Captured by Charybdis

by Bruce McLachlan

  Mina had dreams of being with the partners of her past, of performing with lost lovers. Even Melissa appeared on several occasions, her face buried between her thighs as she lay sprawled in sumptuous satin, only to come to and find herself still in rubber bondage.

  Time stretched beyond their capacity to measure, their periods of dozing slumber removing any hope of keeping track.

  Mina lifted her eyes, weary and exhausted, a nightmare of being buried alive in rubber having left her panicked and frightened. She had to concede that Korin had engineered his regime of indoctrination flawlessly, and she might even have admired it had she not been its doomed subject.

  Chapter 9

  With a click and a sigh of mechanical strain the door slithered aside, and at the same moment the belts began their diligent toil once more. The women started to groan in despair, knowing full well that they would not be allowed release, just be deprived again and left all the more frustrated because of it.

  Theresa walked in, dressed as before, her immovable bonds lit briefly by the colour from the monitor before it switched itself off and shuffled meekly back into the floor.

  ‘And how are my students today?’ she quizzed.

  How much time had passed? They had no clue as to whether it was day or night. They were fed and cleansed and assailed by the singular function of the toys, nothing else interrupted the stern monotony, and such periods of teasing helped make judging time even more difficult. The whole process had seemed like an eternity while it was occurring, but now the entire banal boredom of their long incarceration seemed mere minutes in duration.

  ‘Now has come the time where you will be sent to your training modules. The Titans have gathered and finished deciding which of them gets to come and pick from the new Nymphs. Each of you has an assigned dwelling, where a trainer will attend you and begin a regime of discipline and education as to your new life here. If you do well the period of tutelage will be short and sweet, if you resist and defy, more harsh measures may well be taken to bring you into line. Once this training is over you might find yourself being kept by your trainers. Alternatively you could well be offered up for new bidding on your ownership, for though all here is the property of Charybdis, the Titans can have their own limited regnant over you.’

  The door hissed as it opened, allowing a new female to enter. Theresa bowed slightly in acknowledgement of her presence, and backed away a little.

  The woman was tall and imperious, her long black hair woven into numerous thick braids, a dozen or so fat tentacles that dropped about her angular features, each of them held in place by a snake’s head band near the tip, the last of the hair spilling from the hissing maw of the serpent.

  Her eyes were like ice, piercing and unnaturally intense. They made it seem as though she were not really alive, or perhaps that she were blind, for they never seemed to focus on anything. Her body answered the question of her sight, for she moved with a regal grace, her lithe form flowing with serpentine precision through the amphitheatre of chairs.

  Clad in a leotard of latex, the high cut of the thigh hooked itself over her hips, letting fine denier hose coat her legs before slipping under her closefitting rubber thigh boots. The body stocking spilled down her arms, making the pale skin appear almost tanned before losing itself under latex opera gloves. The fingers were absent, letting the naked digits come free and sport a long and curved nail. Filed to points, they were painted a striking green and again, a serpent design was painstakingly drawn along them, the red forked tongue meeting the very tip of each talon. In the fingers of her right hand she clutched a leash, the silver links hanging in loops, and upon the left was a ring to mark her status in full. The gems were mostly emeralds and formed the face of a woman, her hair a wild mane of green stalks.

  A studded choker was matched with a studded belt, a hoop upon it catching the clasp of a steel baton, the tip spewing out a bushel of long latex stalks, the ribbons swaying with her step.

  ‘Which slave do you prefer, Lady Stheno?’ asked Theresa, her air of arrogance gone, her stature as a humble servant fully in place because a dominant was present. In front of other slaves she was the imperious queen of their fate, but now she was just as lowly as they.

  ‘A fine crop from Scylla,’ she said, her voice hinted with a French accent, her words filled with a hidden admiration for the woman. Mina guessed that either Scylla was, or had been her lover, or this Lady Stheno was obsessed with the female counterpart to Charybdis. ‘I shall have to congratulate her next time we meet. When will she be back?’

  ‘Next week, Lady Stheno, with the next supply shipment,’ replied Theresa, eyes lowered but fixed to the heels of the woman, adoring them with craving.

  ‘Hmmm, I like this one,’ she purred, striding over and lifting the chin of the redhead, looking into her glistening eyes as she sobbed against her gag.

  ‘But I have a penchant for breaking in this tiny Asian doll,’ Stheno crooned with wicked delight, sashaying to the small female as she wriggled and burbled her pleas.

  ‘Hush, my sweet one. You have nothing to fear from me. I’ll take you away, bind you up as tight as can be and keep you all to myself for a few months. I’ll love you in so many ways, and soon enough you’ll never want to leave,’ she promised, running a hand through the girl’s luscious hair, sweeping back the strands and exposing her slender and inviting face.

  ‘Such interesting eyes. A blindfold would be a crime for someone with such a stare.’ She grinned, and indicated to Theresa.

  The servant skipped forward and began to remove the bonds, setting the girl free of the straps and then accepting the clip of the lead from the mistress. Theresa snapped it in place, tethering the new acquisition to her owner before moving to the girl’s ankles.

  With a slow pull the girl was brought to her feet, her stance unsteady from having been kept seated for so long. The woman towered over her, the radical difference between the small girl and the tall woman added to by her heels and her aura of authority.

  ‘Come, little one,’ she stated softly, and marched for the door, giving a tug and overcoming the feeble defiance of her new acquisition. Struggling in her straitjacket, the hapless teenager was ushered out and to her fate, squeals of dismay seeping softly through the formidable walls of the gag. Her feet rattled with sound as she shuffled, the rubber fetters still in place, a short hobble chain limiting her movements greatly.

  The door had barely begun to close when it was interrupted by another entry. This time it was a male guest, a massive and muscular Arab, his body rippling with cultivated brawn. Bearing a thin and preened goatee and bald head, he ignored Theresa as she bowed deeply to him, almost sinking to her knees with obeisance.

  ‘Lord Atlas, the slaves await your perusal,’ she whispered, her words stated so softly that they were near unheard.

  The clatter of heeled feet emerged from behind him, and a number of black clad females slithered through the chairs like ghosts on a breeze.

  The man was dressed only from the waist down, his hairless chest and arms left bare. A set of billowing latex trousers were tucked into knee high boots, a great red sash of rubber tied around his waist. Upon one hand he wore a ring with the shape of a human figure bearing an orb of emeralds and sapphires - Atlas supporting the globe upon his shoulder. Mina guessed that he was a Sheikh or other oil rich tycoon, for what other industry so perfectly fitted the metaphor of having the whole world utterly dependent on being supported by it?

  The females - that had to be some mode of harem - were far less unadorned than their master was. Each was swathed in folds of latex, the heavy layers draping from them as robes, the few splits exposing the fact that the bodies beneath were equally encased. Through obscuring veils their painted eyes looked over the remaining women. Similarly, the eyes of the man flowed over every inch of them, assessing and scrutinising, weighing up which of them would be his. M
ina surmised that he wanted someone compliant, his eyes flicking away from her when she arrogantly met his stare. Instantly she retained such a glare, hoping to avoid being his slave, for he seemed intolerant of disrespect and would be merciless with Mina’s stubborn pride. If she became his, her chances for escape would be remote. But what of the women? They too were meticulously examining the sentient fare on offer, but for what reason? Were these true wives? Perhaps they were submissive to their master, but dominant to the slaves he recruited. She could not see their hands and thus had no way to see if they were awarded rings to offer them higher stature, so Mina was left with unsupported speculation for her theory.

  ‘I shall take this one,’ he growled, his voice gruff and deep.

  Immediately Theresa started to unfasten the redhead, setting her free so a pair of women might hook fingers into her collar and drag her up as Theresa added the hobble chain.

  There was nothing the recruit could do to stop her extradition, and she was taken from the room at a swift march, her hobble chains hampering her efforts so that she was half walked and half carried by her escort.

  Mina looked to her left as best she could, meeting the dark eyes of the only other slave remaining, both of them wondering what manner of trainer would enter next.

  The warning tone of the door reached their ears as Theresa stood idle and simply waited. The soft click of heels and the casual step of boots preceded the entrance of a couple before them.

  ‘Greetings, Lord Oceanus and Lady Tethys,’ welcomed Theresa, with her usual humble nature.

  The pair stepped before their audience and regarded the choices presented to them with eyes that were completely black. The sight made the other woman squirm with sudden fright, but Mina could see that they were merely custom contact lenses, designed to give this midnight and eerie appearance.

  The lenses were akin to those she had seen on the white-haired mermaids. In legend, these two Titans had sired a breed of Ocean Nymph called Oceanides. Were the snow-haired women a personal harem of aquatic slaves that this pair kept? In that case, who owned the rays, the only other differing caste she had spotted? Mina was finding her private investigations and observations a valuable diversion. She was surrounded by mystery, every noble being a different puzzle, with different tastes and castes, offering her a new dilemma to unravel with every person she saw, keeping her mind active and sharp while her body was left impotent.

  Lord Oceanus was a young man, his athletic body tough, like white leather, his body slender yet rigid, the product of a concentrated devotion to swimming. He was pale from having been deprived of the sun for so long, this underwater domain being his whole world.

  His hair was long and dark, a strip of sable that fell down the centre of his head and down his back, the lengths braided and fixed with small elaborate bands in random places. The barren sides were tattooed with swirling patterns, almost Celtic, but more like flowing stylised waves of greens and blues. Tight leggings of deep green latex rolled down and covered his feet, the individual toes webbed and marked with a moulded claw of latex. The craftsmanship was deceptively realistic, an illusion that made him seem even more a mythological creature of the sea.

  A wide belt of black leather encircled his waist, the garment marked with studs and spines. A mesh shirt rolled up over the rest of his torso and down his arms before vanishing beneath thick bracers that covered fully half of each forearm, crafted of a design identical to his belt.

  In his hand he held a cane of black wood, the lithe stalk polished and fitted with a gripped handle. His left hand had a ring of rolling sapphires - an ocean.

  Lady Tethys was dressed in a similar manner. She sported only a short crop of blonde hair, the severe cut leaving the sides near barren. Her visage was attractive but harsh, her lips a deep green, her eyes circled with black and then shadowed with more emerald shades. Her eyebrows were plucked to ascending points, granting her a fierce and perpetual glower.

  A set of studded latex briefs matched a similar bra, the deep blue rubber attire shimmering with contradictory green hues. Matching stockings contained her shapely legs and entered incorporated footwear identical to that of Oceanus in style, but lifting her upon a heel rather than remaining flat.

  Over her thighs, belly, and arms, fishnet covered her near albino skin, her hands sporting short nails, again filed into wicked daggers and painted black. In one she clasped a curled bullwhip, the segmented black serpent withering down through several loops until it reached a pernicious tip. Her ring was the same as her partner’s, but created its seascape from emeralds.

  ‘Which one shall we take, dear wife?’ asked Oceanus, pacing by the two alternatives, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

  Tethys approached Mina’s neighbour and gently ran a nail down her cheek, fixing the woman with a dead stare, the contacts making their eyes seem like engulfing soulless voids that dragged in and ensnared the viewer.

  ‘I think this one would make a fine Oceanide,’ she hissed, and arose into the enveloping arms of her husband as he walked over to join her. ‘What do you say, beloved?’

  Oceanus kissed her neck, hugging her and then lodging his chin on his wife’s shoulder while regarding the woman, her eyes wide with atrabilious concern, her body launching against the bonds that served her up to the unknown appetites of the couple.

  ‘Too scrawny; it will take too long to train her up to a decent level of fitness,’ he offered, and glanced to Mina, his lips expanding to a tight grin before he licked them with anticipation.

  ‘But I like the look of this one,’ he confessed, and disentangled himself from Tethys. As his wife watched, he wandered over and squeezed Mina’s thigh, making her jerk with sudden resentment. He smiled even more fully and appraised her bound arms. ‘This specimen has far greater tone. I’ll wager she’ll be a fine addition to our shoal.’

  ‘She seems a bit unruly,’ pondered the woman, her words a half-presented notion, not really believed as presenting a problem of any significance.

  ‘What’s this?’ he replied, looking deep into Mina’s eyes as though to read the thoughts within her head. ‘Since when did you fear a little challenge? We’ll have her begging for our attentions soon enough, just like every other Nymph.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll take this one, but you’d best recall this next time I want to pick the new Oceanide,’ she warned petulantly, and walked over, assisting her husband in removing Mina’s bonds and applying the hobble.

  Set free of the chair, Mina was pulled to her feet, whereupon the end of the bullwhip was looped through her collar and tied off, forming an effective leash.

  ‘Come on then, we have much work to do,’ purred Tethys, tugging at it and having Mina stumble forward, the short chain that connected her feet limiting each step she took.

  The door opened and Oceanus trailed behind her as she was shown out, leaving behind the last of the new recruits to whichever Titan next visited the room.

  Mina’s legs were enervated beneath her, drained of their life by the long period of captivity. She stretched and flexed against the straitjacket, looking at the bland corridor as she was led down it, seeking to bring some life back to her tardy physique.

  Was she right about the Oceanides? Was this a caste akin to the Nymphs? They were playing on the imagery of Greek myth, using titles and creatures from that period of lore, but what they became when translated into the world Charybdis had formed was unknown to her.

  The blank passages sported equally featureless doors, each of them marked with a small label describing what function it served or who held residence. The only lock was a small security panel beside it, a minute microphone system revealing that they were voice activated.

  In addition to rooms of normal function for such a facility as this, places were set aside to cater to its clientele and the wishes of its hedonistic populous. Training rooms, wardrobe chambers, sauna
, gymnasium, all sorts of wealthy extravagances to make the lives of the nobility more pleasurable while also harassing and imposing upon the Nymph caste.

  They passed by an alcove with an Oread bound within, inverted, her legs spread to the corners to let a large candle lay sheathed within her tracts, sticking upright and burning with a slow flicking flame. Tears of wax had been steadily spilling down the sides and onto her most tender flesh, and any movement she attempted against her confinement only served to set further torrefying drool loose. The candle was too large to force out, leaving her trapped, serving an unknown sentence as a living candlestick.

  The eyes of the Oread met those of Mina as she passed, the woman staring out from the thin eye slits of her tight discipline hood. They were not afraid, they were not troubled, there was a serenity to them that befuddled Mina completely.

  From the legends she knew Nymphs to be amorous creatures, playthings of equally decadent gods and all too ready to be involved in the complex plots and schemes between the deities. It fitted well the offered purpose of this place.

  Stopping before a plain set of doors, there was a click and a digital display winked into life above it, counting off numbers as the elevator was summoned. Merely having the Titans stand before it for more than a few seconds had the fully automated conveyance brought here. It arrived with speed and opened to accept the group.

  Tethys stepped within and put her back to the far wall. Mina deliberately hesitated to show her defiance, and then tottered awkwardly forward as the woman gave a stern tug to the lead.

  ‘On your knees, little Nymph,’ she ordered with a smile, dragging down on the whip as Mina resisted. A flash of heat leapt across her rear as Oceanus applied his cane, connecting her cheeks with a lucid line of sensation. The dull thwack left behind a moments heat and then the full raging fury of the stroke erupted, as though her flesh were momentarily questioning what had afflicted it. The insufferable severity of the cane made her drop with haste, her wilting legs leaving her huddled at the feet of her two oppressors, the rubber that stretched on her reminding her numbed flesh of its presence.