Bibi was concerned about Mickeal and wasn’t exactly sure if the kidnappers had taken him from the car or not. Since they kept her wrapped in a blanket and blindfolded for the trip, which took nearly an entire night and day, she had no clue as to his fate. Now she was again in chains, locked in what seemed to be an old prison cell with the requisite iron rings mounted around the walls and in the floor. She was naked and on her knees, with hands and arms bound behind her back, a chain running from a steel collar down her back to the elbow clamps, then to the manacles, then on to a pair of heavy shackle bands on her feet. A separate chain was around her waist and connected to a ring on the floor, keeping her within its short radius. The gag she wore was pretty much the same old thing she was by now accustomed to, a fat rubber penis with a strap through it, buckled behind her head. Bibi remained lying on her side when she awoke. Her bondage prevented her from getting into any other position. No matter how she struggled to try to rearrange her bondage, she was stuck lying down. She wondered about Mickeal, knowing that if he was found alive in the wrecked Mini, there was a chance that someone would try to find out what happened to her. If Mickeal was gone, then the safety connection was also severed and it would take much longer for anyone to piece together the series of events. It would take even longer to link all of this with Lucy’s disappearance and with the search that her father had initiated.
What Bibi did not know was that Mickeal was alive and slowly recuperating from the auto crash. Fabian’s men removed him from the twisted Mini and took him in a separate car to the Greenhouse. As soon as they searched him, they found the Makora in his boot and relieved him of it. When Fabian looked over the contents of Mickeal’s pockets, his eyes locked on the Makora. One of his men picked it up and showed him the firing button on the side, commenting that it was perhaps some sort of gravity knife. Not realizing that he was holding the knife backwards, he pressed the button and the blade erupted from the knife, puncturing his shirt, but stopping short of penetrating the skin of his stomach as he held it closely. The man jumped back, astonished that he had not mortally stabbed himself.
“Look at that,” he said unevenly, putting his finger through the hole in his shirt and then gingerly sliding the blade back and forth. “It’s loose. Not locked.”
Fabian took the knife cautiously, examining it and pushing the razor sharp blade forward until it suddenly locked in the extended position. He then pushed the firing button and the blade retracted.
“This thing has a safety built in,” Fabian said, amazed, “so if it goes off in your pocket it won’t penetrate your leg. What a clever design. I’ll hang onto this,” he added.
***
Mickeal sustained some minor scratches and a large bump on his head, but the Mini’s multiple airbags saved his life and Bibi’s as well. His problem now, however, was that he was locked up on a small windowless cell several levels below the Mala Strana house. Because Fabian decided that he must be kept safe and unharmed, his bondage consisted only of handcuffs behind his back and a chain locked around his neck and fastened to the stone wall. Mickeal assumed that Bibi was also a prisoner in this place, but he did not know that Groff and the von Holt sisters were also Fabian’s involuntary guests. Once he stopped seeing stars and blurred vision, Mickeal began to plot his escape. He had to admit to himself, however, that he had no idea whatsoever as to how he might accomplish this.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cycle
The four naked women were not enjoying the simulated, virtual motor cycle ride. For what seemed like hours, they stayed strapped to the cycle simulators and taken, virtually, over miles and miles of roads. Some of the virtual roads were smooth and allowed very high speeds with accompanying vibration and wind force. But most roads were rough and twisty with jumps and humps that delivered exactly what Fabian intended: a thrilling and painful simulated ride that never ended.
Bibi and Lucy shared the Nomad, a high tech ninja design, road bike that had heavy-duty suspension and a deep seat that just barely accommodated the two girls’ butts. It was a tight fit even though both girls were slim and had little extra meat on their asses. Fabian seated Bibi first, making sure that the fat, massive, anchored leather dildoe was deeply dodged up her cunt and strapping her waist and legs to the narrow machine. She was bent over the simulated fuel tank that had been adapted to more unpleasant functions with indentations in the empty fuel tank. Each deep cavity housed twin suction cups that seized her breasts and pulled them into the empty void of the tank. Before putting her on the bike, Fabian’s assistants snapped nipple caps onto Bibi’s nipples. These contained half-inch long hollow needles, like hypodermics. Inserting the needles and then snapping the clips closed brought Bibi to a new height of pain, well beyond anything she had previously experienced. To add to this, ordinary handcuffs were locked around the base of each breast, squeezing the root tissue into a small diameter and causing the clipped, hose-bearing nipples to jut out even further. The skin on her clamped breasts quickly took on a shiny, reddened look as the cuffs reduced blood flow to the captive flesh. The hoses attached to the clips disappeared into the fuel tank and when they pushed Bibi forward, her large globular tits fitted perfectly into the tank’s indentations. Bibi’s wrists were strapped to the handlebars and her elbows strapped and pulled down to the sides of the bike. Her booted feet and calves were pulled back and strapped tightly as well. Her head was snugly encapsulated in a faux helmet, which was intended to do two things: the visor provided a startlingly vivid visual presentation of the terrain they were “riding” through and the rest of the hard hat kept a mouth filling, jaw-stretching gag in place. Side straps anchored the helmet in a fixed position allowing no head movement.
“Consider this a multi-functional situation,” Fabian said to them, as he walked around the two bikes. Several assistants continued to work on preparing the girls for their ride and Fabian inspected each strap, each cuff, making sure everything was tight and functional.
Behind Bibi, the nude, (except for knee-high boots), form of Lucy seemed to be clinging to Bibi and was equally immobile in the tiny cramped seat. Lucy’s breasts were crushed into Bibi’s bent back, her nipples enclosed in tiny clamping capsules. Around her waist she wore a narrow leather belt with a crotch strap that provided support for the strap-on dildoe that was driven up Bibi’s intimately close ass. A second belt held her on the bike and more straps forced her against Bibi and into the seat. She wore the same helmet style as Bibi and saw the same visual presentations. Before the bike got under way, the suction hoses on Bibi’s nipples were activated and the painful process of milking her tits began.
“We’re going to start this process,” Fabian said, “with a very nominal requirement of, let’s say, about fifteen cc’s. If you give us that now, we’ll shut off the suction. The longer it takes, well…the longer you stay here and suffer.”
“Shit,” Bibi thought. “Why the hell does he keep fucking with my tits? Isn’t there anything else this guy wants to screw with? Besides, I’m not a lactating mother. How in hell will they get anything out of me, let alone fifteen cc’s?”
“Oh yes. I nearly forgot,” Fabian interrupted her thoughts, as though he read them. “You have been getting a couple of hormones in your water since you were first taken. This began back at the old windmill site, so by now, your system is likely to be producing a bit of growth in your tits and likewise, increased milk production. Enjoy.”
Jean Groff and Brenda sat perched in the bigger leather seat of the simulated Harley. The big road bike with its massive twin cylinders was a vibration center that shook enough to unseat the internal organs of riders over time. Harley designers, it seemed, worked hard to give the bike a noisy and uncomfortable ride. It was, after all, the trademark that had for decades driven otherwise intelligent men and women to acquire and ride the ungainly beasts with their primitive suspension, unique and arcane belt drive and entirely unnecessary noise. Even at idle, the engine shook the entire bike enough to jolt loose the kidneys of any rider or pa
ssenger, so a kidney belt, (or in this case, a nice, tight corset), had become the safer option for virtual Harley Riders just as the real thing had been required in the early days. This simulation emulated one of especially unstable early bikes that had to be constantly throttled to keep it from stalling and Groff and Brenda both received the full impact of the hammering vibration as the bike went up and down through the gears at various speeds, over smooth and rough roads, driving the attached double dildoes with insane redundancy into their lower apertures.
Groff wore an elaborate rubber corset, laced to maximum tightness, which included an additional Fabian-designed item: a leather bra with holes for her nipples and lined with tiny sharp points which rubbed and scarred her breasts as the bike shook and rattled. She was strapped into the seat with her body upright in the normal riding position, so her entire weight drove her down and onto the slippery probes. The recently attached nipple rings with their cutting ends had already driven completely through the firm nipple flesh and now served as painful anchors for the twin chains that led to the handlebars of the bike. Turning the bike resulted in tugging on either the left or right tit with the accompanying discomfort for Groff.
Throughout her extensive training and career as special investigator, Groff had been educated in the details and nuances of sadistic torture. She was taught some of the techniques to reduce or bypass the physical and mental discomfort required to sustain and survive interrogation torture. She had even, on occasion, used the same techniques in extracting information needed from a prisoner, but she assiduously avoided any actual torture, both out of personal principles and legal restrictions. When captured by Fabian and his gang, Groff’s initial thoughts quickly turned to the accounts of Lucy’s disappearance and the previously expressed suspicions of many of her fellow agents that Lucy had been abducted and sold to slavers. Her peers were further convinced that if this happened, the buyers and sellers of humans, having no convictions, constraints or moral compunction about doing whatever they pleased with her, Lucy would soon be reduced to a slobbering hunk of fuckable female flesh.
The addition of Brenda into the equation complicated matters somewhat, but Groff couldn’t see what difference it really made except that it might intensify von Holt’s efforts to find the missing women. Lucy had been gone for more than a year and now with Brenda also gone, von Holt would probably be spending more money to bring even greater and more intense pressure to bear.
“Anything is possible with money,” Groff thought. “But the real driver in this case seems to be sex.”
As Brenda shuddered behind her, (probably, Groff thought, from another orgasm brought on by an especially rough piece of road they were traversing on the bike), Groff continued to mull over the history of the entire case, trying to align the events in a way that made some sense to her, considering the overall role of sex and sexual abuse that thus far seemed to fit into the entire big picture:
Lucy and Fabian travel around Europe for several months as a couple, but had no sex in the relationship.
Lucy gets abducted by Fabian, supposedly because he is pissed at being kicked out of her bed for months. Sex is part of the problem.
Lucy is sent to the Vermont Riding School for slave and pony training, but, unlike most others at the farm, is not physically modified and is eventually shipped back as a draft pony. Erotic, kinky sex is an integral part of the training.
Lucy goes to VNR for more specific pony training and is used as a sex slave by a silent order of nuns and clergy.
Next, she is sent to a silver mine run by sadistic Asians. Again, sex is at the top of their training techniques.
Then she is brought to Fabian’s Prague Greenhouse facility and added to his growing collection of slave women, hanging in a suspended cage and constantly being fucked and molested. The entire operation is based on sexual abuse.
Brenda and Glenda are added to the mix without any apparent reason and Brenda seems more or less ambivalent about her captivity. Apparently, sex is what Fabian has in mind for her.
Groff and Bibi fall into the trap but are treated the same as the sisters. Most of their abuse is topically physical without doing any long-term damage and no efforts seem to be made to change anything else. Sex devices are part of the process.
They are fucked, impaled, pierced, chained, strap and rope bound and caged, but so far, no moves have been made to take them down any clear corridor towards slavery, sale or physical change. Unlike the girls at the Summer School, these four have had no body mods at all. Again, sex is at the top of the list in terms of treatment.
“All very strange,” Groff thought, as the cycle once again picked up speed, the thin chains on her nipples seemed to pull a bit tighter and Bibi groaned behind her, trying to shift her weight a bit on the impaling dongs and inadvertently driving Groff’s ass plug a bit deeper.
Groff’s personal inventory of S&M techniques did not include the motorcycle simulation and although she was trying not to allow the sexual stimulation to get to her, she had to admit that she now, perhaps better than ever before, understood the issues surrounding such practices. The twin dildoes pumping away in her lower regions were something she had never experienced. Her lovers, past and present, were pretty much straight men and even her chance encounters with the occasional female lover were almost always little more than straight and endearing sex. Because of her job, Groff avoided short and long-term relationships. She also avoided, although at times had considered, some of the more esoteric encounters she heard described by her friends. The idea of immersing herself in an erotic scene and participating in the broad range of kinky situations and events was always hanging there in her mental closet. The “what if?” elements she contemplated did not include the very situation she now found herself in.
On the job, more than once, she’d been on the scene of an S&M session gone wrong, intentionally or by accident, and it always gave her pause to consider why and how the event happened and why and how it had gone awry.
Now, here, astride the shaking Harley simulator with Brenda pressed against her back, she was conflicted between the intense physical input from multiple parts of her anatomy and her emotional restraints, which told her to resist the feelings and try to escape. Of course, escape seemed far away because she was unable to see or hear anything other than the sim’s input. She wore the same style helmet as the other three girls and saw the same scenes in the LCD interior visor. Groff chewed on the mouth-stuffing gag and continued to struggle against the bonds that held her firm in the bike’s saddle-like seat.
As an added treat for his captive guests, Fabian integrated a few real time visual clips of the two bikes and their involuntary occupants in the simulator room. Watching the four nearly naked figures hump and bump across the virtual landscape of Baja California and the Spanish plateau was enough to get anyone off, even if they didn’t have two greasy prongs jumping up and down in their cunt and ass. The four girls endured the long ride, sweating and experiencing one orgasm after another as the bikes slowed and took tight corners, then sped up and sent faster vibrations up from the seats and into their lower bodies. Bibi and Lucy shared the experience with a mixture of shrieks, groans and yelps as the real bike reacted to the dramatic input from the program. On the bigger bike, Groff and Brenda seemed more resistant, more stoic.
The simulator was based on aircraft simulators and was equally sophisticated. It provided realistic movement on five axes:
1. up and down,
2. leaning to either side, (as when in a turn),
3. pitching, (as in sudden acceleration or stopping),
4. yawing, (which was more common to non-wheeled vehicles)
5. and side to side.
Controlled by the unique and custom designed system software, the electric and hydraulic rams and pistons simulated jumps across ravines, the deepest of potholes, washboard surfaces, climbing steep hills and plunging downward grades. Sudden stops at unpredictable moments caused the riders to slide forward in their
leather bonds, pulled the impaling dildoes back and almost out, then slammed them back into their respective hot and greasy homes as the bike took off once again at speed.
The ride reminded Lucy all too well of the sessions with the mechanical horses at the Vermont Riding School and she was already well past the same levels of multiple stimuli-initiated reactions she experienced on the horses. Unlike the horses, the simulated motor cycle had several additional benefits, (if one would call them that). For example, it was always vibrating as long as the motor was on and it was not quite as unpredictable as the horse. The overall effect was the same: the incredibly sensual building of sexual excitement coupled with pain as the twin phalli rattled around in ass and cunt; the sweating, silent swearing, the gut wrenching propulsion to an incredible burst of orgasm followed by the unrelenting continuation upwards without the momentary relief that the horse often provided.
Of course, Bibi and Groff had not experienced the mechanical horse, so they were virgins to this kind of abuse. Lucy involuntarily hugged Bibi’s back and rode and rode, driving the strap-on into Bibi’s tight ass with each bump and stop of the bike, just as the seat-mounted plugs up her ass and cunt did to her.
When it was done, Fabian and his fascinated assistants unstrapped the limp, exhausted figures, carried them back to their closets, tied them tightly from the neck to toe with yards of rope so that only their tits stuck of the out rope wraps, gagged them with simple rubber balls, taped their eyes shut and hung them again from the overhead bars. Investigator Groff reflected that the investigation wasn’t going exactly as she planned.
“Well” she thought. “At least we’re not back in the hanging body cages. This rope wrap thing has got to be good for the muscle tone.”
Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition Page 33
