Jo’s escorts took her down a flight of stairs
to Briarcliff’s lower level. This was not much like what she had seen of the
opulently designed and furnished main floor of the mansion. The floor here was
bare concrete, as were the walls, the doors were all heavily constructed of metal
with oversized locks, and clearly designed for security rather than beauty, and
the lighting was provided by bare fluorescent bulbs set overhead at regular
intervals. All-in-all, Jo did not feel as if she was still in the house of a
multi-millionaire, but rather as if she had been suddenly whisked away back to
the Army brig where she and Robyn had spent six months awaiting trial. Adding
to the prison atmosphere were the security cameras located high up on the walls
on either side.
They stopped in front of a door that looked
much like others they had passed, dented, metallic and menacing-looking. There
was a key hanging on a hook on the wall next to the door frame. The blonde
Lorna used this to open the lock, not without some difficulty.
“Someone should tell maintenance that these
locks need to be oiled,” Lorna said to her colleague when she finally got the
key to turn. “Shut up,” answered Kim.
They took Jo inside the room, with Lorna entering
first to switch on the lights. Like the corridor outside, the room was
illuminated (poorly, in Jo’s opinion) by more of the cheap fluorescent
glow-tubes, several of which were humming and flickering.
Jo quickly evaluated her chances of
overcoming the two servants at that moment, with the door open and the blonde’s
back momentarily to her, and again decided that the time was not ripe. She was
very limited in what she could do as long as she was still confined in Quentin’s
restraints. She would have to hope the servants removed them while they were
getting her “ready” for Caine, whatever that might entail, before she could even
consider trying anything. If she was successful in overcoming the greensuits, what
she would do after that, naked, weaponless, with a slave control collar still
locked around her neck, in Caine’s house and surrounded by hundreds of his
employees, she did not know. She would tackle those problems when the time
came.
She looked around the room as they led her
through it. There were all sorts of metal, wood and leather contraptions,
frames, chairs, sawhorses, tables and things to which she could not put a name.
There were odd electrical gadgets, pulley systems and nameless, but
ominous-looking machines. Jo had little doubt that they were all designed to
inflict pain or to facilitate its infliction. In short, the room was a torture
chamber.
Jo was told to stand just in front of a device
consisting of an electrically operated mechanism of adjustable jointed metal
rods and cables. The machine, whatever its exact function, was connected by a
length of insulated wire to a control panel which sat on a small table. Some of
the rods sported leather straps with buckles, which were obviously restraints.
Jo did not like the look of the thing even a little.
“Now we’re just going to put you in this
frame, hon,” the stocky blonde Lorna said, in a kindly tone. “You’re in for a
difficult time for the next few days, but the sooner you make up your mind to
become Master Caine’s kind of servant, the quicker this part will be over and
done, and things will get better. Don’t move, now.” She went down on one knee
to remove the plastic rings from around Jo’s ankles, using a tool she took from
the small pouch which hung from a belt around her waist. (This answered one
question in Jo’s mind, to wit: how could the green-suited slaves carry
anything, as there were clearly no pockets in their skin-tight uniforms.) “Just
let me have your leg for a second, so I can strap you in,” she said. Jo
cooperated, and soon both of her ankles were strapped and buckled to poles at
floor level, three feet apart.
Jo put every fiber of her being into feigning
relaxation as Lorna set to work unlocking and removing the remaining plastic rings
around her wrists. “Was it very bad, when Mr. Caine had you down here?” She
asked casually.
Lorna paused and frowned, her tool poised
over the restraint on Jo left wrist. “I try not to think about that. The best
thing I can say about Master Caine’s training is that, eventually, it ends.”
She bent forward, and inserted the tool, springing open the plastic ring and
thereby, freeing her prisoner’s hands.
Jo reacted instantly. She lashed out with her
left elbow, trying for a disabling blow to Lorna’s solar plexus, and followed
up by pivoting at the waist, to bring her right hand around for a palm strike
to the nose.
This did not work out as she had hoped. The
elbow shot landed, but to her dismay, it had little effect, as Lorna rolled
with the blow. The blonde dodged Jo’s palm strike expertly, almost as if she
had enjoyed martial arts training herself, as in fact she had. Jo did not know
that Caine required every greensuit to become proficient in hand to hand
fighting as part of their training, since their duties often required them to
control recalcitrant and sometimes downright violent prisoners. It also seemed
that Lorna was expecting her to try something of this sort, and was ready for
it.
The sad look on the blonde’s face was the
last thing Jo saw before the universe disappeared in an explosion of
indescribable pain. The second greensuit, Kim, had evidently also been fully
prepared for this moment, and had the slave collar remote control pointed at Jo
almost before the latter’s right hand hissed past Lorna’s nose. Everything went
blindingly white, as liquid fire ran through Jo’s entire nervous system.
Quentin Scales had not been exaggerating about the pain induced by the collar
at the higher levels (Kim had set it at75%); it felt nothing at all like the
shock sticks the handlers had used to subdue her at the auction; it was worse,
far worse, incomparably worse.
Jo lost control of her limbs, and would have fallen
to the ground instantly, but for the fact that she was paralyzed by pain for a
second or two, as every muscle in her body clenched in agony. She remained on
her feet long enough for Lorna come close and catch her before she collapsed
like a marionette with its strings cut. The pain went on and on, for what felt
like hours, and Jo wondered why she could not die, or at least pass out.
“Stupid bitch,” she heard the Asian girl’s voice,
as if from a great distance. “I told you she would try something like this.”
“You were right, Kim,” Lorna acknowledged. “I
just wish you hadn’t been.” That was the last thing Jo heard before her mind
fled, and the nothingness of death or unconsciousness gathered her in at last.
***
She was jolted back to life when bucket of
icy-cold water was dashed over her naked body. For a moment, she was too
shocked by the sensation to scream, but then she drew in a double-lungful of
air, and bellowed with all the strength in her body. The result, however, in no
way reflected the effort involved. Instead of an ear-splitting shriek like the
sound of a steam-whistle, all she produced was a thin, muffled “Eeeee!”
This was because Jo’s mouth was stuffed
completely full of some soft, absorbent substance, and something was preventing
her from opening her jaws even a crack. Her hands were drawn out to the sides
above her head, kept there, she supposed, by the same type of leather straps
Lorna had buckled around her ankles. She assumed that she now was strapped onto
the device they had been attaching her to when she made her idiotic attempt to
escape (the stupidity of her actions was obvious, in retrospect). This was only
an assumption on her part, however, as her eyes were covered, and she could see
nothing. There something covering her entire head which went all the way down
to her neck, which accounted for both her inability to see or open her mouth. She
could not see it, but she was clad in a hood made of latex and leather, which
had only four openings: two small holes in the front for her nostrils, a
zippered slit, currently closed, over her mouth and another hole on top, for
her hair.
The hood allowed her to hear, at least. This
was proved when she heard Caine’s voice say, “So, you’re back with us at last.
I trust you found your nap refreshing, because you will be expending quite a
lot of energy today.” As this did not seem to call for a reply, Jo did not
attempt to respond.
A moment later, his voice was coming from
much closer, and his hand was fondling her sex. “I must tell you, Colonel, I
was a little disappointed when I was told what happened down here. I wasn’t joking
when I said I knew a great deal about you. I believe I have read everything publicly
available about your life and career, and every reliable report about you
agreed you had two qualities in particular which made you an outstanding
officer: intelligence and self-control. Your attempt to break Lorna’s ribs this
morning did not demonstrate either quality, as I think you will agree.” This
was much along the lines of what Jo had been thinking when she came to. She
nodded, conceding the point.
“It probably was a temporary lapse on your part,”
Caine offered generously. “If anybody had an excuse for a momentary lapse of
judgment, you did. But the time for foolish gestures is over, and we need to
get down to the business at hand. I intend to obtain your submission, then train
you to serve me exactly as my other slaves do. The question is, will I have to
kill you before you submit to me? Quentin thinks I might. I hope he is wrong.”
He slapped her on the buttock ringingly. “Today,
I would like to introduce you to some of the tools I use to train my fuck
slaves. You have already experienced what the collar can do, but there are many
other more or less subtle methods of persuasion available.” Jo heard a quiet
humming sound, and felt her limbs being pulled further apart as the device to
which she was attached to went into motion.
“Take this frame you’re strapped into, for
example,” Caine said. “It is a very versatile device. To begin with, I can put
you under any degree of tension I wish. If I was careless, I could easily
dislocate several joints.”
As Caine spoke, Jo was being stretched in
four different directions, and when Caine mentioned the possibility of
dislocated joints, it momentarily felt as if this was about to happen. In fact,
the machine had built-in safeties which ensured that nothing of this sort could
happen, but of course, Jo did not know this. When the electric motor stopped
humming, she was spread wide in an “X”, her body, under such great tension that
she had been lifted completely off the floor, and could move only her fingers,
toes and head.
“That’s one configuration,” Cain said. “I
find it very convenient for sexual training, but it’s not too bad for other
things as well.”
She heard the sound of his boots on the hard
floor, and then he was behind her. “What I am holding now is a leather paddle,
one of my particular favorites. It is quite thick, very supple and packs a
powerful punch. See what you think.”
There was a wet smack when something heavy
and solid smashed into Jo’s buttocks, and she felt a jolt of pain, as an oblong
of fire was printed across her flesh. The pain was unlike that of the control
collar, because it was concentrated on only one part of her body. Nor was it so
great that she was driven into unconsciousness. But it was still terribly
painful, and much worse than the spanking, which had required all of Jo’s will
to keep from showing Caine how much it had stung.
In this case, there was no question of pretending
that she had not felt the blow. Jo managed to control her vocal cords, to keep
from making more than an almost inaudible grunt, but she could not prevent her
hands from clenching into fists, nor her toes from wriggling in reaction.
“So, it’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” Caine asked.
Jo did not dignify this question with a response. He continued. “Let’s see how
another ten feels.”
The first stroke had covered an area of about
two feet by one foot across the middle of Jo’s ass cheeks. The second cut up
into the underside of her rear hemispheres, just below the scarlet rectangle left
by the first. Jo grunted again, a little more loudly this time, and her body
writhed in agony, or rather, it tried to. So tightly was she stretched that she
hardly moved at all. Instead, the muscles of her back, buttocks, shoulders arms
and legs strained and corded for a second or two, until the initial spasm of
pain passed.
Jo repeated this performance for the each of
the remaining nine strokes, which Caine applied down the backs of her thighs
and calves, so that when he was finished, the back of her body from the waist
down was a more or less uniform red. In addition to the afore-mentioned
straining of her muscles, Jo threw her head back and howled at the top of her
lungs for the final four strokes, making a weak sound like “Eeeeee!”
To Jo, it seemed to take an unconscionably
long time for the fires in her rear end to cool after the last stroke. The
continuing waves of pain fully occupied her attention, so that she did not even
notice when Caine went away briefly and returned.
“Now, one of the first things I like to check
is how a new girl responds to pain,” he told her. She could feel his hand down
between her legs again, this time inserting his fingers inside her pussy. “I
have found a surprising number of women are excited by being dominated and
corrected,” he remarked, “and though this may seem counter-intuitive, these are
often the strongest, most independent ones.”
As his fingers worked inside her, Jo could
feel the warm glow of sexual arousal spreading from her loins. No Caine, she said silently, I am not one of those women who get off by
being tortured. She had no way to know that when Caine had left her, he
went to fetch his ever-reliable contact aphrodisiac, which he found very
helpful in breaking down the wills of his new girl-toys. This ointment
invariably multiplied the sensitivity of female sexual organs by three times or
more, and greatly increased Caine’s ability to use pleasure as well as pain in
his training.
In a few minutes, Jo’s hips were moving
sensuously in an unmistakable response to his manipulation. The feeling was so
intense she could not pretend any longer, even to herself, that she was not reacting
to Caine as he wished. But I don’t get my kicks from being beaten, she insisted
to herself. “Nnnnn!” she mumbled in
protest, even as her pelvis circled on his fingers, and she felt a huge
explosion nearing.
Caine seemed to take her meaning. “Really,
Colonel, are you trying to tell me you’re not about to come? Please don’t
disappoint me again. I know you’re strong enough to accept the truth about
yourself, even if you don’t happen to like it.” He twirled her clit in a way
that sent a wave of sensation like an earth tremor through her, and made Jo
stare blindly down at her traitorous body in disbelief.
He had excited her with his hand earlier in
the day, and she did not realize until this moment how frustrated that had left
her. Hardened as she was to pain, Jo had little resistance to pleasure,
especially on this scale. She moaned “Ehhhhh!
Ehhhhh!”, and surrendered, letting
herself drown in the flood of sensation as she came on Caine’s hand. She could
hear him talking, but her mind was so clouded with lust that his words did not
register until later.
“You see how easy it is?” He asked. “Your
body knows what it wants, and it doesn’t care who gives it to you.”
Afterwards, Jo hung limp in her bonds, her
body slick with sweat, her head low in dejection. He had not merely defeated
her, but had done so with humiliating ease. The pain of the paddling, that was
nothing, but the way he manipulated her to make her climax against her will, when
he wanted, that undermined her whole
sense of who she was. Could she really be so weak, so easily controlled? She
wondered despairingly.
Caine was in front of her again, lifting her
chin in his hand. “Why so sad, Colonel? You should be proud of how much you’ve
accomplished in such a short time,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Why, I’m
willing to bet that before you know it, you’ll be coming like a volcano while I
fuck you up the ass, and if that’s not progress, especially for a confirmed
lesbian, I don’t know what is.” For some reason, this praise did not make Jo
feel any better.
Caine had developed an erection from paddling
and masturbating Jo, but as he was not ready to penetrate her yet, he delayed
his gratification to dish out another round of paddling. “Just a bit of
reinforcement, to make sure the lesson goes home,” he explained.
Had she been able to speak, Jo would have
assured him that she was a quick study, and no reinforcement of any kind was required.
She was not looking forward to another beating like the first. She felt as low
as she could ever remember, and was far from her normal tough, confident self.
Although Jo tried to steel herself for it,
reminding herself that she was not a baby, the first stroke across her
buttocks, on flesh that was only just cooling after the initial ten strokes,
made her scream and contort without shame or restraint. She was shocked by how
much worse the paddle felt this time. This was probably because at that moment,
her courage was at a low ebb and her resistance to pain was less than usual.
When he stopped, Caine immediately applied
more of his aphrodisiac ointment to his fingers. Then he rubbed it into her
nipples, until they were so distended that they were almost painful, toyed with
her inflamed clitoris until she was close to another orgasm, then stopped, leaving
Jo on the brink.
“Uhhhh,
nnnn, aaaaah!” Jo screamed in an agony of need, which meant roughly “Fuck! Don’t stop!” She pulled violently
and futilely at her restraints, trying to get a hand loose, so that she could
finish what he had started.
“There is more to the first lesson than you
think, Colonel Langstrom,” Caine told her. “You must also understand that my
slaves get nothing they do not earn. In
time, you will discover that I decide who receives pleasure and who pain, and
in what quantities. Just because you want to come, does not mean you will be
permitted to come. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand!” She shrieked. “I’m not
an idiot! Now finish me, asshole!” None of this emerged in any sort of comprehensible
words of course, but was simply more stifled gibberish.
Caine had not originally planned to harvest
Jo’s virginity on the first day, as he had not expected his preliminary efforts
to be so successful, but if the Master of Briarcliff was anything, he was
adaptable. Jo’s morale was so low at this moment that he was sure he could make
her beg to be fucked, and he was not about to the opportunity to inflict such a
crushing psychological defeat on her slip away.
He returned to the control console, and made
a few adjustments to Jo’s position, lowering her and bringing her feet closer
together, creating some slack, and giving her a limited ability to move her
lower body.
Then he brought over small chair, placed it between
her still open thighs and sat down positioned directly below the golden-tufted
triangle between her legs. “Colonel,” he said, “perhaps you are wondering why I
have relaxed the tension on your legs and lower body. I am doing it to give you
the opportunity to get what we both know you want: an orgasm.” He reached up to
finger her pussy, which was now practically in his lap. “You do want to come, don’t you?” She moaned
and tried to rub her sex knob on his fingers, moving her hips in a way that demonstrated
her excellent flexibility. Caine instantly withdrew his hand, and she whined in
frustration.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he said. “Now, I
normally don’t do this for my new fuck-slaves on the first day, but I have so
much respect for you that I’m going to make an exception this one time,” he
continued. To his own ears, Caine sounded about as convincing as a used car
salesman telling a mark about the special price he was going to offer on a
clunker because he liked him. It
probably sounded more convincing to her, he judged. She was in no state to be
very analytical, after all.
He reached up to unzip the mouth of the hood,
and said, “Open up and start pushing with your tongue.” As she did, he reached
into her mouth to pull out the sopping wet gel-foam which had so effectively
stifled her speech. When the last bit of gray plastic was out, Jo gasped and
said, “Thank you. I almost forgot how good it feels to be able to talk.”
Caine did not want to distract her from the
main issue, so he allowed her failure to address him as he had instructed go
uncorrected this time. “My pleasure, Colonel.”
He opened his fly, and drew out his cock,
which was at its maximum state of erection, eight inches long, an inch and a
half in circumference, and bending back like a hairy, flesh-colored banana. He grasped
it in his hand, and moved it to brush lightly back and forth against the lips
of Jo’s sex, which hovered just over his lap. She shuddered, not sure what had
touched her, but suspecting the worst.
“That was my cock,” Caine said. “It is right
under your cunt, in perfect position to be rammed home. The question is: do you
want it?”
“What do you
think?” She demanded sounding outraged, although he strongly suspected the reaction
was largely simulated. “What kind of question is that? You know all about Robyn
and me.”
He could excuse her once, but not twice,
especially when she was openly disputing with him, as there was a danger of her
forgetting her place. He reached up, and slammed his open palm into her cheek,
snapping her head sideways and making a line of spittle fly from her mouth. “Master,”
he said. “You must remember to call me ‘Master’.”
“Uh, uh…Master, yes…, Master,” she mumbled,
sounding dazed. “I forgot, sorry.”
He waited a little while, until he was sure
her head was clear, then reached up into her sopping slot again, and asked,
“So, what’s your answer?”
Jo’s hips began to move in a series of
circles, led by his grip on her sex button. “Umm, ummmm, you bastard,” she
muttered. “I won’t…oh fuck!” she
shouted, as he pulled his hand away again.
She panted for a little while, fighting to
stop her pelvis from grinding down where his hand had just been. “All right,”
she said through gritted teeth, “you win, this time. You can put your…” she
hesitated, “…you can fuck me if you like...” After a heartbeat she sullenly
added “Master.”
“My, my, that’s very kind of you, Colonel
Langstrom,” Caine said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “My pleasure slave is
giving me permission to have intercourse with her. I certainly am the lucky one.”
He paused and went on in a very different tone. “No, Colonel, that is not the
way things work around here. Look at it this way: if this was the Army, I would
be the equivalent of a General of the Army, and you would be a raw recruit,
still in boot camp. Now if the five-star General wanted a boot private to do
something, do you suppose he would ask permission?”
“If he wanted to fuck the private, do you
mean?” Jo asked.
“Yes, well, we don’t want to take the analogy
too far,” Caine conceded. “I hope I am stating the obvious, when I tell you
that I do not need your permission to fuck you, any way I want, at any time I
choose. I can do whatever I want with you: sell you to a brothel, put you to
work cleaning toilets or grind you up for fertilizer, anything. You are a chattel slave, Colonel Langstrom, personal
property with no more rights than this chair I’m sitting on. If you want something
from me, like the orgasm your horny little body craves, you will have to ask
for it, humbly and sincerely.” He placed his hand palm upward on her swollen
pussy lips, and rubbed gently. Jo’s hips instantly went into motion again,
swaying back and forth on his hand.
“Ah…ah, um, yes, I can see that, Master,” she
said distractedly. “So, errr…, OK… will you fuck me… please, Master?”
“Better,” Caine said, “but still not quite
good enough.” He was determined to chasten the proud former soldier as much as
possible. He could not turn her into a useful slave as long as her pride would
not allow her to bend to his will. He pulled his hand away from her pussy again,
and she moaned “Goddamn it!”
After that, she was silent for so long that
Caine began to wonder if he had pushed her too far, and whether he should have
accepted her initial request. Finally, she cleared her throat, shook her head,
and speaking in a strange, husky voice, said, “I haven’t had much practice
begging, but I’ll do the best I can. Master, I beg…” she swallowed, “…beg you
to please fuck me. I am only a slave, I know, and I don’t have the right to ask
for so much as a drink of water, but you would be doing me a great favor…I
mean, I need it so badly, I…oh, please will you just fuck me, Master?” Her voice had begun to tremble halfway through as
she stuttered out this request, and by the end, it was obvious that she was
crying.
Crying? Caine asked himself. Jo Langstrom of the Legion of Mjolnir, crying like a schoolgirl? He
was startled at first, but then reflected that she had probably never been forced
to beg like this before. Her pride had not allowed her to escape prison and
save her career by perjuring herself and testifying that Robyn Brand and she
were not lovers at her trial, nor had she asked for mercy or any special
consideration from the court. She probably had not asked anybody for mercy in
her whole life. But he had made her beg, and beg humbly, for his cock.
The most rigid steel is not the most
resilient: it is more durable if it can bend, at least a little, especially if it
will otherwise break. Jo Langstrom was a sword that did not know how to bend,
so she had broken. The dark patches on the hood near her eyes, where her tears
had soaked through the latex, gave mute testimony to what her pride had cost
her. It was wrenching to witness someone so strong giving way, something that
moved Caine in spite of himself.
“All right, Jo,” he said almost gently, “your
request is granted.” He cupped her buttocks in his hands, and said, “Let me
guide you down, nice and slow, now. It may hurt a little at first.” It was not
until much later that he realized that for the very first time, he had addressed
her by her first name.