SHAFTED: an erotic thriller (7 page)

CHAPTER 15

SEPTEMBER

The house was practically finished. It had been five
-and-a-half months I would never want to repeat.

My memory was blurry with sex, building dust, workmen,
checks, sex, furniture moving, sex, paint fumes and even more sex. Sex that had become automatic to me, sex that just happened day or night, regardless of whose body was fucking me. I was their toy and I’d become too numb to care about that. It just… was.

But,
at dusk that day, just as the staff had signed off, as I walked through my almost completed house and decided the sacrifice of my dignity seemed worth it. Despite my lack of input, I had to admit my little manor looked amazing.

The front gate had been rehung and restored; a job that had taken the specialist a month just on its own. My hard work on the gardens had tamed the 30-years of overgrowth and now the back and front landscaping was
a graceful old-English grandeur. Large swaths of slowly-recovering lawn wound around enormous, ancient trees which were dotted with seats to relax on. An outdoor work-out area of wooden equipment sat in a perfect circle of gravel – it would also be an outdoor area for sex if the guests wished for it. The tennis court had been mended and the pool was sparkling next to a cabana with a new bathroom. There were also two oversized cubby houses built for clients; one contained harnesses and hammocks, the other a standard bed. All the outdoor sheds, laundry and big barn had been cleaned out and fixed up.

I closed
the backdoor behind me and gazed around the sparkling stainless steel L-shaped kitchen benches. The beautiful 300-year-old central workbench was gleaming from its latest coat of polish. Two glassed-fronted fridges lined the opposite wall and the larder had been fixed and now contained assorted shelf food.

On the other side of the room, directly in front of me, a simple table was surrounded by eight matching chairs, along with a small lounge, shelves, cupboard and a TV mounted on the wall. This would be the staff room.
This room had a paint of soft tan on the walls with white trims and ceilings.

Down the
white corridor from the staff room, the three tan bedrooms had been decked out with queen-sized beds and plain furniture, similar to a standard hotel room. I presumed they were for the ladies who would soon be in residence.

The ground floor bathroom had been remodeled into a men’s and ladies’ toilet blocks with entrances opposite the kitchen door and a small, locked one into the corridor behind for staff.

I walked past the library, now in a dark shade of royal blue. It’d been turned into a small dance room with soft couches, several poles and ambient lighting. It would also be here the girls will be introduced to each client for their choice.

The conservatory now hosted a large octagonal, wooden bar surrounded by stools and t
wo large flat-screen TVs were mounted high to broadcast the latest sports matches, should the patrons desire to see them.

The dining room confused me because I was expecting smaller tables for the guests; however, perched in pride of place was a magnificent Georgian-period table with matching chairs, all of which had been restored at a hefty price.

“Still don’t think it’s worth it,” I said out loud. It did look lovely, but would guests really want to sit together? I was too scared to ask.

The formal lounge had been decorated in the heavy
, leather furniture and dark colors, as Candice had planned. Three two-seater dark leather lounges sat in a U-shape facing the fireplace. To the side were two single chairs flanked by small tables.

“No wonder I’ve got no money left,” I said to myself again, the furniture in this and the dining room alone costing 3
1K.

Back in the entrance hall, t
he staircase swept evenly towards the second floor, its white bannisters gleaming. At its base was the small reception desk now outfitted with a small computer, credit card machine and registration books. Gazing around me, the reception hall was outfitted with light yellow walls, white trims and ceiling with black and white tiles polished crisp.

My footsteps tapped on the plastic safety strip that enclosed the front of each of the wooden st
eps as I ascended to the first level. On the landing, all the carpet had been ripped up and the boards polished to a high gleam. A long carpet runner was stretched the length of the corridor which now muffled my footsteps as I wandered into each room.

The bathroom immediately to my left had been turned into a storeroom
with a back-up toilet and shower and it was packed with cleaning supplies, linen and baskets. Now each room had an en suite, it wasn’t needed exclusively for bathing anymore.

Bedroom 2 was now the Arctic Room
. Its walls, ceiling and floor were all an ice white and it was stark and cold, imitating an ice cave. A modern, low white bed was flanked by white side tables and a low crystal chandelier. The en suite matched it perfectly.

Bedroom 3 was now Africa Room and it represented an African savannah, complete with ropes suspended from the ceiling.
It had dark brown walls, animal print carpet and a round bed.

Bedroom 4 was now the
Asia Room and it resembled a Japanese garden. The bed was very low to the floor and the décor green, black and white with bamboo partitioning.

Bedroom 5 was now the France Room. It was sumptuous, rich and very Louis XIV Renaissance. Imitation gold leaf flecked and glinted in the sunlight that streamed across the heavy
ornate four-poster bed.

Bedroom 6 was now the Mexico Room; its red and tan décor could have been lifted from Central America and placed here. Geometric, woven wool tapestries hung in front of stucco walls and a dark, rectangular wooden, four-poster bed draped with transparent fabrics.

Every room had a mirror above the bed, adjustable lighting, massage showers and personal sound systems. As it was illegal to install cameras in rooms, each room had a panic button and each prostitute would wear a bracelet which would also set off alarms.

All over the house, large paintings from both modern and 19th century artists had been hired from an art collection and were all for sale with a small commission for the
club. Candice had thought of that one, smart little cookie that she was.

During the day, the house and yard buzzed with several staff, busily sorting out linen, food and other items, all governed by the steel-for-spine Freya. The Warrior Stick (as I’d nicknamed her) had been here for a week and although she was efficient, she’d been haughty and dismissive of me from day one. I couldn’t stand the sight of her. Once Candice and Dan went on their merry way, I’d be firing her skinny
ass and relished the idea.

Otherwise, more staff would be starting at the end of next week, just before the opening. The party was scheduled for the Saturday night in ten-day’s time and it was going to be a big one.

And right then, temporarily assured by the quiet, shiny house while standing in the upper hallway, I made my decision. I leant on the bannister at the edge of the landing and formulated the plan – I was contracted to give two weeks’ notice for my job and so I would. Tomorrow, I would email my company and resign. Screw the bank’s advice, I wanted to stay here and run the club my way, after getting rid of the Baronets and Freya. It would be great. My confidence was high and my shoulders dropped in relief that the decision was made.

I clomped down to the kitchen and made myself a simple meal all while composing the resignation letter in my head.
Short and sweet or long and informative
? I ate at the table in the staff room and watched trashy TV, relaxing and enjoying the silence. My fanciful self could almost feel the house humming in happiness around me, grateful to be beautiful once more, knowing it was in my capable hands.

The only hitch was the loneliness. I missed Dan, despite his complications, but except for that one night
where he’d confessed to be falling for me, we hadn’t been together like that again. It’d been the only ‘moment’ we’d stolen since those first couple of weeks and I reflected fondly, sipping the delicious coffee from the commercial machine that gleamed on the end of the bench.

An hour later, freshly showered, relaxed and wearing my
favorite pink silky shorts and camisole set, I climbed into the awesome bed and snuggled in, still finalizing my resignation letter as sleep overcame me.

CHAPTER
16

I dreamed of a soft light tracing my arms and body, touching my skin with warmth and texture. I’m sure I shivered because I felt those bonds tighten and suddenly, I couldn’t move.

Then I knew it wasn’t a dream. My eyes shot open and still groggy, I saw the face of a creature of nightmares at the foot of my bed. The face was that of a demon; black, empty eyed with edges of glinting gold. I screamed and in an attempt to scramble up to move away from the beast, realized just as rapidly I couldn’t.

Staring around in ascending horror, I saw my arms and legs had been tied securely to all four points of my bed and I screamed once more in confusion and terror. Small candles had been lit and placed at the edges of the room but where the bed was located, was heavily shadowed by the fabric draped over the top. I couldn’t see beyond those lights and the familiar contours of the room seemed ominous.

“Silence.” The creature spoke, harshly and deeply.

“Let me go!”

“Silence!” the voice was loud, commanding and familiar. I stopped struggling and examined the ugly creature once more, noticing finally that below the face was a muscular, naked male body, the penis now recognizable.

“Dan?”

“I said SILENCE!”

“What the hell is going on?”

Dan flicked a finger and a sharp, burning pain radiated from my right thigh at the same time as the sound of a riding crop slicing through the air reached my ears. I screamed again, this time in agony.

“Every time you speak you will feel the sting of the crop. Do you understand?”

I nodded, the terror now increased tenfold with the throbbing from my right thigh. Tears I couldn’t stop welled in my eyes and tickled as they dripped down my temples. Had I been able to, I’d have brushed them away.

“You will listen to me well, slave. Tonight, you are nothing but a vessel to fuck. Tonight, you will discover your true purpose in life. Tonight and for always, I am your master.” He paused and I sought his eyes through the slits in the hideous mask’s façade. It was dark in those holes; I could see nothing. I tugged on the bonds on my wrists once more to test their strength. The material held firm.

“Struggle all you want, you won’t get out.”

I yanked on the leg and arm restraints, grunting as I did so. I could hear his breath increasing and
glancing his direction, I could see his penis rising in response to my actions. He was getting off on seeing me struggle. I stopped, his arousal making me feel dirty.

My gentle, kind, loving Dan, the only balm I’d had in almost six months, was a cruel monster. The realization of his true character and deception cut deep.

Fear sucked out the remaining tinge of sleep and with full clarity, I again swept my gaze around the room. I noticed another shadowy figure to the right of me, about a meter from the edge of the bed. The shape shifted and in that fraction of movement, I recognized Candice. Through the barely perceptible gloom, I could see she was wearing a dark, shapeless dress and was holding a riding crop – the same that had struck me a minute ago. Around her neck was the heavy necklace I’d seen her wear in the bank. Her gorgeous hair was tied back tightly and her eyes were downcast and submissive.

“Cut off her clothing,” Dan commanded. Candice lifted from a box at her feet a large pair of scissors that glinted quickly in the pale light.

The bed dropped slightly as Candice’s knee pressed onto the bed. She placed the scissors against my thigh, the coldness a little shocking for a moment. I lifted my head to watch, whimpering slightly at the realization she was about to cut my favorite bed wear. She snipped at my small shorts, then holding the ends ripped the scissors upward, severing the fabric cleanly right through to the waist band. The unsecured silk panel flopped onto the mattress, baring my naked pelvis. Three seconds later, she’d repeated the action with the other side until only a small piece covered my pubic hair.

Candice then held the bottom of my camisole and slit it from waist to throat. She stopped the scissors just short of my jerky neck, her expression one of threat and I tur
ned away from her. The cool autumn air tightened my breasts, now bared to my captors.

“Tie her knees,” Dan ordered.

Candice said a demure “yes, Master” and extracted from her bag two more long scarves and tied them around each knee, followed by looping the other end around the posts above my head and pulling hard, lifting my legs wide like being in medical examination stirrups. My shoulders and head were all that remained on the bed and my legs hurt where the scarves cut into the flesh. Nothing was hidden to them and although they knew every crevice of my body, I was embarrassed.

“Stop!”
I said and my punishment for speaking was immediate as the crop slashed across the exposed underside of my thigh. I couldn’t stop the holler even if I tried; the pain was unbelievable.

“You did that to yourself. Now shut the fuck up!” Dan
taunted.

I did. I had no choice and I choked back the fear and tears, trying to not make a sound. With my knees strung high and my pussy on full display, I couldn’t have been more humiliated. The pain in my thigh cancelled out the possibility of this being a nightmare.

How did my once gentle Dan become this tortuous monster?

Maybe humiliation was their goal; to break me somehow? If it was, they’d succeeded. All I wanted was escape and I was damning myself for trusting these
freaks. I couldn’t look at them. I had my eyes closed tightly and my head turned away from Candice, chin on my shoulder. My cheeks were saturated from the tears and my nose was running, the fluid trickling down my arm pit. I hated this, I hated them. They would pay for this humiliation… if I even survived.

Oh God, that was a new thought… were they going to kill me? Was I going to die? Right now, they were just standing there, observing my degradation. Waiting… watching… for what?

“Alex?” My racing thoughts stilled at his harsh voice and I spared him a glance through my raised legs. “I don’t want you to be whipped anymore and I’m sure you feel the same. You will not be gagged because I want you to demonstrate strict discipline by not uttering a sound. You will do anything I command you. Do you understand?”

I nodded again.

“Good.” The demonic mask turned away from me. “Candice.”

Candice pulled the ugly dress over her head but left the necklace on. She was naked underneath, her
smooth body as distinguishable to me as my own. Soon she was on all fours with her face pressed to my pussy and was performing her amazing talent on my exposed flesh.

Being hoisted as I was, the area was especially
sensitized and although I was afraid and disgusted, it only took about 30-seconds before my traitorous clit sent a spark of delight to my brain.

“Relax, Alex,” Dan
commanded, his voice closer and to my right. “You can’t get away, you may as well just enjoy it.”

NEVER!
my head screamed. Oh, God, YES! my body disagreed.

That magic they’d always had over me
tickled and tricked my head. It was an epic battle of pleasure versus aversion and I was biting my lip hard, keeping my chin firmly glued to my left shoulder.

One of them pushed something long into me and soon gentle vibrations added to the pleasure spilling up my body. She returned her tongue to my clitoris and I
stiffened, my chin lifting and a groan leaving my lips.

“There, Alex. Well done. Welcome to ultimate pleasure.”

“Ahhhhh!” I groaned. Snap. The sharp sting of the riding crop was heavier this time, wielded by Dan’s stronger arm. I yelled; I couldn’t help it. This time, a slimy trail traced down my thigh; he’d drawn blood.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Candice stopped her ministrations and everything in the room went still. The only sound was the low buzzing of the device still inserted deep within me.

“Candice. The second act.”

I wondered if Dan was relishing being the only person who was talking.

The bed lifted under my shoulders as Candice moved off the mattress. The leg ties were released from the posts and I dropped heavily to the bed. The relief was intense and I curled my knees high.
But not for long.

Dan roughly manhandled me over onto my belly and pushed my legs up until my knees were tucked under my chest. I resumed a prostrate prayer position with my face on the mattress, wrists far beyond my head, now crossed over after being flipped. The ties on my ankles and knees were wrapped firmly around my feet and legs, hogtying me. Then a blindfold was wrapped around my eyes, confusing my senses more. My
butt was completely bared to them and for a moment, I perversely wished I hadn’t showered before bed.

The mattress dipped behind me and rough hands were placed on my hips. Without any warning, Dan’s large dick was probing my anus. I tightened the muscles, not wanting to experience anal sex in this manner. Dan tried to push through the hole but I refused him entry.

“Damnit Alex, relax your ass.”

I shook my head and the crop lashed down hard on my exposed left buttock. I choked back on the scream of pain.

“That’s for disobeying me. Now do as I say.”

My breath sounded loud on the sheet my forehead was mushed against and my wrists and legs were burning from being held in this awkward position. It was then I concluded that once he’d had his jollies, he’d release me (hopefully), so I did as he ordered and eased off.

At once, his dick entered the tender flesh of my virgin rectum. I squirmed and bit my lip but managed to keep any cries from escaping my lips. A long rivulet of lubricant pooled around the skin so I was relieved he bastard had at least bothered to lube up. It hurt, not as much as I was expecting, but it still stung big-time and right now, humiliatingly so. Dan pulled out slightly before thrusting further in and after several retractions, was quite deep inside me. I was breathing heavily, trying to slacken the muscle to take away the discomfort. My anus was burning

Although I had
wanted to experience anal someday, how it was happening, I struggled to move past the preconceived notion that it was supposed to be dirty. Illicit. Something only gay men and kinky women went for. Hell, it was even illegal in some countries!

Slowly but surely, Dan’s thrusting increased.
I had to give the guy some credit; he was obviously experienced in initiating someone into this form of intercourse. I was mentally analyzing the process, noting the pain points and how swollen my butt felt.

I pictured Dan wearing that ghoulish black mask, his fit body naked, his large dick my
ass. It was naughty and wrong… that finely sculpted bod, hidden from my view, known only by touch, performing this dirty deed on my body. I had an image sweep across my vision where for a second I was Candice, observing her husband perform this act on my bound, cowered form. To my amazement, that image was erotic and in reaction, I unclenched my pelvic muscles and Dan slid in and hit a part of me I’d never imagined existed.

The most intense pleasure of my life coursed along my nerves. It was a deep, primitive pleasure propelled, rather than hindered, by my prejudices against
anal penetration.

Encouraged by that imaginary photo, I stopped
analyzing and let my body talk instead. And damn, it didn’t talk; it sang.

My dissipating resistance must have transmitted to Dan who groaned loudly and picked up his thrusts.

“Oh God, that’s it. Take it. Oh, good girl, take all of me!”

So I did. The ache in my secured legs was overcome by the pleasure forcing its way through my body. Sounds of
ecstasy were bubbling in my throat and forcing their way through my lips. I tried to stop the sound but couldn’t.

The sigh of pleasure sounded enormously loud and the sound of the crop slicing the air quickly followed it. A crack emanated but there was no pain.

“No, the discipline is over for now. Let her make noise.” I had no idea where that crop landed or why I was given reprieve from the lesson in discipline but I certainly made use of the opportunity to let my voice out.

“Aaaahhhhhhh”.

Dan sped up, using me.

I hated this. I loved this. Dan and Candice were raping me, torturing me, or were they? This wasn’t mutual sex; I’d been tied against my will. But it felt too good to be rape. God, that felt amazing!

“Act Three!” Dan wheezed, his voice straining to work during this ‘act’ he was so obviously enjoying.

The swish of scissors cutting fabric entered my ears and my right arm was free. I wiggled my fingers gratefully and placed my hand flat on the bed next to me for support, easing some of the pressure on my poor strapped-up legs that were taking the brunt of his shoves. It was hard to concentrate because it was beginning to feel really good. I shut out the world around and let go, both amazed and disgusted I could do so.

I wanted to rub myself; I wanted to carry this amazing sensation higher when to my delight, the vibrator was pressed against my clit and switched on. Now I really did yell.

“I knew you’d love it, dirty slave.
Horny bitch!”

I could hear and feel only where our bodies joined. Sweet pleasure was swirling around my brain and I knew I was going to climax soon.
Hard.