“Ah, Marianne,” said a male voice behind her. She turned to see Graf Salmon and his chained and hooded assistant enter the chamber, dropping two leather satchels on the stone floor as they walked up to stand along side Marianne, surveying her now quaking figure as though perhaps it was a statue that needed some repairs. “How kind of you to arrange to leave your little cagelet and join us,” Salmon added, a bit of sarcasm in his voice.
“Please,” Marianne began, her voice shaking. “I have already said that I’ll do as you wish. No matter what, if I can.”
“Indeed, you have and you will,” said Salmon. “But this episode in the play is for our amusement, not yours. Gag her well,” he said to the assistant. “I have had more than enough yelling and screaming already today,” he added. “What you perhaps have already understood is that your presence here is for more than just tormenting you. At the top of the list for things to be accomplished is your total acceptance of our domination of you, physically and mentally. But,” The Graf continued. “There is also the goal of your eventually adapting to these things we do to you and in the end anticipating and welcoming them. Strange as that sounds, it is the focus of much that we do here. Once you begin to find yourself begging to be whipped, caned or impaled we will encourage that mind set. Spending hours or days tightly confined, unable to move to speak, hear or see will become as normal as walking or eating for you. And finally,” Salmon added, “you are here to amuse us. A toy to be used as we desire. I am not sure you actually ever understood that when you signed on, but in time that too will become imbedded in your head.”
As the gag was being fitted, the pair of springy, cold metal bands were aligned with her nipples. These horrible steel spring circular bands, lined with teeth that bit into breast flesh like tiny bits of hot coal, were slowly slipped past each extended nipple and then closed around the base of the breast. Her nipple rings were attached to thin cables running to posts a few meters in front of her. The cables had weights attached to them and the nipple rings slowly pulled the breasts outward as more and more weight joined the end of the cable. Marianne’s excellent breasts became elongated and the metal bands slowly slid backward over the stretched breast flesh, compressing the tissue and moving painfully, with assistance from Salmon and the assistant, until they were firmly situated against Marianne’s heaving chest.
The position was untenable, but there was nothing she could do except bend her knees and when she did that, the tension on her tits became even more intolerable. So she stood while the bands were tightened around the base of each breast and then the weights and cables were removed. The imbedded rings remained, attached to her hard and lengthened nips, waiting for the next episode in her training to begin.
Chapter Twenty Two
Chef
“You’ll have to sweat the fat off her.
She has what used to be a very svelte, youngish body.”
The Center, as it was called, was actually a busy and legitimate working factory. The upper and underground floors, and those deeper below, contained the training areas. The main floors were devoted to real offices, shipping, receiving, storage and various production shops. As far as the state of Bavaria was concerned, this was a small industrial operation making or modifying a wide range of digital electronics. The small amount of environmental concerns from this operation were easily dealt with by the local inspectors and all licenses and permits were always found to be in superb order. The employee restaurant, run by a former three star Michelin chef who had, over many years, grown tired of ignorant but wealthy patrons who had always wanted things done their way instead of the way he had always done them to glean the coveted three stars. Finally, when one Michelin inspector told him that he might very well lose a star or even two unless he, as they put it, “moved into the twenty-first century” and abandoned treasured practices such as serving several flambéed dishes tableside, dressing all service personnel in white tie and tails, serving with white gloves from silver grays and offering menus that did not have hamburgers or pizza on them, he up and quit.
The people who bothered him most were the new rich who assumed that because they had money, they could dine at his restaurant in any attire they wanted, rudely ordering staff about and demanding that dishes from the menu be altered to suit their personal desires.
When George, the Master Chef, left his restaurant, he phoned Graf Salmon, an old friend and client with three requests: first, that they offer him a job cooking for any company the Graf owned.
Salmon said, “indeed, yes. Of course, whenever you’re ready. Come and design your rooms and kitchen. We’ll build whatever you want. Live here on the premises and do whatever you like. You are welcome, always.”
Second, George asked if the Graf could arrange for the most offensive and rude of his customers, one Brenda Blau Blitz, to be quietly abducted and interred in the mission’s “training facility.”
Again, Graf Salmon said: “Of course. Just give us particulars and we’ll do the rest. The bitch will vaporize and never be seen or heard from again outside the walls of our compound. Is she salable?”
“Salable? Of course. She’s all of maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, has more money than the Pope and has managed to piss off most of the Relais and Chateaux community for these last few years since her father died and she inherited far too much money. You’ll have to sweat the fat off her, but at the bottom is what used to be a very svelte, youngish body. Her sole purpose is to show up at a top restaurant unannounced, demand the best table and spend the evening driving the entire property crazy with rudeness, noise and improprieties no one should have to tolerate. She carries a lot of weight with some officials and has inside tracks with a few hotel and property owners. She can and does make our lives miserable.”
“Can do, with pleasure and extreme delight, my friend. And your third request?” Graf Salmon said, enjoying the moment, because he had once been unfortunate enough to witness Blitz’ behavior in a well known Frankfurt restaurant that offered not only top star cuisine, but also had a theater where major productions were offered. Blitz made a spectacle of herself that night to the point where the police had to be summoned, the show stopped and the screaming lunatic woman dragged out of the theater. The entire incident was based on Blitz not liking the seats she was provided with, despite management’s multiple offers to move her to another location.
“Finally, my dear Graf,” George said quietly, “there’s a duo team from Michelin who the EU Chef’s Council has agreed are destroying our business. They award stars to idiot TV cookers who can barely boil an egg, but who have this following of arrogant fools who think they can go into our properties dressed like, well, dressed like indigent Americans, and get served. T-shirts, shorts, sandals, unkempt hair and no discretion. We want them gone and we will pay for that in spades. Can you arrange for them to come and stay with you at the far country farm indefinitely?”
“George, my friend, consider it done. It won’t happen at once because we must plan so it looks like an accident and within the normal events of the time, but it will happen and you can then cook for them here, if you wish. We don’t want the disappearances to be connected, but it will happen.”
Chef George’s cuisine was fine enough to make committed gourmets cry and it was good enough by any standard to entice the occasional government official or inspector to schedule factory visits at mid day, just in time to accept the plant director’s invitation to join him for a grand meal and excellent wines.
Graf Salmon set to planning to bring George’s wishes to fruition. He figured that training and selling Blitz alone would cover his costs.
Two floors below, in what was supposedly the building’s original foundation, a modern, efficient training and holding area functioned without anyone except the operators even knowing it existed. The limited work force came and went through the main floor workshops and were seen simply as researchers and maintenance personnel. It was a smooth-running, efficient operation that produced a speci
alized, well-trained product. When products were shipped, it was usually at night after the main building had shut down for the day. Packages were prepped and sent away in unmarked vans and larger vehicles that arrived on a tight schedule and left within a quarter hour or less. The consigned cargo was usually a digitally controlled freezer, refrigerator or repaired computer main frame destined for some hush-hush government or private agency that didn’t want any exposure and found the company to be most effective at maintaining security and privacy.
In one of the firm’s insulated, soundproofed rooms on the lowest level, Sydney Price was learning about her mission. Bundled out of her Frankfurt hotel room weeks before and shipped securely to this location, Syd endured a series of training cycles that left her nearly completely trained and ready for her missions of robbing couriers. Mentally and physically, as far as the firm was concerned, she was almost ready. She was held in strict restraints, in the tiny cell whenever she was not being directly subjected to her training. The “uniform” she wore varied from time to time, but normally she sat, knelt or lay in the stone confinement cell with her chained hands high on her back, connected to her neck collar and a stout waist chain with a single length connected to her shackled feet. At times, they added additional chains to her legs just above the knee and to her upper arms just above the elbow joints. At other times, she wore a metal frame harness that encircled her upper body and held her arms and wrists immobile behind her back with adjustments that allowed her arms to be twisted and raised upward at her shoulder blades until her hands were locked into a backward prayer position. Her mouth, rectum and pussy were often stuffed with diabolically creative devices that kept her wide awake and constantly on the verge of orgasm. At other times, they simply left her minimally chained, but in a way that she could not use her hands for anything other than to scratch her own back or ass. Her body adapted to this inhumane treatment exactly as her captors and trainers knew it would.
Their success rate with similar women was about sixty-five percent. They were able to dispose of those who failed by selling these outcasts in a highly lucrative slave market that reached around the globe, based on the Internet and the multiple social networking sites which also, incidentally, provided about ninety-five percent of their leads for new recruits. Some subjects came willingly, fascinated by the fantasy prospect of heavy bondage, slavery and torture. Others, like Syd, were simply caught by The System’s dragnet that was always casting about for new material. Thus, the “project” to recruit the Brenda Blau Blitz bitch and the Michelin perverts was an entertaining and small matter for the Graf and his crew.
Thus, Salmon spent nearly an hour lecturing key team members about the supposed sanctity of Michelin and its sainted star system.
“The so-called Michelin star system has been perverted from its original purpose, which was to help discriminating diners find dependable and acceptable restaurants. In the beginning, there were pitifully few properties chosen and most were in France. The rest of this huge industry eventually fought back by instituting their own star system. To go one better, they awarded themselves one to five, not three, stars, with five being the best.
“They did this by setting up programs in each country with their own judges and evaluation program. Customers were then and since remain confused when a restaurant says they have four of even five stars, because the question of ‘under what system?’ is seldom asked. Later both programs incorporated hotels. Like any qualitative rating program, in time, both systems degenerated, sometimes because of simple neglect and at times because of corruption and greed. Today, discriminating diners and hotel guests tend to look elsewhere for fair and honest evaluations. Have no concerns about this mission. Your target is a vicious, greedy woman who the world can easily go without.”
Blitz disappeared one Spring afternoon in a tiny West German village near the Luxemburg-German border after she and her escort embarrassed and insulted everyone from the chef/owner to the dish washer at the remarkably remote, three star country inn. The owner, well aware of the considerable bounty on Blitz’ red head, placed a discreet phone call to The Graf and things quickly evolved as the two obese fools indulged in a seven course luncheon with paired wines. As the trio finally waddled out the front door leaving chaos and tears behind, they discovered that their Mercedes 500S limousine was parked at the end of the front parking area and they were being shown to a waiting Sprinter van instead.
“Where the fuck is our car,” Blitz screamed in her usual officious tone.
“Unfortunately, your car was found to have mechanical problems and thus the leasing company is furnishing this upgraded, luxury vehicle for you at no additional charge,” the gorgeous, primly uniformed driver said, bowing deeply as she opened the sliding side door of the black van.
“There sure as shit won’t be ANY charge. I didn’t ask for this bus,” Blitz responded, stumbling into the dark interior and squinting as she looked for a seat. She discovered instead two hooded, black-clad women who pulled her to the floor, strapped her arms and legs and slipped a strange, stock-like metal collar around her neck. Struggling in a hopelessly inebriated manner, Blitz was gagged with a turkey drumstick-shaped rubber plug that filled her mouth and part of her throat, shutting her up permanently. The twin captors attached the base of the stock-like collar to a fitting between the front seats of the van, leaving Blitz to stare at the dashboard while her ankles were cuffed and bolted to the floor behind her.
“That is how you’ll be traveling for the next forty-eight hours, Miss Bitch, so settle down and enjoy the ride,” said one of the twin women in black.
Meanwhile, outside the van, the Michelin couple, suspecting foul play, backed away only to be nabbed by two more black uniformed women who snapped cuffs on two pairs of wrists and guided the unwilling couple into the back of the van, using the rear doors.
“Stay quiet and behave yourselves and we won’t hurt you. It’s her we want and you two are just unfortunate collateral that we’ll release unharmed later,” the taller of the abductors whispered into the struggling man’s ear.
“What’s’ going on here?” the pompous man from Michelin in the Bermuda shorts and sandals blustered, twisting his head as a large bulb gag was forced into this mouth. He swiveled his head left and right, scanning the dark interior of the van and just barely making out the exposed pantiless butt of Blitz who was firmly subdued on the floor with her head in the stock collar.
The third member for the team was no trouble and soon found herself cuffed and strapped on the van’s carpeted floor, with a collar around her neck and a short chain joining it to the floor. She accepted the gag and blindfold almost willingly and then lay there immobilized with her steeple-heeled feet pulled up behind her and joined to her cuffed wrists. One of the abductors remarked later that it almost seemed like she wanted to be stringently bound.
Both of the Michelin team, now inside the van and subdued, would soon discover the price of hanging around with Blitz who destined for several months of pony training, once the fat was removed.
Swiftly, the limo driver and her assistant locked up the van and drove away. The second team took over the original limo and followed behind the van, headed for Frankfurt and then destinations further east. With the inn’s staff waving an unfond goodbye from the doorway, the limo and van pulled away, taking the annoying threesome elsewhere for the rest of their lives.
Graf Salmon phoned Chef George later that day, informing him that his wishes had been fully addressed and that his problems with the Michelin Three were over.
As fate would have it, the Michelin man was summarily sold off to a gang of Bedouins in Central Asia and fetched a small, but adequate sum, considering his age and lack of any useful skills. His days of evaluating and criticizing hotels and restaurants were over. He’d spend the rest of his life serving his ungrateful masters and perhaps, eventually, become their dinner.
Blitz got the usual treatment at the Graf’s mansion. Three levels below ground, she was intr
oduced to what her captors laughingly referred as the “Stuffing Diet,” which, they told her, was guaranteed to take the pounds quickly off while she explored the shrinking interior dimensions of one of the many special cages that featured the Triple Stuffing process: i.e. a giant plug up her ass, another in her cunt and a third in her foul mouth. A month of this treatment resulted in the Bitch’s losing considerable weight while her private cage adapted nicely to the reduction in her bulk. Based on designs perhaps first created in the 10th or 12th century and later included in the many erotic graphic novels by Georges Pichard, the enclosure was simply reduced with the top and sides moved inward. The unyielding metal bars under her shrinking belly continued to hold her poised on her aching, dimpled knees and the forward bars pressed her neck down until her nose touched the barred floor so that she was able to totally engulf the third plug in her now silent mouth.
The third member of the group, the Michelin woman, was discovered to be very attractive and smart enough to be initiated into one of the Graf’s training programs. Eventually, she was placed in a field position where she discovered that the route to a moderately painless life from then on was to go with the flow and rob couriers in return for a bed and cell of her own. She found this alternative life style not all that different than depriving honest hoteliers and restaurant proprietors of a decent living by arbitrarily criticizing their products.
The System worked flawlessly. Everyone was engaged.
Most were happy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Couriers Page 16
