Scorpio swallowed. She closed her eyes and swallowed. No gagging. Not a single
tremor. She simply swallowed whatever it was, and waited. For the time being,
she had to accept that they had her and the other women at their mercy. She
would have to absorb whatever it was that was being put into her body. It
might be a beating, or a cock, but she would just have to absorb it. For
now, it was just this weird poison that she was gulping. She knew that something
more must be coming.
It looked like tea, but it was tasteless and burned when it came to rest
in her stomach. It crept out from there and seemed to flood through her body,
attacking every nerve and telling her muscles to give up the fight. She wasn't
going to black out, but she felt her body simply going to sleep. Her captor
had disconnected her will from her body. She had been there before.
This stuff came from a teakettle that he held over her head, and poured down
her throat through a funnel that had been shoved into her mouth. A leather
strap with a metal ring held the funnel in place, it was probably used for
holding a ball gag in position, normally. Its leather was tight against the
skin of her face and the metal pressed cruelly against her full, moist
lips.
Scorpio had a funnel shoved in her mouth and she was losing strength. She
had been like this before.
"Good girl," said the man who loomed over her. "Swallow. Swallow like a good
bitch." He was like the rest of Piston's crew. He was big and long haired.
He wore jeans and leather, and always seemed to be humming a rock and roll
tune. Under other circumstances, she might have found the man
attractive - a sort of bad-boy
sort. Now, he was a simply a torturer. When he put the strap over her mouth,
she tasted his sadism.
"Sweet," he muttered as he wrapped the leather against her tanned skin and
midnight hair. He pulled it tighter and tighter, smiling, knowing that he
was giving her pain. The whole thing inspired him so that he reached down
and grabbed a handful of her right breast.
"I love asian women," he smiled. His fingers became pincers around her already
swollen nipple. She hissed against the gag.
Soon she was just as he wanted her: Scorpio was on her knees, her wrists
bound in front of her. Her ankles were tightly tied together, bright blue
ropes standing out against the red and black of her body stocking. Her head
was cocked back. At first her captor had been holding her hair, wrenching
her head back roughly, but now she assumed the posture on her own. There
was, maybe, a moment at which she could have broken the ropes, but now that
her body was absorbing whatever this stuff was, she was weakened and sluggish.
She was a woman in ropes, and she had been this way before.
"That's right, Scorpio. Keep still and swallow."
Her eyes met the man's. He had a cool enjoyment coming over him, a mildly
pleased smirk played across his face. It galled at her, but she showed no
emotion. He wanted to see her fear as much a he wanted to defeat her body.
There would be none. Her eyes lids grew heavy. Her face began to take on
a groggy, defeated sag.
"Swallow, Scorpio."
She made only the slightest sound as the funnel was taken out of her mouth
and the strip gag removed. Her head sagged down. She was poisoned again.
In fact, she knew this very poison. The burning, the weakness, the groggy
feeling...she knew all of this. This was exactly how she felt when the Rooks
captured her not long before. This was the stuff they sprayed into her face
on that night. It sank through her skin and turned her into a rag doll in
skin-tight red. She never passed out, but found herself rocking on her heels,
her eyes clouded, her will gone.
"We have both of you now, Scorpio," one of the Rooks said in a smooth, confident
voice that night. This was the first time the Rooks had battled both Scorpio
and Dark Moon, and now both heroines were overcome. As the poison flooded
her body yet again, this time being administered by one of Thorne's brothers,
she recalled how she and the voluptuous Latina had been ambushed and doused
by the Rooks--two massively muscled twins in black-and-white body suits.
As the Thorne brother poured the stuff into her, she remembered the helplessness
of their captivity to the Rooks.
She and Dark Moon stood facing each other in the Rook's hide-out, two drug
addled statues, as the Rooks paced around them. Behind the black leather
mask, Moon's brown eyes were half-closed and defeated. Her mouth hung in
an empty gape. Scorpio could see the strong sinewy muscle standing out in
Dark Moon's black nylon second skin, but she knew that those muscles were
now betraying her. She couldn't move if her life depended upon it.
What the Rooks did next was what she assumed was coming from the Thorne boys
as well. One of the Rooks stood behind Dark Moon. He was a mountain like
his brother, and dwarfed the raven-haired beauty. His hands slipped around
from behind to cup her big breasts. He pushed them up and together.
"You know I like those big titties," he laughed to his brother, who was hovering
behind Scorpio. He continued to knead her as he pushed and ground the bulge
in his tights against her ass. He cupped and roughly squeezed her ass cheeks,
spreading and squeezing them through her costume.
"I know two bitches that are getting fucked tonight."
The Rooks never made idol threats, and a few minutes later the heroines were
on all fours. The tops of their heads touched each other and their hair was
woven together in a thick knot. Their costumes had been easily opened, and
now they were receiving fingers, tongues and massive pricks in an erotic
barrage. The poison made them easy to control.
And now it was Thorne's turn.
"This is just to keep you weak...let you know who's boss. Don't worry; I
won't kill you, Scorpio. You're valuable. You're a keeper. You're a gift
from my brother. I wouldn't break you. The stuff I poured down your throat,
that's not going to kill you."
Big fingers, clumsy and awkward began to search between her thighs. She could
tell that he was enjoying himself, even if he was unskilled in knowing his
way around women. He pushed and stroked at the mound, and wriggled his way
towards her anus. He could not enter her through the costume, but the warmth
and helplessness of the Asian woman's privates was enough to satisfy.
She would accept it for now.
Piston Thorne was fucking Gold. Her long legs, curvy and firm like a fitness
model's, were up in the air, high heels pointing at the ceiling. She twisted
the silk sheets in golden fists, and she screamed. She screamed because her
cunt was sore and tortured after a night of defeat. She screamed because
her big, blond sex was tight and still quivered and jumped when penetrated.
She screamed because Piston Thorne had a huge cock, and knew just how to
ram it home in her pussy.
He would kiss her like a lover, muffling her screams from time to time, slipping
his tongue into her full-lipped mouth. She had tasted his mouth before, and
vowed that he would never get her in that position again. He had. He had
her in that position now. Even with the injury that Dark Moon had dealt him,
and the pain-killers in his system, he had her.
"Miss me, golden lady?"
She hissed through her teeth as her pussy gushed and spasmed around his big
penis. It squeezed in and worked his meat as he plowed her. It responded
and betrayed her by trembling and lurching for the cock of her captor.
She moaned as he bit her neck.
Over his shoulder, she could see CutLass, still under his control. No drugs
flowed in her system (Thorne was actually loathe to use drugs of any sort,
and Gold was somewhat surprised at his earlier method), and the collar was
gone, but now she was a slave to one of his tones. There was a tiny microphone
in CutLass' ear. A pitch flowed through it. That pitch was yet another sound
that Thorne had discovered would affect women. This one caused no pain, but
switched off the parts of their brains that controlled free will. A simple
sound kept her docile.
CutLass...Tina...was a robot. He had lead her in on a leash, just as he had
done with Gold in prior meetings. Instead of a collar, though, the long,
leather cord had a small, metal clamp on the end. It was just the right size
to pinch her clit and hold on tightly to the heroine's sex. It still dangled
there.
Her moist lips hanging open, her eyes wide and fixed on the wall above the
bed, she stood post as her captor and master had wild sex with Gold.
"You know I'll kill her if we don't have a good, long-fucking time, Gold.
We've got cameras watching, okay?"
He told her this and pointed out the very obvious cameras that scanned
the plush bedroom. This was before they got started. This was when Cutlass
stood motionless, and Gold stood before him, untied but helpless. This was
before he laid her down and fucked her in front of Cutlass.
"Okay," she said breathlessly.
"If any of my boys see that I'm having a rough time with you, they change
the sound in her ear, and her brain has a nasty bleed. Got it?"
Gold looked him in the eye. She knew that he never bluffed.
"Yes."
"Get on the bed, babe."
She did, sitting down on the edge, then letting her body settle back on to
the mattress. She spread her legs. The rocker rolled his eyes.
"Not like that. Be sexy, bitch."
A slap to the face punctuated his demand.
Gold stood again. She took a moment to just be Gold in front of him. She
let his eyes scan her six-foot frame. This villain never made any bones about
how beautiful he found her to be. He loved the size of her breasts, and her
long blond hair; she was sure that he did not take opportunities to kill
her because he thought of her as his personal pin-up girl. He was smitten.
"Tease me," he ordered. He folded
powerful arms across a barrel chest.
Gold cast a glance at the motionless form of Cutlass. There was no question;
if she did not sex it up, the other blond was dead. Thorne had killed in
front of her before.
She licked her lips, making sure they were pouty and ripe. She swept her
long hair to one side, letting it pour over her right shoulder. She looked
at the man with the type of sultry squint she had seen on her brother's porno
films decades before. The long fingers of her golden hands came up to squeeze
her breasts. She kneaded them and pushed them together. She moaned.
He nodded and smiled.
Slowly, Gold kneeled and the bed. One finger snaked into her mouth, caught
some moisture from her lips, and then slipped down between her strong, athletic
thighs.
Thorne was hard.
"Tell me to fuck you, Gold."
"Pleeease fuck me...." She was running the moist finger up and down the tender
contours of her labia. There wasn't a glimmer of protest in her act.
"On your back, baby."
Gold made it a point to moan as she reclined and lifted and spread her long
legs. She let the glowing blond hair form a pillow for her.
"You have to fuck me now."
Her body straining to act on its own, but able to do nothing, CutLass watched
as the captor mounted the prone, blond heroine. She saw Gold's face contort
with a scream as the huge cock entered her. If she could have, she would
have winced as the thought of how sore Gold's already hard-fucked cunt was.
After the plowing she'd given it with the dildo, it must have been raw when
Piston's huge organ opened her.
The sound in her ear kept her as still as a statue. Piston was in control.
It was driving her half-mad that her body was out of her control, and she
had to fight to keep her rage in check. She wanted to rush to help Gold,
but could barely move a finger.
"Don't worry, babe," he hissed at CutLass. "I got some for you."
It wasn't long before the half-naked man stood and walked to his paralyzed
prey. He pushed a hand between her thighs and cupped her mound through the
leather.
"This belongs to me, right Tina?" he snarled close to her face. She muttered
a feeble affirmative.
"And these?" he asked. He grabbed the big breasts of the heroine and pushed
them up an together.
"Yours."
Dark Moon could separate her mind from her body. She wasn't as good at as
Scorpio, who in one exhalation could disconnect her first level mind. It
was as if she was on the verge of having no ego at all. She had taught Maria
Cruz...Dark Moon...the meditative techniques that could bring her closer
to that state, but it would take her a while longer.
She had long enough to do it on the cross. Vince's cross. The hours of harsh
metal cords digging at her seemed to melt away.
It was just like when the Ky'son captured at tortured her years before. They
claimed to be from Atlantis, and said that they were enemies of the Congregation.
"Enemies of our blood," their leader hissed in their characteristic reptilian
voice. They looked human, more or less, but their skin had an unnaturally
pale pallor to it, and they all wore sunglasses. For some reason, they were
not quite as good as the Congregation at mimicking humans.
They also used poison to capture her. Three of them surrounded her on a dock
in the middle of the night and closed in on her. They fought better than
the League of the Black Cat, making perfect use of their numbers. As she
was busy flinging off two, one was able to clamp his hands on her breasts.
What felt like barbs, hundreds of tiny pin pricks, rose in his palms and
sank into the soft tissue of her round breasts. They went through the supranylon,
stabbing her nipples and the brown skin of her tits. Her brown eyes rolled
up in her head, and she sank into a curvaceous pile on the wooden dock.
While she hung on Vince's cross she remember how the Ky'son suspended her
by her ankles in an abandoned garage and ran that strange wand over her body.
Every inch over which the glowing wand swept felt as though it was being
set aflame. The intensity of the burning kept changing and shifting, so that
she could never adapt to the pain.
They used some sort of strange box that absorbed sound. Her screams went
sucked up in a void of silence.
Vince wanted no information from her. The Ky'son wanted to know where to
find nests of the alien Congregation.
"The Congregation base, please."
"Don't...know..." Her voice trembled.
They switched the wands report, turning it into an outpouring of electricity.
Her silent screaming was the same.
"The Congregation base, please."
Now she replied with just an expletive.
She never made the separation then, nor did she when the Congregation had
her. They quickly took control of her free will and used her. She struggled
for a millisecond, then went to her knees in front of Father, their leader.
She spread her legs and began to finger herself through her costume, while
the other guided his tool into her mouth. She felt her heart leap at the
moment that his cock touched her tongue. Under their control, she had the
mind of sex puppet.
Crucified by Vince, she was able to free her mind, though she was still a
captive.
At some point, Vince took Dark Moon down from the cross. Her body still throbbed,
and her head sagged as she was moved around like a doll. She didn't want
them to know that she was in any real pain...that they had beaten and hurt
her...but she showed her helplessness as she was dragged into the living
room.
"You were beautiful up there. Did you enjoy it at all?"
She said nothing, but stayed motionless as the artist took hold of the thick,
black mane on the top of her head. He hoisted her up and tossed her over
a big shoulder. She felt him react to her figure against his body, his hand
cupping her ass and pinning her thick dancer's legs together and against
his chest. Her upper body was limp, folding over his back and pressing into
his back with her large, round breasts. Her hair hung down past his belt.
"You were beautiful up there," he said again, his voice full of the utmost
sincerity. "I'm going to make you beautiful again, Dark Moon."
Although all she could see was his massive back, she could tell that they'd
gone down the hall and rejoined the party. There was the current of talking
and drinking and joy.
"Got some new furniture, folks," laughed the captor.
He dumped her on the floor. A forest of legs formed around
her.
"It's simple," said the voice of a woman. "Get on all fours and don't move,
or we kill one of you costumed bitches."
She knew that resisting with what little strength she had left was futile.
Slowly, the woman in the black, nylon second skin went to all fours like
a dog. She let her head hand down.
"Make sure your back is level. Make it straight."
She breathed and rolled her shoulders back, making her back and flat plane.
There was a slight shuffling around, a few cautions to be careful, and then
a large glass was placed on her back. A perfect, glass tabletop. Soft skin
in nylon and thick black hair formed a perfect rest for the perfect fragile
glass. Her arms and legs were now table supports. She was an object.
Glasses and beer bottle were placed on the glass tabletop...on Dark Moon's
back...and the party went on.
Basement
They entered Scorpio with a
machine. It seemed simple at first, just a smooth, curved metal probe that
arced down from a terminal on the ceiling and slid easily up her ass.
The holding contraption seemed simple as well - just a series of clamps and
leather straps that held her face-down on an X-frame that sat up on saw horses.
Each thigh was pinned to the wood of the frame by a thick leather strap.
Each ankle was held in the same way. Her narrow waist was adorned with another
belt, holding it to the center of the frame. Two metal clamps cuffed her
wrists to the frame, leaving her stretched out in an x. Her head hung down.
When the machine began to hum, and another probe entered her vagina, she
realized this was something more. When a mechanical hands grabbed her hair
and slowly brought her head up, and another pried her mouth open, she knew
that this was something more.
A metal cuff was clasped around Dark Moon's right ankle. A chain ran from
that cuff to a universal hinge in the ceiling. It was a short chain, measured
out just right to allow her body to dangle and her hair to hang down., sweeping
the floor. Her left leg was bent, the ankle lashed to her right wrist. The
other wrist was pinned to her waist by a thick belt of double chains. Dark
Moon swung like a pendulum.
Her hair had been dunked in black paint, and it made long, slow sweeps on
a big canvas that Vince had set up below her. He would give her ass a shove,
starting her on a swinging arc, and her paint-soaked hair would make long
brush strokes on the canvas.
He mounted Tina's face. It was important, at first, for him to just let his
prick hover above her mouth; he wanted her to get a sense of what was in
store.
"It's her turn now, Gold," he smiled at the woman he'd just finished fucking.
The two large-breasted, curvaceous beauties lay side by side. He didn't need
to, but took the time to chain and cuff both of them, wrapping long lengths
of black chains across their upper bodies, squeezing their big tits with
hard, metal bonds. Their wrists were shackled. They could only watch as he
used one and then the other.
Gold watched as he stuffed his big meat into her mouth.
PREVIOUS
CHAPTER WIZARD'S
LAIR MAIN PAGE
Mr.
K'S STORY
PAGE