Fear and Desire Chapter 6
Laura:
A loud buzzer jolted Laura awake, and the memories of yesterday came flooding back, along with the fear. The cell door banged open. A new man came in and moved to each bed, unlocking the chains. She had to pee, so she risked looking up at him and asked if she could use the bathroom.
“No talking!” he barked.
She looked over to Claire, who shook her head. She wasn’t allowed to use the bathroom? She stood up stiffly and joined the line of silent women near the door. As soon as the last one was unlocked, a second master led the line down the hall to a large door. Next to the door was a pile of shoes. Each woman grabbed a pair and put them on. The last pair, to Laura’s astonishment, were her worn-down white running shoes—the shoes she’d worn to work just last evening.
A lifetime ago.
She slipped them on, still needing to pee badly. The door opened and the women filed out into the early morning sun.
She looked with surprise at the surreal scene. In front of her lay a large dirt-packed area between their building and a large barn with open doors. Dense woods surrounded everything. The sunrise hadn’t made it over the trees yet, and the air was cool.
“Get going!” a voice behind her yelled, and as one, the women started a slow jog. Laura was still gawking when a hand landed on her butt with a stinging slap. She scurried to catch up to Claire, who was last in the group and looking back at her.
“Claire,” she whispered, “I have to pee. Really bad.”
Once more, Claire shook her head. “We all do. But they don’t let us until we’re done exercising. If anyone slacks, no one is allowed to go back inside until they’re satisfied.”
“What happens if I pee on myself?”
“You have wet and smelly shoes that won’t be washed. We’ve all done it.”
Jogging was a nightmare between her bouncing breasts and her bursting bladder. The women set out along the line of trees, then turned left and ran behind the barn, turned left and ran along the side of the barn and then the main building, up to the corner where a tall fence gave way to a gate. She looked longingly at the gate, but one of the men was right behind her and snapped the back of her legs with the crop.
Around and around they went, with Laura growing increasingly unable to keep up. At one point, the women at the front of the group were so far ahead that they met up with Laura from behind. She was winded and barely able to walk when the women turned and went into the corral again. Laura breathed a sigh of relief and followed.
“Get back out there! You have another round to make, and for trying that, you get to do two. Everyone else will stand here and wait for you.”
She was propelled back out of the corral by Master 4, who encouraged her to run as fast as she could by applying the crop to her backside every ten feet. She stumbled and fell to her knees. The crop descended sharply, again and again, as she tried to get back to her feet. At the end, she could do little more than walk fast. She limped back into the corral where the other women stood with their hands behind their heads, silent and unmoving.
The next activity was a weird version of yoga. She followed the movements the best that she could. By now, every muscle was screaming in protest. At least the exercise had warmed her up.
“Final squats!” Master 4 called. Silently, each woman walked over to a plastic container and pulled out a board with a dildo mounted vertically. Claire handed one to her, and showed her how to put it on the ground, stand with her feet on the board, and squat down until the fat silicone head slid up inside. Laura strained to lower herself as the other women began bobbing up and down, every one able to go down far enough that the dildo disappeared completely inside of them.
Master 4 picked up a flexible rubber mat and placed it under Staci. Were those pins sticking up from it?
He turned to Laura. “You do this until one of you falls over. Yesterday that was Staci, so today she has a little incentive to be do better. If she falls, she’ll get an ass full of tacks.”
That was barbaric!
“Yes? You wish to file an objection?”
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Good. 'Cause from the look of your shaking legs, you’re gonna be the one over the mat tomorrow morning.”
Laura grit her teeth and tried to copy the movements of the others, but her legs gave out within a few minutes. She fell over into the dirt and lay unmoving as the rest of the women stood. Staci came over and offered a hand up. They all filed back into the building, pausing only to kick off their shoes by the door. Claire supported her on shaking legs down the hall, back into the cell, and over to the toilets where she was finally able to pee, not caring at the lack of privacy.
Then they all took a shower. To her surprise, they had decent soap, shampoo, and even conditioner, and they gave her a wide comb and an elastic so she could braid her hair. She got to brush her teeth and apply some lotion to her face and hands. When she was finished she waited, unsure what to do. Claire came over.
“They expect you to fall tomorrow; the new woman always does for a couple of days until her legs get strong. Don’t wait until you fall for real. Fall on purpose a few minutes before that, and you can control it a little better. It hurts, but not as bad that way. After tomorrow, we have a system where the one over the tacks moves her foot just a little when she can’t go on any more, and someone else falls over. Except for the new people, we’ve only had one or two times where someone has really fallen onto the mat, and they’ve never caught on.”
Laura nodded, wide-eyed. “What happens now?” she asked.
“Breakfast.”
Master 2 came to collect them, and they walked in silence down the hall to a large room with a table and platters of steaming food up front. It smelled wonderful.
“Don’t get excited,” whispered Claire in her ear. Laura watched as the first woman took a spoonful of scrambled eggs and two pieces of toast together in the same bowl. Then she dropped a spoonful of yogurt on top of everything, and at the very end, she picked up a pitcher of orange juice and poured some over the entire bowl.
When it was Laura’s turn, she hesitated, but the woman behind her shook her head in warning, so Laura tipped the pitcher over everything and saw it turn from enticing to disgusting. Like everyone else, she ate it all, and it sat like a lump in her stomach.
Fear and Desire Chapter 7
Laura:
After breakfast, they once again filed silently out the dining room door and down the hall, and turned into another room.
Laura took one look at the clinical setup, with exam tables, leg stirrups, and poles, and terror took over. She turned to run, but two of the men caught her. They lifted her and carried over to the closest table as she screeched and fought to get free, and deposited her on her back. They secured her arms over her head, and her feet up and spread wide in stirrups.
“I love when the new ones run,” Master 6 grinned at Master 5.
“It wouldn’t be as much fun if they didn’t,” Master 5 replied as he turned to face Laura. “You are going to get an enema. You’ll get one every morning, so you’re always squeaky clean. Now, there’s lots of different kinds of enemas. Some are mild and just for cleaning out. Some are very painful and given as punishments. Your behavior the day before determines which kind you get. Being new, we’ll just give you a good flushing out. Maybe two, since this is your first time. Usually you’re on your hands and knees, because it’s more comfortable that way. Lying on your back makes it worse.”
“Please, sir, I’ll be good. Please let me turn over. I promise I’ll behave.”
“Sorry. Too late. You get one chance around here.” He stood up and addressed the rest of the women, still at the front of the room. “Step right up and get your bag, girls!”
Each woman took a bag with tubing and approached the large sink. Under the watchful eye of Master 3, each scooped up a measured amount of white crystals and dropped them in the bag before filling it to the top with water. Shannon had filled hers and was turning to go when Master 3 put his hand on her arm. “Not so fast.”
She looked down at the floor, her eyes wide.
“You broke a rule yesterday when you defended Staci.”
“I’m sorry, sir, please! You already punished me yesterday!”
“I’ve got a little lemon juice for you.”
“Oh, no,” she whimpered, but held out her bag as her hands shook. He picked up a bottle and poured the contents in. Laura’s eyes followed her as she walked slowly over to a table, hung the bag on a hook at the end of the bed, then climbed onto the bed to kneel with her butt high and her head low.
If Shannon was going to be punished for coming to Staci’s defense, what kind of trouble was Staci in? She found Staci in line, Lynn’s arm around her waist, her face pale. As she approached the front, Master 3 smiled an evil smirk.
“Yours,” he said, pointing to the refrigerator, “is in there. Master 2 brought it from the freezer.”
“No, sir, oh, god, please not cold, it hurts so bad and it takes hours to get warmed up again! Please!”
“Staci!” Master 2’s voice expected to be obeyed. “Over here. Now.”
Tears cascaded down her pale cheeks as she turned and walked to him. Laura saw him open the refrigerator and pull out a bag and tubing and place them in her hands. Staci’s expression changed from miserable to surprised as she closed her hands around it.
“I’ll be giving this enema to Staci,” Master 2 declared to Master 3.
“Um, you rarely concern yourself with punishments, sir. I can do it.”
“I will always administer the most serious punishments. You know that.” There was no disagreement with that voice. He looked at Staci. “Go.”
She climbed onto the nearest table, right across from Laura. Master 3 seemed unaware that whatever Master 2 had done was better than Staci was expecting.
The rest of the women had filled their bags and were now all perched on the tables, heads towards the wall and butts offered up like sacrifices to some obscene god. Master 3 approached Laura.
“We’ll get yours started, so you have plenty of time to experience it.” He let the fluid flow down the tube to remove the air as he put his hand on her bottom to spread her wide. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but the restraints held tight. She pleaded with him as the cold plastic tip pressed against her tight hole, and when he tried to breach the ring of muscle, she tightened it with all her strength.
“Let me in now, or I’ll add a lot more lemon juice than Shannon got in hers.”
She forced herself to relax, and it must have been enough, because a burning pain lanced through the tender tissue as he shoved the tube in. Her hips reared up at the invasion and she screeched. Master 3 stood back. She tried to push the tube out, but nothing happened. He smirked.
“It’s got a balloon on the inside to keep it in place. It’s staying there until I decide it comes out.” He fiddled with a clamp on the tubing and a moment later, the cool fluid was racing up inside her, the wrong way.
“It will take about ten minutes to get all of it in.”
The bag was easily a liter. “I can’t take that much!”
“You’d be surprised.” He walked away.
She turned her concentration to the bag on the hook. For a minute or two, she felt nothing except a strange, full sensation. Around her, small gasps and groans punctuated the quiet.
Staci was chanting, “Oh God, it’s so cold, oh God, it’s so cold!” To her astonishment, Master 2’s voice was calm and quiet.
“You can do it, Staci. Deep breaths. Let me rub your stomach a little.”
“It hurts so bad, master…”
“Mmm hmm, it does, and that’s because it’s a punishment, but you’ll get through it, I promise—”
Anything else he said to Staci was lost as a cramp ripped through Laura’s stomach and she let out a strangled cry. She tried to dislodge the tube, but nothing happened. It was one of the most horrible pains she’d ever had, and yet the fluid kept draining into her without pause.
Master 2 appeared above her. “Please, stop it, please!” She screwed her eyes shut and panted as the cramp worsened.
He leaned over and gently massaged her stomach. After a long moment, the cramp eased, and she opened her eyes again.
“Never had an enema before?”
She shook her head.
“The cramps are a normal part of it. They ease on their own after a minute or two. It’s worse when you’re on your back. Don’t hold your breath.”
“There’s going to be more?”
“Yes. Probably three or four more before you’re done. The other women have learned to bear it mostly in silence, but they’re having them too.”
A muffled screech came from Staci’s table, and Master 2 disappeared.
Down the row, Shannon was sobbing. Laura could only guess what lemon juice would feel like and hoped she’d never find out.
She tried to relax, but a minute later, another cramp made that impossible. She tried to be quiet, but her sobs inevitably drew the attention of Master 3.
“Hurts, don’t it? Next time you’ll get on the table without fighting.” He disappeared.
The cramp eased, and she caught her breath. The bag was finally empty. She looked down at her distended stomach and prayed for strength to get through the next twenty minutes. Another cramp caught her, and she tried breathing like she was in labor. It helped.
She had to get out of this. Was anyone looking for her? Would the police have any clue? She refused to believe what Claire had told her. This was not her new life. This was not fair! Slavery existed in other countries, even if their governments denied it, but she never dreamed it could touch her life. What was she going to do?
She pulled on the restraints in frustration until a cramp came again. She panted through it, still crying, giving into despair for a moment.
Across the aisle, the soft whimpering continued, and Master 2 murmured words of encouragement. How could he sound like he cared when he was one of the ones who had ripped her and all these women from their lives? He was giving a punishment—a horrible punishment as far as she could tell—and yet Laura wished for his presence to talk her through the worst of this.
Two cramps later, Master 3 appeared again. He fiddled with the clamp and the tube and the pressure eased.
“Clench tight now, unless you want it all over the floor. Trust me, you don’t.” He pulled the tube out and she struggled to hold in what her body wanted to expel right then. He unstrapped her legs, then her arms, and pointed to the end of the room. “Bathroom’s there. Be back here in five minutes for the next one.”
She struggled off the bed and staggered down to the bathroom. She’d never been so glad to see a toilet in all her life. Five minutes later, he appeared at the door.
“Table. Now!”
She made her way back, passing the others who were finishing up. Claire gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Second one’s easier,” she whispered. Laura arrived back at the table and this time crawled up on her hands and knees like the others had done, obediently waiting. She prayed he wouldn’t make her turn over on her back.
To her surprise, Master 2 appeared with a fresh bag. “Let’s get this over with. There’ll be less cramping this time. Put your head down.” He placed the nozzle at the entrance to her hole and she didn’t fight as it pushed past the ring. Once more, the fluid flowed in. The sensation of fullness wasn’t as hard to bear this time.
​
All the other tables were empty now, and the room was quiet. Was she by herself? She turned her head the other way and yelped in surprise. Master 2 was standing next to the table, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Her head dropped as she clenched her fists in anger.
A cramp struck, so she resumed the breathing pattern she had taught to so many women while they were in labor. She’d hoped that someday it would be her turn to help her own baby come out, but if she really was destined to be a slave, that might never happen.
No. She could not think like that.
She jerked as Master 2’s hand reached up under her stomach and gently massaged the distended bulge. She fought to tolerate his hand because it was working to relieve the cramp, but she really wanted him to stop touching her.
“There. Almost done. You’re doing really well.” His soft tone just made her mad.
“Why are you being so nice? You’re a goddamn slaver!” His massaging hand stopped for a moment, then resumed.
“Because I believe—and so does Master 1—that helping a woman embrace submission, instead of forcing her into it, is much more interesting, and makes a better slave in the end.”
He spoke in such a reasonable tone. “Seriously? You think you can say some sweet words and I’ll give up my life to be someone’s fuck toy? Try again, asshole.” She cringed at her words. It wasn’t a good idea to speak her mind, but it burst out of her like a volcano.
He withdrew his hand. “I think you need a lesson in helping your body embrace submission. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll go explore that concept a little.” He moved down to her bottom. “Hold it.” The tube slid out.
She got off the table awkwardly, feeling like a pregnant woman, and walked back to the bathroom for the second time. This time, she hid as long as possible.
Finally, he appeared. “I know you’re delaying the inevitable. Let’s go.” There was a firmness to his voice that was different to the gentleness a few minutes ago. She finished cleaning and reluctantly followed him back through the room and out into the hall.
​
Fear and Desire Chapter 8
Laura:
Master 2 propelled Laura down the hall with his hand on her arm. They passed Master 4, and Master 2 motioned for him to follow. They entered a room with all kinds of objects in it, and none of them looked like fun. The benches had restraining points. There were hooks hanging from the ceiling. A big wooden X, a wooden sawhorse, a tall thin cage, and manacles were all bolted to the concrete walls. And handing up were rows and rows of whips and floggers and canes and—
She tried to flee again, but his arm gripped her so firm there had to be bruises by now. He walked—dragged—her over to a large horizontal cylindrical object perched on a metal pole rising from the floor. It was about thigh-high, and one end was flush against the wall. It resembled a leather-clad vaulting horse for a perverted gymnastics class, especially with the two dildos protruding straight up out of it.
The one closest to the wall was fairly thin; the other, just a few inches in front of it, was much taller and thicker.
“Master 4, would you prepare the Sybian, please?”
Sybian? She’d heard of them but never seen one perched off the ground like this. Her horror grew as Master 4 placed condoms over both dildos, then lubed the smaller of the two in the back. Her overwhelmed brain finally understood what they meant to do.
“No, please, God, don’t put me on that! They’re too big!”
Master 2 chuckled. “Not even close, my dear. You’ll be fine.” Without warning, he and Master 4 picked her up, pulled her legs apart, and set her down with one leg on either side of it, her feet flat on the floor, and her back against the wall. The two dildos were just below her.
With choreographed moves, they each grabbed a wrist and stretched her arms up and out to the side, clicking the cuffs to hooks on the wall. Master 2 looked at her with a gleam in his eye and pushed a button. To her dismay, the Sybian rose, stopping when the two projections touched her skin. Master 4 leaned over and probed between her legs as she squealed, adjusting her position forward an inch. He nodded. The Sybian rose again and stopped with the dildos just inside both entrances. She rose on her tiptoes but couldn’t get high enough to get off of them.
“Now, you can do this the easy way, where you ease yourself down onto them, or you can do it the hard way, where the Sybian continues up and they push into you. Either way, they’re both going inside.”
She glared at him and refused to answer. He shrugged, and the Sybian continued its relentless journey up, while her body weight held her down. The front dildo slipped in easily, but the back one did not, and it hurt.
“Ow! Stop it!”
“It helps if you relax and push out. The pain will only be for a minute or two until you get used to it. If you keep resisting, it’ll force its way in there anyway, and it will hurt more.”
She’d read about this, and he was right. With a sob, she bore down hard and the tip breeched the entrance. She screeched as it pushed up, relentless in its journey, until it was fully inside and she sat on the leather. The Sybian continued to rise until her feet were only two or three inches off the floor, but she might as well have been six feet up. The men pulled her ankles out to the side and fastened them to the wall, and now she had no way to grip the leather with her legs.
He pushed the remote again, and a churning rubber bump began rotating and vibrating under her clit. Then he activated the dildos, and she was in trouble. The sensations of pumping and twisting made a mockery of her resolve to stay quiet, and almost immediately, a guttural moan tore from her mouth. She’d never experienced this much sensation between her legs all at once. It overloaded her mind and grabbed hold of her insides. Her head dropped, and she panted and moaned in a rhythmic pattern with every breath in and out. The room faded—the men faded—her situation faded; all that was left was a churning, rising ocean inside that she was powerless to stop. The vibrations, the twisting, and the pumping became her entire existence. Without warning, an orgasm rose from her depths, crashing over her. She screamed as she rode it all the way through, while the machine continued its assault without ceasing, prolonging the orgasm way beyond pleasure.
Now she twisted and writhed, unable to escape the relentless sensations on her overwhelmed clit. She pleaded to stop, but they ignored her, and their existence faded out as her arousal turned from unbearable to desperate once more. She struggled furiously to escape, but all her struggling served only to rub her poor tortured clit even harder on the vibrating pad.
“Please!” she pleaded, “please stop it! I can’t take it anymore! Just for a minute, please! Oh, god!”
She shrieked as she hurtled up and over the edge of the cliff again. The machine was an indifferent beast, rubbing and pumping and twisting, and never pausing to let her catch her breath.
The people, the place, and time itself all ceased to exist as the torment continued. Her body could not stop heaving and struggling, and her cries morphed into sobs as she endured another orgasm, and another. By the time the machine finally stopped, she’d lost track of the count. She slumped forward as much as her shackled arms would allow, unable to raise her head, her mouth dry, and her throat sore.
She was vaguely aware of Master 2 at her side, wiping her face with a cool cloth and offering her a drink of water. She gulped it down. After a few minutes, she sat up, her eyes still downcast, refusing to look up at anyone or anything. She was utterly spent, and utterly defeated.
“Please let me down, Master,” she whispered.
“We’re not done yet.”
“No!” she sobbed, “I can’t do any more! Please, please, I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me down.”
“Shhh…” he brushed her cheek with his hand. “No more orgasms.”
“Oh, god, thank you!” She was absurdly grateful.
“Let’s get to the next part.”
She followed him with wide eyes as he moved to the control box. The unwanted buzzing and vibrating started up again.
“Master!” she screamed. “Master! You said no more!” She struggled wildly, pulling at the cuffs that secured her wrists and her ankles. Soon she was once more beyond words as the tide rose and she catapulted towards the edge—
And the machine stopped. She panted furiously as her eyes sought his, not understanding.
“I promised no more orgasms.” He smiled.
“No, please, don’t do that either, Master! Please!”
The vibrations restarted, silencing her pleas as she became a creature of sensation again. She groaned and panted and let out guttural cries and felt the tidal wave approach—
And the machine stopped.
“Noooo!” She writhed furiously on the twin dildos, trying to rub her clit on the silent, still pad. Where once before she would have promised anything to stop the orgasms, now she promised anything to be allowed to have them. But it seemed he had no intention of doing that. The need backed off, her panting slowed, and then the machine started up once more. Again and again she came to the edge, but the machine denied her relief again and again. She screamed and struggled. Then she stayed silent so he would miss the signs of an impending orgasm. He didn’t. Every orgasm was thwarted over and over.
Finally, the machine went quiet.
“Master, please…” the words trailed off. She was too tired and weak to fight.
“Do you want to have an orgasm?”
She looked up in fear. She didn’t trust him.
“Just one orgasm?”
She nodded, hesitant.
“Then I need something from you. Give me the best blowjob you can give. I won’t do anything harsh to you, I promise. I just want a regular blowjob, and after I’ve come in your mouth, and you swallow it all, you’ll lay back on the floor and spread your legs for me, and I’ll let you come. Deal?”
Don’t give in just for a stupid orgasm! a tiny part of her brain pleaded. She shoved the protest into a corner and locked it down tight.
“Yes, Master, I’ll do it.” Her words oozed desperation. As he released her restraints and picked her up and off the dildos, all she could think about was what he’d promised. Even as he placed her feet on the floor and her knees gave way so that she sank down before him, her mind focused only on the reward that lay ahead if she obeyed.
He opened his pants and pulled out his cock. The thick bronze organ glistened in the lights, the veins bulged, and a drop of pre-cum dangled from its tip. Her gaze fastened upon it, and it became the only thing that mattered to her lust-filled mind. She leaned forward to lick the shiny drop hanging from the edge, and was rewarded with a sigh. Her eyes flicked upwards as she took another lick. He was smiling down at her, a sight that both reassured and confused her, so she dropped her eyes and continued to take little licks that grew into larger licks as her tongue began sweeping the length. She moved her mouth to his sack, opening up to embrace one testicle, sucking and tugging on it gently, and he let out another deep groan. Her hands reached up and stroked his cock while she continued her attention on the other side of his balls. Now her mouth moved back to his cock, impossibly bigger than a moment before. She placed one hand at the base as she finally opened her mouth all the way and sank down on it until she reached her hand. She’d never been able to deep-throat, so she always placed her hand at the base to prevent any over-zealous lover from pushing her head down too far as he reached his climax, forgetting his promise to be careful.
But Master 2 was as good as his word. He let her lick and suck, and his only contributions were the groans that spurred her on. It wasn’t as unpleasant as she’d feared. He put his hands on her head and she stiffened, but he shushed her and made no move to take control; he merely rested his hands there, and the gentle physical connection brought strange and conflicting emotions that she would examine later.
There was no sound for several minutes, save the slurping of her wet mouth and his groans. She made a little humming noise in the back of her throat, and the vibration was enough to push him over the edge. With a shout, he lifted his hands into fists and stiffened as her mouth filled with a warm sticky cum that threatened to gag her. She gulped it down and kept her stomach from heaving it back up. As he softened, he pulled out with a final gasp, and she let go.
She sank back down on her knees and stared at the floor, confused and unsure. He tucked himself back into his pants.
“That,” he said, “was a damn fine blow job.”
She didn’t respond, so he tucked a finger under her chin and brought it up.
“Laura, look at me.”
She raised her eyes to his. He smiled. “Thank you.”
His thanks confused her. She looked at him for a moment, then dropped her eyes, not sure what to say.
“All right. I always keep my promises. Lie back, right where you are.”
Her face red with embarrassment, but her body still thrumming with fire, she obeyed. He snagged a cushion from the corner and placed it underneath her head, another courtesy that only served to further her confusion.
“Place your hands on your knees and pull your legs apart as wide as you can.”
She uttered a little cry of humiliation as she willingly bared her most private parts to the man standing in front of her. He grabbed a vibrator from a nearby table and knelt down between her thighs. As he turned it on, the sound reminded her of the torment she’d endured only a few minutes before, and she couldn’t hold back a whimper of fear. When he applied it to her clit, an electric shock tore through her body. It took less than a minute for the orgasm to rise and explode out of her as she screamed in pleasure. He removed the vibrator from between her shaking legs, and she snapped them shut and rolled over.
“Obedience has rewards,” he said. She didn’t answer him as her brain fought a war between pleasure and humiliation. She hated this man who had made her want something so desperately she’d sold her soul to get it.
Fear and Desire Chapter 9
Laura:
Master 2 gave her a few minutes to collect herself before he ordered her up. She followed him down the hall on shaky legs to the outside door. The women were gathered in the sunshine again, this time on their knees, with their hands upturned on their thighs, utterly silent and still.
“There’s an hour of kneeling and meditating each morning. You’re expected to remain motionless for the entire time and learn to ignore the urges to scratch, or wave off an insect, or even cough or sneeze.”
She walked out among the quiet women and settled in an empty place next to Claire. The first few minutes were endless. The sun was higher in the sky and shining straight down on them now, and she itched and sweated in the heat. There was a sharp pebble underneath one of her knees.
The men moved away into the shade. She glanced around as much as she dared.
“Are you okay?” Claire whispered.
“Not really,” Laura replied miserably.
“Orgasm torments?” Claire asked so casually.
“Yes.”
The hour crawled by. She tried to pull her thoughts together, to think, to plan, to figure a way out of here, but it was like trying to herd clouds into a corral. She gave up. Plans would come later, perhaps at night, when the silence would beg for something to occupy her mind.
Somewhere in the middle of the hour, she had an itch she couldn’t ignore any longer, and when the men had their backs turned, she quickly lifted a hand to scratch it—just as Master 4 turned around. He raised his eyebrows at her as he stalked over. She hung her head low, desperate to be invisible. Without comment, he pulled her wrists around behind her and clicked the cuffs together. There was no more itch-scratching for the rest of the time, and when he dismissed them for lunch, no one made a move to free her hands. Claire shook her head at Laura’s questioning look as they filed down the hall to the cafeteria. Laura groaned.
The stew in the large pot was probably healthy, but not very appealing. They assigned her to a group of four women who were kneeling at the feet of Master 6, waiting to be fed. The first two women in her group leaned forward gracefully and accepted the spoon that was held just a little further away from their mouths than comfortable. When it was Laura’s turn, the spoon stopped about six inches away. She craned forward to reach it.
“Stop,” Master 6 ordered.
She froze.
“If it’s more than a few inches away, it’s not actually meant for you to take. Your new master may choose to tease you with it, as I am doing, and not feed it to you. You’ll be hungry, very hungry, but you’ll watch the food go past you without complaint.”
He moved the spoon to the next woman in line and fed it to her. He moved back to the first woman, and the second woman, and then once again paused too far for Laura to reach. She bit her tongue as he fed the fourth woman. By this time, she was so hungry she was faint. When the spoon paused too far away again, she broke her silence.
“Please, sir?”
“Some masters enjoy begging. Others want complete silence. Right now, I want silence.” He continued feeding the other three as Laura struggled not to lunge after the spoon that teased her each time it came around. Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks, but she kept silent.
“Okay, ladies, the bowl is empty.”
Her heart sank.
“Slave?”
She looked up at him through her tears.
“Would you like to eat?”
It was a trap. She knew it. It was a trick question, and the wrong response would ensure an empty belly. She searched frantically for the appropriate response. “Only if my master desires me to, sir.”
“Excellent! Most new slaves go hungry for quite a while until they figure out the right response. Stay here and don’t move.” He stood up and disappeared.
Where the hell did he think she might go?
A moment later, he sat before her again with another bowl. This time he fed it all to her, making her take little bites, and big ones, admonishing her when a bit of gravy dripped down her chin, and coaching her about where her eyes should be. The other women sat silent and motionless on either side. At the end, he held out a glass of water for each woman. Laura had a tough time drinking when she couldn’t control the flow, but most of it went in her and not on her.
When they finished, Laura struggled to her feet, and they walked the short distance back to the cell where her arms were finally freed. All the women made a dash to the bathroom, and though she joined them, she didn’t understand why there was this frantic rush, until the grating voice of Master 3 yelled at them to get in line. A wail went up from the two women who hadn’t gotten to pee yet.
Laura leaned over to Claire. “What’s the matter?”
“The next time we’re allowed to go is after 9 o’clock tonight. They’ll never hold it that long. They’ll pee accidentally at some point today, and be punished for it.”
Laura bristled with anger, but Claire put a hand on her arm. “Don’t. Remember how Shannon was punished for standing up for Staci? You will be, too. We all have a pact. It doesn’t do a bit of good to protest on someone’s behalf, and there’s no point to having two people punished. That doesn’t mean we don’t jump in sometimes, because we get angry at the unfairness, but try to hold it back.”
Laura took a deep breath. “What misery do they have for us now?”
“Something that will make you wish you were back in the room with the Sybian.”
Claire was right. Over the next several hours, they introduced Laura to all kinds of evil, painful torments. She was whipped and flogged. She was tied to the spanking bench and paddled. They smacked her nipples with the riding crop. They seemed determined to give her a taste of everything.
Most of the other women endured it in eerie silence. She quickly learned that if she didn’t beg, the pain ended sooner, so she did her best to confine herself to screeches and screams, biting back the urge to call them names that would have shocked her mother. When the session ended, she was covered in red blotches and stripes, and tears ran down her face. She stumbled back to the cell with the others.
There was no time to recover, though. It was time to work.
“Bathrooms!”
“Bedrooms!”
“Serving!”
Over the next hour, they drilled Laura in how to serve a formal meal. Someone commented that she wasn’t being seductive enough, and in angry rebellion, she dumped a tray of pretend food onto the floor. She was summarily folded over the arm of a chair and paddled until she was screeching.
The next stop in the bizarre rabbit hole she’d fallen into was called ‘talents’. Master 2 quizzed her.
“Do you know how to give a massage?”
“No.”
“Paint?”
“No.”
“Can you make anything?”
“No.”
“Sing?”
“No.” There was no way she was going to reveal anything personal to these motherfuckers.
“Any music?”
“No.”
“Then what do you do in your spare time?”
She stared at him. “Well, over the last twelve hours I’ve been planning how to castrate you, once this is over.”
He got up abruptly and walked to the door of the small room, leaning his head out just enough that she couldn’t see it anymore. Bizarrely, though, the rest of his body quivered.
He’s laughing?
Eventually, he composed himself and came back. “Well, since apparently you can’t recall a single thing you’re good at, I’m going to give you some time and incentive to do so.” He propelled her out of the room and back down the hall to the open area in front of the cell.
​
She regretted her reckless statement. “Please, sir, I’m sorry! I’ll think of something! Please!”
He ignored her as he clipped her wrists together behind her back and stood her underneath a horizontal bar suspended from the ceiling, about six inches over her head. From his pocket, he fished out two shiny objects with rubber-coated teeth. She gasped as he applied a clamp to her left nipple, tightening it until a sharp pain radiated through her chest. Then he did the same to her right nipple. To the clamps, he clipped a length of chain that he tossed up and over the bar. It hit her back as it came down. He disappeared behind her, and suddenly her cuffed wrists were jerked high into the middle of her back. The chains went taut, pulling her nipples up.
One of his hands slipped around to her front and cupped her mound.
“Think, my dear. You’ll have a little while to come up with something a bit more respectful than your first idea.” A finger probed her folds and sought her clitoris. She tried to pull away, but his other hand held tight to her wrists and rendered her immobile.
He teased the sensitive button, rubbing it back and forth, and around in circles, until she was hyperventilating. Her head dropped back. The pain in her nipples faded. No, that wasn’t right. The pain became something… else. Something not entirely unpleasant.
He withdrew his fingers. She barely held back a moan of protest at the loss.
“Hopefully, I’ve given you something to take your mind off your predicament.”
His hand released her cuffed wrists and they dropped, which pulled the chains on her nipples. She shrieked, trying to lift her hands behind her to loosen the chains. For a minute, she held them up, but then she grew fatigued, and they fell back down, pulling her nipples and breasts up high once more.
He watched her struggle for a few minutes, then left, and she was alone, with only the blinking green light on the camera for company. She bent backwards, thrusting her breasts up as high as they could go, and that worked a little, but she couldn’t hold the position. She cried with frustration, moving constantly up and down, leaning back, trying to hold her arms up high. Time slowed down, every second an eternity to be endured. She thought of home, and her parents, and Dan, and prayed desperately that people were looking for her.
And, oddly enough, the notes of a piano drifted into the room.
Fear and Desire Chapter 10
Josh:
The notes of the piano drifted down the concrete halls and through the steel bars. Strangely, almost everyone in the building felt the tension lift when the music filled the air around them.
When Dan had realized that Claire had a remarkable talent as a pianist, he located an old upright that needed a tuning, and ordered her to play, crossing his fingers that she wouldn’t refuse. DeLeo expressed his reservations, but Dan painted a picture of a slave who not only knew how to fuck, but could entertain her owner’s clients at the piano while dressed in a flowing, translucent dress. DeLeo saw dollar signs and agreed. Several clients had already made inquiries about Claire, but Dan insisted he was holding her back for the auction.
Josh looked forward to this time of day more than any other. He’d been fascinated by the willowy auburn-haired woman since the day she arrived, and was drawn to her music. It was as pure an antidote to the reprehensible things he was doing as he could expect to find in this place.
He tried to be in the room every day as she played, which had clearly bothered her at first. Now, she scarcely paid him any attention when he slipped through the door to sit and listen in silence.
She played as someone who loved music. When she’d run through the pieces she’d memorized, Josh drove into town to buy her a collection of classical tunes. It probably wasn’t wise to give a gift to someone he was keeping as a slave, but he didn’t care. He placed it on the piano before her practice time one day and then left her alone to pour through it. He never said anything to her about where it came from, and she never asked, but she played from it every day.
He slipped into the room and sat on the rickety metal folding chair. She played with her eyes half closed, she and the music sharing an intimacy that he found himself strangely jealous of. As she moved her hands up and down the piano, her rhythmic nodding reminded him of gentle ocean swells. Each note rang clearly on the old piano; each triplet rocked gently on the wind of the song. 1-2-3 1-2-3 1-2-3 1-2-3… The notes were melancholy in the minor key, as though every tear she’d cried was emerging from her fingertips.
As the last chord sank into the stark concrete walls and died, he broke the stillness.
“What was the name of that piece?” he asked, his tone almost reverent.
She looked down at her hands, now lying motionless in her lap. “Nocturne in A Minor,” she replied. She named a composer he hadn’t heard of.
“It’s so sad.”
“Yes, sir. Kind of fitting, considering what’s happened to us, don’t you think?”
“Claire–” he broke off, not sure what to say.
She didn’t reply.
He stood up abruptly. “Thank you,” he said, and left.
Claire:
The door closed and Claire started to tremble. What the hell had she been thinking? Those words, spoken to anyone else in this place, would have earned a punishment, probably meted out on her hands. She shuddered. But Master 2—there was something different about him.
She’d been a psychologist in private practice until she’d burned out and taken a job waiting tables while she decided what to do with her life. It was while she was there that she’d been snatched. In her profession, she’d spent years trying to help people understand their own internal struggles, and Master 2 was a bottled-up mixture of contradictions that were as clear as a neon sign over his head.
He never relished the humiliations the other masters dished out daily. More than once, she had caught his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw as he observed a scene, or a punishment, or even a cruel word. Yesterday, he’d given Staci a cool enema, instead of the ice-cold one that she’d been sentenced to get.
That was probably why she’d blurted out what she had. She didn’t believe she’d be punished for what she said to him, as long as she didn’t question his authority. But if he hated what he saw and did, why didn’t he put a stop to it?
They’d talked briefly in between pieces of music. His mother had played daily while he was growing up in Gayama, Puerto Rico. He spoke wistfully of the park in the middle of town dotted with mangrove trees, whose green canopies spread out to block the scorching sun. He told her of the throngs of tourists who made every resident long for the summer heat that would drive them temporarily away. And he talked about the glistening, dancing ocean waves that were so enticing one moment, which could rise into dark, greenish-brown and angry hurricane waves the next.
The tenderness in his voice when he spoke of his family contrasted sharply with the reality that he kidnapped women and sold them as sex slaves. Claire wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of psychopaths who loved their families, but there was a difference in him, and she couldn’t put a finger on it. Yet.
She didn’t want to leave the little room that had become a sanctuary these last few months. Just outside the door was evil. In here was just a small sliver of serenity, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever have again.
She had time to play one more piece, and she was going to grab every moment she could. She placed her fingers on the keys and let the music push back her pain for a few more minutes.
Laura:
The piano had ceased by the time Master 2 returned. By now, Laura had stopped crying and struggling, and was lost somewhere in a world of pain. He cleared his throat, and she opened her eyes.
“I can sing. Please…”
He smiled. “Now, if you’d just said that earlier, I wouldn’t have trussed you up like this.” He moved behind her, one hand holding her cuffed hands high, giving her nipples relief at last. His other hand moved again between her folds, seeking, finding, and worrying her clit.
“Here’s a little reward for cooperating.”
The pain suddenly transformed into something else—something where everything was more intense. She gasped in surprise as pleasure sprang out of nowhere, rocketing upwards and carrying her over the edge of a climax. Twin explosions of pain burst from her nipples like Fourth of July sparklers. The ache in her nipples eased as she floated down. The clamps were gone. Master 2 had an arm wrapped around her, holding her steady, because her knees had abdicated their responsibility to keep her upright. He unclipped her arms and brought them slowly down as she groaned in pain, and then lowered her to the floor.
The rest of the afternoon and evening were a blur as she retreated inside her head, trying to cope with the overload. She went where she was ordered to go; she ate her dinner—the same stew—in silence at the table. When the women returned to the cell to sit on the side of the bed for thirty minutes at attention, she welcomed the respite and retreated even further. When they were given permission to release, and allowed to talk, she curled up on her side and faced away from the others. They were finally allowed to use the bathroom again, and Claire had to prod her to get up to take her turn for the last time before they were all locked to the beds for the night. Her exhaustion was a blessing, and she fell asleep immediately.