Syndicate #1

2

#2

Experimentation

Hassan rages in this breath as he tries to make sense of his situation. All he remembers is sleeping on the hotel bed, before he opened his eyes to see shadows moving in his room. His next instinct was to call for help, but a hand immediately presses over his mouth, before more hands follow suit to prevent further movements. He feels a stab of pain at his neck, before his world goes dark.

When he is conscious again, Hassan finds his eyes blindfolded and his wrists bind together, possibly handcuffed. He is placed in a rather uncomfortable angle against the seat of a car, which is currently moving on the road. The young man hyperventilate, suspecting that he has been kidnapped. Nearby, he can hear the voices of his captors, discussing their next plan on him.

“—but this is not part of the plan. What are we supposed to do?” asks a female voice. Her voice is shrilling, though there’s something sexy about the way she pronounces each syllable.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too late to bring her back. We’re already here. Let’s just hope that Chief won’t mind an extra subject,” answers another woman in a hoarse British accent.

“W-who are you people?” Hassan finds himself asking despite the fear creeping up inside him.

“Oh, great, he’s awake,” the British mumbles in slight irritation.

“It’s okay ‘hun, just don’t be loud and we won’t hurt you . . . much,” Shrilly chuckles in dark humor. He swallows hard at this.

“You sure we won’t need to inject him again?”

“I’m just kidding. Of course we should,” is the last thing he hears, before he feels the same stab of pain, feeling the injection travelling into his system.

When Hassan is back again, he hears not just two, but three set of voices.

“—good, bring them to the gyno chairs. Put the woman at the back. We’ll start with her later,” mutters a seductive woman’s voice. How can one voice sounds so delicate and deep at the same time? This woman is born to own it. When she speaks, she has this certain tinge of European accent that he can’t put a finger to.

“I want him changed. These garbs won’t do. Get him prepared.”

Sound of movements. There are at least more than one person walking nearby. The footsteps grow closer, but then grow distant just as fast. This repeats for several times, giving him a notion that they might be walking past him, or around him. Seconds later, he can feel hands touching him, removing his clothes. Hassan wants to protest, but he suddenly finds that his body has frozen, still very much vast asleep. He tries to speak up, but there’s no strength in his throat. The muscles just refuse to budge.

And so he is forced to allow these women undress him. He knows that they are females, because their hands are small and the tips of their fingers are soft and cool to the touch. His temperature raises a little bit, his body not used to being in contact with women. Someone is pulling his top past his head, while another is undoing his pants. It takes everything within him not to freak out right there and then — being paralyzed by drugs help out in a way.

“Hey, check this out,” British speaks up, amused. Someone slips her finger around the band of the alluring pink panties that he still wore to sleep.

“Our guy’s a pervert. Nothing new,” Shrilly comments, before chuckling, “but, interesting choice of color.” The British joins in and they share a laughter.

Hassan’s cheeks flame up, and he wonders if they are taking any notice. This is so embarrassing. But then again, how would he know not to wear this piece of lace to sleep, when he hadn’t even expect to be kidnapped like this. But nothing is much more embarrassing than hearing the next order.

“Those gotta go,” says third voice authoritatively.

Hands go to the band of his panties, thankfully quickly, sliding the material down his legs until he can’t feel it anymore. The women do nothing to cover him up. This lasts for a few seconds.

They replace his clothes with a thin, slightly grainy robes, which doesn’t cover him completely. He can feel cold air gently brushing at his back and legs. That seems to be the only coverage he’ll be given, because they’re not putting anything else on him. Well, except for the blindfold and the thin robes, he’s nearly naked.

When they are done, they place him back into what feels like a chair. But the back reclines way too low, and it is not until they begin lifting his legs up that panic begins to set in again. The position causes more air to travel to his skin, more specifically his nether region. The cold air troubles him, and he can feel himself growing hard against the challenges that this new environment provides.

“Make sure everything is measured up. I want numbers in detail,” the same commanding voice says, and somehow Hassan can tell that this is their boss, some sort.

Someone is typing at a keyboard next to him, before the sounds of machines soon follow, moving around him. He doesn’t feel anything touching him, until another needle sinks into one of his arms. Hassan groans inwardly, though his body remains lying still from the outside.

“—name Hassan. Age 20. Arabic. Blood type, O positive.” It takes him a few seconds before he realizes what the woman is reading out loud. “Eye color, brown. Weight, 65 kilograms. Height, 174 centimeters,” Shrilly finishes.

“I need more info on him,” Boss Lady says.

“But this is all the standard requirement usually covers,” British replies, puzzled.

“Measures his feet.”

“Feet?” someone mutters under her breath, but they do as they’re asked anyway. The machine moves again, but no needle this time.

“26 centimeters length from heel to toe,” pauses, “and 10.5 centimeters width for the sole.”

“And the toes?”

“You want us to measure his . . . toes?” Shrilly asks, hesitating.

“Come on, Margot. Just do as she says,” British tells her friend.

Margot. Nice to finally put a name to that sexy shrilling voice. It’s unique, and sounds fitting for some reasons.

The women do as they are asked, giving the information Boss Lady wants, before she speaks again. “Great, let’s commence the test now.” Is that amusement he detects from her tone? “Focus on his feet.”

Hassan can feel his heart speeding up at this. Someone wearing rubber gloves touch his chest briefly. In correspond to that, the monitor he didn’t realize is placed at his right side, the opposite side to the keyboard to his left, starts beeping up. He needs to quickly calm down real soon if he doesn’t want them to notice that he’s awake. Somehow, he has a feeling that something worse is going to happen if they know he’s not as unconscious as his still limp body may appear.

The two ladies get to work. Margot traces her glove covered hand against the sole of his left feet, rubbing up and down. At the right side, British is copying her friend’s movement. Instead of going down, the machine beeps even faster this time.

“We must be doing something right,” British comments, sounding impressed on herself. Despite still having his vision covered, he can tell that she’s smirking from the other side.

“Cara. Less talk, more intimacy, please,” Boss Lady says. Not commanding this time, just reminding British in a friendly way.

“Yes, Boss,” Cara replies, her hoarse voice even more obvious this time.

The ladies begin trailing their glove covered fingers to different areas of his feet, each in different pacing. He just wishes that they would just remove their gloves, just so that he can feel the way their delicate hands running through his feet. Wait, what is he thinking? His kidnappers are touching him against his will. How can he possibly want this? Though if their looks are as appealing as the sound of their voices, Hassan thinks he won’t really mind this so much. Their hands quickly soothes his mind, and it won’t be long before he succumbs to the sensation.

Their hands trail paths to the sole of his feet, going around and around until someone becomes curious slips her finger in between his toes, causing his body to jolt in response. “Woah,” Cara sounds impressed, watching Margot drawing out reactions from the supposedly unconscious man.

“Nice reaction. I should do the same,” Cara comments, before doing exactly just that, slipping her finger in between his toes in a much faster pace, trailing back and forth. The heart rate machine keeps on beeping faster, indicating the turmoil in Hassan’s mind. Pretty soon, it won’t be long before the women notice the tent that’s building underneath the cover.

His legs ache, his muscles tensing. They are teasing him in the area that he is most sensitive over, and he can’t keep his body from reacting as it is programmed to do.

“Look at how much Feet Guy sweats,” Margot comments teasingly.

“For once, I’m glad Boss insists that we follow uniform regulation,” Cara adds.

They are just so good with their hands, his half flaccid p***s turns into a full hard on in a matter of seconds.

“Woah, look who’s awake,” Cara says teasingly, before he can feel someone cupping a hand in between his legs. The contact struct him so hard, he’s afraid he might c*m at any second. Hassan is gasping for air now, and not just inwardly.

“Physical reaction indicates that pressure points have been detect,” Margot informs their boss.

“Do you think Boss gonna ask us to measure this thing too?” Cara asks in a serious tone, while her hand is still wrapped around his engorged c**k.

Ignoring her friend, Margot adds, ““Pay attention to the reaction compared when his genital is touched,” someone tucks his cover down so a gloved hand is full on wrapped around his length, “and when someone is rubbing his feet—”

Margot is cut short when they hear Cara squalls, her hold on the d**k immediately loosens as she probably tries to clean his c*m off her face.

Hassan doesn’t really mean to do do it. But someone is touching his feet, and in the spur of the moment, he finds himself shooting his c*m straight to the woman hovering above him, which turns out to be none other than Cara.

The woman lets out a string of curses, before throwing her friend an accusing tone. “Margot, what the heck? A little warning next time?” She coughs. It seems Hassan did more than just shoots his c*m to her. He might have hit her face, and some possibly her mouth have accumulated in her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I must have triggered something equivalent to a G-spot on this guy’s feet,” Margot quickly apologies. “This is something that I’d tried showing you,” she talks to her boss again.

Hassan’s heart rate is still beeping fast, and loud, but it is making it’s way back to recovery. Slowly. His heart rate won’t go down while someone is still touching him by the feet.

He can’t tell who is doing what any more. With darkness still surrounding him completely, Hassan can only focus on the touches at his bare feet. They are probably still examining him, for all he knows, but he can’t bring himself to care about their motive. All he can think about is their hands on him, which increasingly brings more pleasure that centers at his groin.

The second time he cums might not be as accidental as the first one. He can feel himself shooting out jets of semen, this time the “interval” — as Margot calls it — is longer than before. Gushes of hot liquid trails from his still rigid hard on. His breath is huskier than before. If these women continue to touch his feet, there’s no say when this delicious torture will end.

“Margot, Cara, I’ve got an idea,” Boss Lady speaks after being silent for most of the time, “Try to give oral on his feet.” His d**k stirs at her words. The two ladies sucks their breathes — shocked from which revelation, Hassan has no idea. Maybe both.

“Is she for real?” Cara whispers closely, low enough so that Boss Lady can’t hear.

“I don’t like this either, but she could have asked for something much worse,” Margot replies, mumbling under her breath.

“Let’s just get this over and done with,” Cara groans.

Movements. Each woman holds a leg of his in her hands, moving slightly to position themselves better, before a pair of warmth tongue brushes against the tip of his toes.

Holy f**k! Hassan is delirious now. Lust combined with drugs are such a powerful mix that it causes his insides to twist erratically. The first touch of their tongues feel like a jolt of electricity, which echoes through the rest of his body. They are so good at this, he can feel himself leaking with pre-c*m. They are so good, it makes him wish that his body can just move already. Or have his blindfolds removed, so that he can at least watch.

Not even he himself can achieve this kind of pleasure. They’ve introduced him to a new level of heightened pleasure. Having women touching him is surely much more effective compared to doing the pleasuring himself. If he had known that it would be this good, he would have braved himself to try and seek out an opportunity like this more.

“You like this, don’t you? Such a perverted little bad boy you are,” Margot teases in between licks. “Well, maybe not so little,” she chuckles to herself.

“I wasn’t so sure about this at first,” Cara says after some time, her lips brushing against Hassan’s toes as she speaks, “But I think I’m beginning to like this. His feet doesn’t taste as bad as I thought it’d be.”

All of this dirty talk — in Hassan’s opinion — is making him grow even harder. They must know what all of this is doing to him. Maybe that’s why they keep on making sweet talks.

“Hmm, not bad at all,” Margot says, nipping at the tip of his little toe, which sends him into a frenzy of pleasure. “My my, what a smooth skin you have. Not even a single blister.”

“I see that he has been taking a good care of himself,” Cara adds.

Eventually, the two begin swirling their tongues across his feet, painting his skin with their saliva. They don’t talk as much, but the way their tongue working vigorously makes up for the lack of their voices. Hassan trembles in his place in turn, the effects of paralysis starting to show signs of wearing down.

Someone to his left, Margot, takes his whole big toe into her mouth, and the man lets out a husky groan. The women are aware that he’s resurfacing, but that seems to not be their concern. They are far more interested in watching his reaction — every breath, every shiver down his spine, every bob of his springing c**k.

Cara follows her friend’s example and puts his big toe in her mouth as well. Warmth wraps around his toe, Hassan thrashes against his seat this time.

They continue on teasing him, again and again until he loses track of who is doing what. Pleasure burns in him, drumming in an unsteady beat that courses through his entire body. His heart is beating fast, his c**k hard as a rock, and his feet tingling all over.

The women finally leave him alone once he reaches his third climax. There are sounds of them discussing on what to do next, but Hassan is too breathless and exhausted to care. All he can hear is the sound of blood rushing at his ears and the way some parts of him sorely throbs. He feels giddy all over.

They left him reclining against the chair, gasping, covered in his own sweat to recover on his own. He’s disappointed that they are not touching him anymore — though a smaller, more reasonable part of him is relief by the chance to catch up his breath.

It isn’t until what feels like minutes later when the sounds at the background finally intensified, re-introduced to him through a female’s outcry.

The sound sends a shiver that echoes from the tip of his prick, down to the edge of his toes. This got him wondering. Are the women touching themselves now? Or is there someone else who is receiving the same treatment as the one he had received?

“Make her c*m. I want to see if it works the same way with her,” Boss Lady orders.

There’s a loud pop, and then Margot speaks up. “Roger that, Chief.” Then she continues whatever she is doing, arousing more moans from that female’s lips, getting louder and louder each time.

Something about hearing that sultry, moaning voice strikes a chord inside Hassan. Maybe it’s because she sounds like she’s reaching her climax soon. Maybe it’s because she sounds closely familiar to someone he knows.

“Alright, Two . . . I know you’d like to c*m, but . . . just make sure you don’t stain my top, okay? . . . This is expensive, okay?” Cara pauses in between licks, making him think that she’s probably licking that other woman like Cara did to him. It makes his d**k convulses at the edge of his seat. Just thinking what what their wicked tongues can do — especially after experiencing it first hand himself — makes him dripping with pre-c*m.

He can’t believe at how easily he can be aroused. Maybe it’s a side effect of the drugs. Speaking about drugs, when it is finally going to wear off? He can moan and groan, but that’s as far as the effects allow him. There’s still plenty left in his system, especially since he was drugged twice. Or is it thrice? 

“Oh, look who’s finally awake,” Boss Lady suddenly speaks up, sounding closer than before.

W-where . . . ? He still can’t move his jaws. It’s still hard to move, let alone speak. This still heavily dosed.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over that. All you need to know is that you will not be going anywhere anytime soon.” Her voice sounds richer, more vibrated, now that she’s standing so close. The more he hears her speak, the more details he picks up.

W-what . . . ? It’s getting harder and harder to form a sentence in his mind.

“Alright, let’s see now.” Boss Lady leans down closer. “Are you getting excited hearing Subject AZ102?”

W-who?

“Don’t try to hide it, darling. I know just the kind of thing you’re getting off from. Don’t try to lie to me.” She traces a finger through the tips of his toes, making his body tightens in response. It doesn’t help that the sound of a woman’s moaning becomes the constant background noise in this place, which echoes nicely through the room.

This gives him an approximate guess that the place can’t be too big, for the sound to travel with such clarity. It seems like what they say is right, about one having kinner senses when you loses your sight.

The sound only amplifies, as the more focused he is in listening. He follows through with the moaning, which is coupled with the sounds of hard sucking and panting, until it leads to the mysterious subject’s climax. Hassan is shaking just from hearing her, though hearing is not good enough to make him c*m.

“Alright, girls, I think we have enough data for now,” Boss Lady steps back suddenly, and Hassan finds himself longing for her touch already. “Let’s move on to the next test.”

“Name, Suzan. Age, 31. Arabic. Blood type, AB negative. Eye color, brown. Weight, 60 kilograms. Height, 180 centimeters,” Margot reads the information that pops up from the screen. “Foot size is 25 centimeters in length. Width, 9.5 centimeters,” the blonde adds, fixing her glasses along the way.

“Tell me, who is this woman?” Angelina asks, demeanor calm but collected, a hint of curiosity tangled in.

“She’s Subject AZ101’s sister in law. She happened to stumble on us during our collection of Subject One, so we were forced to take her with us,” Cara explains in a lax attitude. Their boss, Angelina, is not that strict, and she allows everyone to be themselves at work.

They give the same test as the one they gave to the man, One, and the woman approved to be as hypersensitive by her feet as One. Watching how One reacts to Two’s moaning gives Angelina a new idea for their next experiment. Instead of having any of the agents involved, she asks Margot and Cara to move the two together, so that One and Two are facing one another. They do nothing to give the Subjects’ identities away, purposefully done so that these women can watch their honest reaction to one another.

It’s a good thing that the gyno chairs are mobile, so the two assistants have no qualms in getting things done. They put One and Two face to face. Ear mufflers and locks are added this time, the later to help secure them into place, in case the Subjects fall or try to resist. The assistants make sure that the locks around the Subjects’ ankles are loose enough so their feet can touch one another. They want to see just how sensitive these two can be, without relying on sounds.

Once everything is set up, Angelina gestures for her assistants to walk out, and the three proceed to the Watch Room next door, where there’s a huge window panel that can allow them to see what’s going on inside. The subjects still have no clue what they’re planning — not that they’ll find out soon. The waiting room is sound proof, so the women are free to talk as they watch.

This is The Syndicate, an underground secret society that is as large as a crowded city, who operate in human trafficking and s****l slavery. They are currently in Sector B, where some of the most notorious experiments are being performed, in order to test out newly captured subjects to better expand the organization’s database. The city is divided in several major sectors, and their company is just one of many that compete in the same market.

Aside from the area underground, they also have some buildings connected from the surface. They use it as the front of their company, but it also serve as the main entrance. Everything illegal is kept underground, where it is safe and secure for the real business to perform, while upstairs is a completely different setup.

As strange as it might seem for someone like her to run a business like this, Angelina thinks of this place as her home, and her underlings her family.

Angelina pushes a button from the panels to her side, and a red light turns up in turn, letting her comrades know that she’s recording this. “This will be a live feed,” she decides. Cara types something from her side, and screens begin to lid up.

On the walls, imagery begins showing heart rate monitor and traces of brain activity, which have grown mildly active thanks to the aftermath of the stimulation. These are the same set that they’ve used while inside the test room. They are about to begin yet another test, and the ladies are eager to see what their new subjects will show them.

Another screen pops in, this time showing a live broadcast directly from their own lab to The Syndicate’s livestream channel. Viewers are pooling in, going by the dozens. Pretty soon, they’re going to reach hundreds.

Just in time, Subjects begin moving. They are uncoordinated at first, only thinking about getting away. But then Two accidentally glides the tips of her toes against One’s left sole, and the contact causes both of the to shiver. On the screens, colors flare up, showing signs of flickering brain activity like sparks, while heart rate rapidly increases from fear to pleasure.

From the Watch Room, Cara pumps up her fist. Numbers of watchers are increasing rapidly, and ratings begin pooling in. The others are smiling too, though there’s really no rest for the wicked.

There’s a hint of attraction in there, but both Subjects are too shy to initiate anything. The show must go on, and the team has to do something fast to make things going. Margot types something from her side, and seconds later, a pair of robotic arms drop down, each help to apply some lotion onto the Subjects’ feet. The unexpected contact sends messages into their brains, causing them to be more worked up than before.

And while the touch of a robot’s hand is not as gentle and soft as that of a human’s, these two are still panting in reaction. The robot is very thorough in it’s movement, making sure to cover every inch of skin, going in between the toes, every form of muscles. One and Two’s heavily drugged minds cause them to be so sexually depraved that by the time the robotic arms release them, they are so eager for more that they begin reaching out to one another, desperately seeking more comfort.

Their toes catch each other and begin entwining together. By this point, Subjects are aware of the presence of one another, though they still have no idea who their partner is. All they want is to touch, and touch they do. They are so hungry of one another, they begin grazing against each other vigorously, not caring about moral or logic. They move in desperate strokes, each hoping to make it last more than they physically can. Soon, brushing feet against one another is not even enough.

“Wow, they’re really going at it, aren’t they?” Margot comments.

“We’re so close to reaching a thousand view,” Cara supplies.

“Fantastic! Release the cuffs on their legs,” Angelina commands.

Margot does as she’s told, being responsible for the internal affairs. And when the Subjects’ are release, their passion spreads like wildfire, spreading to different directions at once. They move so fast and so bold that even the team are surprised.

One trails his foot against Two’s legs all the way to the area in between her thighs, until he can find her center. When he does, One makes the daring move to shove his toe right up Two’s v****a. Two is already aching in anticipation, and the woman throws her head back, tearing out a lewd moan. In return, Two lifts her leg until she finds the throbbing d**k, stroking him in carnal hunger.

Through a feat of passion, the two jacks each other off. One twists his ankle so that all of his toes are aligned against Two’s entrance, trying to make his way to insert all of his digits into her velvet walls. Two clenches down, and she works even harder to get him off. The woman lifts both of her legs now, traps his length in between the soles of her feet, moving up and down in sync. Matching up her speed, One thrusts into her even deeper, her lifted legs is all he needs to gain deeper access into her. He makes his big toe pulled in and out of Two’s tight hole until she goes sore and her juice dripping down, trailing all over her thighs and his foot.

Both are moaning so loud, groaning almost like animals in heat, that the team suspects that the Subjects might even hear one another, even through the mufflers.

On the other side of the screen, views and ratings are increasing like mad. Viewers just keep on pouring in by themselves, especially when they manage to get to the penetration scene. If this goes on, Dungeon will earn a lot of revenue by the end of the day.

The team has never seen such enthusiasm before. Maybe it’s because this live feed includes a number of different fetishes all at once. Maybe because they have something that not everyone usually see before. Either way, their porn production is skyrocketing, and this video soon becomes Dungeon’s number one of the week.

“Keep it up. Bring them in for interrogation when they’re done,” Angelina finally announces, before exiting the Watch Room.

Before the door completely closes, Angelina hears the tears of pleasured screams when both Subjects hit their climaxes.