|Trick Or Treat|
|© Copyright 2012 - AmyAmy - Used by permission and all that stuff. This work may not be reproduced for profit or without this attribution.|
|Trick Or Treat AmyAmy M/f; MF/m; D/s; maid; latex; drug; bodyswap; bdsm; dungeon; buried; concrete; torment; oral; climax; revenge; cons/nc; XX|
October 31st, 2009, Halloween
Horsten Torrens-Sloan hurled the letter angrily at the pile of documents that had piled up on his desk. This was the final straw. He’d already known that the once respected merchant bank that managed the majority of his investments had collapsed; his accountant’s letter merely confirmed that they had no assets worth pursuing in the courts.
Whatever the details, Horsten’s circumstances were now much diminished. His seemingly inexhaustible wealth was gone. He would be able to live, but it would be a miserable, frugal existence and not the luxury that he had known over the last fifty two years. If only he could get rid of the house, he would be much better off in terms of capital and reduced expenses, but that simply wasn’t an option. The house had become a millstone around his neck.
He turned to his faithful maid Candy who stood waiting in the corner of his office, ready to attend to his every need. She was dressed in a black French maid’s uniform made of glistening polished rubber, with a mass of white rubber petticoats holding up her skirt and barely concealing her frilly rubber knickers. She was obviously making a special effort because her regular uniform, though similar in style, was of ordinary fabric.
“This is too much Candy,” he snapped, spinning his chair to face her.
“Master, is it the bank again?”
Horsten wondered if he confided too much in his maid. He’d kept her too long and treated her too kindly. Though she was just a slave they had become familiar with each other over the years. He would regret parting with her, but if he couldn’t reduce some of his other expenses she might have to be sold. It would be pathetic to be reduced to living alone in this once grand mansion, watching the house and the gardens fall into decay, unable to afford to maintain them – but he could not get rid of the house – he would have no choice but to watch it rot around him until he became infirm. He wondered if it would be better simply to kill himself now and have done with it. No! He wouldn’t give his enemies the satisfaction. Not yet.
“Yes. Today it is the bank. The investigator says it is a matter of over leveraged investment in derivatives that turned out to be junk. All too common these days I’m afraid… But I don’t think it’s a coincidence. This is the work of The Association. That witch Dehlia and her coven of whores have had it in for me for years now. To think that only ten years ago I had that despicable devil-fucking-whore Heather here as a guest…”
“Those were better days Master. Please, let me cheer you up.”
She knelt down between his knees and unzipped his fly.
“Yes, better days Candy. You know, I moved in here in seventy-eight, back when I was a young and vigorous man? You would find it hard to imagine what it was like in those times.”
“Oh no Master, you are still extremely vigorous,” Candy said with a lewd giggle.
“I’m not over the hill yet, but that’s not it. When I moved here I made this house the centre for bondage, slave trading and fetish for the entire eastern seaboard. Girls were lined up to become my slaves and masters came to learn from me. So many things took place in this house, so many things… You could write a dozen books about it, and still you would not be done telling that tale.”
He smiled to himself as Candy took his hardening cock into her mouth. She raised her gaze adoringly to see that cruel smile play across his lips. There was no doubt in her mind that her master had certainly been a remarkable man and he could still inspire fear and adoration in her when he cared to. She only wished that he cared to more often; it seemed that he was losing his interest in life.
“I always enjoyed recruiting the part-timers the best,” he continued. “Those girls would answer my advert, greedy and desperate for money and I would reel them in a little at a time. It was the greatest sport, requiring all my skill and ingenuity to play them completely into my hands. But you know all about that don’t you Candy?”
She reluctantly let his cock slide out of her mouth.
“Oh, yes Master. That’s how you got me, and I’m a keeper aren’t I? I recall it so clearly. First you paid for just one day, and it was frightening to be here with all those people looking at me naked, but so exciting. You got me to sign up for a week. It was difficult at first, but at the end it didn’t seem so bad, and I signed up for a month. By the end of that month I was so deep in it wouldn’t have known the difference if you’d kept me for another month or another year. I didn’t know if I was coming or going,” she said with another giggle. “When I signed the four year contract I knew that I would never walk away, that you had me for life. Where else could I go after what you’d done to me? How could I live a vanilla life after that? How could I be anything but your possession?”
“Indeed, and so now you have been with me six years. Yes, here we are… Here we are.”
“Master, my first year was the last time you held a Halloween ball. It’s such a pity there won’t be another. It was unforgettable.”
“Yes, it’s that day again today, isn’t it? I miss the balls too. The Association says only lies about me. If people vanished at those balls it wasn’t my work.”
Candy gave a wicked little laugh.
“Oh Master, I can imagine what fun that must have been. They came looking for a scare and they got one too? Everyone got what they wanted, didn’t they?”
“I used to regret that I had no children to inherit my legacy, but it looks like there won’t be one, so now I’m thankful that I am alone apart from you. At least there is nobody to witness my decline.”
“Don’t talk like that Master, it’s too much,” Candy said.
She did not feel like nobody. It hurt her to see him like this. He had been glorious back then, but now? Was she simply attached to a memory?
Horsten sighed and shook his head. Candy stopped talking and returned to sucking his cock, taking it deep into her throat the way he liked it. Just as he was about to cum, the sound of a loud knocking startled them both.
“What was that?” Horsten said, his mood ruined.
“Was it the door Master?”
“We have a damn bell for that. Who wouldn’t ring the bell?”
The knock came again.
“I think it is the door Master. Should I answer it?”
“Yes, of course, answer it,” Horsten said angrily. He stopped himself from calling her a stupid slut. It would have been the natural thing to do, but he held back. Was he going soft as well? He had come to rely on her over the last few years and they spent a lot of time alone together, perhaps too long? He wondered if he should simply let her leave? No, it would be a waste, he had paid good money for her service and he could get some of it back if he sold her on.
Candy’s five inch heels clattered across the tiled floor of the cavernous office and then changed their note, echoing as they entered the hallway.
Horsten sighed. Everything in the house was too big now. Once it had been decorated with dozens of living statues and filled with slaves, masters and mistresses all the year round. Now, it felt like a mausoleum.
* * * * *
There hadn’t been any guests for over a year, and Master was not expecting any visitors now. As she scurried for the door, her gait restricted by her outrageous heels, Candy wondered if it might be college kids come to play some kind of Halloween prank. The thought made her nervous. One glance at her outfit and they might be inclined to do wicked things to her. She wouldn’t mind that so much, but what if they hurt her Master? Or worse, found some way to humiliate him? He was already depressed and she had no idea how to get him out of it.
Candy opened half of the big double door that formed the main entrance and peered out anxiously. It was a lone man at the door. He was tall, muscular, with short blonde hair and a close cropped beard and moustache. She took in his immaculate designer raincoat and handmade shoes and decided he obviously wasn’t a college kid – he was the kind of man to set her pulse racing – a mature man, but still so much younger than her Master, somewhere in his mid-thirties if she had to guess, though unaccountably he seemed older in some way.
“Hello. Is this the Torrens-Sloan residence?” The stranger said.
She remembered her training, suddenly afraid she might be punished.
“Good evening sir. You are correct. I’m sorry but I was not advised of your visit, who should I say is calling?”
He reached inside his coat and removed a card from his breast pocket and handed it to her. It was exquisitely printed. She studied it, the words swimming before her eyes. She didn’t want to appear rude by staring at it for too long. The name ‘Roland Dalton’ was familiar to her. The Daltons were fantastically rich and she thought that Master had mentioned Roland before. Perhaps the visitor wasn’t completely unexpected? Perhaps he had simply arrived at a different time to the original plan.
“Please… Mister Dalton, you’re welcome and do come in. Please, follow me if you will.”
He gave a wry smile, transforming his rugged features into something even more handsome. Candy had to remind herself not to chew on her lip. Master would be angry if she spoiled her make-up.
He bent down to pick up a large bag that she hadn’t noticed at first and slung it over his shoulder in a manner that suggested that it contained something heavy.
She wondered how he had arrived at the door. There was no sign of a car and she hadn’t heard one pull up or drive off. It seemed absurd to imagine that he had walked from the public road carrying that heavy bag when it was at least three miles away. It made no sense for him to have walked at all as the estate was so isolated. She shivered and pulled the door closed behind him, shutting out the Halloween darkness.
She led the stranger to her Master’s study. There was no fire lit and it was cold, but it would not do to take him anywhere else as most of the house was starting to show signs of abandonment and dilapidation. The huge mansion was far beyond her capabilities to care for and her Master made no efforts of his own unless it was something essential, such as the time the power failed. She’d panicked then, but it turned out there was a backup system for the essential equipment.
Candy restricted her daily cleaning to the main halls, the study, the office, the Master’s bedroom – where she also slept – and the small staff kitchen. The main kitchen had been closed up for over four years now: it had been built to cater on a grand scale and wasn’t practical for only two people.
The stranger – Roland – seated himself in an overstuffed armchair and settled down to wait as she scurried to fetch her Master.
“There is a Mister Roland Dalton here to see you Master,” she said breathlessly.
She was conscious that even after six years her Master still loved to watch her. Her over-ample, bosom was heaving, charged with erotic promise. She was often breathless. It was hard enough work moving in her shoes without considering the restrictive posture corset with its built in collar, the substantial weight of her breast implants, or the stainless-steel chastity belt. She didn’t mind that her waist was restricted when it created that beautiful affect that made her huge breasts almost pop from their confinement whenever she breathed in deeply. It made her feel like the heroine from a historical romance.
“Dalton eh? I wasn’t expecting him. This can’t be chance. I wonder if he knows about my damned bank?”
“He is waiting in the study Master.”
“Good girl Candy.”
Horsten checked himself in the hall mirror before entering. He still cut an imposing figure, his hair still dark on top, though his sideburns had turned to silver. He wore a moustache without a beard these days and he checked carefully there were no embarrassing traces of food caught in it. Though in his youth he had always been clean shaven, the moustache reminded him of his long dead father; a man he did not miss but still respected; a man who had built the family fortune that he had lost; a man who had cared for his family instead of wasting it on sexual pursuits. He tidied his suit. It was the latest fashion, perfectly cut, but he sighed as he considered that it would probably be the last such hand-tailored outfit he would ever buy.
He strode into the study, and even though he felt old and tired in his heart, his body remembered how to move as if he was the lord of all he surveyed, about to pass judgement on his inferiors. He had spent so many years as an aristocrat and Master, he could not help but look like one.
The visitor rose to green him. His handshake was strong, his hands a little rougher than Horsten had expected from the son of a multi-billionaire, but a taste for ropes, yachting, or any number of other sports could account for that.
“So you’re Roland Dalton eh?”
“Pleased to meet you Mister Torrens-Sloan.”
“Please, call me Horsten.”
“As you wish, and for me, Roland will suffice.”
Horsten had never met Roland before and had not expected him to be quite so tall or muscular, but it was not an unusual trait amongst wealthy and powerful. They had corresponded at length over the last six years or so. Roland had never at any time intimated that he felt a visit was in order, and yet here he was. Horsten felt sure it was somehow related to his financial straits. Did this man intend to make an offer for his house? He might be the one to bring it back to its former glory and relieve Horsten of the burden if only he was prepared to take on the collection.
In years past, Horsten had exchanged letters with many men and women who sought to follow the path of dominance; to train and keep slaves. Towards the end of the eighties the Association had begun to grow in influence, and these days it was powerful indeed. Horsten had been blackballed by the Association amidst allegations that he had kidnapped and killed several young women and had been instrumental in the abduction of over a dozen college kids that had crashed his Halloween parties. The Association did not permit non-consensual slavery or use of coercion to recruit slaves. This particularly galled Horsten as he knew it was a rule that members of the Association council played fast and loose with. How could they not?
“So, is there some particular reason for this call Roland?”
The man grinned.
“You know that I have heard about your situation? You have my sympathies. It seems more than simple bad luck. I am certain that Dehlia and her toadies had a hand in it. I’ve heard they made other trouble for you. However, there is little I can do about them.”
“Enough of those dogs, you wish to make an offer on my house and grounds? Am I correct?”
“Indeed you are sir. You read me like a book. I realise it must already be a bothersome expense and can only become more unnecessary in the future. The precise offer will be drawn up by my office after a complete survey, but I intend for it to be reasonable, generous even. I am not here seeking a bargain but to preserve a treasure.”
“I shall not pretend I have any desire to remain here. Of course, even I don’t have an exact idea of its current condition or the full extent of the grounds. There are the gardens and I own many of the surrounding farms, the exact acreage I can’t say for certain. There are also many unique items in the contents that might interest you. I have no further need of them.”
“I don’t expect a response from you today. I’m here because I can’t make an offer of this kind without seeing the man I’m dealing with. I also brought you a couple of small gifts.”
“Gifts eh? I cannot fault your manners Roland, and I have grown to respect you from your letters. Ha, though they are emails these days aren’t they? It has been some time since anyone has hand-written a personal letter to me.”
“Indeed. They were not the sort of letters I would dictate to my assistant. I typed them myself.”
Horsten laughed at that. He and Roland had discussed the sport of fishing for part-timers at some length and the desired outcome of such games was implicit in much of what they had written. It was a sensitive topic.
Roland moved over to the large bag he had deposited on the study floor. Horsten had not noticed it immediately as it was out of sight, but as soon as he did he had no doubts about what it contained.
Roland unzipped the bag and bodily lifted a tightly bound and chained girl out of it. Her skin looked untouched by the sun but wasn’t pale. He couldn’t be sure without getting a look at her face, but she was probably of east-Asian extraction. Her thick dark hair seemed to confirm this.
Roland released the bindings holding her in the foetal position and pulled her roughly to her feet. Horsten had no doubt that he’d been right about her race, but he had never cared much about such things. What struck him most was that this girl had clearly been harshly used.
Her nipples, labia and nose were all ringed. There were additional piercings in her navel. The ring through her nose was over an inch in diameter and was set in a reinforced hole. Horsten could not imagine that any girl would walk around in public in such humiliating jewellery.
The stretched state of her labia and nipples, and the scars and stretch marks from her over-generous breast enhancements were also clues, but the most obvious indicator of all was the network of scars and more recent weals that covered almost every part of her body. There was no doubt in his mind that this girl had been beaten and whipped over a period of years with the deliberate intent of marking her. Her eye-liner was tattooed in place and her eyebrows were plucked and tattooed in place. Such details only made sense if she’d spent a lot of time wearing full-face hoods. The thought of it made him hard. A dark thrill passed through him such as he hadn’t felt in some time.
“This is Ruby, though I gave her that name just a few days ago. I brought her as a gift for you, along with a rather fine single malt that I think you will enjoy almost as much.”
“You are a man of fine taste Roland. Fine taste indeed. I see how she has been treated. She is no amateur or dabbler. What is her training?”
From her position in the corner, Candy stared transfixed at Ruby. What suffering she must have endured… Candy couldn’t decide if trying to imagine herself in the same situation would make her terrified or wet. After a moment she decided it was better not even to think of it.
“She has been trained to please men and women, to serve in the bedroom, the kitchen and as a general maid. She is addicted to pain and responds beautifully to a firm hand. However, she is spirited and requires continual discipline to keep her in line. A regular beating will not even trouble her, she enjoys them. It takes a special skill to punish her properly.”
“I can imagine,” Horsten said.
Candy felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. Would this girl replace her? If she did, what would be her fate? Horsten had become lazy and soft over the last few years and no longer beat her with the frequency or urgency he once had. She sensed that this new arrival would change that at the least.
While Horsten and Candy were both staring at Ruby, Roland quickly strapped her into a tight leather corset that helped to display her copious augmented breasts and then cuffed her hands behind her with a pair of heavy hinge cuffs.
“Why don’t you show your new master what you can do Ruby?”
She dropped to her knees, and crawling on them alone brought herself up to Horsten’s fly. Using only her teeth she unzipped it and managed to get his penis free. It was made more impressive because she managed it despite the heavy nose ring that hung down past her upper lip.
“Not bad,” he said.
She rolled her eyes up towards him beautifully; giving the perfect submissive stare, then licked him from the base of his penis to the top. Horsten wondered what it would be like to feel her hot tongue on his balls but they were still trapped inside his pants.
It wasn’t long before she had swallowed all of his shaft, allowing him to fuck her throat like a mere receptacle. Candy could do just as good a job, but he had become used to her and she held no surprises for him. This new girl was full of mysteries and even though she followed the same basic template there was a lot to distinguish her. Horsten had always had a weakness for girls that were an unknown quantity, though he would have preferred to put the piercings in himself.
Horsten gasped as he finally came and Ruby sat back on her heels, licking her lips in a way that meant that just a trickle of his cum dribbled from the corner of her mouth and was then caught on the tip of her tongue and devoured.
He reached down and grabbed her by a nipple, giving it a firm twist. She moaned softly, the sound a cross between pain and passion.
“Good girl Ruby,” he said.
Roland gave a hearty laugh.
“I’m sure you can make good use of her.”
“I don’t doubt it. Candy, please escort Ruby to the dungeon and secure her there to await my further attention.”
Candy felt as if she was falling into an abyss. Master had not taken her to the dungeon for months. She would be neglected or worse sent away. She couldn’t be sent away. She had her duties here, her responsibilities. If she was sent away, who would look after them? It would be terrible if Master sent her away.
Horsten and Roland were settling into oversized armchairs as she steered Ruby from the room, her finger hooked in the nose ring. She heard the clink of glasses.
Horsten put two crystal tumblers on the small round table. It was some kind of antique – valuable, he should probably sell it – he would need to determine the value of such things if he was selling the house. He would need experts to come in and value everything. It would take weeks.
“I always wanted to talk to you about the old days here,” Roland said, removing the stopper from the rare twenty-five year Islay malt. Horsten had similar bottles in his own drinks cabinet, but he had never tasted this particular variety and was looking forward to it almost as eagerly as he anticipated finding Ruby chained up in his personal dungeon.
“The old days? It was certainly a popular place back then. I like to think I played some part in that. For a few years it was the finest location to experience the true master-slave relationship. It was a world apart. Romantic subs came here to find their Story-of-O fantasies made real and far more besides. Masters came here to learn or use the facilities,” Horsten said.
The golden liquid splashed into the tumblers, two inches in each.
“Yes, for a while it must have been the centre of the BDSM community, if not for the whole world, at least for a good part of it. The markets are still spoken of, though competition from the Association killed them off, didn’t it? I always wondered what went on. It would have been something to be here at the time. The stories of those vanishing college kids always made me chuckle. Meddling kids, I bet they got what was coming to them?”
Roland raised the glass to his lips and took a mouthful, pausing to savour the exquisite liquid.
“Oh, too much was made of that. I can’t say much about it myself, I never had a thing to do with it. If those kids got themselves taken away by my guests they probably had it coming. I did find a couple of them on the floor of the main hall, bound up in rubber and sucking on each other. I made sure they were dropped off safely, far enough away from here to prevent a connection. That was the limit of my involvement or knowledge of the whole business. My butler might have been able to tell you more but he retired years ago.”
Horsten finally tasted the single malt. For a moment he’d been suspicious that Roland wasn’t drinking. He had tricked girls with drugged drinks on numerous occasions, and while he had no reason to distrust Roland, something had awakened his old nose for trickery.
“Yes, Stephen Fields. I did try and talk with him about it. He was reluctant to speak of the matter. Discretion is to be admired in a servant I suppose.”
“You looked up Stephen?”
“Oh yes, just recently in fact?”
“How is the old fellow?”
“Much altered I think. I imagine you wouldn’t recognize him these days.”
“Altered? From what? I mean, did you know him before?”
“I was referring to the photograph.”
“Oh, that photograph…”
“It hasn’t been the same since he left. I never thought I would miss him. The man was only a butler but we were together for over twenty years.”
“You never gave a moment’s thought to those students I suppose. Who would? They were fools to pry into something they must have known was none of their business. The part-timers though, capturing them was your obsession wasn’t it?”
Horsten swallowed more of the malt. It was a fine example with a highly unique taste.
“I don’t know if it was an obsession, but it was certainly a sport to set the blood racing. The ones who were most wary of it were always the most challenging and entertaining. They would pretend they were thinking things over, set conditions, take weeks away to put things in perspective, or even bring their friends to keep them company. It was all futile of course. In the end their greed for money and their need to be dominated brought them creeping back to beg to be my slaves.”
“Yes, you said much more in your letters. The detailed accounts gave me a lot to think about. I don’t think there was anything you did that was beyond the letter of the Association rules. The way they treated you was shocking. Somebody should put those pompous fools back in their place.”
“Yes, well Dehlia and Marcus always had it in for me, but that bitch Heather is the worst. The hypocrisy of it! She’s infamous for abducting unwilling slaves. It’s not even a secret. Her position and connection to Dehlia keeps her safe. It’s an outrage when you think about it.”
“Yes, though I suppose she isn’t infamous for burying them in concrete under her house in extreme isolation bondage to suffer unknowable torments and presumably to die with excruciating slowness.”
“What on earth are you saying?”
Horsten felt fear and rage rising up inside him. He was paralysed by a rush of conflicting emotions that he knew he must never reveal. There was no way this man could know the truth, and no way would Horsten reveal it to him.
“You don’t think we didn’t know about that? Or the cells down below where you walled up the girls who you couldn’t tame, bricked into punishment cells, fed through a slot and slowly starved to death?”
“What nonsense is this?”
“Do you really believe the Association threw you off the council due to your habit of getting girls to sign away their lives under financial and emotional duress? No, if we did that we’d have to go after half the scene. That said, most masters who use such tricks don’t hold the girls to the bargain. Once they’ve had their fun they let them go, or sell them on to homes where they are genuinely loved. There are only a few who lose interest in a girl as soon as the excitement of the hunt is over and only you… Only you… are callous enough to keep them and destroy them even though they no longer hold any interest for you.”
“What are you saying man? This is insanity. I’ve done no such things.”
“Ah, but you have, haven’t you? You never let a single one of those special conquests go. But you wouldn’t have been satisfied if you hadn’t been able to use the fate of those girls trapped in the tunnels beneath us to terrify the other slaves out of their wits. They do talk you know. We were bound to find out. If we’d exposed your true crimes the fallout would have been too much.”
“Look, that was all just a sham, just a trick to put the wind up the girls. I never really did those things. And what do you mean we? You’re not Dalton at all are you? Who are you really?”
“No. I’m not Dalton. You would probably know me as Marcus, though that is also just an alias, or something of a job title if I were to be candid.”
“Marcus? I never heard of you accusing me. It was always Dehlia. Why didn’t she come then? Or is that slut Ruby actually Dehlia? That would be a fine trick.”
“No. Dehlia isn’t Ruby. If Dehlia had shown you the same favour that Lauren just did, your days would already be numbered. No, truth be told, Dehlia and I are enemies of a sort, so its saying something that we can cooperate on this. Lauren simply works for her, and as we both had a special interest in you… Well, she can speak for herself. Not that Lauren is her real name either. Keep calling her Ruby if it suits for you. She won’t care. She’s oblivious to anything somebody like you could say to her.”
Horsten felt a pair of arms drape over his chest, and a girl’s short bobbed dark hair brush against the side of his face. Ruby … no … Lauren, was leaning over the back of the armchair and touching him seductively. Her hands slid up his chest, stroking over his nipples through his suit.
“Where’s Candy?” He said.
“Oh she’s chained up in your dungeon. She doesn’t need to know about any of this. She has her guilty little secrets, but she’s not to blame is she?” Lauren said.
She nibbled seductively on his ear. He tried to push her away but his arms wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t move his legs either. He had been drugged after all. How had it been done?
“What? What have you done to me?”
“The poison only works on your arms and legs. Clever little neurotoxin eh? Lauren borrowed it from Dehlia. Such things seem not to affect me, so we could drink from the same bottle. I confess, it is a trick I tend to over use.”
“Why are you doing this? I’m already a ruined man. What’s the point of taking revenge on me now?”
“We didn’t come to take revenge on you. You’ve got things backwards. We came to help somebody else. Candy was the one who put you back on the radar, but she didn’t do it on purpose. She just didn’t do much of a job hiding the parts and chemicals she was ordering. The Association keeps tabs on the trading of certain items as a matter of good business.”
“Parts? I really have no idea what you mean this time. Look, those girls are all dead but I didn’t kill them. It was Stephen. When I found out I sacked him. What could Candy have to do with any of this? Poor girl doesn’t know what day of the week it is.”
“But Horsten, it was Stephen that told us all about you. He’s guilty too, but he has also been punished. Like I said, he is much altered of late. A man commits multiple murders … murders by torture … I wouldn’t say that sacking was the appropriate response would you? Never mind, apparently you would. It doesn’t matter, I don’t believe for an instant that he was behind it, but he was certainly complicit,” Marcus said.
Lauren took her tongue out of Horton’s ear and licked his cheek leaving a cold wet trail.
“Master Horsten, Candy was ordering parts for a kind of life support machine that Dehlia’s firm used to sell through the Association,” Lauren said quietly.
She said ‘master’ in a way that resonated with disgust and hate. Horsten wondered if she would be the one to kill him, or did they have something more awful in mind?
“What did you mean about Stephen being ‘much altered’?”
Lauren giggled, then it turned into full blow laughter.
“You might not believe this old man, but Marcus has a very special party trick. Even Dehlia doesn’t know about it, but I do. You probably won’t believe it at first, but you will once he uses it on you.”
She slid down to sit in his lap, her nails tracing erotically down his chest again.
“You’re not in bad shape old man. At least there will be a few years left for Lisa when Marcus swaps her into your body and you into hers.”
“What the hell do you mean? Lisa has been dead for over a decade. You’re talking madness. Body swapping… My god,” Horsten said angrily.
Lauren turned to Marcus with a smile.
“He didn’t know. He must have thought the machines would simply break down. Candy looked after them and kept it a secret from him. She tried to keep Lisa alive all this time and he didn’t know.”
“We know he and Stephen talked about turning them off but neither of them had the guts,” Marcus said.
Lauren kissed him, languorously, her body hot against him.
“It’s incredible to think you never even checked on them. It shows just how little you cared,” she said.
“Interesting,” said Marcus as he raised himself from his chair. “I really don’t know if it will work with Lisa. I’ve never had to do it like this, but I am certain you are not going to like how it turns out Horsten.”
Lauren slid her hand down inside his pants, cupping his balls. There was nothing he could do to stop her. He felt violated. Was this what it had felt like for the girls that had been unable to stop him from doing whatever he liked to them?
“I hope you’re thinking about what you did to those girls… All of them… I hope you can remember the faces of the students you passed on as toys to your rotten cronies. I hope you can remember the faces of all the people whose lives you destroyed just so you could get your fix. The things you do, the things you watched, the things you read, the vile things you put into the heads of others, all have a price. It all has consequences and they’re coming to you now Horsten. I hope you have a long time to reflect on it,” Lauren said.
* * * * *
Hortsten felt the vibration start inside him somewhere, inducing a distant sensation of arousal. He was in the dark, tightly bound, something pressing tightly against every part of his body. Video screens flickered into life within the helmet. The image was smeared, blurred and low resolution but he could still make out Marcus’ face.
“I’d like to say that you are about to get a taste of your own medicine and that you’re about to feel things from the perspective of the girls you used and discarded but I doubt that can happen. From these readings it seems Candy was confused after all and you were right. Poor little Lisa has been dead for years. All that’s left of her is a liquefied corpse, held together by the suit. Somehow it must have trapped some part of her consciousness inside it. I’ve never understood how my trick works, but it seems it can work on the dead as well as the living… At least on one day a year.”
Horsten couldn’t believe what Marcus was saying. No part of it made any sense. He couldn’t be in Lisa, regardless of her condition, and her being dead made it all the more impossible. The only explanation was that they’d put his body in the suit while he was unconscious. He tried to respond to Marcus, to argue with him, to plead with him, anything. It was hopeless, his mouth was completely plugged and he couldn’t even move his tongue to explore it. There was no way for him to make a sound, and he knew that the suit had no microphone to communicate to Marcus even if he could.
He knew very well that the suits were buried in pits hidden underneath a sub-cellar. The pits had been filled in with concrete. It would be impossible to get them out. The only things that went into the pits were the cables and pipes for the life support and audio-video feeds that pumped pornography into the helmet non-stop twenty-four hours a day.
He knew there was no way they could have got one of the old suits out to re-use it, and he feared there was no escape for him, no matter what trick Marcus had played.
“I don’t know if you’re in there Horsten. I don’t know if you can hear this, but if you are I don’t think you’ll ever be free until someone manages to dig you out and opens the suit. Until the day the goop that’s in there comes flooding out you’ll be trapped on this earth, rotting alive in your cold concrete tomb. If you are still able to reason you will have plenty of time for regret, but I’d like to hope that as you think about what Lisa went through you will also feel remorse.
“Did you know that Candy used to talk to her like I’m talking to you now? I wonder if she was able to recognize that? It will be interesting to see how they get on together.”
The video screens went black and then after a moment the ‘conditioning program’ started up. The videos showed all kinds of extreme sexual activities and Horsten had filmed most of them himself especially for her program. Lisa would have spent many hours watching video of herself serving Horsten in every possible way, suffering in bondage, being chain fucked by every man in the mansion, and so many other things. Horsten realised he would be spending a long time looking at her tormented face.
* * * * *
Lisa awoke as if from an impossibly long dark nightmare. The last thing she remembered was her Master putting her into the suit.
“You always wanted to try this out didn’t you?” He’d said.
She’d smiled and laughed, eager to try the new suit. She would be in there two whole days, maybe three. Master promised that afterwards she would be have twice the sexual appetite of before. She couldn’t wait to see to see if it worked.
The suit had been impossibly tight, connecting to her piercings and plumbed with vibrators filling her completely. It would stimulate her pussy, asshole and nipples according to some special computer program. Tubes were plumbed into the tight fitting helmet, supplying her with food and liquids, other tubes would serve to remove her waste. She couldn’t see outside, but she believed that she would be the centrepiece in the main entrance hall and everyone would see her there, writhing in the suit, oblivious to their existence.
The video screens in the helmet bust into life and she remembered her Master telling her that he’d lied, that he was finished with her, that she was buried in concrete deep under the house and would remain there in the grip of the merciless computer as part of his collection, even after he was dead.
She was in Horsten’s bed, staring at the mirror on his ceiling. She could see him, aged and wearied, but she couldn’t see herself. There was a woman sitting at the bedside.
“Don’t panic, just let me explain,” Lauren said.
* * * * *
November 1st, 2012, three years later.
“Thank you James. You’ve done a great job keeping the old place running all this time. I wish you the best with your new job,” Candy Torrens-Sloan said.
“You’re welcome. I never spent much time on the machines anyway, always had my work cut out keeping the house in a fair state. You really need to get that roof looked at.”
“Yes, we’re getting rid of the old place at last. It will be sad to say goodbye to so many memories, but we haven’t been here much at all since you started and my husband really has no need for such a big old house. I hear that some industrialist woman from England is buying it, but I don’t bother myself with such things. It was never really my house you see. It’s always been something that was part of my husband’s past.”
James Turner wasn’t really listening. He was too busy starting at Mrs Torrens-Sloane’s tightly contained bust. She was something else, packed into that business suit like she was going to pop back out of it. That gold digging chick had sure hit it lucky with old Horsten. He might have lost the better part of his wealth but he was still loaded and the house and grounds had to be worth tens of millions, even with the state they were in. If she didn’t fuck the old guy to death and inherit the lot within ten years he’d be surprised.
He’d been employed as caretaker, but they’d made such a big deal of how he had to take care of the mysterious machines in the basement. At the slightest hint of a warning light he had to call some number in Germany, but they’d worked flawlessly and he’d never had to do anything but change the filters.
Candy never would have believed that Horsten could undergo such a change. She didn’t know if she believed that his mind had been swapped into Lisa’s body that Halloween. She wondered if perhaps Horsten had simply broken under the guilt and convinced himself he was Lisa, overall it seemed less far-fetched than the alternative.
When she’d asked Lauren why they’d do such a thing on Halloween of all nights, she’d simply shaken her head, but a minute later, out of the blue she’d answered.
“If you think our trick or treating is extreme, you should see what Dee gets up to.”
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