he made diminished her more and more while he made her
into his creature. The reflection in the mirror was of a whore, a
fuck toy and not the sensitive young woman she..... almost
remembered.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The dinner of course was excellent, not surprising as it had been
catered by one of Boston's most prestigious restaurants. Jennifer
had even started to relax a little, if Cunningham did intend to ask
her something then it was likely to be in private.
As the meal progressed the conversation turned inevitably towards
work. Cunningham's comments had little interest as she worked with
them every day and Hugo's little inside tips on the medical industry
would probably have made more sense if she'd been a broker.
It had been Mark Campbell that had proved the real surprise. Once on
his favorite subject of robotics the nervous awkward young man
disappeared and was replaced by someone with vision and passion.
"The problem with an effective Mars Rover is that it *has* to be able
to pilot itself. In hazardous terrain you simply can't wait the
forty minutes needed to get instructions from Earth." He said, an
evangelistic fire burning in his eyes.
"But I thought they had a Rover on Mars?" Stella protested.
"Oh, they did," Campbell said, "But it moved so slowly that you
literally had hours to plan your next move. I think it explored
about two hundred meters of Mars in total. If we are to have any
hope of finding life on Mars we will need Rovers capable of two
hundred kilometers *and* the ability to work out of contact with
Earth."
"So your machine is programmed to drive itself," Stella said.
"No, no. Not programmed, *taught.* You see Mars is literally an
alien environment, to give any light weight Rover programs for all
occurrences is just too impractical. My field is cybernetics, the
production of artificial systems that mimic ones that exist in the
natural world. You see, just about any living thing, even something
as primitive as a cockroach, is a thousand times better equipped to
deal with Mars than our smartest machines. The reason is that it has
experience to draw on. When it finds something that works it knows
to try it again in the same situation. Further, most creatures can
then adapt that strategy to deal with situations that are similar but
not identical to the first problem."
Taking a pen from his pocket he started to draw a diagram on a
napkin. "You see *my* machines use what is knows as a multilayer
neural network. Each leg has a network which connects to a higher
network that handles each pair of legs and so on. That means that
the legs can adjust individually to changes in traction in the same
way that you would if you ran on ice..."
Stella smiled, "I hope your machines are better on ice than poor
Hugo."
The millionaire blushed but Stella ignored him, "So what you are
saying is that these machines of yours have no program."
Cunningham joined in, "They have a program Stella. It's just that
it's represented by the weightings of artificial neurons rather than
some programmed code. As Mr. Campbell's machines explore those
weightings change in response to their environment."
Campbell seized on the explanation, "That's right, the machine learns
in the same way we do."
"So what's the program?" Stella asked confused.
"In effect it is the sum of the machine's *memories* Stella,"
Cunningham said suddenly sounding bored.
"That's right!" Campbell said, "They are the sum of their memories
just as we are. There have been cases of people with amnesia who
have developed different personalities from what they had before.
You see their personality was the product of their memories. New
memories means new personality."
Cunningham smiled, "Mark, I think you've just lost Stella, perhaps we
should change the subject. I heard this interesting joke..."
Now the meal was over they settled back exchanging anecdotes and
telling jokes. Cunningham seemed in his element, he was sat at the
head of the table nursing a small whisky, listening politely to the
jokes. He seemed a warm and congenial host in stark contrast to the
way he behaved at work and for a moment Jennifer even started
wondering if perhaps they did have some future.
No, that was ridiculous (wasn't it?)
It turned out that Meg had an over developed funny bone. Once you
started her laughing it seemed impossible to make her stop and her
loud cackles had started to become contagious. As the wine and
spirits flowed in abundance even Jennifer started to be affected and
when Stella told a particularly tasteless O.J joke well, anyone would
have laughed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Slave was distracted by the brief twitter of feminine laughter coming
from downstairs. There then followed a murmur of male approval and a
second titter. Someone at the dinner party had told a joke, she
thought, probably some stupid little thing at an absent friend's
expense. She could imagine him laughing with his guests, enjoying
her helplessness.
The guests! She realized that this was her last chance, if she
wasn't rescued tonight then he would soon break her will and she
would be his mindless fuck toy forever. Taking a deep breath she
marshaled her remaining strength then redoubled her efforts. For a
few minutes her young body convulsing in a spasm of restrained
energy. Under her assault the chair creaked and complained but it
was too strong to break and that was her only hope of freedom.
Drawing on her last reserves she continued to thrash as much as the
tight bonds would allow her in the vain hope that something would
give. Finally when her oxygen was gone she was forced to stop,
exhausted and assessed her progress. Her struggles had achieved
nothing, no bond moved, no cord loosened, she groaned in frustration.
She sat panting for a while trying to think; perhaps there was
another way. When her strength returned she struggled again this
time trying to move the chair and make it topple. She fought for a
few minutes but she had too little movement in her upper body to
build up any momentum. For a second she tried to rock backwards but
her tightly bound ankles and the extreme boots denied her the option
of pushing off with her toes. Finally she settled back frustrated.
It was hard to imagine that a few feet of cotton cord and a rubber
ball could hold her prisoner so effectively but they did. Suddenly
the little egg burst into life sending sharp pangs of pleasure into
her pussy. Immediately her concentration was broken and the lust
overcame her, brushing her battered consciousness aside. Like a wild
animal she fought the bonds this time chasing the orgasm. Through
the haze she could feel her pussy muscles forcing the intruder up and
down her love canal. For a few minutes she thrashed around
desperately trying to get a little more stimulation from the fiendish
device. For a heartbeat she was close to the edge but then the egg
shut off. She could still get some stimulation from her struggles
but that alone was not enough to push her over the edge. Finally
exhausted she was forced to stop and a few minutes later she finally
asserted some self control. Her will was weak, her body tired and
somewhere in the back of her mind a voice spoke.
It would be all right, the dark side of her mind said, just obey the
Master and take the pleasure he offered as a reward. What use was
freedom to a slave anyway? In her tired state the voice sounded so
seductive, all she had to do was stop fighting and accept his
domination. All she had to give up was that last little core of who
she had been.
Silently she sobbed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Is that a remote?" Jennifer asked pointing to the small device in
Cunningham's hand. For a second he seemed surprised that she had
seen it.
"Yes my dear, I thought some light music would be in order but I
can't seem to make the thing work. It's understandable really, I'm
hardly in these days I suspect that the batteries are dead."
"Let me try?" She offered. It was a peace gesture of sorts a way to
show a little solidarity even over something so trivial. For a
second he seemed to think about it then gave her a broad grin.
"Why not?" he said, "though I'll be embarrassed if you make it
work."
Still smiling he gave her the tiny device.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The pain was like a physical blow striking her hard in the crotch.
Slave screamed and almost lost consciousness. NO, Master, she begged
silently, please....
In her mind she begged him, make it stop and she would be his
forever. She would do whatever he wanted nothing would be too vile
or too low for her she would happily be his fuck toy, just make it
stop.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Guess you were right," Jennifer said handing back the remote. She
had pressed all the buttons but it still hadn't worked.
"Joseph, I rang for more whiskey but no one's answered," Hugo said.
Cunningham glanced at his watch. "I hired additional staff for the
night and I think that they finish at eleven. Don't concern
yourself Hugo I keep a secret cache in here."
He was topping up the glasses when a pager went off. Instinctively
the two doctors reached for their belts. It was Jennifer who turned
out to be unlucky, she pulled the pager out of her purse and glanced
at the number.
"The hospital," She said.
"I thought you'd resigned?" Stella said.
Jennifer gave a distracted nod, "I'm third line on call until
tomorrow. Things must be really bad for them to call me.
"Probably the problem on the Interstate," Cunningham said, "If they
needed to call you then I'm probably not that far behind."
"I suppose that's the end of the party," Meg said with mock
disappointment.
"Nonsense!" Cunningham said, "It could be anything, where a chart
is, need of a second opinion, anything. Until she calls back we
won't know. Why don't you all just drink up while we medical types
sort all this out?"
"Do you have a phone?" Jennifer asked.
"Not down here I'm afraid," Cunningham said, "Caught one of the cooks
calling his dear mother in Napoli this morning and had them all taken
out. There's one in my office though, up the stairs second door on
the left."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Gradually Slave regained consciousness. The pain still burnt in her
clit but at least it had started to recede a little. Such was the
pain that at first she didn't notice the door opening. So he'd
returned to gloat, she thought, that must mean that his guests were
gone and he would ungag her. When he did she would pledge her
undying servitude to him, beg him to take her and do as he wanted,
just please stop hurting her.
Slave's heart missed a beat. Instead of her Master a young woman
with long brown hair, dressed in a light colored dress entered the
room. The woman seemed intent, not even looking in the direction of
the bound girl but instead heading for a phone near the diorama.
For a whole second Slave was so surprised that she didn't think to
move.
"Ummphh," She moaned, "Umm heee."
The young woman turned and gave out a little squeal.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
On entering the room Jennifer headed straight for the phone. She had
almost reached it when she heard a muffled groan and turned around.
Nothing could describe what she saw. A young redheaded woman sat
bound with rope to a chair, wearing some kind of leather outfit. The
girl's eyes were wide and she was obviously startled too. She was
making muffled noises from behind some ball like contraption that was
strapped into her mouth. The girl struggled weakly against the cords
that bound her to the chair and tried to say something else.
Jennifer started over, taking in the details as she got closer.
The woman was dressed in a leather corset, leather thigh boots and
gloves, which Jennifer understood to be the standard uniform of the
S&M crowd. She was tied to the chair with almost impossible amounts
of rope tied in the most intricate of knots. Silently Jennifer gave
a sigh of relief. This wasn't one of the domestics overpowered by a
burglar, this was some weird kinky thing Cunningham had going for
him.
"Ummph Hee!"
"Err, hello?" Jennifer said feeling embarrassed, "I'm a friend of
Dr. Cun.. err of Joseph. I'm sorry I needed to use the phone."
The girl gave a weak struggle, "Meeph Umpph Hee!"
"Jennifer are you there?" At the sound of Cunningham's voice the
girl stiffened.
"Look I'm sorry to have barged in," Jennifer said and quickly left
ignoring the muffled sounds from behind her.
"Ah Jennifer there you are!" Cunningham said, "I got so caught up
with your call I forgot that the room was already err occupied."
They shared a moment of mutual embarrassment.
"Who..?" Jennifer began.
"Her name is Hanna and she's a medical student I met last fall. I
admit I was a bit embarrassed at first, man of my age with a girl
that young but then we found we shared a number of err.. common
interests?"
"So I can see," She said.
"Jennifer, please. I know that we have had our disagreements in the
past but I would appreciate it if we kept this between ourselves."
Jennifer smiled, "Of course Joseph." She laughed, "You know Stella
said that you'd invited me here so that you could pledge some undying
love or something. She thought that you were trying to date me."
Cunningham laughed, "No not at all. Err....Not that I wouldn't want
to you understand but I have other commitments. No, I invited you
because I couldn't help thinking that I'd driven you a little hard in
the past and I didn't want you to leave feeling any ill will. I
thought you'd be more likely to accept some kind of group event and
the dress was just my way of saying thank you for all of your hard
work."
She found it strangely touching and leaning over gave him a little
peck on the cheek.
"There's a phone in here," He said opening a bedroom door.
A few minutes later she emerged, "False alarm, someone with thick
fingers I suspect. The hospital doesn't need me.
He allowed himself a small smile of self satisfaction.
"Shall we go?" He asked offering his hand.
"Will your friend be all right in there?" Jennifer asked, "She
seemed a little frantic when I left."
"Probably dying for the toilet after all the water I made her drink,"
Cunningham smiled, "She has a way of signaling me if she's in trouble
but she knows she'll be punished if she uses it for a non emergency."
Jennifer nodded, Cunningham would have all the bases covered, his
young lover would be in no real danger. Looking back she was glad
that she had come tonight, she had seen a little of Cunningham's
human side and found that though he had secrets he wasn't a monster.
Perhaps in a few years she would work with him again.
====================================================================
Joseph Cunningham waved the last of his guests good bye and heaved a
large sigh of relief. That stupid bitch Jennifer Ross had behaved
exactly as he's predicted and should have been the final straw
necessary to finally break his slave. He doubted that she would tell
anyone, she'd feel too embarrassed and even if she did tell he could
always deny it. Hell, if he had really been caught in that situation
he would deny it. In any case Jennifer Ross would be leaving Boston
tomorrow.
Quickly he hurried up the stairs to his slave. He noticed the change
straight away, the girl wasn't moving but instead sat waiting for
him. As he approached she turned to face him and he noticed with
satisfaction the new look of hopeless resignation and submission in
her eyes. When he finally unlocked her gag her first words were to
announce her surrender and pledge herself to him. He smiled, the end
of another successful experiment. Now it was time for phase two.
The End (of 3a)
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