Working on the locks that secured the head harness, Twitch again whispered: “Not a sound now, Dede. Make no noise, ok?”
The hooded head nodded.
It took the trio openly a few minutes to remove the hood and they discovered that it wasn’t Dede, but a woman they didn’t recognize. When the released girl tried to tell them who she was, they told her to be quiet. Once out of the hood, however, the woman obeyed and revived quickly, telling her saviors that she thought Bibi and Dede had been taken somewhere else a few hours before because she heard the guards struggling with her as they dragged Bibi down the hall.
“So,” said Twitch, a bit baffled by this discovery. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Bridget Ward,” the freed woman whispered. They took me from the airport a few months ago. Where are we?”
“Details later,” Twitch muttered. “Stay close and stay quiet. Do as you’re told.”
They continued down the tunnel, with Twitch in the point position when they heard what sounded like a garage door opening. Suddenly the floor beneath them opened up and the group plunged into a pit of darkness. They hit bottom hard, Twitch dropped her flashlight and the blackness descended as the sliding door overhead slowly ground closed, sealing them in
“Whad ‘da fuck?” Graceless muttered.
“Shhh. Quiet,’ Twitch said. “They may come if they think we’re all unconscious.”
“Then again, they might not,” whispered Ward.
“What would you know?” Twitch whispered angrily, annoyed that she had literally fallen into the trap.
“I know more than you think,” Bridget Ward said caustically. Then they all shut up and worked at finding a way out while they waited for something to happen.
Time passed. One by one the would-be rescuers slipped around the walls of the pit, feeling the rough stone and trying to determine how they might climb out. The conclusion was that the walls tapered inward as they rose and that they were at least three or four meters below the tunnel.
Sometime later, a small hatch opened in the ceiling and an electronically amplified voice spoke:
“Hallo, girls. Nice of you to drop in. Now, you can just stay there and slowly wither away from hunger and lack of water or you can do as you are told and perhaps survive. Your new buddy, Bridget, can testify that we mean business and you will end up like you found her or worse if you fail to cooperate. If you want to work with us, a chain is descending and you will lock the attached cuffs on your wrists, behind you back and then we’ll get you out. Do as you are told. We are watching you on camera with night vision, so we know exactly what you are doing. And oh, yes, before you cuff up, remove all weapons, please. If we find a weapon on you, you will be shot on the spot. Now get with it. The chain is coming down.”
With some clanking and grinding from what was apparently a winch, a long chain descended into the gloom. With minimal discussion, the four cuffed themselves after dropping a wide assortment of guns and knives on the cold, damp floor.
“Miss Twitch,” the detached voice said. “Please remove the belt with its buckle knife as well. Our metal detectors can see it easily.”
The belt clattered to the floor.
“Fuck you,” muttered Twitch as she cuffed herself, hands behind her back.
They stood waiting.
A rock panel in the side of the pit opened up, flooding the hole with bright light and three guards with MP5 pistols entered, detached the chain from the overhead and escorted their new prisoners out and into another tunnel. They walked down the passageway and each woman was cut off from the chain and shoved into a small steel cell as they walked along. When all four were locked into the cells, they were left cuffed, with hands pulled up behind them and chained to the wall. Each was then fitted with a gag harness and stripped. Twitch and Graceless, when it came their turn, fought and were rewarded with a cattle prod shot to the hips. Two shots convinced them both to cooperate and they too were soon left, gagged, chained and naked in the small stone room.
“What a lovely gift,” Brillcart said from his observation point in the office a few levels above where the girls were being held. “I suspect they’ll be of some use to us, sooner or later,” he mused. “Meanwhile, use them for your own entertainment. Mark them well. I want to see good whip scars tomorrow when we tune them up.”
Two days later, a very quiet and apparently more contrite foursome of young women stood shivering before Brillcart. The fight was out of them. They each had spent the last forty-eight hours either in tiny cramped cages, hanging from overhead suspensions or chained on a whipping post, enduring the punishments that the Brillcart men mercilessly doled out.
All were wearing a complex head harness gag/blindfold combination linked to their collars. Graceless and Dusty resisted most and thus were most rigorously punished. Both now stood gagged and collared, with elbows braced behind their back on a steel bar that had a cross piece linked to their heavy collars and another bar that descended down their spine and curved into their butt crack. Invisible though it was, the chromed butt bar curved one hundred eighty degrees and entered their ass, serving as a constant reminder of their impossible situation. Any movement of their chained hands and arms was transmitted to their impaled ass, so they moved gingerly, but still could not avoid the swinging studded cat that each of their guards applied every now and them to their bare and swollen thighs and hips.
Twitch and Bridget stood perfectly still, wearing somewhat different inhibitors with the back chains from their collars attached to their closely linked elbows and wrists and the chain continuing downward to their shackled legs below the knee and at the ankles. Rising upward from the short ankle chain was a single steel bar that was attached to each knee cuff and then rose further to disappear into the hairless, spread open pussy of each woman. This arrangement was clearly intended to prohibit any resistance. The slightest movement of legs or feet moved the vertical bar and its embedded cap deep inside the frontal cave. Walking was no treat, so both women remained stationary, displaying multiple swollen whip and cane scars on their upper and lower torso.
“I am told that you have all decided to cooperate a bit,” said the Graf, as he surveyed his submissive, beaten prey. “Good idea. Too bad it took two days to get to this point. Another week or so and there wouldn’t have been much flesh left to flail. The information you have given us was, of course, worthless, except for you, Miss Ward. Frankly, I was surprised to learn that you have such good contacts in the American government. Your cover was excellent, but then again, it was not accidental that we fetched you from the airport and it was not a coincidence that you were brought here. What surprised us was the degree of stupidity of your handlers, thinking that you could penetrate the organization.”
Graf Salmon stopped, but continuing pacing, walking around his suffering charges, poking a swollen nipple here and a scared thigh there. He stopped at Bridget Ward and flipped one of the heavy steel rings deeply embedded in her right nipple. She straightened up slightly, immediately felt the steel probe slide a bit in her penetrated cunt and froze while Salmon tugged on the ring, watching her expression all the time.
“Spent a couple of nights in the cages, did you, eh?” Salmon said, still tugging on the ringed nip. “I enjoyed watching you twitch and shudder last night, trying to find a comfortable position when there was, of course, by design, none to be had. The position is, I think you’ll agree, agony, especially when you are all jammed in there on your knees and with your mouth filled with that unpleasant tasting metal cock gag, your neck bolted down to the floor of the cage and those double dicks up ass and cunt. What a quaint way to spend the night. The occasional jab with the cattle prod no doubt enhanced your decision to cooperate, didn’t it, Sweet thing?”
“And you three co-conspirators. How really stupid for you to think that you were not observed as you skipped over the pastureland above and slid down the pipe, right into our hands. Really dumb. I thought you, Twitch, would know better.”
Twit
ch stared at Salmon, her anger and frustration still evident although clearly she had borne the hard end of the punishments doled out over the last two days. She was covered with bruises and scars and her hair was in total disarray, still braided from the crown of her head where she had hung for several hours, suspended only by hair and breasts while they beat her.
“Does anyone here have anything worthwhile to say or should we just throw you back into the impalement cages?” Salmon said.
Dusty grunted, trying to speak with the gag and mouth-sealing pad still in place.
“You have something to add,” Salmon asked.
Dusty shook her head up and down, still muttering into the mass of foam material deep in her mouth and the silencing pad strapped over her lower face.
A guard made a move toward the gag harness, probably to unstrap the multiple buckles on the pad, but Salmon held up his hand, stopping him.
“Maybe tomorrow they’ll have something useful for us. Everyone back into the holes,” he added, with a twisted grin. “Plug anything that’s not plugged and increase the size of any current impalers. See you tomorrow, maybe,” he finished and left the room. The blind and beaten foursome once again shuffled out the door and down the hall and then into the elevator that took them to their individual cells where the cages and chains awaited. In ten minutes, all four were again hopelessly chained and locked into the waiting, tiny barred boxes, knees pressed to chests, heads locked down between spread knees, steel cocks jammed into their gaping mouths and the inevitable double dicks well up inside their central portals. To enhance the already impossible situation, their ringed nipples and lower lips were chained to the side bars of the cages and, before they left, the guards added a new set of nostril hooks to increase the strain on the already heavily restrained heads. The moans and groans coming from each gagged mouth increased as the nose hooks were tensioned. A final blow or two from the short cats each guard carried punctuated the abuse. Then the doors to the cells closed and there was once again the interminable silence.
Chapter Thirty-One
Inside The Crypt
No sooner had the stone cap lid of the crypt been lowered into place, than the devices plugged into their three personal portals took over.
From the start, Bibi knew this sort of cramped incarceration was going to be a test of her ability to withstand dark, restrictive confinement and hopelessness that she felt when things looked darkest. Claustrophobia was not a problem, for she had been stashed away in tighter containers for longer periods of time and survived, but this new twist with Dede under her was the real stress test. No sooner had the stone cap lid of the crypt been lowered into place, than the devices plugged into their three personal portals took over. The huge butt plugs were designed to provide bowel flushing enemas, admitting various liquids of different temperatures. Electronic could seal the plug shut and force the victim to retain the liquids until both women felt that their guts would burst. Then, after some remotely controlled period, the valve would open and the lower tracts would be pumped enthusiastically dry until it felt like the entire length of intestine was being sucked out the rigid ass pipe.
The vaginal sump pumps worked the same way, unpredictably squirting hot, warm or cold liquids into the much smaller area of the vagina and holding it there, then pumping it out. How often this exchange took place appeared to be random, but meanwhile the women had other things to worry about.
It was Dede’s nature to adapt quickly and enthusiastically to new and sometimes unpleasant experiences. As soon as she was bolted down inside the stone coffin, which she considered relatively spacious, her erotic senses kicked in and she was writhing and bouncing in her restraints when she felt Bibi being lowered on top of her and the dildoe in Bibi’s mouth plunging into her already active and pulsing cunt. Dede welcomed this entrance and wasted no time in flexing her ass muscles, jacking her hips up and down as Bibi’s head-mounted probe slid into place. At the same time, Dede realized that this was going to be a double fuck and she actually adjusted the long, double-ended dick on her head harness so that as she felt Bibi’s crotch in proximity, Dede pumped her head slightly and jammed the long, hard rubber dick up and into Bibi’s open lower lips. They had enjoyed enough sex with each other so that there was no hesitation and while Dede was looking forward to the immediate prospect of a joint coupling, Bibi was not as enthusiastic because she was worried that they could spend their last days mutually fucking like rodents until one or both of them succumbed to the activity, loss of body fluids and the continuing exertions thereof.
Dede’s youthful mind churned: Wonder why they’re doing this? They must think that we’re babies in the woods and have never had a dick up inside us before...or something, she pondered. I never really thought about being locked inside a coffin, or whatever this is, but certainly not with someone else and us screwing each other for lack of anything else to do.
Their joint dual penetration was soon interrupted by the butt plugs coming to life and the introduction of cold water enemas into both lower intestines. This action shut down the grinding and twisting that Dede was enjoying and they both momentarily froze as the icy water entered and expanded in their guts.
Hadn’t figured on this, Bibi again noted. And I’ll just bet this won’t be the last time they use this on us. They may be able to detect movement or sexual arousal and use the enemas to shut that down. On the other hand, they may be using it to stimulate us...it won’t be the first time I’ve had an enema used to force me to capitulate...except this time they don’t seem to want anything other than to torment us. Well, Dede wanted an initiation into real BDSM and she’s surely getting it.
The enema system eventually shut down and soon Dede again initiated the push and pull action that remarkably brought them both to orgasm quickly, with both panting through the breathing mouthpieces of their gags and struggling for breath. Some time later, the lid of the tomb was lifted and both women thought that it was over. But what happened was again quite unexpected. Cold hands reached into the coffin and attached adhesive electrodes to both sets of breasts, to the insides of their thighs and to the crevices of their asses. Wires from the electrodes led out the same conduits as the various air and liquid hoses and the lid was again shut tight.
Almost immediately, someone tested these new tormentors and although Bibi had considered that they were sensors to gauge their reaction to other stimuli, she discovered that these were simply another torture device and electrical currents surged through their mated bodies both when the other pumps were going and when they were not.
The final plumbing attachments, the small suction cups initially glued onto their nipple, would cut in and pump excitedly for about fifteen minutes, dragging the already hardened nips into the hollow cups, then they too would shut down. At some distant console, an eager Brillcart played with the switches and keys, watching the swinging analog gauge needles and the LED displays that told him how much fun the two subjects were having. Delighted with his multiple stimulus toy, Brillcart altered timings and intensity until he got bored and left the console to some underling who would invent his own combination while he watched and listened to the women in the sarcophagus suffer endlessly.
Later that night, Brillcart brought Salmon into his control room and stood happily by as the Graf examined the massive panel and the hundreds of lights and displays.
“What, exactly, but briefly, is going on here, Sir?” Salmon asked.
“Ah, the girls in the basement room are multitasking, my dear Graf. In summary, they have plugs up their ass that allow us to shoot anything in and hold it there and then pump it out, so that’s thrill number one.
“Their cunts are similarly stuffed with fat plugs that vibrate and allow various things to enter and leave on our command,” Brillcart continued.
“In their wide open mouths are large rubber plugs that permit substances to enter and flow down their throats and also permit, at our wishes, air flow so they do no suffocate.”
“Is
that it?” Salmon asked, still watching the panels.
“Well, no. That’s sort of the main game, but I added some other enhancements when we put them into the stone coffin. They have milking cups cemented to their tits and these pump away now and then, eventually extracting whatever liquid they can find in the breasts of these two sluts. And then there are the electrodes stuck to critical places on their tits, between their legs and on their ass cheeks. That’s about it, Graf, unless you have some additional suggestions,” Brillcart added.
“Ah, no. Not at the moment. Sounds like you thought of everything except maybe drowning them slowly.”
“That, my dear Graf, will be the grand climax and we really don’t control the water table, so it could happen any time,” Brillcart grinned. “No one knows they are here and no one is coming to save them, so we can do as we please until, as the Americans say, the cows come home.”
“How nice,” The Graf intoned gravely. “How nice.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Strange Bedfellows
Beneath the intentional heavy make-up,
Forcep hid her exceptionally good looks quite well.
Forcep had no use whatsoever for Jean Groff. She thought the pretty German lawyer was a snob and a misfit, hardly suited to the work she often did for Bibi Wolfe Lynx. Nevertheless, she also respected Groff’s martial arts skills and would have preferred, if the occasion arose, to have Groff on her side instead of as an adversary.
But it seemed inevitable that now that both of their bosses had disappeared somewhere in Austria, it might be necessary for them to work together to find and perhaps even save Bibi and Twitch who were now a few days overdue with any kind of communications.
After many maddening hours on the autobahn, using her Mini’s multiple high beam lights and even the car’s illegal 18-wheeler air horn to literally blow highway morons in tiny Fiats and other highway insects out of the high speed lane, Groff reached the Linz, Austria area. She found no trace of Bibi, nor, for that matter, anyone even remotely connected with the case they were working on. She found a hotel, showered and changed into painfully tight black jeans that just barely covered her ass, a micro weave skin shirt that hid nothing under it and a pair of beat-up engineer boots. Sitting disconsolately in the scrungy hotel bar known as The Post, Groff was astonished to see the goofy Goth woman who she knew as Twitch Orforres’ gofer, Forcep, wander aimlessly through the door, bringing yet another blast of frigid night air into the crowded room.
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