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ATTENTION READERS: My services as a writer are now available for anyone wanting their own ideas, fantasies, turn-ons, etc. put to print. Just contact me through The Library with your requests and I’ll give you a quote.
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WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website without obtaining the author's permission first.
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Indoctrination
by Night Owl
Chapter 31: The House of Cards
Amber thought she was going to die, and by the time Sonia returned to release her from her suspension, she could scarcely move a muscle she was so weak. Her body went limp like a rag when Tony picked her up in his arms. Her head fell sharply back, her arms dangling uselessly as he carried her to the door. Through blurred vision, she saw Heidi’s rigging hanging empty and wondered if her friend was alive or dead.
The door opened and a blast of cool air hit them. The weather had changed, creating a dark shroud over the trees. Amber cried out as she felt the pain flood through her body again. The sickening paralysis of her faculties still lingered, but her muscles and joints slowly began to awaken and scream their displeasure.
She felt herself being released and placed upon her knees. She felt the wet leaves underneath her and two sets of powerful hands grasped tightly around her upper arms. She swayed between the two men, and if not for them, she might have fallen over.
Looking up, she saw a tall, dark form mounted on a horse looming over her, silhouetted in the gloomy fog and shadowed columns of trees behind it. She was still naked, and could feel the gooseflesh rising as the chilled air settled in her bones.
“Master, I’m sorry . . .”
"Keep silent.”
His command was hard; his low voice pierced her ears. She saw the glint of the crop handle under his belt. Instinctive fear revived her old faculties. The horrible sick weakness, the dimness, and the internal collapse all left her. She began to tremble, but it wasn’t from the cold.
She watched Raven dismount and approach while unzipping his fly. Still kneeling, Amber prepared herself for what she knew would happen next, but she was not ready for the suddenness of it, as he seized her by the nape of her neck and drove himself deep into her open mouth. It was not the caress of her lips he was looking for, but the back of her throat. For a long time he probed, and she felt the suffocating gag of flesh swell and harden, its slow repeated hammering finally bringing her to tears. Although he delighted and reveled the warmth of her mouth, Raven did not bring his pleasure to a climax, but withdrew in silence and turned away while zipping up his fly again.
“So is your mind right?”
“Yes, Master,” she responded between gasps.
Raven laughed as he climbed back up on the horse.
“I don’t think so,” then turning his mount briefly to face Sonia he issued the order before leaving.
“Take her back.”
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For the next several days, and she had no idea how many, Amber was kept alone in a small, dark room in the building next to the kennels. She remained there most of the day, lying on a filthy mattress, naked and restrained in some way to keep her from moving. When the door was open, what she saw in the light offered little comfort. From cracks in the walls water leached down the broken, vertical surfaces. Moss and mildew grew in the corners, and insects crawled secretly along the musty surfaces. Occasionally, she heard the distant barking of dogs in the kennel nearby.
She was usually bound with rope in hogtie fashion – arms and legs wrenched back and tied together, with more ropes around her shoulders and thighs to keep her body bent sharply backward as she lay on her side. More ropes were then wrapped tightly around her breasts in a visually intricate and decorative pattern, causing them to bulge outward like ripe melons. Finally, metal ‘gator’ clamps were fastened to her nipples with a chain draped between, and Sonia had a method of enhancing their erotic impact by, first, pinching, licking and soft-biting Amber’s nubs until they were standing straight up, then applying the clamps and chain after prepping them in a freezer.
For hours, she was left alone in complete darkness and dead silence with nothing to occupy her thoughts other than how the ropes and clamps were tormenting her body. She often tried keeping her mind busy by conjuring up memories of the past, of her childhood, of when she was free, anything, but those memories seemed distant and too weak to blot out the bleak surroundings and her wretched situation. She felt abandoned.
The few times she ever saw the world outside her room was when Sonia came for her next session, and that was very brief, for as soon as the door opened, a blindfold was usually placed over her eyes. The chains were then re-attached to the cuffs on her wrists and ankles before she was led away by a leash tripping and stumbling behind her mistress.
The sessions themselves were rigorous and brutal. The limbs of her body were often stretched or contorted in ways that left her screaming and whimpering for mercy. Sometimes she was whipped or flogged. Other times she was merely left alone to suffer the cruelty of her bondage – always in darkness and in silence.
Then one day, Sonia arrived without the blindfold. She attached a leash to Amber’s collar and guided her out into the woods as always, only this time, instead of the house, they went to an old well behind the building. A crane assembly with a wheel and chain were set up next to it with the arm of the crane reaching out to them. Amber was told to remain standing while the chain was attached to her wrist cuffs. Her ankle cuffs were then chained and another pair of cuffs fastened to her knees to keep them together. Amber stared into the well, her heart racing. The hole seemed to go on forever, engulfing the light completely, and there was a smell of dirt and mold emanating from its ancient stone walls, like a mildewy cellar after a rainstorm – more horrible than the smell of death.
A pair of goggles with a head strap was secured over her eyes, and plugs placed on her nose and in her ears. She wanted to beg Sonia for mercy, to try and convince her Mistress that this wasn’t necessary, that she had learned her lesson, yet before she could even speak, a tube with a mouth piece on the end was forced into her mouth, then secured with duct tape.
Tony manned the wheel, and when given the order, he began turning a crank. Amber could hear the metallic clicks and clunks ringing in her ears even through the earplugs. In a short time, she felt the chain tugging against her wrists. Her arms were then raised and stretched high above her head until she was on her toes. Her head fell back and her breath quickened through the tube in her mouth, a sublime ache permeating her young body. After so many days in isolation and so many painful sessions with very little to eat, her muscles felt tender, like it wouldn’t take much effort to tear her limbs right out of their sockets. Her appearance showed it too. As the ground left her feet, her stomach hollowed and her ribs protruded sharply, exaggerating her waif-like frame. Only her breasts retained their youthful shape and her nipples stood proudly erect in the open air.
Suddenly, the wheel stopped and the arm of the crane was pivoted over until she hung over the well. A cinderblock with a rope attached was tied to her ankle restraints then thrown unceremoniously into the hole. When block reached the end of the rope, Amber felt a jolt against her body and moaned as the pain lanced through her knees, thighs and shoulders simultaneously.
More clicks from the wheel sounded as her weighted down body began to descend into the hole. She felt like a morsel of raw meat dangling over the open gullet of some strange creature and there was nothing she could do. She was far too weak to even put up a struggle, much less free her self from the chain, and if she did, the sudden release would only have hurled her downward into the depths below.
Slowly, the murky blackness crept in around her as the opening above grew smaller and smaller. She felt the water engulf her feet, then her legs. Her entire body clenched in reaction. A coldness crept around her thighs, around her belly and breasts. When her face went under, it was so dark and murky that she could see nothing, even with the goggles on. Her long hair swirled around her. The wheel didn’t stop turning until she was completely submerged and once again, Amber was left alone, in darkness and silence. Her only lifeline was a long hose attached to her mouthpiece that snaked upward through the hole and out of the well. She breathed heavily into it, sucking in gulps of stale air.
A small piece of her consciousness tried to command her legs to kick her toward the surface, to push off the walls, but her body refused to do anything other than contort and writhe in the brackish water. Her vision began to go fuzzy, blurring around the edges, and an eerie calm settled over her thoughts. Amber had no way of knowing how much longer this would last, nor what would happen to her after it was over, but she was sure of one thing – that in the end, her mind would “be right”.
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The entrance to the parking garage was well lit and loomed ahead, so Phil Trask slowed the pace of his Crown Vic as he approached it. Beside him in the passenger seat, his partner, Joe Kelly, sat in silence, gazing at the garage through the windshield. Kelly checked his watch again, although he already knew the time, 9:30pm. Right on schedule.
Trask turned into the inclined ramp and proceeded to the second level. The place was deserted with the exception of one or two parked vehicles. It reminded him of the movie, “All The President’s Men,” and how Robert Redford met his informant, Deep Throat, during the Nixon Watergate scandal.
They parked the car at the very back of the second level on the north side. Without a word, they popped open their doors, and watched the man they were scheduled to meet emerge from the shadows behind a pillar to greet them. Despite there differing backgrounds, the informant somehow looked strikingly similar to the two FBI agents. All three were clean-shaven with short, trimmed hair, and dressed dark slacks, a button down shirt with no tie, and a light jacket. The jackets on both agents fit loosely though, masking the Glock 22 they each carried shoulder-holstered underneath.
The informant pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his lighter – another cheap Hollywood gimmick Trask remembered from the Redford movie. Still standing in the shadows about six feet away, he looked over his shoulder nervously and took a draw from the cigarette, the embers glowing a bright red on the tip.
Finally Trask broke the silence, “What do you have for us?”
The man took another draw, “Enough to indict a lot of people.”
“So start spilling,” Kelly broke in.
The man’s eyes flashed at Kelly then back to Trask.
“You’ll have to excuse my partner,” Trask told him. “He’s a bit impatient.”
For the first time, the informant grinned, “This isn’t the good cop/bad cop routine is it?”
“We’re not cops,” Trask answered shortly, “and this isn’t the Lux Radio Theater either. You called us, remember? And it was your idea to set up a meeting here. Now you told me over the phone you had compiled a list of names. Is this true or not?”
“Do we have an agreement? Full immunity and witness protection?”
“If you have what we want, but that’ll take a lot more than a list, my friend.”
The informant looked over his shoulder again, then pulled a folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket and handed it to the agent.
Trask unfolded it and quickly scanned the names.
“Jesus,” he shook his head. “There has to be at least forty here.”
“Any from our Missing Persons files?” Kelly asked.
Trask nodded, “Looks like all of them.”
“And that’s just the tip of the ice burg,” the man took another nervous puff from his cigarette.
“Do you know a man named, Marco Sanchez?” Trask folded the paper again and carefully put it in his pocket.
“Yeah, I knew him. He’s gone.”
“You mean, dead?”
“That’s right. They knew you guys were looking for him, so naturally they put out an order.”
“Very efficient. Who did the hit?”
The informant tossed his cigarette on the ground and squashed the butt underfoot. “Later,” he said. “After we work out the details of our arrangement.”
“You do realize we’re armed,” Kelly said with a hint of contempt in his voice. “We could just take you in and let you sit in cold cell for a while until you talk.”
“That would be doing things the hard way . . .”
“You’ve got a deal,” Trask broke in. “You give us all the information you have and testify in court, then we’ll give you complete immunity and put you in our witness protection program.”
“I won’t testify.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want these people to know who sold them out. You FBI guys really don’t understand what you have here, do you? This organization is big. You’ll never get all of them, which means for the rest of my life, I’ll be looking over my shoulder. That means no court appearances, no signed confessions either. Just bring me in and set something up for me. In return, I’ll give you all the leads you need to bring this whole organization down, and plenty of people to testify. Fair enough?”
“All right,” Trask said. “but can you at least tell us your name, or should I just call you Deep Throat?”
The man grinned again, and for the first time he looked relaxed, “I saw that movie too. Four times. As for my name . . . it’s Dave Roberts.”
(continued)
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