Mistress of Shadows

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

Wake Up

“Wake up, baby. C’mon, wake up.”

I roused at a gentle touch. A leather-gloved hand caressed my quickly stiffening c**k.

Light pressed down on my eyelids. Another gloved hand ran through my hair. I stirred and awakened to an image of beauty. Long, auburn hair framed a face to die for with pure olive skin. Her smile shone down like the spring sun. But it was that voice, that sweet, seductive voice that brought me to life. “Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty. The others wanted to be here when you woke up, but they’re busy. Don’t worry, I’ll show you around.”

I tried to respond but couldn’t talk. Something large pressed down on my tongue and against the inside of my cheeks. Various thin leather straps criss-crossed my head. Larger straps cut in tight on my legs, stomach, chest, arms and wrists. I lay face up, arms underneath me, unable to move. A cold, concrete floor chilled my bare skin. High above a single, bright light bulb glared down through a wire mesh and lit the lower half of surrounding gray walls in a definite terminus of light and shadow. About four feet beyond my bound feet was a riveted, steel door with a closed sliding panel, about eye height, and two thin, wide slots, one in the middle, about waist high, the other at the bottom. The floor sloped gently to a small, round grate in the room’s center.

I moaned and rolled my head.

“Shh. Shh,” she said. “It’s all right; you’re still half under a glamour. We’ll give it a little longer. Let you enter reality.” One hand stroked my forehead between the straps while the other wrapped my c**k. Then, kind of like what Raven would do, she chanted some words, similar to Raven’s, low and slow. Unlike Raven, she started at my leather strap surrounded head, hands almost touching me, then slowly went down my neck, shoulders, chest and stomach, even my bound legs, before she came back and held her hands over my c**k. As the “glamour” cleared my c**k stirred and she broke off the chanting. With a flick of the head, she swung all her hair to one side. Her mouth opened and a shiny, supple tongue came out between perfectly straight teeth to lick the tip with a tentative, shy touch. Voluptuous lips took in my manhood and tender, gentle pumps of her head brought me to full erection. I moaned again and already felt an oncoming orgasm, but then she slipped away. Even though I was frustrated she possessed a calm relaxation.

She lightly smacked those lips. “Oh, I so needed that. Do you think you can sit up? Let’s give it a try.” With surprising strength she brought me bolt upright, legs straight out in front. A couple of heaves with my ass sliding across the floor and I sat against the wall.

Where was I? Last thing I remembered I was in the suv, the dark-haired woman driving. Vague images, odors of leather, gentle hands and lips and now I wake up bound and gagged while above hovered Mistress Dripping Concern.

Her nimble fingers made sure the gag was still well placed and the straps tight. She was somewhat older than me, late twenties perhaps. Aside from the black leather gloves she wore a white pullover cotton shirt that clung quite nicely to her upper body. Tan, modern jodhpurs and black boots gave a nice shape below the waist too. It was a shape that, in spite of my confusion as to what, where and why, kept my c**k at attention. A condition that wasn’t lost on her.

“Ooohhh, you tiger!” she said and gave the tip of the c**k helmet a couple of finger flicks. “Wait ‘til the others get an eyeful of you.”

She stood and unlocked the steel door, exited for a moment, then returned with two shiny, steel poles, one long, the other short, the ends of both terminating in thick, leather cuffs. “Now nothing but your best behavior while I put these on,” she said lightly. She squatted next to my knees and removed the strap, then turned to my ankles and loosened that strap just enough push to my feet toward my crotch. She crossed my ankles, then loosely retied them. With my still feet up toward my crotch my knees were spread apart wide enough to fit the short bar on the inside just above them. First the left, then the right cuff wrapped my thighs and the bar in between kept them spread. Her hands squeezed the top of my legs.

“Mmmm. Good. Really good. You work out? You must. So firm and strong. A lot of pumping power in those babies. But right now we need to get you on your feet. C’mon, now, don’t fight me. Up, up!”

Her hands hooked under my left arm and soon I leaned precariously against the wall. She removed the strap around my ankles and then, before I could even think about running, the longer bar and its cuffs found my ankles and pushed them far apart. Both bars allowed easy access to my balls and the lady took advantage, drawing them out in a gloved palm under my deflating c**k. She gently rolled the balls around and viewed each with a critical eye. “Not too bad. In fact, downright magnificent. But we’ll have enough time for them later. C’mon, now.” She urged me out from the wall and I staggered past the floor grate. Behind me, she placed her hands firmly on my shoulders and steered me through the door. She called out as if she had done so many times before, “Slave coming out.”

Outside the cell was much like inside with gray walls and harsh lights; only it was a long, wide hallway with more steel doors on either side. The woman came around, up on my side and away we went, she guiding me by the arm. Pairs of eyes gazed out from a few open panels. I couldn’t tell if they were men or women because the lady wouldn’t allow me to linger.

“Don’t you pay them any attention!” she snapped. “Kyle, listen to me. Kyle Jameson Matthews!”

My head jerked around, and not just because she had called me by name, but also because her fingers were entwined in the headstraps.

The beautiful face had turned severe but, by degrees, it softened again. So did her voice, but she didn’t let go. “Do what I say, Kyle. That’s all you need to do from now on, just follow orders. Mine, and anyone else I give you to. You can do it, because if you don’t...”

She let that hang. Yeah, if I didn’t...

A hand patted my leather strap covered cheek. “That’s my boy. You’ll be good from now on, won’t you? Of course, you will. Good boy.”

She grabbed my arm again and I lurched forward, one foot swinging out wide beyond the other. A few steps and I almost fell, yet the lady’s strong grip kept me upright. But suddenly I, I mean, we, had no choice but to stop. A steel door whooshed open and only an upraised hand from my guide prevented it from hitting us. A short woman with vague asiatic features and long, jet-black straight hair strutted out. She peeled off a pair of latex gloves with decided snaps. Skin tight, red leather covered her from neck to pointed spiked-heeled boots. She tried to swing the door shut, but the hand from my guide on the door’s edge stopped that.

“Hey, what?” said the short woman. Then, “Oh, it’s you, Em. What are you doing out here? Your shift isn’t... Oh OH! So, is this the found c**k?”

Her tapered, bright red nails lifted and inspected my p***s. Their sharp tips tenderly stroked me and I couldn’t help but respond.

“Look at it! Just look! Oh, Em, it’s beautiful!” she said.

“Em” nodded and smiled. “We’re going to see Lashae. Care to join us, Dev?”

“Dev” lingered over my c**k a moment longer, then casually wrapped it in her hand and squeezed while she spoke. “I’d love to, but I’m in the middle of a delicate purification.”

From inside the cell someone moaned in distress. “Em” drew the door out further to see. Inside was a small woman with short, mussed brown hair, a tiny waist and with a set of breasts that seemed larger than they actually were because of her small frame. She was bent over backwards on a wide, wooden wheel. Two rows of clothespins connected by ropes ran down from her t**s to her open crotch. Both rows joined at a single clothespin that clamped her p***y lips together. Another single clothespin on her wet, shiny tongue waved back and forth between curved, thin metal bars, which forced open her mouth.

“I see what you mean, Devera,” said “Em”. “Good luck trying to clean her up.”

A grin of pleasurable malice formed on Devera. “Oh, no, not that b***h. Stephanie’s beyond redemption. Not without a major attitude adjustment. Maybe Morgan can do something with her. Right now though all that t**t’s good for is just a little fun and practice. Too bad. Such a waste.” Devera sighed, as if contemplating things that might have been, then shook her head and brought herself back to the present moment. “No, the real work is next door. He’s almost ready to bond.” Devers’s chin gestured back over her shoulder in the direction that we were headed. “Want to stay and watch?”

“Maybe some other time,” said “Em” and stroked my chest. “I don’t want this one polluted. And you know how the headmistress gets when a new arrival isn’t brought to her right away. Especially when it’s found cock.”

Devera chuckled. “Oh, I know that.” Then, for the first time, she noticed the rest of my body. Her hands ran over my skin as if it were fragile glass. “No tats or piercings! Oh, I haven’t had a canvas like that in a long time. He’ll mark up nice! Take good care of him, Emory. I can’t wait to get my needles in him.”

I think I made a strangled sound. Piercings? Tattoos? Needles??? What the f**k was going on here?!

Devera shut the cell door and Emory pulled me along again. We trailed Devera who, a couple of doors down, unlocked a different cell. She winked at Emory. “When I’m done with this one he’ll be as pure as the undriven snow.”

Before Devera even entered the cell a man’s sobs and pleas rang out. “No! No! Please, Mistress Devera. It’s not time yet! Oh, god, please! No. No, not that! I can’t. Not again! No! No! I...aaaaaiiiiieeehhhh!”

Devera clanged the door shut. As I lurched by a buzz like a barber’s electric hair cutter, only much louder, competed with the screams.

Emory shook her head and smiled. “Don’t worry about Devera. She talks a mean game, but she’s got her soft, sadistic side too.”

Her soft, sadistic side? What the hell?

She guided me through the door at the end of the hallway. A room with walls that were all covered in black, leather tufted pads, about double the size of my cell, did anything but extend a warm welcome. The leather padding on the walls and door reminded me of a couch, the kind that had gold buttons which pressed down all over it to form little craters. The door shut and the ongoing screams behind us were cut off. In the dead silence Emory stood me in the room’s center, then pressed a small, white button on the far wall.

“Now don’t be nervous,” she said. “At least, not too much. Lashae’s tough, but she’s fair too. Don’t give her an excuse to send you to the pit.”

Send you to the pit? I know I didn’t like the sound of that.

Next to the button another door opened and a woman strode in like she owned the place. She appeared about mid forties in age with a nicely cared for body that filled out a dark, satin teddy with thin shoulder straps. A black, pleated skirt covered her lower half to just above the ankles which hinted at a pair of well-formed legs. A pair of intricately woven dark sandals with slightly raised, spiked heels added to her height and authority. A firm mouth, little streaks of gray in short, swept back dark hair. Round, silver earrings along with a thin, silver ring, similar to the one I saw before on the woman in the suv, lent her an elegant and attractive air. The business end of a riding crop rested in an open palm. When she saw me her mouth dropped open, but she closed it quick enough and assumed a “show me” attitude.

“So, this is the f**k toy?” she said in a deep, yet feminine voice. She glanced down at my crotch and now completely limp d**k. “He doesn’t look like he can satisfy even one of us.”