"Fuck him!" Danielle shrieked.

"That sounds good to me." The big biker glanced around at his companions as he held the feebly struggling blonde tight against the wall. "Let's drag these two bitches upstairs. I'm going to enjoy fucking this one."

"I have a better idea," Martha said. "Come with me."

Following the maid, the bikers herded the two terrified young women into the library. Danielle kicked and screamed, but her resistance was impotent against the brute strength of the much bigger man.

"Don't do this, Martha," she yelled. "You'll regret it."

The maid smiled. "No, I think I'll enjoy it. I hope they give you the absolute hell you deserve."

Martha withdrew a black leather bound copy of War and Peace from one of the lower shelves and pressed a button on the wall behind. A panel to her left slid open.

"The playroom is through there," she announced. "Mistress Danielle knows the way."

Celine also knew the way. She had visited this chamber of depravity only once - when her sister had been eager to show her what Lita had created for her favorite stepdaughter.

The lights came on as they ascended the rough stone steps, illuminating the dungeon in its full glory.

"This is some kinky shit!" one of the bikers exclaimed.

"It's fucking wild," his leader said. "These bitches are seriously sick."

"This is my sister's playroom," Celine declared. "Our stepmother built it for her. I'm not into any of this kinky crap. This place gives me the creeps."

"It don't give me the creeps," the biker chief grinned. "What it gives me is an instant fucking hard-on."

"Do you assholes have any idea who my stepmother is?" Danielle shrieked.

The biker chief shook his head. "No. But I'm guessing she's some kind of bad-ass dominatrix."

Her younger sister giggled nervously. Danielle shot her a vicious glare.

"Her step-mom would describe herself as an international art dealer," Martha told him. "But I prefer to think of her as a vampire. Their rich daddy married her, then conveniently dropped dead a year later, leaving her to inherit everything. You could probably get a couple of million for this pair if you were to hold them hostage."

"Why are you being so helpful?" another member of the gang demanded suspiciously. "These rich fucks pay your wages."

"That's not all they do," the maid said. "Let me show you."

She unzipped her dress at the back, shrugged it down off her shoulders, then turned around and yanked her white lace panties halfway down her thighs. The letter D was crudely emblazoned on her left buttock.

Martha pointed at Danielle. "That fucking bitch tied me up and branded me, like I was her property. Right here in this fucking dungeon. Can you imagine the pain?"

Celine looked shocked.

"Tell me this isn't true," she whispered.

"I like that branded booty," murmured one of the gang.

"It's off the menu," his leader retorted firmly. "We be partaking only of white pussy this afternoon."

"Dream on, Fifty Cent," Danielle spat. "You don't scare me."

"Did you brand Martha?" her sister demanded.

"Yes, I branded her," Danielle replied. "So what? She's my slave. I can do as I please with her. Lita gave her to me for my birthday. I own that black bitch. Isn't that right, Martha?"

The thirty-year-old maid nodded as she pulled up her underwear and straightened her dress.

"Yes, it's true. I was working as an escort and some skinny rich bitch made me an offer I couldn't refuse. She needed a maid, but my main job was to be her stepdaughter's sex slave. She knew what this one liked and it was my job to keep her satisfied. I've spent over a year degrading myself in ways you couldn't imagine ...."

"And getting handsomely paid for it," Danielle interrupted. "You make more in a month than most domestic servants earn in a year. At least, you did. After this, you're out on your fat black ass."

"You make me sick," Celine declared, glaring at her older sister. "You deserve everything these animals do to you."

"Strip those two bitches and tie them up," the biker chief commanded.

Danielle fought hard as two of the leather clad bikers struggled to restrain her. She scratched the face of one. He responded with a gut punch that would have floored the young woman, had she not been held up by a pair of strong arms. By the time she recovered her breath, she was already being manacled to one of the dungeon's special chairs. The seat consisted of a four inch wide metal bar, bristling with sharp, inch long studs. The arms of the chair had spike lined black leather clamps for her wrists and lower arms. When these were pulled tight, dozens of tiny pins pierced her flesh. Danielle had become a victim of her own barbaric invention, but she didn't scream until the hands that had subdued her turned to ripping open her expensive dress and tossing the shreds aside like pink silk confetti.

Celine surrendered quietly to her fate, hoping her subservience would result in the gang treating her more gently. She shut her eyes and stood still as her white tee-shirt was ripped open and her faded blue denim mini skirt was roughly unbuttoned.

"This one can't wait to get some black meat smokin' in the grill," sneered one of the bikers.