Enslaved by Charybdis

by Bruce McLachlan

  Her two tailors toyed with the back of the garment for a moment, playing with the robes and making Mina wonder whether they were merely checking the fit or applying something else she could neither see nor feel.

  ‘She is ready, master,’ Celaeno announced, bowing to him as she stepped back, leaving Mina a bolt upright statue. She was unable to bend her body because of the corset, unable to use her head because of the collar, and unable to fold her legs because of the bar and the hobble chains. Stretched upright, her pussy and anus filled with thick plugs nurturing her submissive relish, she could do nothing save breathe softly through the holes in the hood as the Titan rose and walked around her, examining the final effect.

  ‘Perfect,’ he decreed, and turned his attention to the other Pleiades. ‘Take her to Hephaestus immediately, and return with the decoy nymph,’ he commanded.

  The women moved in with a soft clink of hidden chains, the tempting rustle of leather and the soft groan of latex stretching over their hidden forms.

  ‘I hope your time here was educational, slave,’ Atlas said, smiling and running his hand down Mina’s hood and over her hidden breasts before turning and leaving the room.

  As a wall of black leather spectres, the other Pleiades closed in around her. She felt tugs at her clothing and a sudden yank made the steel pole between her legs move. The manipulation of the pole churned the wide plugs inside her, making them thrash against her sensitive passages. She stiffened and yelled against the gag as through this maltreatment how she could be controlled was graphically explained to her as she was escorted from the room.

  Entering the corridors outside Atlas’s quarters, Mina was shown down the passages to an elevator. A latex-gloved hand emerged from the folds of one of the robes around her and summoned it, showing Mina that her companions were not as effectively bound as she was. A merry chime announced the lift’s arrival, and the doors peeled back to reveal an empty interior. As a crowd they shuffled into the waiting car, drawing Mina with them. She was pinned into the corner, two bodies leaning into her, jamming her in place as another one of the Pleiades tugged at her bar. She gurgled with dismay as they spitefully seized this last opportunity to torture her. Her legs kicked against the bar and hobbles, her arms strained against their bonds and the bodies pressing against them, as she let out muffled cries against the smothering gag, unable to do anything to fight the pain.

  The doors opened at last and she was led out of the elevator, the interior of her skin-tight prison now hot and sweltering from her battle against the maliciously inflicted discomfort. The Pleiades took her left, drawing her deeper into the labyrinth of passages. Other Titans and nymphs passed them, but paid them scarcely any notice.

  Another elevator beckoned, and as the doors opened Mina’s eyes widened with shock to see Oceanus and Tethys lounging against the rear of the conveyance. Dressed in the attire she had first seen them in, they had an arm around each other’s waist. Their black eyes were looking sullenly at the interior walls, and bestowed a brief and uninterested look on the Pleiades before returning to their vacant daydreaming. The couple looked sad and melancholy, and the sight of them looking so depressed made Mina’s heart long to scream and reveal herself.

  ‘Going up?’ asked Tethys, her voice like spun gold to Mina’s ears.

  As the lead Pleiade shook her head silently, Mina launched herself against her bonds, only to have the phalanx of women suddenly converge on her, crushing her to them as they yanked forcefully on her bar. Her traitorous attempts were crippled by pain as they yanked and pulled, the plugs straining against the limits of her tracts, punishing her loins so she howled silently against her gag. The sudden tall presences of what had to be Sterope and Electra effectively hid her from view, and she was punished for her attempted escape as the doors of the elevator slowly closed. She screamed into the gag, her muscles raging to break free as tears rolled down her cheeks and onto the faceplate, a lump in her throat choking her as she tried desperately to gain her owners’ attention.

  When the sight of them was lost she was intensely distraught, but the rekindling of her love for them was momentarily forgotten as the Pleiades assailed her with their chastisement, making her cavort and writhe in agony as punishment for her misdemeanour.

  When the lift next opened for them, her guardians were supporting Mina, her body wracked with distress from the churning battering of the plugs. Carried into the lift she was again forced against the wall, sobbing softly to herself in dismal apathy. Her heart had leapt like never before to see her masters. Her longing for them had been cloaked by her experiences with Atlas, but now she had seen them again, she knew she had to get back to them, and it was all she could think about.

  The doors opened, and she was turned about and led into a region of rough-hewn rock. Metal deck-plates replaced the craggy floor, the artificial path held up and rendered flat and even by small struts, and the heels of the entourage clattered against the steel as they walked across it. The cavernous passages were dimly lit by wall lights, alternating between blue and red bulbs, and the play of shadows cast by the uneven walls and ceiling rendered the rocky corridor a grim and fearful route to traverse. Mina actually felt glad of the reassuring press of bodies around her as she felt her psyche chilling from the malevolent atmosphere deliberately cultivated here.

  A junction in the hallway delivered them onto an earthen floor, the ground trodden solid and flat. No sooner had they rounded the corner than Mina jumped with shock as loud barking growls broke the quiet, echoing repeatedly upon themselves to make it seem as though a whole pack of wild dogs was about to pounce on them. To their left was Cerberus, a black human-headed dog, releasing growls and furious barks as she snapped at the Pleiades, straining against her chain leash, the guard dog who constituted the first line of defence in Hades.

  The corridor beyond the hound split into three, the subdued lighting revealing that it branched and split up again and again thereafter, forming a confusing maze to befuddle trespassers.

  To the right the stone tunnel continued for a way before being sealed by a sheet of fire. The orange and yellow flames roared up to form a dense and impenetrable curtain of energy. Yet one of the Pleiades moved fearlessly over to the wall and grabbed the chain hanging below a large brazen bell. A swift swing rang the clapper against the instrument, sending a deep resonating tone echoing down the corridors. Immediately Cerberus quieted her agitated state and backed into the shadows, watching from within her costume as the Pleiades awaited an emissary from Hephaestus.

  The scorching wall of fire started to ebb as it’s fuel was stemmed, causing the flames to descend and finally vanish as a metal bridge slowly emerged from the opposite side, spanning the chasm that was the vent for the firewall. In the impenetrable shadows beyond there was a flicker of movement, and a figure stepping out of the darkness and across the bridge into the dim light. The woman was tall and muscular, her powerful physique emphasising curves and muscles, her ample breasts undiminished by her cultivated brawn and made even more prominent by the leather chest harness running its cross formations over her bosom. There was a slick quality to her skin that was either oil or perspiration caused by proximity to Hephaestus’s furnaces, the sheen catching refractions of light on her tanned skin. Her head was shaved and golden rings hung from her ears and nipples. A band of smooth silver encircled her head, running across her eyes as a visor, the centre marked with a silhouetted eye - the mark of the Cyclops. She wore tight-fitting leather shorts, heavy boots, and a thick, studded waistband bearing several clips and sheaths in which rested various tools and instruments for metal and leather working. At her side hung a fierce bullwhip, the black leather coils gathered into hoops and withering to a red tip.

  ‘Lord Hephaestus is expecting you,’ the female Cyclops announced in a stern and uncompromising voice. ‘Follow me.’ She turned and began leading them back over the bridge. Once they had crossed the chasm they started moving deeper
into the corridors, where Mina began hearing sounds of distress, cries and moans and whimpers that sifted through the air, wordless complaints previously drowned out by the excellent sound barrier of the firewall. With a roar the towering pyre re-ignited, blocking the passage again on some hidden command, its heat soaking into their backs as they travelled ever deeper into the domain of the god of smiths and fire.

  Mina’s attention was distracted by the alluring rear view of the Cyclops, whose iron-hard buttocks were straining against her shorts, the leather stretching across her cleft as her powerful form marched forward with bold defiance. Then she started to see where the sounds of dismay were emanating from. Alcoves had been cut into the stone walls, and within them intricate sculptures of metal held their polished arms around entombed slaves. The women were held aloft and seemingly merged with the metal, becoming part of the artistic sculpture, a living component in the expression of Hephaestus’s unyielding will. Tubes entered their jaws and loins, taking care of their bodily needs, the vital hoses melded into the almost organic flow of the eldritch masterpieces. Their eyes scanned the passers-by with desperation, a valued momentary distraction from their supreme bondage. It excited Mina to bear witness to their terrible fate, which appealed to her extreme sense. To be so confined would be unbearably sweet; to surrender to the relentless arms of contorted bondage, deprived of every sensation save what was prescribed for her. She could see the living statues shivering and squirming, for small wires attached themselves through the steel to their bodies, pouring pain or pleasure of varying strength and duration through to their bodies at random intervals.

  Other female Cyclops were spotted tending the nymphs who were Hephaestus’s prisoners. Some of them were being transferred to new sites, while others were being prepared for their first taste of absolute entrapment, their bodies fighting the will of the mighty women. With strong limbs the Cyclops bent the considerably more lithe nymphs to their desires, locking them down with dispassionate glee. Slaves sobbed and begged for mercy as the tubes were inserted into them, the food hose being the one that most effectively terminated their protests. The lifeline turned their moans into gags before they were rendered completely silent by the inclusion of the main mouth plate that spread their jaws open and left them wheezing weakly through their nostrils.

  Led through several branches of the corridors, the Pleiades finally delivered Mina into a large hall. The ceiling of the throne room was low, barely above that of a normal room, the roof supported by thick pillars, untouched arteries of natural rock. From vents in the wall columns of flame spilled forth, casting an amber radiance through the entire shadowy interior and making the air hot. Flicking shadows danced throughout the rough hall, making the stone seem to shift and almost seem possessed of animation, although the chains randomly dangling from the walls and ceiling as decorations were perfectly still. The engineers responsible for the hall had placed a raised platform towards the end, the circle of stone bearing a wide pillar reaching from floor to ceiling. Into this column had been carved a recess shaped like a large throne adorned with black cushions, and in the wall behind it, a curtain of brass chains caught the light.

  A pair of burly Cyclops women flanked the entrance motionless as sentries clasping massive war hammers in their fists, the two-handed weapons of battle armed with heads of steel. Another pair stood on either side of the throne as personal bodyguards to their emperor. Before the throne were two rings in the floor, each releasing a brass chain that connected to the matching collar of a nubile young nymph. The two women crouched naked on the floor, their heads hidden inside black leather hoods with a zip for the mouth and slits for their eyes. And almost concealed by the shadows was Hephaestus himself as he emerged from behind the pillars and ascended to take his imperious seat.

  A small though extremely robust man, Hephaestus’s smooth barrel chest was bare, his muscles defined by a complete lack of body fat and a leather chest harness, the straps of which were fitted with a single row of diamond studs. His muscles rippled down his arms, where bronze bracers contained his forearms, the metal sheaths adorned with gems and elegant curving designs. His brown beard was large and bushy, and his spiky hair was trapped beneath a brass crown, the circlet spiked with diamonds and running over his heavy brow, so his dark eyes were hidden within the shadows of a frown. He was dressed in leather trousers and boots, the knees and shins plated with armour, the sections moulded to flow over his contours and also spiked with diamonds, the gems glimmering as they refracted light through their many-faceted hearts. A curled bullwhip lay nuzzled at his side, the brass handle also fitted with diamonds, the weapon swinging with his limping stride, for one of his legs trailed at the knee as though shattered by mishap and healed defectively.

  The taciturn Titan slid a hand over the raised head of a slave girl, and the nymph rode her leather-covered head against his palm in seeming adoration. Seating himself in his throne, he leant back into the deep shadows of its interior, only his hands and legs emerging into the solemn light as the rest of him remained swathed in darkness.

  ‘The Pleiades from Atlas have arrived, lord,’ announced the woman who had escorted them here.

  The Pleiades bowed to the Titan, leaving Mina standing upright, unable to copy them because of the imposing bonds in which she had been sealed.

  ‘Make the exchange,’ he uttered gruffly, his words deep and almost whispered. Either the man was of seriously glum temperament, or he was playing the role of the dark lord of this underground domain to perfection.

  One of his guards jabbed the haft of her weapon to the stone floor, ringing out three harsh knocks that brought two more Cyclops women through the chain curtain. Brushing it apart as the metal links sung choruses of bright clattering sounds, they held a new captive between them. It was the girl Mina had entered Charybdis with, the redhead taken by Atlas when she first saw him.

  The girl seemed alarmed, her indoctrination to the pleasures of this place obviously not progressing at as swift a pace as Mina’s. She was resisting, resenting her slavery and her treatment here. Atlas’s initial use of her could not have helped her disposition any, for he had tossed her straight into the deep end, so to speak, whereas at least Mina had been blessed with the more gradual caring involvement of Tethys and Oceanus, who almost gently cultivated her fledgling masochism.

  The trio of women converged on the visiting group, and Mina was removed from amongst them. She was handed to the Cyclops, and the massive female warriors began their work. Taking hold of her they removed her uniform, stripping her bare using their own tools to instantly pick the padlocks of her prison. Once naked she was forced down onto her knees, and one of the Cyclops women stood guard over her to ensure she remained compliant. There was no use running; the firewall burned away any hope of escape. Mina knew she needed to be more cunning if she was going to find a way out, a lesson she had learned from her first breakout.

  The redheaded nymph whimpered softly as she was forced into Mina’s discarded uniform and engulfed in leather and latex. But where Mina had revelled in the experience, the girl was far less accepting and was clearly not enjoying herself, especially when the plugs were forced into her and buckled tightly in place. Once she was engulfed in the robes, and they had been fastened to her, and the control straps drawn free so her pole might be exploited, the decoy for Mina was handed back to the Pleiades. Taking hold of her they bowed, turned, and were led away by the Cyclops who had shown them in.

  Mina was left kneeling, the perspiration evoked by her discarded uniform evaporating in the heat of the room. It was an oppressive heat but a welcome one, almost cosy in its intensity since she was naked, but any significant amount of clothing would make it far less enjoyable.

  Silence fell as they awaited the words of Hephaestus, the grim tyrant lurking in the darkness looking upon his servants and making them wait for his commands, forcing them to display their obedience to the full.

  ‘Prepare her
as was ordained,’ he said finally.

  Strong hands grabbed Mina’s arms and lifted her up, the two women marching her forward so her feet skipped against the stone as she sought to keep up with their bold and uncompromising strides. She was taken through the chain curtain, and found herself in a wide passage with small vents of fire emerging to fill it with heat and light. Heavy vaulted doors were set deep in the walls of this short tunnel, and Mina wondered if they were rooms or cells even as she was pulled into a small stone chamber lit by two lapping tongues of fire from wall scones, the yellow plumes revealing the rough interior, the low ceiling and the bed-sized slab of stone rising at its heart. Each of the four corners was decorated with iron rings, the anchors spilling chains connected to heavy manacles.

  Refusing to resist the Cyclops women, Mina let herself be dragged onto the warm stone surface, where they pulled her roughly down into the desired spread-eagle position on her back, stripped her of her lingerie and collar, and applied the bonds. A ring gag was forced into her mouth, the leather-encased circle spreading her jaws wide before being buckled sternly about her head. Then, without a single word, the women turned and departed, locking the door behind them.

  Mina wondered if this was some sort of waiting room where she could dread the imposition of yet another uniform to help hide her identity. Calming her mind, she forced herself to concentrate with more detail on her old ways, dredging up the forgotten creed of spy and assassin, readying herself for her new mission - to break free and return to her beloved owners.