Toy Box
Sound was how he made himself rich. Sound was how he spoke to the world.
Sound was how he had defeated and controlled her before. Piston was enough
of a scientist to discover how various pitches and tones could be used to
defeat the nervous systems of women.
"Bitches," he smiled to his brothers one day, his guitar on his
knee. They were sitting in one
of his many villas, just enjoying being Thornes. "It's all about how the
bitches hear...and feel..."
He just shook his head and smiled.
"So, you figured out how to use the music to...?" Vince started. Piston was
already nodding his head.
"To bring...super...bitches...DOOOOWN!"
He strummed a bit more.
"Hate those bitches..."
Vince grinned.
"You don't hate Gold, do ya'?"
They both laughed at that.
"I'm gonna mount that bitch on my wall some day soon."
His sound weapons were the tunes and tones that flowed from his guitars.
He would strum, measure with instruments, watch the female groupies react,
then save each note to use as a weapon. There was a whole collection of them,
each with its own function, and each with a masterpiece memory of some heroine
that he humbled. Long before
he collected Gold, Dark Moon,
CutLass, and Scorpio, he had perfected
his Femtones.
Gold would always be his woman, his true masterpiece, but each function that
he found for his music provided one of those great winning moments with a
certain heroine. Each one had a priceless gift of superheroine defeat.
Mind control and suggestion...that was a great one. That was the one he reserved
for the woman called Night Star.
He met her one fateful night during a European tour, and knew that she was
in for more than the usual defeat and punishment. There he was, entertaining
some groupies in his hotel room and forming a stronger bond with his British
contacts, when the red haired heroine appeared on the balcony. The bitch
had the audacity to smash through the French windows and start taking on
his people Ð his guests, his friends. The sheer audacity.
Night Star was a former astronaut. She encountered something in space that
sent her back to Earth with amazing powers that linked to her the light and
power of the stars. She wore a jet-black, footed, second-skin catsuit that
shimmered with a light dusting of glitter. She was adorned with an explosion
of thick, red hair that almost to the firm arc of her ass. When she was at
full force, drawing energy from the stars, she was surrounded by a golden
glow that she could direct in beams of power and force.
That night, Thorne let everyone panic for a moment, some trying to fight
her, and some trying to run. He watched as she neutralized guns and slammed
big men almost through walls. He sat back, watching and smiling until he
felt the moment was right then simply strummed his custom-made instrument.
She stumbled back, her hands over her ears, and then the woman's lean, gymnastic
body was locked and frozen in place. There was a slight shudder as she struggled
to move, then she was all his. The henna-haired woman's eyes were wide, and
she stood as still as a statue.
"You like that, Night Star? Oh, sorry, I forgot; you can't speak. Can't move
either can you? I've pretty much shut down you down."
He relished that moment that the room fell silent, and all eyes came to rest
on the woman in the black body stocking. The woman who overwhelming them
was beaten and stood paralyzed in the center of their party, shocked and
helpless. Nothing spiced up a Thorne party like a helpless
heroine.
Granted, all of the women in room were frozen also, but that would just be
more of the fun, wouldn't it?
"What did you do to her?"
"Can she hear us?"
"Whoa.. What the hell?"
"Look at that!"
The musician smiled as his buddies all crowded around the voluptuous woman
in the black nylon second skin.
"Night Star... Dr. Gnau is your real name, right? Former NASA astro-bitch,
right? Night Star. Get on all fours and crawl around like a dog."
She did. The red drapes of her hair brushed the floor, and her round, athletic
ass was high in the air as she crawled like an animal around the legs of
the guests.
"Service that English gentleman over there."
She did. One of Thorne's bandana-adorned, tattooed, bearded cohorts eagerly
dug his cock out of his jeans as the red head reared up on her knees and
pushed her hair out of her face. Night Star's lips were a lot like Gold's,
full thick and pouty. They glistened red and succulent as she licked them,
pursed them, and opened her mouth to accept the cock. She took the shaft
from base to head in big, powerful strokes, the sinews in her neck and shoulders
standing out in her black second-skin. She sucked his cock because of the
Femtone.
"Walk to me. Push your tits up for me to sample over here."
She did. Pursing her lips again,
she pressed her tits up to the big man's face and squeezed her tits together.
Just as he enjoyed with Gold, he pressed his mouth to her costume and
sucked. With his lips, he could
feel the big buttons of her nipples growing hard.
"Strip down to everything but your boots and mask."
She did.
They played with her all night, and left her in a trash dumpster when it
was time to move on to the next concert. That was because of the
tones.
He could use the tones to create arousal. That was how he brought down Bora
and her daughter Cold Front. One strum, and they were on their knees panting,
so weak and trembling with passion that they could barely collect their thoughts.
Bora's eyes were clouded and sleepy behind her black mask, and a huge wet
spot was spreading in the crotch of her neon-blue body suit. Sweat matted
her black hair to her neck. Her daughter was already on back, roughly gripping
her own big breasts with red-nailed fingers. Soon, she started trying to
tear open her own white and dark blue cat suit to get to her swollen
cunt.
"Tie them," Thorne told his groupies.
The two women, mother and daughter, lay side-by-side, tied hand-and-foot.
Arousal poured through them as they squirmed on his bed.
While the beautiful women, with their high cheek bones and black hair shuddered
on the bed of the master bedroom, he tilted a video camera down at them and
created the first of his superheroine videos.
The tones could be all about pain. Sheer, raw pain. The long captivity of
Excalibur was a bouquet of torture. He tested tone, after tone on the blond
Brit who struggled fiercely in her chains. Her screams echoed around in his
world for months. Sometimes her large breasts shook in her white, silk skin
suit, and sometimes she would whip her head from side to side, flailing ash-blond
hair around. Those pink lips would curl back in agony, and Piston would
beam.
Now he was introducing a new guest to The Tones.
"Snake, bring Goldie here down to basement, would you?"
Snakehead had another one of those moments I which he simply loved his work.
He took a wide stance over the woman who was curled up on her knees in front
of him. He scooped her up, enjoying the slickness of her costume and the
softness of her body.
Snakehead tossed Gold over his shoulder.
With Gold slung over one broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he descended
the stairs behind Thorne and followed his employer to one of his studios.
She was conscious, and still nursing the taste of boot on her lips, but she
gave not a hint of a fight. Gold was his toy now, and the six-foot-tall blond
hung listlessly. His big hand cupped the firm arc of her ass and her big,
round breasts were mashed against her captor's back.
"I want you to see each of your friends, baby. I want you to see how in control
I am," Piston said. He wanted her to understand how he was adding more precious
moments to his collection.
"I already understand," she said.
With her head inverted, she couldn't see much of the room. She could see
a thick, 70's-style carpet, and she could smell leather, but it wasn't until
Snakehead dumped on the floor, then used her hair to yank her up to the sitting
position that she could see where she was. It was another of Thorne's rooms
that was full of Thorne's ego. Records. Awards. Photos. The booth.
It was a simple glass booth with a simple metal chair inside. Guitar licks
seemed to come from somewhere, and each filled the booth with a new color
and a new throbbing light. CutLass was strapped to the chair. She was screaming.
It had been hours, but Tina...CutLass...still struggled against her bonds.
Her super strong physiology allowed her to withstand the excruciating torment
of the tone, but she was far too weak to break free.
"She's experiencing something a notch above electrocution. It's like every muscle in her body is in rebellion. Look at the pain on that beautiful face."
Tina gave a full-throated scream, and her eyes met Gold's. She tried to send
a mental message to the woman of the golden-sheened skin, but her pain clouded
her mind's powers.
"Oh well," sighed Thorne, smiling over his shoulder to Snakehead. Sitting
like a child on the floor, Gold looked up at the two men. They were two of
a kind, she thought. They were two big, violent men who loved to destroy
women.
"Guess I'll unhook they stylish one, here."
He punched a button, and the music stopped. The lights stopped. The woman's
final screams tapered off. Her head sank down against her chest, and she
panted.
"Bring them both," he told Snakehead.
Boa padded silently around the metal room. The tall, lean blond was now dressed
in her snakeskin bodysuit, and she sensuously ran her hands up and down the
smooth, terrain of her own figure. She wanted to do everything short of actual
masturbation. If she masturbated, she would cum too soon, and this moment
had to last.
"You're perfect," she whispered. She was finally able to muster the words.
"You're art."
She was talking to Scorpio, who could not talk back. There was a red rubber
ball strapped between the Asian woman's
lips. It was a large one, and it held her full lips open wide and
pouted forward a bit. She was conscious, but limp and yielding to the claws
of her omnipresent steel lover. Her arms were pulled harshly behind her back
by two metal clamps, thrusting her beasts forward. Two more metal claws held
her muscular thighs apart, while two smaller one held her ankles together.
Her legs formed a diamond, and her most tender sensitive parts
exposed.
She was suspended in midair by those indifferent metal claws.
The machine no longer pumped and moved in her, but it filled her up with
big dildo probes in her ass and pussy. Again, they were smooth
metal.
A final metal claw held all of her hair up in tight knot.
"How does it feel to no longer be human? I mean, you aren't, are you? You're
going to be here for the rest of your life. You're going to be art, or a
sex toy, or both, for the rest of your life. You're a part of this
machine."
Boa pushed her hair back and licked her lips.
"I'll miss you, Scorpio. I'll miss my hands around throat, and my legs around
your body. There are other women...I know there are others...but I've loved
defeating you."
She reached out and ran her hands over the smooth, tan skin and sheer red
costume. Her hands found the firm, round breasts and squeezed. Rapture overtook
her.
"I've been sent to disconnect you from this machine, and take you up to your
new masters."
She leaned down and dabbed at Scorpio's costume where the fabric was stretched
over her clit. The captive sighed.
One by one, she loosened the claws and let the red-clad woman slump to the
floor. There would be no fight, Scorpio was so still too pumped full of whatever
it was that she could only stay there on her knees. She moaned slightly against
the ball gag.
Everyone gathered around the box.
It was little more than that, a box. It looked like a packing crate, a big
packing crate with a velvety soft lining. It had thick metal sides and a
top that could be firmly secured and bolted down. This was the toy box.
"So, like, is the party over?"
Thorne wasn't sure who was asking; the living room was so crowded with drunk,
leather-clad friends that voices simply twined around each other. He raised
a finger, asking for attention and patience as the party favors were carted
in. Snakehead strutted his stuff, stomping in with a blond over each shoulder,
two firm asses in the air. He dumped them into the box, leaving them with
their legs intertwined, and Gold's head resting on Cutlass' breasts.
Blond hair was twirled in a moist, twisted mess.
Boa was next, gently stretching the lithe, firm body of Scorpio over the
two blonds. Her gag was still in place, and she breathed deeply through her
nose.
"Nothing's over, people. Just going to put the toys away for a bit. Want
you to see another one of my tools here."
Vince brought Dark Moon to the toy box. He walked her on a dog leash, a studded
collar around her neck. Both arms were pinned behind her back in a leather
sleeve. She had a thick bit in her mouth that was joined to a head harness.
She walked in front of him as they entered the room.
"This stuff won't drown her or something?" he asked his brother. Piston was
busy shaking a large silver bottle and chuckling to himself.
"Nope. I promise. Now, go ahead and put her in."
The women who'd enjoyed drowning Dark Moon now unhooked all of her bondage
gear and lead her to the box. One grabbed her muscular legs, and the other
took her under the shoulders. The mystical Latina looked groggily over her
shoulder as the two women lifted her, and draped her over the other three
women.
Thorne now stepped up and pressed the button on top of the bottle. It might
as well have been an over sized seltzer bottle, but when the thick foam gushed
out over the legs of four beaten women, that illusion was
dispelled.
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