Officer Janet O'Flannery closed her eyes and rested her head on the steering
wheel in her car. It had been a long day. There was lots of paperwork
to be done back at the precinct, as well as Janet's own little time-consuming
project. She forced herself to get up and walk to her apartment before
she could fall asleep in her car.
She entered the cold darkness of her apartment and immediately looked towards the refrigerator for something to drink. Before she could open the
fridge, she noticed a glass of orange juice sitting on the sink from that morning. She took the juice, the glass as cold as the apartment was,
and sipped her drink as she turned on a couple of lamps. She turned
up the thermometer and sat on the couch, looking over her papers.
Her documents showed that several pet hospitals had requested suspiciously
large amounts of anesthetics. However, these specific anesthetics made
for use on humans, not animals. This was the first sign of illegal
activity. Often, the mafia and other criminal organizations use illegally-obtained pharmaceuticals to drug their victims. Another odd coincidence
was that these pet hospitals were all owned by the same corporation, Straufner
Inc. Janet looked over the company profile and noticed that the headquarters
was located in Williamsburg, Georgia.
"Williamsburg... Williamsburg," Janet thought aloud. "Why does that
seem familiar?" She sat up suddenly. Earlier that week, police
came across a pornographic video from the Middle East featuring a woman that
matched the profile of Claire Brooks, an American woman declared missing
years ago. The video seemed to be a recent production and there was
a question of whether it was made before or after she had been declared missing,
meaning the police were considering the possibility that Claire was abducted.
The video involved bondage and domination, and could have been produced without
her consent. Janet remembered that Claire was a former resident of
Williamsburg.
Theories of sexual slavery and Claire's connections to Straufner Inc. filled
Janet's mind. She took another sip of juice and looked for her pen.
She stopped herself and looked at the half-empty glass. She really
didn't remember leaving out her juice today. She brought the glass
closer to inspect it and noticed white residue around the edges. Janet
surprised herself with how calmly she reacted. She blinked, thinking
about what probably had happened and what was probably going to happen now.
She tried to put down the glass, but could not concentrate on what she was
doing. The drugs had already begun to take effect. Her arm muscles
spasmed, causing her to drop the glass on the floor. Then she passed
out on the couch.
A man dressed all in black stepped out of her bedroom, having heard Janet
drop her glass. He checked her to make sure she was unconscious.
"She's out," he told the man behind him. The second man nodded, and
picked up Janet's limp body. The man in black pulled out his cell phone
and dialed. "We're on our way."
***
Janet woke up with a bright light shining into her eyes. Her arms and
legs felt sore. She checked her body for further injury and noticed
a scar from a needle in her left arm. She knew she had been drugged,
but nothing else. She noticed she was locked in the steel cage that
she lay in and so she had a conjecture about where she was. She hoped
it was wrong.
"The lady finally awakes," a man's voice sounded. She looked up to
see a silhouette of a man in a chair, just outside the light. "Good
morning, Sunshine."
"Where am I?" she said, her voice raspy from her slumber.
"You are in what we like to call 'The Dungeon,'" he told her.
"What time is it? What day is it? What-"
"That's enough questions for now. All of your questions... well, most
of them, will be answered soon. Now I have some requests of you.
Disrobe. Now."
The reality of Janet's situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Evidently,
she was now a sex slave, or at least she was being kidnapped by the people
who had forced Claire Brooks into sexual slavery. She tried to think
of a way out of the situation or something she could say to buy her some
time. Common sense and experience with victims of similar events told
her there was nothing she could do but obey. She tried stay strong,
keeping her feelings inside. They were now her only possessions, now
that this man had her body. But this was not like the situations she
had proposed in her head, nor like the movies she had seen on the screen.
This was real. So she began to cry.
"Janet," the man repeated. "Disrobe, please." Janet cried as
she took off her shirt, pants, and socks. She had no idea where her
shoes were. "Janet, I believe you know that when I say 'disrobe,' I
mean completely." Janet sobbingly removed her bra and panties, wearing
nothing but the fair skin that covered her body.
And what a body it was. Although she was not as athletic as some women
on the force, she had toned muscles and ample breasts to go with them, especially
when considering her short height. The man admired her long brown hair
and the way it flowed down her naked back. Janet sat on the floor,
guarding her breasts and womanhood with her hands. Her modesty made
the man laugh. It was cute. She would lose it soon enough.
The man motioned for his assistants. Two men dressed in leather pants
approached the cage, one with a mesh shirt, the other with leather straps
crossing his chest. They looked as if they had been taken straight
from a fetish clothing shop catalogue. They opened the cage, took Janet's
clothing, and took their stance behind the man in the chair. Janet
wiped her tears away and managed to contain herself. She looked at
the silhouette and whimpered, "What are you going to do with me?"
The man smiled. "You don't know? Perhaps you didn't get as far in your research as we thought."
"Are you going to kill me?"
"No, no, Janet. See although you have posed a bit of a problem for
us, you're actually quite an attractive lady. That's why we've decided
to keep you around for a little while."
"So I was right about-"
"Please, Janet, let me finish." The man stood up and walked towards
the cage. Now that she had passed the first test and was naked, he
felt comfortable revealing his face. He was a tall, muscular man, dressed
in a business suit, not at all what Janet had expected. He was clean
cut and appeared to be in his 30's or early 40's. "You see Janet, you
had some right ideas," he said, beginning to pace in front of the small cage.
"Too many right ideas. We hadn't realized that the drugs were leaving
a trail of evidence. Veterinarians used to use those drugs on animals,
you know. They weren't restricted to human use until recently.
So we were as surprised as you were to find out about the whole anesthetic
thing.
"Now the porn video... we were hoping police wouldn't find that. We
tell our overseas customers that some videos you just can't bring to the
States, but do they listen? No."
"Where's Claire Brooks?" Janet asked, glaring at him.
"Janet, please. I'll get to that. Well, actually, just to put
your mind at ease: she's alive and well, last time I checked, in another
dungeon owned by our Arabian business associates. It was the Arabs
that filmed the video after we sold them Claire. Of course, one of
their customers brought the video to America, and the police searched his
house after the drug incident, and well, you know the rest.
"You were well on your way to filing a suit against Straufner, Janet, or
maybe even finding out about this place. We'll make sure we change
the records on what drugs are ordered from now on. By the way, when
I say we, I mean the committee and I. I'm Mike Smart." He held
out his hand to her, offering a handshake. She looked at it and made
up her mind to spit on it, but he withdrew his hand before she could act.
"Sorry. I meet a lot of people in my line of work," he said, explaining
his behavior. It wasn't the complete truth, though. He always
offered the women his hand after doing it by mistake once, just to see if
they would forget their hatred for a moment and shake his hand. But,
with the exception of Janet, he never told the women his real name.
"Actually, I wanted to see if that name rang any bells. I guess we
really did overestimate your progress in your little detective work.
Anyway, they call me White, which is Master White to you. Call me anything
else besides that or just 'Master' and you will be punished.
"Anyway, Janet, you put us in a position where we had no choice but to bring
you here. Either that or kill you. And you're much too pretty
to be killed." He stroked her hair, causing her to smack White's hand
away. "Whoa. Feisty." He grinned devilishly at her.
"It's a good thing I'm nicer than a lot of men here, Janet, or you'd pay
for such disagreeable deportment. I'm going to leave you in the hands
of Master Johns and Master Cruz now. I'll be around."
"Wait," she cried out. "Uh, how long am I going to be here?"
Johns turned on the lights and Cruz turned off the spotlight, exposing the
brick room they were in. White turned around, halfway out of the door.
"How long?" he repeated. He chuckled. "Johns and Cruz will explain
everything. I advise you to do what they tell you." He closed
the door, laughing again, "How long!"
"Till you die, sweetheart," Cruz answered. Johns smiled.
"Actually, until you get too old," Johns corrected.
"Right. But then you'll be killed, so..." Cruz shrugged.
He opened her cage and walked towards her with handcuffs. She backed
up against the cage, overwhelmed with what her life had suddenly become and
fear of her captors whom had brought this change.
"Why are you doing this?" she whimpered. Cruz handcuffed her as Johns stood by, watching.
"Well, it's like he said. You're too dangerous for us to let you live in the outside world..."
"No, I mean, why all of this? Why would you subject women to this...
place?" Cruz looked at Johns. They always found it funny that
women couldn't understand the wonderful magic that the men felt at The Dungeon.
It was true that slaves' anger and depression could rub off on the men here,
but Johns was too new for it to have gotten to him yet, and Cruz, as an older
employee at the Dungeon, had become indifferent to the women's feelings a
long time ago.
"Why do you think? Do you know how hard it is to find a good, beautiful
woman in the outside world who will fuck you? And all the work that
has to be done to get her to fuck you?"
"Not to mention how hard it is to find a good submissive these days," Johns added.
"Exactly. All you have to do is casually mention that you wanna piss on her face and it's out the door she goes."
"This place really is a godsend," Johns commented. His approbation
of this place made Janet angry. Cruz guided her out of the door and
through a hallway. Johns followed.
"But- you- you can't just- Women are people-"
"You know, you talk a fucking lot. Don't worry; I'm sure you'll make
a good slave. Frankly, I hope I get to be the one to pop your anal
cherry tomorrow." He glanced at her butt and slowly slid his hand onto
her cheeks as they walked. "You *are* an anal virgin, right?"
She glared at him.
"She looks like the type," Johns commented. Janet spat on Cruz's face.
"Everyone gets one mistake," Cruz said quietly, wiping his face. "Unfortunately,"
he continued, "you already slapped White's hand."
Cruz held Janet's right wrist and forced her arm unnaturally far up her back.
She screamed in pain and he followed her to the cold stone floor. He
kept pulling, her body writhing on the ground. He stuck his middle
finger into her asshole forcefully. She screamed with the pain and
embarrassment that came with having something enter an "out" hole for the
first time. "Slave, your body is not yours anymore. It is mine.
And Johns. And every other man's here, and some of the women's, if
they're good enough. You're all our fucking property. So if I
or some other man touches you, fucks you, hits you, insults you... you just
let it happen. And try to act like you enjoy it. You got that?"
"Yes," she exhaled.
"Yes, what?" She thought for a moment, confused. He pulled her arm more.
"Yes, Master!"
"Good. Most of us require you to call us Master in every sentence. Get in the habit."
"Please, I- have to go to the bathroom," she said, feeling the pressure even
more with his finger in her ass. "Master," she added. He withdrew
his finger and glanced at it.
"I can tell. Let's go." They got up and continued walking.
Johns smiled. Janet's little experience had got him fairly hard.
Janet, however felt completely humiliated. It was not only his physical
abuse that embarrassed her, but his forcing her to call him master.
Calling this man "Master" gave the impression that not only was he her better,
but that she had respect for him, which was the complete opposite of the
truth. Janet was disgusted with him, Johns, and this whole place she
had been taken to. The whole idea of this dungeon made her sick, but
because she was now one of its victims, it made her very scared.
"So, Slave, there are four levels of hierarchy between the women here," Cruz
began to explain. Every woman had to know the rules. "Everyone
starts out at the bottom, and hopefully, works their way to the top.
You will be a Slave, like every other woman is when she first comes here.
If you do well- if you don't hesitate to perform your sexual duties, keep
yourself in good shape and beautiful- you will graduate to Toy. Above
the Toys are the Sluts, also called the Whores, and finally the Prostitutes.
There are many benefits to moving up the hierarchy: getting to wear clothes;
being able to request sex with certain men, or women; sleeping on bed; having
a toilet in your cell; better food; among other things. I hope you
will try to work your way up. Some women stay at one level all their
lives, but that's okay, too. We need Slaves and Toys that we can wake
up in the middle of the night to run a quick train on their assholes.
I myself prefer to ravage a lower-level bitch, as a favor to all the women
that have worked hard to get to the upper levels."
Janet said nothing while Cruz spoke. She just walked to the unknown
destination, taking everything in. She was almost impressed with the
organization and efficiency that this place prided itself in. And the
cruelty, she remembered. The inhumanity was unbearable. Her whole
life, she had tried to fight prejudice and sexual inequality. That
was why she became a cop. To protect the rights of everyone.
Now she was here, at a place that violated everything she stood for.
It was then that she knew she had to escape. She could let the world
know about this place. She would begin planning immediately.
They came to a toilet in the midst of a wide hallway. Janet thought
it looked very odd having one toilet in the middle of a hallway, especially
without any walls for privacy, but then it reminded her of her last visit
to the county jail, which had similar commodes. Cruz and Johns stopped.
"Okay, go," Cruz told her. Janet quietly sat on the toilet and, after
a few seconds, got up the courage to urinate in front of these men.
She sat for a while, her face red with embarrassment, and then she stood up again.
"Is that it?" Johns asked. Janet nodded. She tried to avoid speaking, allowing her to evade calling the men "Master" for a little longer.
"Nothing else?" Cruz eyed her.
"No, Master," Janet relented. She then explained shamefully, "I can't go in front of you." Johns looked at Cruz.
"Do we give her an enema now?" Johns asked. Janet silently gasped.
"No, we wait until tomorrow," Cruz answered, tearing off some toilet paper
to wipe Janet clean. She shuddered as he dried her vulva. "It's
her first day. Plus, she went Monday." Monday was yesterday,
but the men were trained not to give the women any clue as to what the current
date was. Janet looked at him, surprised that he knew her bowel movement
history. He looked at Janet again. "Yes, we know a lot about
you," he explained. "We've been watching you for a while. But
you're sure you can't go now?" She shrugged. He threw the paper
away.
"No, Master," she repeated, figuring she had better make her thoughts clear. Cruz looked at Johns.
"I guess that's about it," Cruz told him.
"Time to break her in?" Johns asked.
"Go for it, rookie." Before Janet could translate this exchange, Cruz
grabbed her handcuffed arms with one arm and held her around the waist with
the other. Johns unzipped himself and let his semi-hard cock spring
out. He had been aroused just thinking about fucking this cop lady,
but was a little excited to get fully hard. Janet screamed at the sight
of his member, feeling the fear of her first rape. Today was full of
firsts. Johns was performing his first "breaking in" of a slave.
He grabbed her legs and guided himself into her resistant hole.
"Nooo!! Nooooo!!!" Janet screamed.
"Shut up," Cruz told her. "No one can hear you... except for the slaves
and the men who work here." He held her body tightly in his arms.
Janet cried as Johns forced his dick all the way into her vagina. She
kicked and bucked, but Johns was also doing a good job of immobilizing her.
All she could do was move at the waist in spasms.
"Nooooo!! Help me!" she screamed futilely. Slaves in their cells
looked up in her direction. Someone screaming for help meant there
was a new girl. Or someone was being killed. Long residents of
this dungeon would slip up and call for help as they were dying. But
the slaves could tell- it was a new girl.
"Didn't I say Shut UP?!" Cruz grabbed her chin. It would be difficult for him to slap her from behind her back.
"Actually, I kinda like it," Johns told him, humping her cunt. He let
go of her left leg to pull his boxers down to his thighs and she feebly kicked
him. He grabbed her leg, then let go of it again to slap her across
the face, and picked up her leg once more.
"Ow... Nooo," Janet whimpered. She felt the irony of being in the place
of the women she had rescued from this type of abuse. Johns laughed
at her.
"Aww... don't cry, baby girl," he mocked her. This made Janet want
to cry even more, of course. She broke down into a sniffling, crying
mess. Mucus began to flow down her nostrils and, after a few minutes,
her eyes were red. She wondered how anyone could to want to have sex
with her, picturing what she must have looked like. She despised these
men and wanted them dead and... would do anything to get them to stop.
Johns smiled a shit-eating grin at her. Her tears were little drops
of encouragement for his good work at what he loved best. Since she
had long stopped resisting, he dropped her leg again to fondle her breasts.
He whispered to himself, "Aw, that's creamy..." It was just like he
had always suspected. These hard women- businesswomen, feminists, cops-
they all cried. They all were actually soft on the inside. And
the inside of the cunts were soft, too. Any beautiful woman, or almost
beautiful woman with potential, could be sexy when she was brought down a
notch or two. He marveled at his work: the crying, shivering mess that
was Janet.
"I'm gonna cum," he said."
"On her face, buddy," Cruz directed him, as Janet was not "fixed" yet.
Cruz laid her on the ground, and stepped back to avoid Johns's cum.
Johns stroked his love juice all over her face.
"Stick out your tongue," he told Janet. She turned her face to the
side. "Aww, man. I don't want to clean myself."
"They usually do this. Just wipe it on her body." Johns dragged
his softening penis across her chest, wiping away the remains of his semen.
He knew it was dangerous forcing anything valuable into the mouth of a recent
capture.
"Get up, slave," Cruz told Janet. The power of her knees was regained
and the two men walked her to her cell and took her handcuffs off.
She sat dazed on the concrete floor, her body still covered in cum.
The men believed letting their cum dry on the newbies was always a good,
character building experience. Her redhead cellmate just sadly looked
at Janet from her sleeping position on the floor.
"Sleep tight," Johns told her, as he and Cruz left. The lights in the
dungeon were dim, with false moonlight beaming in through the windows.
The windows actually did not lead to the outside, but to giant lanterns that changed color and brightness according to what time it was, or to what time the men wanted the women to think it was.
Janet stared at the pattern of white light on the floor, thinking about her predicament. She knew she had to get out of here. No matter how long it took, or what she'd have to do, she would escape.