Never a dull Moment

Continued from: Fire & Ice

In the dimly lit basement of Cassandra and Carley's Coventry townhouse, the air thick with the scent of leather and female arousal, a symphony of tortured moans and muffled screams filled the room. As a centerpiece, perched precariously atop a wicked wooden pony, was a naked young woman, her body trembling with agony as the weight of her petite frame pressed down upon the edged wood of the device. Her most sensitive areas - her delicate pussy and tender asshole - bore the brunt of her body weight. 

A bit gag had been forced between her teeth, rendering her cries for mercy into little more than pathetic, drooling whimpers, while electrodes attached to her stiffened nipples, delivered intermittent shocks. Tears streamed down her face, smearing her carefully applied makeup and leaving streaks of mascara trailing down her flushed cheeks. 

As the pitiful moans and choked cries of the woman on the pony faded into the background, becoming little more than white noise, Cassandra turned her attention to her next victim - a pale-skinned Irish lass with fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose. The girl was bound to a whipping frame, wearing only stockings, her porcelain skin glowing like moonlight in the dimly lit dungeon.

"Now then, my pretty little bitch," Cassandra purred, circling the spread and bound woman, a riding crop twirling ominously in her hands. "I understand that you've been sent here by your husband? Is that true?" 

The girl nodded miserably, her lower lip quivering as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes, Mistress," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the muffled cries of the woman on the pony. "I've been arguing with my husband, talking back to him when he tries to discipline me. I know I've been bad, and I want to be better. Please, Mistress, help me learn my place." 

Cassandra smiled indulgently, reaching out to strokes the girl's bum cheeks which already bore some fiery welts. "Of course, my dear," she said, her voice laced with false sympathy. "That's why you're here isn't it? To learn the true meaning of obedience and submission. And I promise you, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect, docile little wife your husband deserves."

The girl yelped in pain, her body jerking against her restraints as a vivid red welt bloomed across her pale bottom. 

"Count them," Cassandra commanded, her voice hardening as she prepared to deliver another stroke. "And thank me for each one." 

As Cassie attended to her whipping, close-by, another scene of debauchery was unfolding. There, bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight, stood Carley - a striking vision of tattoos and piercings, her lean, slender body clad in nothing but stiletto boots and a harness of black straps that accentuated her every curve and contour. 

Around her waist, protruding obscenely from between her legs, was a massive strap-on dildo, its thick shaft glistening with male saliva as it bobbed menacingly in the air. Kneeling before her, was a man dressed in the trashy attire of a streetwalker - fishnet stockings, a leopard-print skirt, and a halter top with falsies. His lips were stretched around the tip of the cock, his cheeks hollowing with each desperate suck as Carley gripped his head with both hands, using his throat like a cheap fuckhole. 

Beside them, standing rigidly at attention and possibly impaled anally on some bondage apparatus, was a second man. A ball gag filled his mouth, reducing his protests to only grunts. Over his eyes, a blindfold rendered him completely helpless, unable to see the degrading spectacle that certainly awaited him. But even without the use of his senses, he was acutely aware of his displayed state and the humiliation he was being subjected to - for encasing his limp, useless cock, was a bright purple chastity cage. 

I knew there was never a dull moment at the Facility U.K. I knew I would be interrupting something insidious, but as Summer and I sat huddled together in the cozy cabin, our minds still reeling from the events of the day, I picked up the phone to call Cassie. 

"Hello, darling," I said, forcing a smile that I hoped would translate through the phone. "How are things across the pond?" But before Cassandra could respond, I heard a chorus of sounds in the background - muffled whimpers, pleas for mercy, and the unmistakable crack of a whip against flesh, it was clear she had a few "guests" over. 

"Oh, you know me, Ma'am," Cassandra replied breezily, her voice dripping with amusement. "Always keeping busy, always finding new ways to torment my lovely pets. But enough about me - tell me about your romantic little retreat, is my favourite little biotch, Summer, looking after you? She better be, that little tart." 

I hesitated, unsure of how to even begin explaining the horrific turn our trip had taken. But before I could muster the words, Summer took the phone from my hand, her own voice shaking with emotion as she spoke. 

"Cass, something terrible has happened," she said, as tears spilled down her cheeks. "There was a fire - Russ and Sarah's house burned down, and Russell...he's in the hospital. They won't let him breathe on his own yet, Cass. It's really bad." 

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "A fire?" Cassandra repeated, her hand reaching for the wall to steady her weakening knees. 

"Russell is in the hospital? Oh my god, I'm coming home. Right now. 

I'll be on the next flight out. 

Tell Andrea I'm coming home!" 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Lump in the Throat