Syndicate #1

6

#6

Torment

—Quarantine Cell VII, the day before, hour ?

Suzan has no idea where she is. After that whole fiasco with Hassan, strange people in uniform simply hauled her off the bathtub, dragging her to her feet as each of them held her by the arm with strong grip, messy trail of blood and ejaculation dripping off in between her legs as they did so.

They put her back in a blindfold, rendering her vision. The dragging went on for several minutes, spanning too long for her to comfortably count. The area in between her legs hurt, still constantly throbbing ever so often, even long after the assault has ended. She tries to seek some solace, but they just won’t leave her alone.

They don’t let her wash up. At least not until after the same strange robotic arms fumble back to her body, cleaning her up a little non-gently. She can hear people speaking from the distance, but they are so far away and hidden behind layers of doors that she can’t really make much sense of what they are talking about. She wonders dreadfully of what they plan to do to her. She is all alone and quivering in fear. She’s truly alone with no one to help her out of this place whatsoever, she finally realizes. She keeps on waiting in the dark, hoping that this is all just a nightmare that she’ll soon wake up to, but it never happens. It is only upon this knowledge that she finally opens her eyes to the full scale of her situation.

She has been kidnapped.

She has been beaten.

Then she was raped. By Hassan, one of the family members that she thought she was safe with.

And look at how it turned out, she wants to laugh bitterly.

They keep her wrists and ankles bound to a post somewhere, so she has no means to escape. Not that she has a chance to do that in the first place, it seems. Wherever her kidnappers had brought her to, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to make her escape so easily.

They are so careful, so secretive. She is not even allowed to get much of a glimpse to the place.

If she thinks that her nightmare ends with that strange bathroom with Hassan, then she thinks wrong. Once the people finally decide what to do with her, they step back through the door and approach her.

They strip her naked—by human hands or by robot hands, she has no idea—before cleaning her up in full body—high pressurized water is sprayed into her, hot enough to relax her tense muscles and jittering form, but hard enough to catch her off guard every time the water shoots at her, which she thinks might be part of their intention all along—and shaving off some of her excess body hair, like on her legs and arms, armpit and crotch. It stings a little when they get her waxed, though the soothing cream they apply helps her cope with the lasting sensation afterwards.

Her body tenses even more every time something passes her from below the feet, be there just some drying towel, bath sponge or water. Her feet area has always been her most sensitive parts, especially when it gets to the sole of her feet or the spaces in between her toes. Sometimes she can just hide it with some tickled laughter, but when the contact is prolonged too much, the overwhelming sensation becomes unbearable.

No one knows this—the girl herself is very persistent in keeping this fact a secret—but when her feet brush against something continuously, especially when the touch is caressing, she will get aroused beyond help. It is more out of shame than anything else, really, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to look at herself in the mirror if anyone ever discovered her embarrassing secret. People will laugh her off if they ever discover it, she is positively sure. She lives in a very conservative environment, and no one will understand what really makes her tick. It might even be considered taboo, to have such a mindset, but it’s not like she can control what her body finds the most pleasurable.

After they cleaned her up good—and she means thoroughly, from corner to corner, even shoving a piece of cloth up her v****a and scrub her in between the toes—they put her in a strangely smooth-textured outfit. She’s so hypersensitive that even the slightest motion can make her render to a pool of hot liquid, the air fogged with hot water and her own ragged breathing.

The outfit seems to be a one-piece. It’s pulled all the way up from the tip of her toes to her shoulders, covering most of her body parts. No, scratch that. The thing covers all of her body. They even have an additional section that goes over her face, covering her head until she is all tucked inside the strangely smooth and stretchy outfit. The zipper is a little bit scratchy though, and what puzzles her the most is feeling the the similar sensation against her folds and up against her buttocks. Her blindfolds are removed with this, but what’s the purpose if she can’t even see anything through the suit?

They move her again to a different room, and this time she can hear some machines moving from next door. Next door? Or is it just the hallway? They must be making her pass through a lot of different places, because she can hear sounds come and go as they move. Finally they make a stop and drag her in.

Judging from the way sound travel closely around her when they walk inside, the room must not be very spacious, though not small enough to make it impossible for three people to fit in. They plop her down on an elevated hard surface, before begin moving on to set other things. When she can’t handle the quietness anymore, she becomes to speak.

“What’s going on here? Where am I? Where have you taken me to?”

They don’t answer her immediately, until she starts repeating her questions the second time. There is a slight demanding tone in her voice, though it is now hinted with a good amount of fear this time around.

“You’re in Syndicate,” one of them answers curtly. A woman’s voice. A little bit high-pitch to Suzan’s ears, though she can feel a little bit sense of familiarity to it. Has she met this woman before?

“Who are you? And what’s a Syndicate?” Does it sound as bad as she thinks it is?

The other person then speaks up—not to Suzan, but her fellow kidnapper. “Should we answer that?” A girl, but sounds much younger.

“It’s no big deal. Not like she can use the information for her own good. There’s no escaping this place; it’s the most secured underground facility since never.”

“Syndicate is an underground pornographic crime zone. This is where s*x really sells. Not legally, of course,” the woman explains, then laughing a bit at her own joke.

Suzan gulps then braces herself for more questions. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“We don’t want anything from you,” she says coldly.

“If you don’t want anything from me, then please let me go.”

“We can’t do that. Besides, you haven’t let me finish. We don’t want anything from you—we demand things from you. You’ve lucked out, girl. You lost the Mistress’ favor and got sorted out into the low sector instead.”

“Mistress? Low sector? What does any of that mean?”

“Remember that woman you pissed off? The one who got you beaten up?” Suzan tries to suppress a shiver and fails miserably at the mention. “Yeah, that woman is the Mistress. Or as the surface people say, the boss. She’s the one who rules this place?”

Suzan tries to remember the name that was given. “S-so this Angelina is the person who runs this-this Syndicate place?”

Snorts come echoing through the small room.

“Don’t call her that. It’s Mistress Angelina to you,” the younger woman almost snaps.

“And no,” the other woman barely suppress her laugh at this, “She doesn’t rule Syndicate, though I believe she’d like the idea of that. But then again, who doesn’t? In all seriousness though, Angelina own the Dungeon, which is the name of this building.”

Building? Just how big is this place? Why do a bunch of kidnappers need such an entire infrastructure to do this?

These questions make Suzan wonder about more things. Have they done this before? Judging from the way they act, it seems like they are used to do this kidnapping this. In fact, they seem to accustomed and relaxed about this entire thing. Aren’t they afraid of getting caught?

“What are you gonna do to me now?”

“Now? Now you perform. You’ve gotta earn your stay, you know?”

Earn her stay? But she doesn’t want to stay. When she sounds out her opinion to the ladies, they simply laugh her off yet again.

Whatever they are doing, it seems like it is already set. Hands guide the blinded Suzan further to the center of the table, before chains begin to softly click all around her, restraining her movement before she can even fight them off. As a result, an angry Suzan is struggling on this hard surface.

“What is this? What are you doing to me?”

A palm suddenly cup her heated mount, causing her to gasp in surprise. The hand doesn’t linger though, instead it swiftly moves to pull at something at her suit. The sound of a zipper being pulled down echoes through the space, though Suzan can’t feel any air on her back. No, the zipper is situated in between her legs! As she discovers when she can feel slight cool air gushing at her newly shaved folds, which grow so sensitive that the friction of mere fabric causes uninvited juices to season her opening.

They have her ankles and wrists strapped down by leather, keeping her from fighting them off, though not for the better luck of trying. And when struggling doesn’t work, the girl sorts out to cursing, muttering all kinds of vile words in her native tongue, frustrated beyond measure.

What else are they going to do to her now?

*

—Show Chamber III, 03:13 AM

It is never too early for intercourse, Margot believes, even if it is with machines. All that matters is pleasure, and when it is shown good, it will lead to profit.

After they put her in this skin tight pink flamingo latex suit, they bring the girl, AZ102, into a Show Chamber, placing her on the equipment. The equipment itself is a s*x machine in disguise as a family-sized dinner table. This is all done as part of the program that Angelina has pre-approved, activated immediately for slaves who can not be controlled through will. This one from the newest batch is also hard to control. She doesn’t come willingly, which is why they must revert to some forced methods instead.

The girl has some talent, there is no denying that. Whether she will be useful and bring plenty of profit to the company in the near future, they still do not know. It’s kind of a gamble, taking in this type of slave. They know from the first time Angelina had interviewed her that this girl is rebellious. She has too much spirit inside her, which means that it will be much harder to subdue or brainwash her. Unlike the boy who came with Suzan, this one is much harder to control. She doesn’t drop to her knees at the first sign of danger. Instead, she tried to fight. This action resulted in reeling in Angelina’s anger, causing the girl to lose her chance to be treasured by their company.

So now they are putting the girl to the s*x machine. Margot goes to unzip the opening at Suzan’s crotch, making the girl gasps when the cool air touch her. The chains and leather attached to the girl’s body is keeping her from moving around. She is kneeling on the table, legs spread just wide enough and heat situated just right enough for the dildos to enter her later. Her assistant, Mary, is waiting for a go-to order from Margot. But before they do this, they will have to make the girl loosen up, else even the fully lubricated dildos won’t be able to enter the girl’s tight channels.

The suit wraps around the subject’s curves nicely, particularly around her t**s and ass. There is no room for underwear, which leaves the girl going commando, an easy access for teasing. They can’t see her face very much, now that it is covered with both mask and the head part of the latex. Her body is tightly wrapped around all kinds of black leathers, whether it is around the head to support the oxygen mask (which they use to control the amount of air supply and any kind of drugged gas they use on her) latched around her skull, the wide choker that keeps the girl’s neck still from a rope pulled from behind (connected from choker to the latch on the table), the equally tight corset that has similar rope latched from its ring (attached to the hinge on the table from the front side to keep balance out the strain of her body), or the leather straps that wrap around her knees, wrists and ankles to the very same table.

There are also hidden zippers at the girl’s feet. There are zippers everywhere all over the pink suit, really, but some have more subtle presence than the others. Bet the slave girl doesn’t even know it yet. But before they get to that, Margot wants to test something else first.

“Set to external contact first,” she nods to her assistant.

Mary does as she is told and keys it some order to the screen panel before her. A pocket opening slides into view, revealing one large dildo that ascend toward Suzan’s waiting hole. The slave girl lets out an audible gasp when the tip makes contact with her soft mounts. It’s undeniably thick in size, and she can at least tell that as much, despite still being blinded by the full-body suit. Her surrounding is bright enough for Suzan to see what’s going on in front of her, really, but there are restrains around her neck—chains? Collar?—that prevent her from turning her head to see more. All she can see is just some plain white wall and lights that comes out from it through the thin gasps of the fabric covering her head.

The dildo is made to rotate, until its entire length covers the girl’s lips. The hard object is slick on the surface, pressing up against her folds hard enough that she can feel her folds parting up slightly from its presence. Suzan can feel her heart thundering in her chest. She and her husband has never done something like this before. It’s usually just straight up missionary; they never do anything outside what is necessary for reproduction. Having a hard tool being pressed against her both excites and scares her at the same time. Is it going to hurt like it did before? The memories of her brother-in-law comes into mind, and Suzan blinks hard to fight off the tears. She has to be strong. She can’t cry right now. Tears already starting to form at the corners of her eyes, but she doesn’t let them pour out. Not yet.

She can do this, she can do this, she can do this….

The dildo turns on and its length starts sliding up and down her entrance, creating delicious friction that makes Suzan wants to cry out in pleasure and barf at the same time. Her morals says no, but her hungry body says yes. What is wrong with her?

[ End of Book 1 ]