Horror Beneath the Park
by
von Hentzau
"This had better be worth it," Joanna thought as she hurried through the
darkened park. "If that dweeb Gilbert brought me out her for nothing I'll make
him pay. And pay some more."
She'd been working late at the office, as usual, when Gilbert called. He'd
uncovered something, something shocking. Something he was afraid to tell her
over the telephone. Something about work. Joanna thought she knew what it was.
She'd heard little snippets of conversation among the upper managers. Something
about irregularities in the accounting it seemed. If Gilbert had stumbled onto
something she wanted to know. It would look really good if she could present it
to her superiors. And of course she'd give Gilbert full credit.
She laughed to herself. She'd give Gilbert all the credit he deserved. And
that wasn't much. Not so long ago Gilbert had been her supervisor. Now she was
enjoying the corner office that Gilbert had expected and he was reporting to
her. The earnest little smuck was a pushover. She'd played him like a
marionette, taking credit that belonged to him and shifting blame for her
mistakes onto him.
She located the kiosk he had told her to come to, the one near the zoo.
Closed up for the night now, a few overhead lamps casting a circle of light
around it. She looked for him but didn't see him. She circled the kiosk once,
then was about to leave in disgust when she spotted him in the shadows. He
waved her over.
"Just what the..." she started to say when he frantically motioned for her
to be quiet. He waved her deeper into the shadows.
"Just what have you dragged me out here for, Gilbert?" she asked.
"Joanna," he said in a low voice, "I've stumbled on something incredible.
You won't believe what I've got to tell you."
"Is this about that embezzlement rumor that's been going around?"
"It's embezzlement alright. I've uncovered something big, something that's
going to blow the roof off the company. By the way, Joanna, have you ever heard
rumors about strange creatures that roam the park at night?"
"What kind of juvenile nonsense..."
"Well, there's two of them standing behind you."
Suddenly incredibly strong arms pinned her arms to her sides. She started
to scream but a hand, a strange smelling, calloused hand, was clapped over her
mouth. Something was held under her nose. She smelled an odd, spice like
fragrance. Then she passed out.
When Joanna came back to consciousness she found herself hanging. arms
spread out in a wide V. She felt hands under her armpits lifting her back to
her feet, steadying her until she regained her balance. It took several minutes
before her eyes would focus again. And when they did she took in a scene so
strange she thought she must be dreaming.
She found herself in some sort of brick lined vault. Gas lights mounted on
the walls cast an eerie light. She looked to either side. Metal pipes ran from
floor to ceiling on either side. Cuffs had been strapped to either wrist,
connected to chains leading up to pulleys high on the pipes.
Then she noticed, arranged along the walls, in the shadows. Figures in
dark cloaks, like some ancient monastic order. And Gilbert, standing there just
in front of the dark figures. He approached her, a strange look on his face.
"Good, you're awake Joanna," he said. "Like the place? It's amazing what
you can do with an old sewer. I particularly like the brick vaulting. They
don't make'em like that any more, you know.
"Well, I guess we can proceed. First we'll need that delightful pants suit
of yours. We could of course have stripped you while you were out, but our
hosts much more enjoy this when you're awake."
"What the..." she started to yell. A back handed blow across the face
stopped her. She stood, silent, steaming mad at the impertinence.
Gilbert signaled. Another figure came forward. It was a woman. Not just
that, it was a street person who had occasionally harassed Joanna as she strode
purposefully from the subway to the office. She'd had to elbow her out of the
way more than once. Lately the haggard creature had taken to babbling something
about "partying" with Joanna. The implications of that memory made Joanna
queasy.
"I think you know Gertie?" Gilbert said. "Sometimes known as Crazy Gertie.
You're going to get to know her a lot better shortly. Shall we get on with it?"
Gertie began to undo the buttons of Joanna's white blouse. The jacket was
already unbuttoned. When she was finished Gilbert undid the cuff on Joanna's
left wrist. Gertie worked the jacket down Joanna's arm, then the blouse.
Gilbert shifted his grip to the exposed portion of her arm and Gertie slid both
jacket and blouse off the arm. Gilbert then refastened the cuff. They repeated
the process with Joanna's right arm. Gertie took the items off into the
shadows. Joanna realized there was still another person waiting there, a woman.
Meanwhile Gilbert busied himself with removing Joanna's shoes. She thought
briefly of kicking him but decided it would do no good. She would have to wait
until this elaborate practical joke was over. Then she'd make life hell for him
at the office.
Gertie returned. She fumbled briefly getting Joanna's pants undone. Then
she and Gilbert slid them down and off Joanna's legs. Gertie took them, along
with the shoes to the woman in the shadows, who had stripped to her underwear
and was putting on Joanna's clothes. With a start Joanna realized the woman was
very nearly her own height and body type. And she had blonde hair worn the way
Joanna wore hers.
"What are you up to, Gilbert, you prime jerk?" She asked in her most
intimidating voice, the voice she used when she wanted to see underlings scurry.
"What kind of juvenile practical joke are you trying to pull. You..."
He shut her up with a hand over her mouth.
"No practical joke, Joanna," he said quietly. "That embezzlement case I
told you I uncovered? I didn't uncover it. I did it. And I did it in a way
that will place the blame exactly on you. We're about to put the finishing
touches on it. Our associate here, who looks enough like you to be you on the
security cameras, is going down to the office now. It's nearly midnight.
There'll be nobody there. She'll log on to your computer and do some rather
sloppy file deletion, shred some incriminating evidence, go online and order
airline tickets for an early flight to Mexico, then leave carrying some very
valuable papers. Oh, did I mention you've been very sloppy in guarding your
passwords? Tut, tut. Shameful."
"You'll never get away with it," Joanna cried, shaking his hand loose.
Gilbert clamped the hand in place once more.
"So far so good, as they say. We've got you. We've got you purse, with
card key and credit cards. We have a look-a-like. Your double will not make it
to the airport. Instead she'll rent a car on your card. Your company credit
card that is. Early in the morning she'll fill the gas tank, with your gas card,
somewhere between here and Canada. Then she, or rather you, will disappear.
Just about the time I'm presenting evidence of your misdeeds to Mr. Hiram. He
will not be pleased with you. He'll have the cops searching for you. But they
won't find you. And Mr. Hiram will probably be very pleased with me for
uncovering your plot before you did even more damage."
He released her mouth.
"You can't keep me her forever," she cried, despite the nagging doubt that
that was just what he planned, or something worse.
"Actually, Joanna, our hosts plan to keep you here for a very long time.
They like what they've seen so far. In fact, they're anxious to see more of
you."
It suddenly dawned on Joanna that she was standing in her underwear. She
remembered the group of cloaked, hooded figures standing in the shadows around
the chamber. She blushed, suddenly embarrassed.
Gertie had moved in to one side of Joanna. Before Joanna knew it the
street woman had strapped a cuff around her ankle. Gilbert did the same for the
other ankle. Between them they spread Joanna's legs until they could hook them
to chains fastened at the base of each upright. The movement placed more
tension on Joanna's arms.
"Such lovely undies you have, Joanna," Gilbert said with a sneer. "Shall
we start with the top or the bottom? Judging from appearances, let's save the
best for last, eh?"
He took out a small pocket knife. Pulling the waistband of her panties out
away from her side, he slit the elastic. Walking around behind her, and giving
her rump a light slap on the way, he did the same to the other side. The flimsy
cloth slipped to the floor.
Her most private regions exposed, more so with her legs so widespread,
Joanna turned an even brighter shade of red. She thought she heard strange
grunting sounds from the hooded audience. Somehow she interpreted them as signs
of approval. What kind of perverts are you, she wanted to scream.
"My that's quite a bush you have there, Joanna," Gilbert said in his
sleaziest voice. "And you're a natural blonde, I see. I wasn't sure about
that, you being the phony you are. Well, onward and upwards."
Gilbert moved behind her. She felt his hand brushing over her rump again.
"My, what a lovely ass. Nice and toned. You must work out on the
Stairmaster a lot. We're going to have fun with this."
He gave her a hard slap on each cheek. Then she felt the cold steel of the
knife slip under and slice one bra strap, then the other.
"Don't worry about your frilly underthings, Joanna. You won't be needing
them again."
She felt his hands fumble with the fastening of the bra. Then it fell
free, releasing her full bosom. Gilbert came around to stand an arms length
before her. He reached out and fondled Joanna's left breast. He hefted it, gave
the nipple a pinch.
"Oh, these are lovely," he said. "D cup at least. I never suspected. You
must have dressed to hide your endowments."
That was true. Early in her business career Joanna had discovered that her
fullness kept men from taking her seriously. She'd purposely dressed to conceal
her attributes. Except of course when she could use them to blind some feeble
minded male executive. But now they were exposed for all to see. Again she
heard the muffled grunts, the strange sensation of approval, anticipation.
"You know what's wonderful about these?" he said to Gertie, who had joined
him. "They're so nicely full. Just enough slack that they'll swing nicely.
And the roundness underneath is delightful. You can do a lot to a boob like
that."
As if to illustrate he slipped a finger into the crease under her left
breast, then traced the curve around to her nipple. Joanna reddened again at the
humiliation of being treated so.
Then Joanna noticed that Gertie was holding a basin filled with a foamy
substance. She dipped a shaving brush into the foam and began dabbing it on
Joanna's pubic hair.
"Damn..stop,,,what.." Joanna sputtered in indignation. Bad enough being
stripped naked in front of strangers. But now this bitch taking liberties with
her privates.
"Oh, relax, Miss Winthrop," Gilbert said. "It's only a depilatory. Our
hosts insist on absolute nudity and that includes removing any concealing hair."
Joanna resigned herself to this latest indignity. They couldn't keep this
stupid joke going forever. Gilbert was going to have hell to pay when he
released her.
Gertie continued dabbing, covering Joanna's entire bush, working the brush
around her anus and in her butt crack. Then she continued down the legs. Arms
and underarms, even though they were shaved. Torso and belly, arms and legs were
included. Then they waited, Gilbert checking his watch periodically.
"Time," he said.
Gertie returned with a bigger basin of clean water and two pumice stones.
Together she and Gilbert began scrapping down Joanna with the pumice stones,
dipping them frequently in the water which quickly became fouled with suds and
floating hair. Gertie had to fetch clean water twice before then finally
concentrated on Joanna's crotch. When they were done Joanna was completely
hairless but for her head and face.
Gilbert and Gertie stood off to one side. They turned to face the dark
shapes.
"Masters," Gilbert said in a loud voice. "I present to you Miss Joanna
Winthrop. We hope you will enjoy her."
"Enough is enough, Gilbert," Joanna shouted. "What kind of sick,
perverted..."
She stopped in mid sentence as one of the figures stepped forward into
better light, reached up with hands that were more like claws and drew back the
hood. Quickly the creature replaced the hood, but not before Joanna had a
horrifying glimpse of a face that resembled a ram, covered in short, tawny fur,
with a bony forehead ridge. There were no horns, except perhaps two nubbins at
either end of the ridge. The eyes were yellow, with elongated sheep's pupils.
Joanna screamed.
"Wh..wh..what is? What are they?" Joanna asked. her heart pounding
furiously.
"I can't really tell you," Gilbert replied. "They've never revealed what
they are to us. An ancient species driven to hiding. Alien creatures. Demons.
You pick. We tend to call them Demons for lack of a better name."
"What do they want with me?" Joanna asked in a hoarse whisper, fearing the
answer.
"It's very simple, Joanna. They want you to suffer. They're a very
psychic species. Like the man said, they feel your pain. And they enjoy it.
Not just enjoy, they need it. They feed on it. Something in their mental
makeup requires period doses of strong emotions. Pain, fear, embarrassment,
humiliation, the dread of what's going to happen, excitement, arousal, they
absorb it all and the stronger the better."
"But why me. Why pick me. Why not just go out in the park and snatch some
drunk or druggee or other useless scum to slice up?"
"I have a personal reason to want to see you suffer, dear Joanna," Gilbert
replied, his face barely a foot away from hers. "In actual fact, when necessary
they have resort to whomever they can capture. That's how they acquired me.
Made the mistake of walking through the park alone one night. Same with poor
homeless Gertie. Sacked out under the wrong bush one night. But your typical
passed out boozer is pretty poor meat for our hosts.
"There are good reasons why you're prime rib to these creatures. You're a
woman. Men, as you're fond of pointing out, are comparatively weak creatures.
You have more erogenous zones. Your arousals are stronger. Your anatomy seems
designed for torment. Just think of all the things you can do to a boobie.
Especially big ones, like yours. You have a higher pain tolerance. That's
important, because they need you to be conscious while we do dastardly things to
your privates. It won't do to have you passing out too easily. You're young
and fit and near your sexual peak. You'll last and your reactions will be strong
and delicious.
"Think about this for a moment, dear Joanna. If we want to inflict pain we
can break your fingers. Maybe even cut one or two of them off. You'll fear it,
feel the pain when it happens. But what if instead of a finger we do something
horrible to a nipple, or to your labia? Or even your clit? We've moved to an
entirely different plane in terms of fear and pain when we work on your sexual
areas.
"Another thing. While feminine beauty means nothing to them per se, they
do know how other humans react to it. Gertie and I both happen to have strong
sadistic natures. That's why we're still alive. We didn't come here
voluntarily. We were snatched. But our demon friends probed us and saw that we
could be useful to them. They need humans to handle chores and run errands on
the surface. More than that we're useful for performing tortures. The demons
can and do torture subjects themselves. But they prefer to have us do it, since
it's not just you're emotions they're feasting on. It's all the humans
involved.
"Take Gertie here. She's not just a sadist but she's a lesbian. The sight
of your naked female charms excites her almost as much as the thought of what
she's going to do to those charms. Adding sex to the mix makes a powerful dish.
You, Joanna, are the meat and Gertie's unbridled lust to inflict pain on your
most sensitive regions is the sauce. The demons just love the combination.
Speaking of which, they're getting hungry for an appetizer, so I think it's time
we whipped up something."
Gilbert stepped away, chuckling quietly at his little joke. Gertie paraded
before Joanna, stripped to the waist and carrying a whip, the kind the buggy
drivers in the park used. She heard the sound of a winch being cranked and felt
the cuffs pulling again her wrists. Her arms were stretched tight. This wasn't
happening, she told herself. Things like this don't happen. It's a joke. It's
a bad dream. But it's not, definitely not happening.
Crack. The whip bit into her right buttock. Joanna screeched. The whip
bit into her left cheek. She screamed again. Somewhere in the back of her mind
she experienced a vague sense of delight. Not her delight of course.
Damn them, she thought. I won't give them the satisfaction. She resolved
not to scream. She was tough. She could take it.
The resolve lasted for three or four more strokes. It was too much. Joanna
screamed again. Gertie was pacing herself nicely, allowing a pause between each
stroke to allow Joanna to fully sense each stroke. The blows, initially
centered on her butt, now began to range up her back and down her thighs. One
clever swing brought the tip of the whip up between Joanna's wide spread legs to
land on the sensitive spot between vulva and anus. Joanna nearly jumped out of
her skin at the pain. Then Gertie stopped. Joanna hung on the chains, panting.
Gilbert approached her.
"Very good, Joanna," he said. "Do you sense how pleased they are with your
performance? A very good start we've made. They foresee good things from you.
There's another small matter we have to attend to today but before we move along
there's a personal matter we need to settle."
Gilbert stepped back a little. From behind his back he brought out a stiff
leather belt. Without warning he swung it sharply from the side and flattened
her left breast with it.
"About that corner office, the one I should have had..."
He backhanded her right breast. The pain was worse than anything Joanna
had ever experienced.
"but that you got instead. I know all about your little games, Joanna."
The left breast was battered again.
"I know how you took credit for my work."
Back hand to the right breast again.
"I know how you bad mouthed me to upper management. How you back-stabbed
me at every opportunity."
"And poor Janice who you got fired just because she took too much attention
from you. And George Heppel? Remember him? Had a heart attack after you screwed
him out of his job."
He swung viciously up between Joanna's legs, landing a heavy blow directly
on her pussy.
"You know that old expression, let bygones be bygones?"
Another, even heavier blow to Joanna's pussy.
"Well, not down here!"
A third, still heavier blow landed. Joanna passed out. But just before
the blackness set in she had the strangest sensation, something like soundless
applause.
Joanna awoke, praying that what she'd just been through was nothing but a
bad dream. With horror she realized that she was still in the vaulted brick
chamber. She tried to move her arms and legs. They were securely fastened, arms
at her side, legs apart. She was on a hard flat surface. As her eyes focused
better she realized Gilbert and Gertie were looking down at her from either
side. From the proximity she realized she must be on a table.
"Good," Gilbert said. "You're back with us. We have a few things to do
yet before you're fully ready for your new career as a sadist's plaything."
Gilbert looped a leather strap around Joanna's right knee. He pulled
hard, then fastened the strap to the table. He did the same to her left knee.
Another pair of leather straps fastened her thighs, just below the crotch. Then
a heavy strap was buckled across her pelvis. Joanna tried to wriggle. Her
mid-section was firmly fastened down.
"You'll appreciate our precautions shortly, Joanna," Gilbert said. "We
have some delicate surgery to perform here and we can't have you struggling."
Gilbert flashed a scalpel in front of Joanna's face. With growing panic
she realized they intended to mutilate her, mutilate her in the worst way a
woman could be mutilated.
She saw Gilbert and Gertie leaning over her crotch from either side of the
table. She felt fingers probing her slit, pulling on her labia.
"No!!!" she screamed. "Don't cut me! Don't! Don't! Please! Don't take my
clit! I'll do anything..."
"What?" Gilbert asked, sounding rather surprised. "Oh, you thought we we're
going to nip off your love button? That would be rather self-defeating for us,
wouldn't it? Removing your most sensitive organ? All we're going to do is make
it more vulnerable by removing the clitoral hood. But don't worry. It's going
to hurt almost as much as taking off the clit itself."
Gilbert looked down intently. Joanna felt the blade start to bite into her
flesh. Then pain, excruciating pain. She tried frantically to break free, to
close her legs, to pull her endangered pussy away from the sharp metal slowly
sawing away at her. Then she passed out again.
When Joanna awoke she was in darkness. She was laying on her back, arms at
her side. She could feel leather cuffs holding her wrists in place. She felt
that her legs were raised and spread, suspended. She waited. After what seemed
hours she heard footsteps. A light, small and bobbing like a flashlight,
approached. Holding her breath she prayed it would rescuers, come to release
her from this nightmare. It was Gilbert.
She heard the click of a switch and lights came on. She was in a small
brick chamber, a sort of alcove off the main vaulted chamber. Bars across the
entrance turned it into a cell. Her legs were suspended in a wide V shape by
chains hanging from the ceiling.
Gilbert went immediately to examine Joanna's pussy. He felt tentatively
with a finger. She flinched automatically, though the pain she expected did not
appear,
"Very nice," Gilbert said. "Our hosts have long experience with keeping
humans fit for play. They have a salve which is most effective. Antibiotic
properties of course and it acts with amazing speed. Minor scrapes and bruises,
welts like we inflicted on your lovely ass, disappear within a few hours. Deeper
cuts, burns, even our little surgery here, heal within a day or two. You'll be
ready for some serious torture in no time. But before then we still have one
more thing to do in preparation."
Gilbert removed the lid from a small jar. With a latex gloved finger he
removed a dollop of thick, white gel and smeared it liberally over one nipple.
Joanna flinched, expecting pain, but the gel had a soothing feel to it. After a
few seconds she noticed a not unpleasant, tingly sensation.
Gilbert applied the gel to the other nipple. Then he placed a dollop on
her clit.
"I know you're bored and the gel works better if you're completely relaxed,
so I think I'll bid you goodnight. Sleep well and dream dirty dreams, Joanna."
Gilbert opened a small vial and held it under Joanna's nose. She smelled
that odd, spicy fragrance she'd smelled when they kidnaped her. Almost
immediately she slipped into unconsciousness.
When she awoke again it was as if she was waking from a long, sometimes
fitful sleep. Several times she had neared consciousness, hearing but not
understanding voices, feeling hands moving over her body. But then that spicy
fragrance again and she'd slipped back into darkness.
With a start she realized her arms and legs were free. She looked around.
She was still in the alcove, laying on what appeared to be sheep skins. The
barred gate to the alcove was closed. A single dim bulb hanging outside the
cell lit the scene. Eyes starting to focus better she sat up and examined her
surroundings more closely.
Glancing down she was startled by the sight of her nipples. They'd grown!
Each was now nearly an inch long and perhaps three-eights of an inch thick. She
reach for them, not believing what she was seeing. But they were real. And
sensitive. Touching them brought about a sensation similar to what she
experienced when playing with her nipples in a growing state of arousal.
Then she noticed it. Between her thighs, peeking out of her slit. A small
pink bullet of flesh. She reached down and spread herself, blinking in
disbelief. Whatever was in the gel had caused her clitoris to grow as well as
her nipples. It stood proud, almost as big as the tip of her little finger.
She touched it tentatively. It was almost unbearably sensitive.
As she sat there bewildered Gilbert came in. He carried a MacDonald's bag
and a cup of coffee. He slid these through the bars.
"What the hell have you done to me?" she screamed. "A freak! You've made
me a freak! You bastards!"
"Oh, be quiet and have some breakfast, or more correctly lunch," Gilbert
said. "Hope you like quarter-pounders with cheese. Don't worry about the fat
and cholesterol. We'll see that you burn it off. As for a freak, well maybe.
But we prefer to think we've made you into a perfect subject for sado-sexual
torture. We'll be starting tonight, so bon appetit."
Gilbert turned to leave, then turned back.
"Sorry about the amenities, They are rather primitive but they're
serviceable."
He pointed to one corner of the cell where there was a small rectangular
opening. A roll of toilet paper sat on the floor next to it. The faint sound
of running water came through the opening. A few feet away a galvanized metal
bucket hung from a bracket on the wall, a metal cup on a chain hanging from it.
Gilbert left. Joanna sat, steaming mad. Then she realized she was
ravenous and dug into the MacDonald's bag.
To Be Continued....much to the distress of the poor
Joanna
Copyright is claimed on this work by the author. Since I may wish to publish
it again at a future date permission to copy, republish or distribute it in any
form is expressly prohibited with the sole exception of personal, non-commercial
use.
