Descent Into Darkness (11 page)

A bell rang from the bed. The double doors opened and swung heavily across the deep pile carpet. Amber and Red were framed in the doorway. Though her spirits sagged, as the sun pushed further shafts of morning into the room Katarina had a new resolve. They weren’t all monsters and where there was compassion there was hope. She knew that, whatever they threw at her, she would make it through the day.

CHAPTER XXI –
Cellular

Entering the room beside the redhead, Amber saw the young woman again. Katarina was caged and she knew how her muscles must be cramping with the confining size and inability to stretch out. Hollowed eyes hinted that any sleep had been brief, if at all. Compassion pricked her but Amber quickly pushed it aside. There was no place for such things here. Well, not now at least and Amber had to check her eyes wandering over her.

Amber glanced cautiously at the woman standing beside her. Her red hair cascaded lusciously down her back. She was looking elsewhere, directly at the woman on the bed, the woman whom she yearned to emulate. It had been a recent admission and one that had shocked Amber, initially at least.

Amber had been the one harrying and eventually convinced her lover to, at first tentatively, explore her kinks. It had been slow at first, silken scarves loosely binding. Slowly Amber had edged her lover forward, exploring as first ropes then handcuffs embraced Red’s wrists. They learned together, locked together in bonds of passion and steel.

Gags had been bought. Floggers too and that electric toy that saw frequent use. That was
such
fun. She couldn’t remember who brought the subject up. But the conversation had twisted and turned until her lover suggested that they threw themselves in completely and just went for it.

A total surprise, Amber had hesitated. She knew the dangers that might bring but she recognised that a new dynamic in their relationship was evolving. That evening Red had taken complete control for the first time, Amber alone wearing handcuffs.

From then, Red had flourished and Amber gladly went along with it as her lover unfurled dominant wings. Unfamiliar items started to embellish her previously classic wardrobe. Leather and silk quickly became more than mere garnish and Red’s heels rose along with her need for control.

It was the Sunday before Easter though that things really changed. They’d been out separately the night before, those occasional nights that were important to give each other the space that any lasting relationship needs. The next morning Red had come back a different woman. No longer the apprentice nudged into new experiences, now Red was a dark butterfly. Sure in her mood, confident in herself.

Mistress Raven was the catalyst. To this day though Amber could only guess at the exact nature of the events of that night – it may not have even been the first. Inside the month, they had both moved into the manor, discarding their true names and adopting pseudonyms - Amber and Red.

She’d flowed with the current and if Amber was true to herself, she’d initially been intoxicated by the total immersion into a world in which she’d previously only paddled in the shallows. She’d loved it at first, watching her lover fulfil the potential she knew she had, switching smoothly between control and service as they each found deeper reward in the other.

Things were changing though. Amber had already feared she was losing her but now had a bruise on her jaw to confirm it. She had so carefully concealed it but could still feel it there. The moment replayed in her head. Amber relived her objection then felt again the full force of Red’s blow.

It had frozen her in shock. How could one she loved strike her like that without justification? She’d only hesitated a moment to process the command but apparently that was all that was needed.

The command had been followed but the second blow came nevertheless. The third blow hurt both her face and her soul and, looking into her lover’s smiling eyes, Amber had recognised something there that took her beyond shock.

No tenderness. No warmth. None of the passion that had spiced their times together since they first met at that party, found their way into a quiet room and into each other’s lives. No. Malicious delight was the only emotion windowed by those cold hungry eyes. It was a look Amber had seen in another.

Mistress Raven. She’d been the incendiary. She’d lit the fuse in that night away and even now she fuelled the fire in the woman beside her, this woman who was now as a stranger. A dangerous stranger, she was the protégé of the woman Amber had always feared. But now fear had turned to loathing. The dull yet constant throb in Amber’s still tender jaw pounded the bitterest reminder of what she now realised was her loss.

The emptiness in Amber’s stomach gnawed at her beyond anything she’d felt before. Love was lost. Shattered and stamped on but as Red moved confidently into the room toward the caged girl, Amber knew she had an obligation to fulfil.

== ~ ==

A night slipping the leash of her darkest fantasies for the first time saw Red stride into the room. Amber had first brought her into this world but now she had been outgrown and only held her back.

The example of Raven had shown her what she could be. Mistress Raven, Red corrected herself. And there she was, sprawled luxuriantly on the silk-covered four poster, her slave’s face drenched in her juices and a newly taken woman caged beside her bed. Red knew this was what she wanted. The softness of Amber was her past, the hard luxury of power her future.

The clack of heels following half a pace behind across the wooden floor of Raven’s bedroom brought a smile to Red’s face. She recalled how the electricity had coursed through her when landing the first blow on the woman she had now moved beyond and clearly had no further use for.

Red wanted more. It was pointless to deny it any longer. What she’d suspected when playing with the unknown girl the previous day had been confirmed and that first blow had broken the dam. Her second was probably unnecessary, her third definitely so but she’d enjoyed the feeling of release. Amber was no doubt already her
former
lover as she’d dragged her to her knees by the hair. She pictured herself inflicting such delicious pain on her. But that time would come. First, she would need to bring misery to the new girl. That was the direction of her Mistress, and so Red had stopped her blows at three.

Her Mistress. She lay there on the bed, beautiful, a manifestation of confidence and control. Darkly sophisticated with a taste for the luxurious, Red watched her momentarily, feeling other eyes following and coinciding with her gaze. With a yearning to please, she stepped toward the caged girl, an echoed step half a pace back.

Red was walking away from the past but still it tagged on behind. Amber was baggage. Raven was opportunity. She would follow Mistress Raven anywhere and in anything. Learning. Growing. She would paint a spectrum of skills on the canvas that the new girl represented. She would impress, gain value and hopefully in time, gain her bed.

== ~ ==

Katarina watched the twin leather-clad women pause briefly before stalking into the chamber toward her. There was tension. Barely perceptible but there nonetheless. Her brow furrowed, remembering how the two had acted as one the day before. Something had happened but she could only guess at the cause. That would be for later though, the women were beside her, one either side.

A clang to her left caused the cage to shake and Katarina instinctively recoiled away to the right, catching sight of a wicked smile framed by a red mane. To her right, a second kick to the bars and she slammed left to avoid the reverberation of the blow, bruising her hip as it struck steel.

Katarina winced to the sudden shot of pain but just as quickly forgot it as the gloved hand of Red snatched at her hair and held her head tight against the bars. She could only watch as the woman known as Amber unlocked the cage door. One leg trapped under her, Katarina’s other long-bent leg sprung straight as the door was swung open and burning muscles stretched to seek comfort. In vain, Katarina willed herself to kick out, to demonstrate the newfound strength reawakened but her tired and aching body remained deaf to any command.

Craning to see beyond the cage door, the fingers entwined in Katarina’s hair wrenched her head back, slamming it against steel. A moan behind her. Raven was not the only one who revelled in inflicting pain. “Mistress Raven is your life,” purred a menacing reminder beside her ear. Her mind spun back to the box, to how she’d fought for air and an unwelcome pulse of gratitude momentarily flushed through her, invoked by the words.

A clank. Steel struck against steel. Anguish flared as metal grips closed around her throat, abbreviating her pleasure. Katarina lashed out but only struck metal. Her scalp burned, gripped by it as she was. Through narrowed eyes she caught a glimpse of the long metal rod that connected to the calliper now closed around her neck. Slowly it drew Katarina forward as the clutch on her hair eased and she was guided out of her cage.

Katarina gripped the rod, trying to ease the pressure, fighting for breath. There was no option but to follow and as she unfolded herself from the cage, blood raced back into the aching muscles of her limbs. Sore beyond belief, Katarina barely noticed a second device close on her neck.

Held from two sides, neck circled in metal, Katarina slowly rose. Her hands gripped the rods, as much to help her rise as to protest against control until, finally, she was fully upright, held on her toes by a duet of steel. Never had she felt as exposed as now. She was part-stood, part-hung at the foot of the imposing bed, held naked between two leather clad women, displayed like meat before the primary predator.

Katarina looked straight ahead, she could not look away. A used up Mela lay curled in a foetal position to one side. There though, in the centre, draped across silken pillows, lay Mistress Raven. One leg raised, the other straight with toes impatiently twitching, her silk gown gaped open despite the sash loosely tied around her waist.

A glint of metal told of nipple piercings as she absentmindedly circled a finger around the aureole. Hair somehow immaculate, eyes deep and dark, a smile caressed Raven’s lips as she saw the body presented. Fingers laced into the hair of the girl curled beside her and tightened possessively as Raven surveyed the display at the foot of her bed.

She looked from the disappointingly conservative Amber via her new toy before finally settling on the tall leather clad form of Red. Raven remembered the command of her Master, that she shouldn’t harm the new girl. Her eyes danced though to the tune of the idea that formed in her head. With her ambitious adulation, Red would be useful. That fire, that desire to please and the willingness to venture deeper, ever-deeper could be exploited.

“Take her to the gymnasium,” she issued and as Raven watched, the women steered their captive out of the grand double doors while Mistress Raven stretched her legs wider, drawing the slave girl back into her place of service.

A compelled tongue reached forward. A first exploratory touch then more. Attentions so sweet. Raven’s head eased back, basking in the fluid warmth of the sensation. Her fingers curled deeper into the girl’s hair, clamping her in place. She’d come a long way and yes, times were good, very good. With a moan as the tongue probed
just there
Raven pressed the girl tighter. A deep breath and the liquid honey of Mela’s attentions prompted an ever ready fire to grow toward the inferno of climax.

CHAPTER XXII –
Clear & Present

Katarina could only stumble as she was led away, wanting to help but powerless to ease the grip that the malicious Raven had on poor Mela. Held up uncomfortably high, her thoughts had to turn to relieving the choking strain on her neck as the double doors closed on her uncomfortable night.

The trio descended deeper into the bowels of the building. The metal rubbed and chafed uncomfortably around Katarina’s neck. Thoughts of kicking out in protest had to be pushed aside - even if the women could be reached, she knew it wouldn’t do much good and would only be answered with more discomfort. So, with little option, she allowed herself to be guided, gripped between the two unyielding steel bars.

Household staff scurried by, heads bowed, avoiding the harsh gaze of the two women and the pleading look of the third held between them in elongated pincers. It should have registered as bizarre, in need of questions, a deeper investigation. But not here, not in
this
house. Here the bizarre was normal and Katarina swiftly realised any help would only come from herself.

A large room expanded before them. A fitness room, well stocked with the obligatory equipment and flanked with a mirrored wall, reflecting progress to those within it. A bar ran along its length. Once a dance studio perhaps?

Steering the middle woman between the equipment, the trio entered a small ante-room, hidden behind the glass wall. She couldn’t turn her head, but Katarina’s peripheral vision told her it was one-way glass, looking back into the exercise room beyond.

One of the pincers was relaxed but still gripped as she was, Katarina’s only option was to remain in place. With a smirk, Red tilted the steel pincer she held this way then that, gouging the metal into the soft neck of the woman she controlled. “It would be so easy, girl.” She had no need to say more.

“Lift,” the instruction came. Guided by the blonde’s smile and a tap on the ankle, Katarina lifted her leg to feel it squeezed as it was guided into latex again. Tugging, yanking, stretching, the clear garment was pulled halfway up her leg before the process was repeated on her other side. The material soon warmed to match its new wearer but only just covered her knees. She was guided to the far corner of the room and forced downward.

“Go while you can, whore.” The gritty command of the redhead was such a contrast. This wasn’t a time for rebellion so on command, Katarina peed, a fresh humiliation squeezing her chest.

Barely finished, she was guided back upright, immediately feeling fumbling hands between her legs. One intrusion, then the other, were quickly presented back and front. “It will be easier if you relax honey,” a soft antipodean accent encouraged.

Compassion? It could almost be mistaken for that. Katarina relaxed as best she could feeling a hand guiding the first rubber phallus to enter her from the front. Gentle prodding to her butt and the plug was pushed irresistibly past her sphincter, entering her rear. Full. There was no other word to describe it. Was nothing sacred to these people? The twin invaders jostled for mutual accommodation while Amber returned to her task of yanking up the clear rubber.

Hauled past Katarina’s thighs, the latex suit snapped tightly against her butt, cradling the insertions, sealing them within. “Arms in.” The guidance was firm and Katarina balled her fists, plunging each arm in turn into sleeves held ready. A now familiar tightness closed around her as the zip was drawn higher.

A pause and soft hands carefully tucked in her breasts. Did that take longer than necessary? The evidence was starting to mount up. The steel embrace remained tight around Katarina’s neck, the redhead at the end, stony-faced and cold.

Though zipped up to her neck, a vague sensation of weight still hung from the rear of the suit. Katarina’s heart pounded, watching intently for any slip they made.

She should have known none would be there. They were too careful, too skilled and she would have to bide her time if she was ever going to win her freedom.

Slowly pressure from Red via the steel around her neck compelled Katarina to sink to her knees. As she folded, Katarina felt familiar plugs being prodded deeply into her ear canals, sealing her from extraneous sound. They were thorough of course and when done and the putty set firm, she was deafened to any input they didn’t plan.

The second calliper returned, circling Katarina’s neck high, just below her chin. Not as tight as the first, it was nevertheless inescapable. The first released. Red stepped forward and pressed her toned body against her. A hand buried itself between Katarina’s legs, whose own hands shot instinctively down to preserve any shreds of dignity she could still cling on to. “That’s right whore, fight me. Go on.” The words were a challenge but this wasn’t the time and the redhead was not to be toyed with. She grabbed Katarina’s fingers and painfully bent them away.

Katarina’s free hand edged aside to rest subserviently against her own tummy, the other was shoved there.

Red released her painful grip and switched her focus to pushing the phallus deeper before allowing Katarina to relax, then pushing up again. Over and over, the redhead pressed the phallus. She was being fucked but held as Katarina was, there was nothing she could do. Curling her fingers, she fought her urge to intervene. Nothing would come of it. Nothing could stop it. Endure. Survive. The two words were the hooks she hung on.

“We don’t have time,” warned the Australian woman. Her partner shot her a look. There would be an argument later and probably more. Three more thrusts were a statement. Pre-eminence proven, Red ceased her assault, tugging the top of the catsuit further up Katarina’s neck.

Satisfied, Red stepped back. Picking up the steel pincer, she again grabbed Katarina’s neck. Amber released her own. Katarina was always controlled, always beyond arms’ length of at least one. Time. Patience. Endure. Survive. Thrive could come later. Or so she hoped.

Strands of hair were yanked out by the roots but finally, all were tucked away safely under a hood. The face was open, Katarina’s only exposure and the heat in the room was already causing her to perspire. She guessed whatever they had planned would not be pleasant.

A tap on her ankle and Katarina lifted her foot obediently, it was better that way. She soon felt it being inserted. Where murderous heels had been expected, the shoe was instead soft.

Her confusion grew. Comfortable. More comfortable than she had ever felt before. Even lacking a heel, laces drew the training shoe tight. The other was added while Red ran a bead of glue down along the catsuit’s zip.

“You are to be left unbound, whore,” the Californian Red explained, “but sealed.” Katarina felt naked as the eyes burned their way down the transparent length of her body. “You are watched though,” she continued, nodding to the camera high in the corner. “Attempt to escape and the pleasure will be all mine.” The harsh twist of a rubber-clad nipple emphasised her point. Pleasure was always in the eye of the beholder.

“Mistress Raven requires her whore to be fit enough to endure her attentions. You’ll work hard.” Twisting the rod, Red ensured Katarina looked in turn at a treadmill, step machine, exercise bike and more.

“You are timed and targeted on each piece.” Red’s amused expression hinted at what was to come. “Failure will be punished.” Her words oozed her own pleasure. “Succeed? Well, perhaps you will find out.”

Katarina could already guess what that meant. Their methods were becoming familiar. Do what they want? Good. This usually meant something sexual. Fail? Well, that usually just hurt.

This time there was no demonstration though, they would leave the threat hanging. It was her choice whether to risk sampling failure. Was knowing somehow better or worse?

The large screen in the corner flashed into life. The soundtrack connected directly to the phones pushed deep into her ears. Katarina’s head snapped round, the steel simultaneously released from her neck. Text appeared at the foot of the screen. ‘Cycling. 10km. 15 minutes. Begin.’ A machine again, oh joy.

The exercise bike was bathed by a spotlight. The clock already began to count down. She understood now why her feet were free of the heels. The target, though just about possible, would be tough. Her spinning classes would work in her favour, though had been taken in a previous life. She didn’t doubt she would do it but, hurrying to start her circuit, she was checked by the recording which started to play on the screen.

It was her. It was the day of her taking. They had recorded it. Recorded it all. Her wide eyes were stuck to the screen. Morbid fascination maybe but Katarina had no choice but to watch, rushing to the bike, mounting and driving against the pedals as the clock continued to tick down.