Captured Souls (13 page)

“Fine. Go take a shower, but, remember, you drip on the way, that’s more mess for you.”

She was clever as she wiped the worst of the sludge from her legs and feet and put the waste into the disposable barrel.

When she was satisfied the bottom of her feet were clean enough, she carefully made her way to the bathroom. I watched her take a long, steamy shower. It was nice to smell her soapy freshness again instead of that hideous shit smell. I knocked on the shower stall door.

“Excuse me,” I said as she looked out. I reached up to her head and unbuckled her ball gag. It was a bit tough, as it was wet, but at last I was able to do it. “Rinse this off in the shower and give it to me.”

She turned back to the shower and soaped up the ball then rinsed it clean.

She stuck her hand back out of the shower with the gag and then dropped it into my hands.

“Thank you.”

She began to hum, the beating of the water washing away her filth likely a soothing baptism. Specimen 3 began to sing; long and lovely notes from one of the songs I’d sent her reverberated around the bathroom. My ache for her began once more as her siren song lulled me. I knew she was calling me but I resisted. This would be a battle of wills and the princess
will
succumb to the queen.

Her singing gave me goose bumps, my flesh stung and shuddered with each note her perfectly pitched voice slid along. Her harmonics were magnificent, a delicate tremor that reminded me of the ultimate vulnerability we all have. She was hypnotizing me with my own music. On the bracelet, there were charms for my own implants. For the first time in a long time, I was going to have to use them to keep her from seducing me.
 

I found the magician with his little magic wand and rubbed it. A subtle shift in my electrical current was barely detected. I don’t think it would be noticeable to someone who didn’t know she had an implant. I tweaked another charm, a ringmaster. There was no sensation at all from that one.

The singing stopped and she stepped out of the shower. She turned to me and looked rather smug. I frowned.

“You need to go clean up your mess. Now.” I snapped the flogger at the backs of her thighs while she reached for a towel from the drying rack. She stood quickly as the leather strips slapped her legs.

“Holy shit,” she said, rubbing her legs.

“Go,” I said, striking her naked ass before she could get her towel.

“Yes, I’m going. I promise. Really.” She wrapped the towel around herself and went into her bedroom. She stared at the mess. She put the towel back in the bathroom.

“Might as well clean naked. Less mess that way, I guess.” She ventured back into the plastic, slime-coated hell and spent about three hours cleaning it up to my satisfaction. Once every last bit of rot had been cared for, I allowed her another shower. While she was in there that time, I removed the waste barrel to a garbage room in the back of the basement. There were stairs behind a wood-paneled wall that led from the basement up into one of the backyard sheds.

I lounged on one of the couches in the newly cleaned room while I listened to her fidget around the bathroom. I watched her antics on my watch. She appeared resigned to her fate, ready to succumb to my whims.

When at last she appeared, she had blow-dried her hair and had perfect makeup on her face.

“I wanted to please you, Doctor,” she said with a slight bow.

“We’ll see how you please me. Get on the bed.”
 

She climbed up onto the bed, looking at me expectantly.

“Back into the cuffs,” I said firmly.

“Already? Really?” She pouted.

I reached for the remote control on her dresser. “Yes, now, please, or you know what will happen.”

She sighed and stared silently up at the ceiling while I fastened the cuffs around her arms and legs. I cinched everything tight so that she was splayed out. Not too tight, so that circulation could flow but there would be no escape.

As I took the ball gag from my pocket she started screaming.

“I don’t want it. I’ll be good. I promise. Please don’t make me wear that.”

Luckily, a head-shaking, screaming princess is easily coaxed into submission. The gag is popped back into her mouth and I buckle the head strap. I adjusted the shackles so that she was closer to the right-hand side of the bed and down near the end of it. Her legs were spread very wide.

I rolled over a lighted mirror and magnifier that I had taken from my laboratory. I adjusted it so that the arm swung out enough that I had a full view of her genitals.

Satisfied that there was enough light, I went back down the multilocked doorways and hallways to my laboratory. There was a kit I had prepared earlier in the day that I needed to get. I also brought some anesthetic and a rolling stool and extra plastic sheets.

I returned to her and set the stool down. I sat on top of it and opened up my kit. The needle and thread were already sterilized and ready. There were several backups and a variety of sizes.

“Since you don’t seem to understand how to keep your legs closed, I’m going to have to do it for you,” I said firmly. I pinched both sides of her
labia majora
together, taking care to push her clitoris way down so as not to nick it. The needle took quite a bit of pressure to push through the thick flesh, but at last I figured out the best angle. I pulled black thread through her flesh. She moaned and struggled, or at least her muscles clenched in the urge to struggle, but her actual movement was nil.

In and out, the needle tugged and punctured, thread pulled, fresh holes oozed dripping blood. By the time I was finished, my handiwork was neat and precise. I had left small openings for her period and for urinating. There was no way to get even a lady’s baby finger up into her through the stitches.

I sprayed alcohol along the wounds, the chains clattering against the wall as she twitched.

“We have to make sure that you don’t get infected,” I said to her as she moaned. “Who knows what germs might be lurking around? All those men. All those stolen moments.”

I let the alcohol drip along her legs and onto the plastic sheets. She was shaking, the pain was so intense. Yet there was nothing she could do.

“Next time you want to steal someone’s man, you think about this little scenario we’re having right now.”

I hovered over her and grinned.

“You know, it’s a good thing I brought you here. Who knows how many other women you’ve hurt by fucking their men.”

Tears were rolling down her face as she blinked rapidly at me. I laughed and walked over to the dresser where the riding crop lay. I picked it up, swinging it in the air.

“I’ve done a good thing, taking you from the streets. You may have fancied yourself a model but you were really no more than a whore. An escort between gigs. You’ve probably made more money as a whore than you ever did with an honest living.”

I slapped her legs with the crop.

“How many of those men were married? How many of them spent the family grocery money on whores like you?”

I struck her breasts with the crop, slashing back and forth.

“You need to be taught better manners. I let you run wild in your time here. Now I see that I was mistaken. I wasn’t firm enough with you. The worm has turned, my dear. Your rule in my kingdom is now over. You will learn your place. The dirt beneath my shoe is too good for you.”

I left her with those thoughts and, no doubt, an insane amount of pain. We’ll see how soon she considers touching my property again.

Specimen 1

I didn’t punish him as long as the others. I knew his participation was for a different reason. I also was well aware that he had to spend each available minute chasing his muse. So he was only shackled for nighttime and portions of the day as his punishment.

Specimen 2

I kept him in shackles for two full days. Once the time had passed, I set him free. After I allowed him to shower and clean up his filth, I made him go into the gym portion of his room.

“Lean over your bike,” I commanded him. “I want to see your ass.”

He bent over the bike obligingly. I approached him and then began to spank him.

“Hey,” he called out.

I spanked him again. “What is my name?”

“Doctor Miriam Frederick,” he said.

“What is it that you will never do again?”

“Cheat on you.”

“No. You. Won’t.” I punctuated each word with a slap and then stood back. My hand stung but it was a good feeling.
 

When Specimen 2 was satisfied that the session was over, he stood up.

“What is it you won’t do?” I asked him.

“Cheat on you,” he said.

“Thank you.”

I turned from him and left the room. I didn’t return to see him for another two days but I pushed basic meals through his door flap.

Journal

It was time to have some fun. The boys needed to adore me once more under more familiar and entertaining conditions. I changed the coordinates on Specimens 1 and 2 and me so that we would have a lusty evening connected to each other but open to explorations.

I took the boys to the fetish club, leather chaps and collars on both with chain-link leashes attached to soft suede straps in my hand. I danced with them and flogged them soundly on the spank benches. I didn’t make them wear chastity belts and decided that if anything happened then I would just have to disappear.

There are boxes and suitcases in place should any of my experiments ever escape and are able to relay their stories before I can either deprogram them or destroy them. I’m ready for my own escape into obscurity, a selection of false IDs and documents at my fingertips, open-ended plane-ticket vouchers to many parts of the world. One must always prepare for the worst, as they say.

However, tonight, the specimens made me proud in the dungeon at the fetish club. Specimen 1 was handcuffed to a St. Andrew’s Cross, back to me, and I flogged him with great joy. A crowd had formed to watch this performance art of two handsome men in dog collars and chaps crawling around to the whims of a masked dominatrix in head-to-toe leather. The outfit was incredibly hot to wear but the admiring glances at my tall, lean body made the sweat worthwhile. I’d never be able to wear that outfit again after the amount of sweat that was absorbed into that hide.

But in the moment, the catsuit and the leather boots were stealing the show.

One of the benefits of age was the years of practice I’d had in wielding a flogger. Even if I hadn’t used one in months, the minute the weighted handle was snug in my palm and my fingers clasped around it, I knew exactly how to swing.

Since we were in public and since this was supposed to be a night of erotica, I didn’t flog either one of them in a punishing manner. Indeed, my whole demeanor had been one of showmanship, playing to the spectators, some so painfully shy that one could drown in the sweat of their repressed anticipation of perhaps tasting the flogger themselves someday.

My slaves stayed by my side, flanking me by crawling on all fours through the crowded bar, curling up by my feet while I waited for my drink at the bar. Even crawling through the sludge of the filthy, flooded bathroom, they stayed on all fours.

The last time I went to the bathroom, after I finished my business—which took one hell of a time in that tiny stall in the catsuit, but I was successful—I returned to them sitting at attention on their haunches by the sinks.

“Stand up,” I told them.
 

They did.

“Okay, we’re done here. Why don’t you both freshen up a bit and we’ll go to the next place.”

“Where?” Specimen 1 asked.

“Silence.”

They washed their faces and naked chests. Soon they were clean of the filth of the club. We bought perfumes and toiletries from the bathroom lady, and before long, the boys were fresh enough for anywhere.

At the coat check, they slipped off their chaps and dressed in shirts and leather pants. They both had leather boots and jackets.
 

I hailed a cab and we went to the sex club.

It was very busy and soon we were on the dance floor with our drinks, sourcing out couples to take into the private rooms. Specimen 1 danced near a short, blonde, buxom girl who was with a tall, tanned man. I danced near them and Specimen 2. Before long, another couple was migrating into our circle of gyrations and dirty dancing. Our lusty energy infested the dance floor as everyone humped to the techno music in the flashing lights.

After a few numbers, I took the boys by their hands.

“Join us in the back,” I called out to the other couples. “Please, come play.”

They followed us through the change rooms where we were assigned lockers and keys by a pretty, naked brunette who couldn’t have been more than eighteen.

The night was still rather young so there were still a few rooms left, as well as the open areas. Mattresses were everywhere and the pack of us lay down naked on the giant bed, kissing and touching, all nervous locker-talk babble now lost in kissing and sucking.