Snapdragon was next, and Kyle jogged up to the stage. He smacked her on the ass and chuckled, “I told you I’d get you center stage, Rusty.” Edna looked out to the crowd that was completely focused on her naked body. She had spent the day in one of the cages in Albert’s dungeon, around a torture chamber that made the Venetia’s cells look like a playground. It was an operating theater that had been perverted with sexual devices holding unimaginable, agonizing promise. A man walked up and she felt his hands stroking down her sides. Snapdragon cried silently when Albert won the bid.
Belladonna was next, and she shivered while a handsome young man caressed her sides. His new fiancée was standing next to him, and he said, “Go ahead, Doreen. Make sure that she’s acceptable.” The man stepped back and whispered to Cynthia. “She finally agreed to marry me this year, and I couldn’t very well let those other guys show me up by getting their fiancées Blossoms.”
“Congratulations, Kenneth. Belladonna is extremely well trained and has a calm disposition. She was quite naïve and shy when we acquired her, though she has blossomed into a beautiful flower. Doreen will find her to be a most compatible servant.”
Chameleon was last, and Jessica almost welcomed the thought of getting away from Sloan. He had been brutally sadistic to her, and in her mind had unfairly training her with anger over his brush with the law.
Glen Tilbot took the stage and studied the girl. His eyes widened when Cynthia displayed her unique trait. “Watch.” Sloan had made the girl’s cuffs with different stones. Cynthia ordered, “Green,” and the girl obediently raised the cuff with the emeralds and placed it next to her eyes. “Blue,” and the sapphire cuff came up. With both wrists by her face, one eye was green and the other was blue.
“How on earth?” Glen questioned. Any doubt the wealthy man had about purchasing the Blossom was dispelled. Lawrence was his oldest son and almost thirty. They had to get him settled, and Joanne Mathews came from one of the oldest established families. With the other two boys buying Blossoms for their intended, his son would be remiss not to offer the same. Being a Tilbot, he had to purchase the most desirable offering.
“She’s strong-willed,” Cynthia warned.
“So am I,” Glen assured her. “Lawrence, it’s your call.”
Lawrence walked up on stage where the girl stood still with her cuffs up by her eyes. “Amazing,” he agreed.
Jessica glanced at the young man. He won’t be so bad. At least I’ll be away from Sloan, and this guy doesn’t look too smart. She had been a hooker for a month when Sloan had picked her up, and being naked and fondled certainly did not bother her any more. Anything to get out of that crazy castle would be an improvement.
“Joanne?” Lawrence called out to the crowd.
“Oh… god, mom.” Joanne had been crossing her fingers ever since she watched Tammy and Patti. When Snapdragon was sold to the doctor, and then Kenny purchased Belladonna for Doreen, her hopes were dashed.
“Go on, honey.” When Joanne walked to the stage, Sarah Mathews whispered to her husband, “She’s getting the most valuable Blossom, Nathan. I’m surprised Glen is behind their engagement to this degree.”
“She’s a Mathews, Sarah. Anything less than the prized Blossom would have been an insult.”
Joanne looked at the girl, and then up at Lawrence. She smiled and asked shyly, “You’ll still dance with me later?”
“Joanne, I’ll dance with you every night, if you want to.” He turned her towards Chameleon and asked nervously, “Do you like her?”
“I’d like to see her Displayed,” Joanne admitted. After Cosmos and Jasmine’s performance, she wanted everyone to see that her Blossom was superior.
“Sloan?” Cynthia asked.
“Naturally, you can adjust her to your wishes,” Sloan stated.
Jessica felt the despised man get behind her. “Present,” he hissed quietly.
Oh god. Last time. After this I’m away from him. Jessica spread herself open, and she was already leaking from the anticipation of his fingers on her. Her gray speckled eyes glanced over to the woman who she would presumably be sold to. The girl was staring at her pussy with an aroused shine that made Jessica nervous.
Sloan began swiping up and down her slit, never delving into her clenching center. Her legs began to tremble, and tears shone over her unique irises. Jessica knew what came next. Her bottom lip quivered and she tried to control the spasms. It never worked. Sloan could always tell when she was at the precipice, and just when she was close… so close… to climaxing, he twisted her clit and she fought the desire to grab his hand away.
“I never use her pussy, and she’s not allowed to climax,” Sloan answered the questioning stares.
“It certainly keeps her arousal peaked,” Glen noted.
“You have to keep her restrained though, or she’ll play with herself. It’s slightly annoying but a workable situation,” Sloan replied.
No… no… that’s unfair. She just could not be going into a place that would treat her the same way as the cruel man. Jessica was led off stage with her leash clenched in an ecstatic Joanne Mathews’ hand.
The group dispersed until next year, and Marigold fell asleep on the way home with her head on Calla’s knee. The Miller girls would be coming to the estate in the morning, and Sloan and Daryl made the ride home in silence.
Chapter XIII
After breakfast, Sloan and Daryl left in their separate vehicles to pick up the young women. Bridgette decided to leave Trudy with Albert, along with Nicolette’s slave. On the way to the Venetia estate, she looked west over a thick covering of rolling trees.
“How long has it been?” Daryl asked quietly.
“Since dad died. Chayton got us out of there pretty fast,” Bridgette replied softly.
“Would you like to see it?”
“Yes, Daryl. Nicky can’t bear it, so I don’t press her about it,” Bridgette admitted.
They drove under the canopy of trees for a few miles, and Daryl watched Bridgette’s eyes fill when the fountain came into view. The huge house beyond was not quite as large as the Venetia estate, but it was still a formidable mansion.
The door opened as they climbed the steps, and a smiling older woman greeted them. “Mistress Bridgette, welcome home. I didn’t realize you would be stopping by, or I would have prepared lunch for you.”
Bridgette gave the woman a hug. “Millie, thank you for taking care of things.”
“I’ve been here since your father brought Joan home as his bride. I’d be lost anyplace else.” She looked up at Daryl. “You’ve got your mother’s eyes. Mrs. Venetia called me this morning, and she asked if Joseph and I would stay on to take care of the place.”
Bridgette and Daryl wandered through the empty halls, and by the time they reached the dungeon she was silently crying. “I remember when the cages were filled. When mama got so sick, she insisted father continue working to get his mind off it. This seems like a shell. There’s no life left behind the walls.”
Daryl held her hand while they looked through the empty rooms with training equipment clean and waiting for writhing bodies to be restrained in them. “Why is it you don’t mind coming back here?”
“I’ve always loved Hawthorne,” Bridgette sighed. “I used to pretend I was Mistress of the estate when I was a little girl. Nicolette got stuck arranging things for mother and father, so her memories of this place depress her. What do you think your mother will do with it?”
Daryl shrugged. “Give it to Calla and the twins, I suppose. They aren’t ready to handle a place of their own, but mother is planning on keeping them at the Venetia estate for a few more years.” Daryl imagined he could hear her heart breaking. “It’s a while off yet, Bridge.”
Daryl decided to change the subject and try to lighten her mood. “When you are Mistress of an estate, how are you going to train them?”
“Dolls,” she answered quickly.
“Dolls? What do you mean?” Daryl asked.
; “Come.” Bridgette took his hand and pulled him upstairs… all the way up to the attic. She led him to a corner and pushed a trunk out of the way.
“Holy shit,” Daryl grinned.
“Yup, since I was little. That’s me.” She pointed to a doll that was dressed in a daringly low cut black gown made from a man’s sock, and standing in the center of the rest of them with her hands on her hips. It was the only one of the eleven dolls with any clothes on.
“It’s arranged like the dungeon downstairs,” Daryl noticed. The devices were made from cardboard and chains from costume jewelry.
“I love the dungeons here. If you understand them, they’re arranged in two identical circuits. The girls graduate from one room to the next until they’re ready to come upstairs,” Bridgette informed him.
Daryl picked up a doll with brown string wrapped around her breasts, between her legs, and around her arms, pinning her elbows together. “Agony,” Bridgette replied.
“This one is my favorite, though.” She lifted up a doll with tiny slivers of wood glued together and attached to a string that wound around the doll’s bound body. It reminded Daryl of the girl in her room at Albert’s house. “It took me almost an entire box of toothpicks to break off the tips to make my pins,” Bridgette laughed. “I think I spent about six months on her.”
“What do you call her?” Daryl asked.
“Panic,” Bridgette replied.
The doll had a makeshift gag stuck into a hole Bridgette had cut into its mouth, and she had painted the whites of the eyes a little wider to make her look as though she was terrified. There were even little inked pen tears on her cheeks. For some reason, the obsessive display reminded Daryl of his mother’s fixation on flowers.
Instead of making him nervous, he felt as though a heavy weight was lifted from his chest. The feeling should have alarmed him, as well as this beautiful girl’s compulsion. Instead, Daryl realized with certainty that the comfort of Bridgette’s fixation was what had been missing from the other young woman that had chased him. It was not the overwhelming sensation of terror or loss he had expected. Daryl quietly slipped into love with her.
“You want to go someplace?” Daryl asked.
Bridgette put her Mistress doll back in its place. “Where?”
“To find Panic,” he suggested.
Bridgette smiled. Daryl called his mother and told her that they were going to travel for a few days. He promised to call in at night and asked her to talk to Nicolette.
Bridgette had her suitcases brought to her old room, and she packed a smaller duffel with a change of clothes. She kicked off her shoes and sat with her legs folded and crossed on the seat while she looked excitedly out the window. “She has to have dark hair,” Bridgette reminded him.
“The eyes were dark, too. How tall should she be? All of your dolls were the same size,” Daryl noted.
“Average, I think. Agony has to be tall, because of some of the equipment I like to secure her to,” she informed him. She rubbed the soles of her feet. “I’ve never gotten to go on a collection before. Chayton gave us the girls for Albert out of his General Quarters.”
“Well, except for the early days with the twins, I’ve never had company before. This should be fun,” Daryl smiled.
They stopped overnight at a luxury hotel in a suite with three bedrooms. Bridgette twirled in the middle of the room with her bare feet sinking into the carpet. “A little spacious for my tastes,” she laughed. She had seen Daryl finally getting nervous. “Don’t be such a dolt, Daryl. You’re wonderfully perfect for me. I knew it the second you peeked into my room.”
“I guess I’m just a little…” he had absolutely no idea what to say.
“Mom told Nicky and I that we’d have to make the decision. I think all the girls are told that, and that’s why they go nuts at the Displays. You get a group of sadists together, and ironically, none of them knows how to lead with each other. Stupid, huh? Everyone’s afraid of stepping on toes by taking charge.”
“How does this work, Bridge? I mean, if we both get off on pain… who volunteers to suffer?”
“We could take turns,” Bridgette suggested. “I’ll torture you first.”
“Hell no,” he blurted.
Bridgette ran a hand down his chest, letting her hand drift until she was rubbing a very prominent erection and cupping seriously tight balls. She whispered in his ear, “Too late.”
Daryl groaned. “You’re killing me, Bridge.” He pulled her into the master suite and pushed her back onto the bed.
“I’m not finished,” Bridgette pouted.
Daryl slowly lifted her sweater over her head and sank his face between her breasts. “Yes, you are. You are so finished, girl.”
It was an odd sensation for both of them, to torment each other with hands and lips to the edge of orgasm, only to withdraw at the last moment. When Daryl finally slid his cock into her, they both immediately climaxed.
Bridgette lay back onto his chest, still breathing hard. “Oh god. That was pretty incredible.”
Daryl kissed her head. “Bridge, I think I love you.”
“Of course you do.” She sprung up. “Hey, I have an idea.”
“Bridge, I said, I love you.”
“I know,” she dismissed. “How about we train a slave for our bedroom. We can do our fetish stuff on her and then fuck like crazy.”
“Bridge,” Daryl shook his head. It had taken all his courage to tell her, and she was not even listening.
“I know… you love me.”
“Well?” Daryl bristled at her retort.
“Well what?” Bridgette asked.
“Shit, Bridge. How do you feel about me?” he demanded.
“I feel like it’s easier to torture you than I thought it would be,” she laughed. “I love you too, silly. Especially when your eyes get all green flashy angry with frustration like that. Why would I suggest we make a Fetish doll if I didn’t want to marry you?”
“Marry me?” Holy shit… what just happened? “You just want Hawthorne back,” he replied suspiciously.
Bridgette’s eyes narrowed. “You are going to marry me, aren’t you?”
“So you can have Hawthorne?”
Her eyes began to fill and Daryl’s heart clenched. He put an arm around her and said, “Sorry, Bridge. Guess I’m a little better at your torture game than you are. Of course, we’ll be married.”
“You jerk.” Bridgette punched him on the shoulder. Her expression changed back to aroused excitement. “What do you think about Fetish?”
“Do you want to collect her before or after Panic?”
They collected Panic first. She was a secretary who lived alone and was screwing her married boss. She made the mistake of sitting in a booth behind the table that Daryl and Bridgette were dining at the following night.
“Allen, look at that girl over by the window. Jeeze, she’s ugly. Look at how frozen her face is.”
“Barbara, I think the poor thing has been in an accident.”
“Then, she should eat at home. We shouldn’t have to try to enjoy our dinner and have to look at something like that. With the prices here, she should know how distasteful it is for her to come to someplace like this.”
“Would you prefer I ask them to seat her in the kitchen?” he replied sarcastically. “Just change seats with me, and you won’t have to look at her.”
“Is that how you would treat your wife? The hostess should have placed her at a table with her back to the room.”
Daryl was stroking Bridgette’s arm, watching the anger building in her blue eyes. “Bridge, calm down. Take a look at her. She’s a little taller than you wanted, but her hair and eyes are dark. Look at the size of her tits. They’re real, too.”
Bridgette changed her focus from verbally berating the young woman, to imagining twisting the clothespins on her. She managed to calm herself.
“I love you, Bridge… even your crazy crusade to stand up for the less fortunate while you’re on
an abduction mission.”
Daryl and Bridgette waited in the car until they saw the couple come out. From where they were parked, they could hear the woman yelling.
“You fucking bastard, Allen. You told me we could spend the night together.”
“That was before I knew that Lilly was going to be sick, Barbara.”
“I told you not to answer the phone. This is probably just some bullshit excuse your wife came up with.”
“Lilly is my daughter, Barb. I’m going home to her.”
“Fine. You know what, Allen? You go back to your comfy little home. I’m through with this. Find yourself another convenient fuck… I quit.”
Daryl and Bridgette watched her storm over to a small compact car. The man never looked back at her while he made his way to the valet. They followed her for thirty minutes, and she pulled into a motel parking lot. “What the hell is she doing?” Bridgette asked.
“I think she might have had a backup plan if tonight fell through with Allen,” Daryl chuckled.
They watched her park in the shadows on the far side of the lot, and walk towards a room on the corner. “Get ready, Bridge.”
“You think she’s not going to spend the night?”
“She’s buying drugs. If this was a sex thing, she would have parked in front of the room.”
“Cool,” Bridgette said.
“You sure you want to try it by yourself?”
“With this bitch? Absolutely.”
“Okay. Hit her in the arm or shoulder, and it should only take about ten seconds. Usually, they don’t make a sound, but you might want to get your hand over her mouth just in case. Watch out for biting,” he warned.
Bridgette waited by a car parked next to Barbara’s. The young woman returned five minutes later, zipping something into her purse. Bridgette called over, “Do you have a light?” She had seen the woman smoking when she had left the restaurant.
“Yes, hold on a minute,” Barbara mumbled. She fished through her purse while Bridgette walked over to her. “Hold on… hold on. It’s probably at the bottom again.”
Six Masters Island - The Cinderella Syndrome Page 22