Retaliation

by Jurgen von Stuka

  “Yes,” said Priscilla, grinning. “I know the routine by now.”

  “Good. I'll have them bound and boxed shortly, so be at the house by noon. And thanks, Pris. I appreciate your help on this one.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Neither mentioned that this was more or less a routine and that Melinda paid Priscilla four thousand dollars in cash each time she made the trip to the western Pennsylvania farm. Priscilla would have done it for a fraction of that sum, but was happy to take Melinda's money and even more delighted to be able to share in the festivities that usually followed, once she delivered her cargo to the farm.

  That detail taken care of, Melinda returned to the basement and once again studied the package She was about to consign to a remote farm She owned several hundred miles away. Both Hank and Dottie lay on their sides, breathing slowly and not moving.

  “Humm…” mused Melinda. “I think a bit more activity is called for.” Saying this, She swung a newly prepared bamboo switch, bringing it down smartly across the twin hemispheres of Dottie's fleshy ass. The result was as Melinda anticipated. Dottie lurched, trying to evade the stinging switch, tugging mercilessly at Hank's package in her mouth and causing the single gloved probes to be pulled out slightly from both tortured asses. As soon as they relaxed slightly, the double ass probes sank back into their dark holes. Both victims screamed muffled screams and Melinda rewarded this performance

  with multiple, alternate strokes on the rolling, twitching rumps on the concrete floor.

  “Dottie,” Melinda said, breathing hard from all of this action. “I know how much you like his cock in your mouth and Hank, ah Hank, I also know that having a big dick down your throat is one of those things you have always said you would not do, so I am trying to accommodate both of you at once. The drive from here to the farm will take several hours, so I hope you'll enjoy it.” Both captives moaned and groaned appropriately in response.

  “That's more like it,” Melinda shouted as She continued to beat the exposed buttocks of her prisoners. “That's what you're here for. Like it? Enjoying each others' company?”

  Her rhetorical questions were answered with a muffled chorus of moans and whimpers. This seemed to placate Melinda, who, now suddenly bored with the action, loaded the twitching pair onto a forklift and dumped them into a waiting steel box that would fit precisely in the Beamer's trunk. The box was locked and lifted, trundled out the cellar entrance and deposited in the waiting car with Priscilla at the wheel. In a few minutes, the box was gone and the car headed down the long driveway, its captives sealed unhappily in the steel box and the trunk. It was to be a long and unpleasant road trip for them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cop In The Pocket

  The farm was, to all appearances, a somewhat disused dairy operation that at one time provided a substantial portion of the milk supply for several dairies in nearby cities. The coming of giant conglomerate corporate dairies destroyed this business and the owners eventually sold the entire property, pastures, barns and two elegant old style farm houses for a ridiculously small sum and moved to the city. Melinda was the new owner. Her first act was to make sure that the property was secure and She did this quietly by reinforcing the electric fences around the pastures and closing off the multiple access trails that the cows had used to get to and from grasslands and the barns. She also saw to it that although the farm appeared to be uninhabited and the buildings disused, the areas She wanted for Her own purposes were carefully upgraded, secured and modernized. Inquiring locals soon discovered that they were unwelcome and the security gates contained video and audio resources that warned any trespassers to keep away. Putting the local police chief in Her pocket proved to be far easier than Melinda imagined. Like all men, the cop was soon infatuated by Melinda’s stunning looks and Her professional medical pedigree that he offered to do anything he could to make Her happy. She obliged by fucking his brains out one quiet winter afternoon while recording the entire assignation with multiple video cameras arranged throughout Her house.

  Early in Her ownership, Melinda made the conscious decision to set an example of Her inhospitality when She had the chief personally arrest three local hunters, charging them with trespassing and malicious vandalism. Part of the charges were correct, but Melinda framed them for the rest and made sure they would stick. The three young men had in fact short-circuited and cut an electric wire fence, entered the property and, while trying to get warm, started a fire in one of the outbuildings. When arrested, the men were charged not only with trespass, but vandalism and robbery. The police found some of Melinda's personal jewelry in their truck and that sealed the case against them. Bringing Her own lawyers into the small county court, Melinda pressed for maximum fines for all three and made certain that the community knew that She would not tolerate any invasion of Her land. Unable to make bail and facing prison sentences, the three got a visit from Melinda's attorney, offering them a deal they could not refuse. All three signed detailed confessions and contracts that essentially made them Melinda's employees for four years. An attractive stipend, payable after the fines and court costs were worked off, was offered and accepted. Thus, the three less than brilliant young men, all in their early twenties and with only high school educations and little promise for a future, left what simple ties they had in the nearby communities and went to work on the farm. Part of the deal was that they would not communicate with anyone outside the farm unless authorized.

  They soon found out that their cell phones didn't work and that there were no land lines available to them. Their quarters, though sparse, were in the basement of the second farmhouse and everything they needed to work and carry on was provided.

  “This is a raw deal. We should have gone to prison,” Kip Andrews, the youngest of the convicted hunters, said one night shortly after the three moved to the farm. “We're prisoners here, aren't we?”

  “It'll get better,” said Eddie, who was happy to be away from his nagging mother whom he had been living with while he worked part time in the feed store.

  “I'm happy with the deal,” said Paul, the oldest, as he leaned against the kitchen table, finishing the pint of ice cream he selected for desert. “We got people waiting on us and we got a free roof over our heads. How bad could it be?”

  “I still don't know what we're supposed to be doing. All of this training shit is driving me nuts,” Kip added. He slammed his fist down on the spiral-bound book he was supposed to be studying. “I just don't get all this technical stuff She's got us learning.”

  “Well,” said Eddie. “We sure as shit better learn it all because the options are not very good.”

  “Yeah,” added Paul. “Off to the real prison in New Boynton or God knows what. And I heard that since it was taken over by private operators it is no longer the easy, relaxed, minimum security dump it used to be. I got a cousin doing five to ten up there and he says the guards would just as soon break your knees as look at you. The infirmary is full all the time and there are no pain drugs, period.”

  “Jesus,” said Eddie.

  “Yeah. Right. Just what is that other option, She keeps talking about, anyway? All they do is use it to threaten us.”

  “Don't make any difference,” said Kip. “We screw up and they can do anything they want and I don't like the looks that that Bitch Melinda gives us. It's like She is sizing us up for taxidermy or something.”

  “Well, I wouldn't mind a piece of her or that Priscilla broad either,” said Kip, visualizing Priscilla in one of her leather outfits that always seemed just a size or two too small for her tightly rounded ass and big boobs.

  “I don't know. This whole thing just doesn't seem right. And why can't we have beer anyway?” Eddie added.

  “Because, asshole, we are being punished. Don't you get it? If you weren't here, you'd be in some cell upstate with some Mexican dick up your ass and a tattoo on your arms saying ‘fuck me,’” Paul said.

  At that moment, a voice they all knew a
s Priscilla's came over the intercom. “Lights out. Ten o'clock. Busy day tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

  “Fuck you,” Eddie yelled at the speaker. But, as he turned to walk the few short steps to his single bunk he was surprised to hear and see the main door to their area burst open and Priscilla and three of her security team rush in.

  “Oh shit,” was the only thing Eddie got out of his mouth before the taser hit him in the chest. He fell backwards onto the floor, twitching and foaming at the mouth while the security team directed the other two men into their beds.

  “Insolence is not tolerated here. Ever,” Priscilla shouted. “You have been treated fairly and you have responded with disrespect, so now we institute penalty level one. For all of you. If one of you violates the rules, you all pay. Strip. Now.”

  “Huh?” said Paul, looking at Kip, who was already pulling down his unbelted pants and tearing off his shirt, not wanting anything to do with the taser or the Billy clubs each security woman carried. In a few seconds, all three, including the doubled up Eddie, lay on the cold concrete floor, their hands and feet cuffed and bodies arranged in a tight hogtie.

  “Any sounds, anything, we hear from you tonight will get you level two and I can promise you it will not be pleasant. Now shut up and go to sleep. Last and only warning.”

  The Four women trooped out of the door, bolted it and turned out the lights. No one in the room said a word.

  “What do you think?” Melinda asked Priscilla a few minutes later in the small security office that was the control location for most of the farm's operations.

  “They're just testing us,” said Priscilla. “If we push them, we'll get results and you'll have your guinea pigs.”

  Melinda nodded and left, taking the short underground tunnel that led from the control room to the main house. She decided not to look in on Hank that night and went to bed early; knowing that the next day would be busy.

  The main house had been transformed into a pleasant country home with its own diesel power generators, green house and comfortable living quarters. The adjoining building, originally a house for the owner's parents, was totally renovated and became what appeared to be a medical facility with laboratories and storage areas for whatever purpose Melinda had in mind. The basement held the storage facilities and quarters for guests like the three new hands.

  When She designed the facilities, Melinda wanted a place where She could do pretty much as She wished without being disturbed. Hank and Dottie became Her first unwilling tenants. Megan Jones, an old friend and trusted lab assistant of Melinda's, was in charge of the entire farm and it was into Megan's evil hands that Melinda committed Her former husband and the witless, cock-sucking blond, Dottie. Their stay at the farm was anything but pleasant.

  Initially, the two naked and suffering prisoners were separated and placed in two concrete storage cells containing a foam pallet and a modern waterless, combustion toilet. Lights were in the ceiling behind barred fixtures and the single metal door was barely large enough for a single body to fit through. Dottie was chained by her neck to a heavy ring on the wall opposite the door, her wrists in thick steel manacles behind her back. Similar shackles held her ankles close together. On her head, she wore a heavy metal brank that pressed pads against her eyes and kept a fat ball gag in her mouth. When the lights in the cell were turned out, the eye pads were released and sprung back, away from her eyes, so even when she could see, she saw nothing but solid blackness and the occasional sliver of light around the doorframe. The gag could be removed, as it was twice a day, so that whatever tasteless glop Megan's cook prepared could be shoved unceremoniously down her throat. Dottie's fruitless attempts to resist this forced feeding resulted in Megan and her crew assembling a small triangular steel frame in the tight confines of the cell and mounting Dottie on it, with her brank bolted to the peak of the tripod, ankles splayed outward to the front corners and hands pulled back and locked to the rear leg. Once they tightened up all the restraints, Dottie was unable to move anything except her fingers and toes. The ball gag was removed and replaced by a large cylindrical syringe. A prescribed amount of nutritional material was inserted into the back of the syringe, the top, with its plunger, was screwed on and the stinking mixture pumped into Dottie's open mouth. This procedure was immediately recognized by Dottie as unacceptable, but she was unable to say or do anything until the requisite time of punishment was over. By then, she was not only exhausted from the onerous restraint and force-feeding, but disgusted with the sanitary situation which amounted to a bucket placed under her spread legs and conveniently left there for twenty-Four hours. Needless to say that by the time she was released, Dottie was fully cooperative with the normal feeding from the dog dish shoved through the panel in the bottom of the cell door and she made sure the dish was sparkling clean when it was later retrieved and her gag put back in place. It was some time before Dottie began to suspect that whatever she was being fed contained drugs that were doing some odd things to her body.

  In another underground cell on the other side of the building, far from Dottie, Hank was similarly bound. He wore the same kind of headpiece as Dottie and was chained the same way. Unlike Dottie, he was more than familiar enough with Melinda's ways. He knew that it was pointless to resist anything that was done to him and he ate what was provided, even though he would have preferred something more substantial. In essence, Hank was acclimated to his new station in life and was simply surviving while, as in Dottie’s case, strange things were happening to his body. Sometimes he awoke on his pallet in the cell, certain that he must have slept for much longer than a few hours. Since there was no way to tell time, he never knew the time of day or the date. At some point, he was aware of sutures and scars that he knew were new, but the combination of his mind being scrambled and the condition of these scars was such that he wondered exactly how long he had been out. His eventual conclusion was that Melinda was performing surgery on him while he was unconscious and that She often kept him in some coma-like state while he recovered. In time, even without his sight, Hank became certain that Melinda was altering his gender.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Holly’s Debut

  One evening, about three years after Hank's unfortunate demise, Melinda assembled a few of Her closest friends for an elaborate dinner party in the city house. She told them that She had a special threat for them after dinner. Attired in whatever soft and revealing lounging outfits they chose, Melinda’s gay, straight, bi-sexual, transgender and lesbian guests spread out comfortably in several chairs and couches in Her newly refurnished Great Room, the members of the Masonville Woman's Social Club, (the exclusive gathering, generally feared by local males and much envied by non-member females, MWSC), chatted and discussed what Melinda's newest achievement might be.

  The wine glasses were full, the twin stone fireplaces burned some heavy oak logs to a deeply red coals and everyone relaxed after a grand dinner. Melinda deliberately set the scene for what could have been a nineteen fifties horror movie. Finally, the lights dimmed and the music from the concert-level entertainment center dropped in volume. The guests cocked their ears as they thought they heard a strange sound coming from the hallway. It sounded like some ghost was dragging its chains up the cellar stairs and down the hall. It was creepy. The music, some equally electrifying organ concerto played at speed perhaps by some demented scientist/musician, slowly swelled as the sound of chains drew nearer. A spotlight pinpointed a single figure as it emerged from the hall. Draped from head to toe in black, with only her eyes visible, a tall, lithesome woman entered the room. From her gloved left hand trailed a thin silver chain.

  At the end of the chain came a nearly naked woman bound in silver chains, wearing only a tiny silver thong and a pair of silver heels with straps that also served as cuffs to her multiple chains. She was reasonably tall with long, carefully coifed, dark brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and hid much of her face and most of the black leather gag across her mouth. She stood erec
t, but her shoulders were a bit rounded as if she was somewhat embarrassed by her small breasts and afraid of being put on display in such a fashion.

  Despite their small size, her breasts were well formed and weighted with heavy silver rings on the nipples, which were fully erect. Twin chains descended from the ringed nipples to the front of the thong, disappearing behind the silver material which was, everyone noted, a surprisingly full and puffed outward slightly, indicating that perhaps Melinda had, as She often did, punished the girl's sex so often that it remained swollen for days. A second option that more than one guest visualized was that behind the silver thong was an imbedded dildo with an exterior base holding its batteries.

  Other guests also postulated in their head that this G-string probably hid an electronic device of some sort, embedded deep in the girl's pussy. Knowing Melinda as they all did, such an appliance would be normal for anyone She kept as a pet or toy. Over the years, the MWSC had been introduced to several of Her acquisitions, each different from the last, each totally dedicated and, if you thought about it, corrupted to Melinda's esoteric, erotic and somewhat arcane life style. From the college boys She “adopted” and trained to perform seemingly endless cunnilingus on Her or any member of the club, to the pretty and somewhat voluptuous, blond, grade school teacher who came to the town for only one season and then vanished into Melinda's cellar, the MWSC membership admired and understood Melinda, happy to share in Her interests. Anyone who had second thoughts about what went on at the farm seemed to sort of fade from favor and eventually just moved away from Masonville.

  The girl's waist, accented by a wide silver and leather cincher, was small enough to be admirable, but not so narrow as to appear to have been surgically altered, as it indeed had been. The legs were smoothly muscled and in excellent proportion to the rest of the body. There was no fat, no cellulite, no fold or wrinkle anywhere on the lightly tanned, youthful figure. She was led by a heavy chromed chain attached to her nipple rings and her collar. Guided by the black-robed handler, she walked slowly with her arms chained behind her back and pulled upwards to just below the jeweled, silver collar.