“B—but that’s….”
“Connerly Hayes,” he supplied, naming one of the investigative reporters for a local television station. “For years she’s been giving us shit, but last week, there was a management change over at KLUK. Let’s just say the new owners are a little friendlier to our point of view. From now on, the only leads that bitch will be following will be chained around her neck.”
I swallowed hard. “You’ve kidnapped her?”
Silvio released the door latch. “It’s all by consent. See for yourself.”
As soon as there was space to squeeze myself, I ran to her. “Connerly?” I called, squatting in front of her. “Miss Hayes?”
Twice more I repeated her name.
“Go away,” she said eventually, not bothering to look up.
“But I’m here to help you,” I tugged at her stone cold arm.
This time she looked up at me. “Who are you?”
I told her my name, repeating my purpose.
“Raven?” she perked up, the light coming into her devastating blue eyes. “The same Raven who got into all that stock fraud mess? Raven the JailBird? Yes, it is you! Don’t tell me Silvio got to you, too?”
“No,” I shook my head. “That’s not it at all.”
At least not yet.
“Did someone just say my name?” the gangster stepped buoyantly into the cooler.
“Oh, sir, it was me!” the once regal Connerly declared, rearranging herself into the very same position as Mindy, head to floor. “I meant no offense, sir!”
“I can see you haven’t learned any manners yet,” snorted one of the lieutenants, striding behind her, a thin whip in his hand. “Have you, girl?”
“No, sir,” she demurred, her shapely buttocks straining enticingly at the fabric of her soiled panties, the crack of it peeking just above the waistband. “I’m sorry sir.”
“Take them down,” he tapped the whip decisively on the reporter’s ass.
Connerly reached behind her, tugging the underwear well south. The quickness of the action smacked of repetition, as did the angry marks criss-crossing her smooth, white flesh.
“Spread,” ordered the whip man, running the crop along the back of her leg. Connerly complied, revealing more of the marks on her inner thighs, and at the edges of her pussy.
“What do you want?” demanded Silvio of the trembling prisoner.
“To obey you, sir,” she breathed hotly, tiny moans escaping her throat in response to the crop as it teased her opening, mercilessly pressing her clit. “Please, sir, teach me to obey.”
I jolted at the first slash, a vicious blow dead center to the girl’s upturned posterior.
“Yes,” hissed the prostrate Connerly, her cheek and tits pressed to the cooler floor. “Oh, please, yes.”
Silvio held up his hand, preventing the man from delivering the follow-up strike she so badly wanted. “Babycakes, why don’t you tell us why you’re in the cooler.”
“I was a bad girl.” Her hips were undulating; her ripe sex hole, dripping wet. “I needed to be punished.”
“What did you do wrong?”
“I stole a cookie,” said the reporter meekly. “From the kitchen.”
“And why did you do that?”
“I was hungry, sir.”
“But my girls don’t eat what’s not theirs, do they?”
“No, sir.”
Silvio signaled to the man with the crop. Thrice more in rapid succession, the pretty television journalist was lashed.
“How long now since you’ve eaten?”
“Not since yesterday, sir,” she panted, the heat of her punishment heavy on her flesh.
“And are you hungry now?”
Connerly shifted her exposed, freshly welted ass, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Yes, sir.”
Silvio called out to the man at the door. “Bring me some crackers.”
In short order a pack of saltines was produced. Silvio took one and dropped it idly on the floor by Connerly’s head. “You want that?”
“Yes, sir. Please, sir.”
Silvio lifted one of the lizard skin shoes, placing the toe of it over the saltine. Methodically, cruelly, he ground it into the floor. “It’s all yours, hot stuff.”
The girl fell hungrily on the dirty bits of crushed crackers. Using only her mouth and tongue, she devoured every last crumb.
“What do you, say?” Silvio wanted to know when she’d finished.
“Thank you,” Connerly groveled, kissing his foot. “Sir.”
“Are you going to steal again?”
“No, sir,” she declared with conviction. “Never.”
“Give her another hour,” he said. “Take away the panties and hog tie her.”
Connerly was helpless in the men’s grasp as they carried out the Don’s orders. As the underwear was shred away, the girl gasped, sounding almost orgasmic.
“Lay still, bitch,” a man smacked her throbbing red ass. “Or you’ll have something a lot worse to worry about than the cooler.”
Silvio, looking bored with the scene, offered me a genteel bow. “After you…Miss Raven.”
“Thank you,” I replied numbly. The whole thing was surreal, having him act like such a gentleman while committing such bizarre acts of brutality against my fellow females.
“Will she be okay?” I couldn’t help asking as he led me down to the end of the corridor to yet another door.
“Who?”
“Connerly.”
“What do you care?” Silvio asked, genuinely surprised. “Do you know her or something?”
“No, it’s not that. I was just…curious.”
Silvio held the door open for me. “Connerly Hayes is an interfering little cunt,” he said, the pleasant tone of his voice belying his horrible words. “So we’re gonna treat her like one; from now on that’s exactly what she is, a cunt. And an ass and tits and a mouth, too.”
I preceded him hastily into the next room anxious to terminate the conversation. When I got a good look at what was beyond in the “special dining room”, however, I was more than ready to go back and deal with the Connerly situation some more. What I saw were women. All manner of them. Captive women, being tortured.
My attempted departure was met with a wall of silk suited muscle. “You’re not going anywhere,” growled a man.
I looked down. A pistol was poking my belly, the silver blue metal indenting the silver sequined surface of my very expensive dress. One pull of that trigger and the silver would go to bright red in a hurry.
“We’re over there,” Silvio pointed, as though I were walking independently and not being held at gunpoint. “In the corner.”
I blinked my eyes tight, hoping what I’d seen a moment ago was some kind of optical illusion. It was not. My mouth hung open. My feet froze in place, despite the gangster’s press on my. Could this really be true? It was like a supper club from Sodom. Everywhere I looked, I saw bound, naked females, their soft, abused flesh worked directly into the architecture, hung on walls, woven even into the context of the tables, which were piled high with food and occupied by men of every shape and size.
“Take her arms,” said Silvio to two of his men, seeing that I was past the point of independent motion.
The two of them lifted me off the floor, their hands under my arms. In this position, floating helpless, I was led to the table. The first thing to catch my eye was the cage, hanging from the ceiling dead center of the ornately decorated room like a chandelier. Inside was a naked redhead, her hands chained overhead. Her mouth was sealed with a thick leather gag. A pole rising from the floor and terminating between her legs. Her eyes were very wide. Every few seconds she would startle, either from the crotch stimulation, or else from the myriad of wires clipped to her suspended, dangling breasts. The colored wires led to some kind of metal box on the floor of the gilded cage. There was no mistaking the pain she was in, mixed with a surreal pleasure.
I felt a clenching in my ow
n crotch. The girl was nineteen, twenty at most. She should be out partying, teasing boys and shopping, not hanging over a group of mobsters being molested for their amusement. How I hated these men. And yet at the same time their blatant power and deviance thrilled me. Too, a part of me wondered what would it feel like, to be stripped and chained, clipped with wires, stung and forced to orgasm, again and again.
Or else to be like Mindy, a scantily clad waitress knowing I would have to show my tits to every customer and offer my body after each shift…for anything and everything. Or like Connerly, reduced to stealing cookies and then being punished for it, freezing and groveling in a horrible cooler, having to pull down my own panties so I can be whipped and masturbated, grateful for a chance to lick crumbs from beneath the foot of a cruel and heartless mobster. Even now, she was shivering, on her belly or side, bound in the dreaded hog-tie, deprived even of her pathetic underwear. An hour Silvio had said, sixty minutes.
The cage disappeared above me as I walked underneath. I tried to close my eyes because there was more I did not wish to see, much more. But I could not help myself. A blonde on an X-shaped cross against the far wall caught my attention next. She was strapped to it, nude and spread-eagled. There were some kind of weighted clamps on her engorged nipples and a leather hood covered her entire head. Nasty whip marks criss-crossed her from neck to ankle. Her head was down, but she was writhing, her svelte body undulating. Every few seconds she would shudder, just like the girl in the cage, presumably from the sensations induced by a huge vibrating mechanical phallus that had been inserted into her defenseless opening. Her asshole was plugged as well.
And then there were the long, low ‘tables,’ quite ordinary in design except that on each was bound a nude woman, face up, her body on display and also put to interesting uses. At one table, a man laughed loudly as he dipped a carrot into a sauce- filled crotch. Another wiped his hands on a pair of conveniently placed tits.
“Please,” Silvio beamed, pulling out a chair for me. “Have a seat.”
I collapsed into the polished wooden armchair. Just then I heard a girl squeal, probably the one I’d just seen nearby confined in an old-fashioned stock, displayed ass up for paddling, or else one of the three dildo-stuffed girls chained on tiptoes being tickled with feather dusters in one of the alcoves.
The sound came again and this time I was able to identify the source. It was another girl, one I’d missed. On a small stage to the rear, in full view now, I could make out a woman on all fours being taken anally by another female with a strap-on.
“Cuff her,” I heard Silvio say, and then realized he meant me. Strong hands seized each of my wrists, confining my hands in steel to the sides of the chair. In a heartbeat I’d been rendered helpless.
“You must think I’m the biggest idiot on the fucking planet,” Silvio declared as one of his goons cut the strap around the back of my neck and pulled the material of the dress down over my tits.
“Not at all,” I bluffed, trying to still the quivering of my breasts all too visible now in the dainty silk brasserie the chief had chosen for me. It would be a turn on for them of the highest order, of course, as would be the stockings, garter and frilly panties.
Silvio smiled coolly from his place at the table. Obviously, I’d been found out; the NBI ruse had been a failure. Which meant my goose was cooked. The one thing I was grateful for was that this particular table was a plain wood surface, not like the one beneath the nude woman.
“Care for some wine?” the mob boss inquired of me as the waiter poured from an expensive looking bottle. He raised a toast. “Wait, I forgot. You’re all tied up. Joey, help the girl out.”
The five mobsters sitting at the table laughed at the stupid joke. The one called Joey, who was standing behind me, took a filled glass and raised it to my lips. I opened them, but not fast enough.
My mumbled protest failed to prevent the dribbling, down my chin and between my breasts. The wine tickled and burned my super heated skin. I was so horny, I’d fuck a cucumber, or even one of these Galentano hoods.
“Joey, what’s the matter with you?” the boss chastised. “You’re getting her nice bra all wet.”
“I’m so sorry, boss.” Picking up on the sarcasm, Joey used his pocketknife, the same one he’d used on my dress, to sever the bra, right between the cups. Now he pulled them apart, baring me to their eyes and whatever else they might want to lay on me. A blush came over my cheeks as I felt my nipples responding. Comments were made; I gritted my teeth and bore them. I was their play toy now, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Salud!” boomed Silvio as I pulled futilely at the metal cuffs.
The men echoed the toast and raised the glasses. Joey was pulling my chair back from the table and undoing my upswept hair. I wasn’t sure why, and then I understood. He wanted to use my long hair to pull back my head. So he could pour the blood red wine down my throat.
“No please,” I managed to exclaim before my voice dissolved in gurgles. I swallowed what I could, but the majority of it spilled over my tits and down into my lap.
“Look,” said Joey, tweaking one of my throbbing nipples. “The little cunt likes it.”
“Give her more, then.”
I’d never felt more embarrassed in my life. Or more aroused. Joey didn’t have to hold back my head anymore. I did it myself, eyes closed, mouth open and waiting. This time he took a whole bottle, pouring the contents over me, drenching me completely—my hair, my torso, my undulating hips and lap.
Tiny moans escaped my throat as the wine caressed me, like a lover, tiny liquid tendrils, soothing, teasing and awakening. I scarcely noticed when it ended. My mouth was still open, my tongue searching, tasting for more. Down below, I felt heat, indescribable heat. Hands were on me, but I couldn’t see what they were doing. I heard the tear of material, hands pushing my legs apart, and then more steel, cool and smooth, this time on my ankles.
When I finally looked down, I realized two things. One, I had come, and two, my dress and underwear had been torn off and my legs shackled wide apart to either leg of the chair.
“You think I don’t know who sent you?” Silvio asked, taking a mouthful of the salad the waiter had just brought him. “You think I’m some dumb guinea that don’t know nothin’ about nothin’?”
Joey was kneeling in front of me, waving the dreaded silver blade under my nose.
“I—I don’t think you’re stupid,” I stammered as he ran the edge of it very, very slowly over my tits and stomach, tracing nasty little patterns.
“You WASPS are all alike,” he shook his head. “You think cause we’re Italian we’re lazy, ignorant mamalukes. But we got class.” He pointed the fork to his head. “Smarts.”
“You need a shave, cunt,” observed Joey, diddling the knife over my splayed, finely feathered pussy.
“Puh—please,” I croaked. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything.”
“Hey,” complained Silvio. “You’re not paying attention to me.” He waved the fork in the air, looking like a buffoon with his slicked hair and a napkin tucked into the collar of his silk shirt. “You think all this came from nowhere? I worked for it, every stinkin’ inch of it.”
“Jeezus, boss, this cunt is hot to trot. I could make her come again right now.”
It was true. The blade, the fear, the shame, all of it had worked me back to the brink in record time.
“Is that true?” Silvio feigned shock. “Are you actually enjoying yourself? You’d think the NBI could send some spies a little tougher.”
Joey fished in his pocket for a pair of nasty looking clips. They were high tension and serrated—similar to the ones employed by Reynolds. Joey was grinning, eyeing my aroused, defenseless nipples, clearly enjoying my mounting terror.
“Wait, cunt, there’s more,” he winked. Joey produced a second pair now, this time eyeing my crotch. The blood drained from my face.
“No, don’t,” I fought desperately, pulling at the steel like a trapp
ed animal. “I’ll tell you everything, I’ll work for you even, whatever you want. Let me go, I won’t tell a soul…or keep me…yes, that’s it, keep me, Silvio. I’ll be good, I swear, I won’t steal like Connerly, you won’t even have to punish me, unless you want to. I’ll be like Jennifer, I’ll learn my place, you can train me even, so I can eat off the floor and go in a cage when you say…please, Silvio, and I’ll be so, so good, like Marie, all the men will want me, you’ll see…”
I knew I was babbling, but I didn’t care. Even after Joey slapped me, I kept at it. “I’ve always been a slut, even in college, all I really wanted was to be a hot piece of ass, to be used and wanted by all the boys, handed around like a reefer or a tennis racket. I let them tie me down, I made them be rough, so it would almost be like rape, but at the same time I’d be begging for it, wanting to crawl and surrender. You know you already have me, Silvio, give me a chance; I’m just a little slut; everyone knows it. You know what I did for Rich? I sucked him every day, I let him piss on me, abuse my ass. That’s how I got in with him, and now you have your revenge, I’m your toy, and you can have me and abuse me and piss on me and…”
Joey attached the clamps and my words turned to screams. In an ordinary restaurant this would raise alarm, but not here. Torture was part of the ambience. I looked down, expecting to see blood or ripped flesh, but my nipples were happy as can be, except that they were pincered by terrible hurting jaws, so tiny and horrible.
“Now you can make her come,” said Silvio, after two more clamps were carefully attached to the sides of my labial lips. I thought I was going to faint, but it went on; the pain, the ecstasy.
Joey winked, flashing me a sly grin. “It’s you and me, baby,” he crooned.
The last thing in the world I wanted was an orgasm right now, but I had no choice, and my body was singing its own song, dancing the razor’s edge of craving, the barrier of pain and pleasure long since shattered.
“You were right about one thing,” said Silvio as Joey carefully flicked my clitoris. “You are a slut and you will do anything. Including suffer. See, the thing you haven’t figured out is that you got nothing to bargain with. That hot body of yours—it’s already mine. I own it, Raven. I own you. And unfortunately for you, you’re the property of someone who enjoys making pretty girls cry. But don’t worry; I’m into power more than pain. What I really want is to make you beg for it and need it and want it, no matter what, so we’ll get along fine. Believe it or not, every girl in here wants to be here. They don’t know no different no more.”
Own This Body Page 12
