Welcome to the Dungeon, Part 2: Janet's Escape
by MechaBlade
Janet O'Flannery woke up from her dream, bones aching. Batting her eyes, she came to the painful realization that the dungeon where she was being held captive was not part of her dream, but was, in fact, very real. Her bones ached partially from sleeping naked on the cold, hard floor, and partially due to the physical abuse she had suffered the day before.
Janet sat up and looked at Dungeon Americana through the bars of her cell. Now that it was day, faux daylight illuminated the compound through the large windows between the cellblocks. The design was not unlike the county jail. There were three stories of cells on either side of the ground floor. Stairs and catwalks connected the rows of cells to the ground and to each other. Most of the cells across from Janet held one to three women, although a few were empty. Janet, who had always been a morning person, was one of the few women awake, or as far as she could tell by looking at the grid of cells across from her cell.
She sat there looking around curiously until a couple of leather-clad men came up to her cell.
"I'm Master Segal, this is Master Harding," said one. Fearing another rape, Janet scooted to the back wall of her cell. They unlocked and opened the cell door. "You needn't worry, Janet. We're not going to hurt you. Not just yet." Janet remained at the back of her cell. "Get her."
The women at the Dungeon may have been ill-treated, but much effort was put into maintaining their appearance. Except on certain days, the women had a daily ritual of cleaning, beautifying, and exercise that kept them thin, healthy, and beautiful. A doctor performed biannual checkups and there was always a paramedic on hand in case of emergencies. The food, although not always exactly delicious, was prepared by professional cooks that made well-balanced meals. When some of the women needed to lose a pound or two, the cooks would prepare extremely low-calorie meals. The small gyms at the Dungeon (there were two) had an impressive variety of equipment for keeping the women trim, although the men made sure none of the women used the gym to become actually strong. They didn't like the masculine look of muscles on the women, nor the threat that physically strong women posed to the Dungeon's security.
This is where Dungeon Americana differed from most other dungeons. Not only did this dungeon house more women than any other dungeon in United States, but more effort and money was applied to this dungeon than most other dungeons. Those who were in charge of running the Dungeon prided themselves on how efficiently it ran. Millions of dollars had been poured into the security, maintenance, and secrecy of the Dungeon; and, due to the hard work and ingenuity of the heads of the Dungeon, hundreds of millions of dollars in annual net profit were being made. From underground pornography to trained slaves to slave storage, this Dungeon dominated the adult entertainment black market. However, despite the ungodly amounts of money being transferred back and forth through the Dungeon, through money laundering, international accounts, and other "creative accounting" methods, employees at the Dungeon appeared to be making their fortunes legally to the casual observer.
This money was not tax-free. Although no government tax was paid, bribes given to legislators and members of the legal system comprised a good chunk of the Dungeon's maintenance costs. It was all worth it to the Dungeon's employees, though. One could enter the Dungeon's workforce as a low-level guard, work his way up the corporate ladder, and retire as a millionaire at the age of fifty, holding a job that consisted mainly of light manual labor. Plus, all employees of the Dungeon had their pick of hundreds of beautiful women, whenever they so desired. To men like Segal and Harding, the decision to work there was an easy one.
Segal and Harding took Janet to the showers, where a few of the women were already showering. Segal handed her a bar of soap and a washcloth.
"Go ahead," he told her. "Remember to wash everywhere. I want that pussy so clean I can see my face in it." He chuckled a little. Janet just slowly washed herself, her eyes wandering around lethargically in her dream-like state. She looked around to see a woman cleaning a young woman who was crying as the other woman caressed her body with the washrag. Segal stepped closer to Janet and said softly to her, "Some women don't want to play by our rules. They don't do anything we tell them, figuring we'll give up on them and just leave them alone or maybe kill them. But we generally don't. My advice: play by the rules, Janet."
After Janet finished washing up and drying off, Harding and Segal began to lead her to another room. Segal spoke, "We usually take women to the toilet before they do anything else. But you might need an enema today, so..." Janet stopped in her tracks, shaking her head.
"No," she said, speaking her first word that day. "Not an enema."
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Segal asked.
"Master. I don't think I need an enema, Master."
"Can you go without one?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. We'll use this one right here. Our toilets here at the Dungeon are somewhat Japanese inspired." The toilet pretty much consisted of a porcelain hole in the ground, preventing any possible aspect of privacy of the women's evacuation. It was only a few yards away from the nearest cell, so not only the men could see her, but a few other women could see her as well. Janet hesitated, shocked that this toilet was even less modest than the one she had used yesterday, which, although had no walls for privacy, at least allowed her to sit down like a traditional commode. "Go ahead."
Janet squatted and used the toilet, thoroughly embarrassed, but relieved to avoid receiving an enema. Janet looked around for toilet paper and, not seeing any stood up. Harding pressed a button on the wall that flushed some water down the hole. "Master? Is there any toilet paper?"
"Yes, but you don't need any," Segal said. "Now your day finally begins." The men took Janet to a corner of the dungeon where a group of chains, cuffs, whips, and more were organized. All over the dungeon there were areas where toys were fastened to the wall or ground. This was one such area.
The men handcuffed Janet's wrists, using the cuffs that were connected with a chain that threaded through a steel ring welded to the ground. They then fastened her legs in what was known in the business as a spreader bar: a steel bar of adjustable length that ended in an anklecuff on each side. The spreader bar was permanently fixed to the ground as well. To stay comfortable, Janet squatted over another bar that seemed to be fixed in the ground. The men pulled this bar up from the ground and locked it in place, which had the effect of making Janet arch over it. With this bar somewhat painfully in her stomach, she was forced to keep her ass up high, while keeping her hands and feet near and on the ground, respectively. She then heard a familiar voice.
"Looks like I get your anal cherry after all," Cruz said, pushing his pants to his ankles. "I hoped for it yesterday, and here it is." Janet, who had been calm and obedient all morning, now began to writhing and struggling against her bonds.
"No! Master, no! Please, don't! Not there!"
"We didn't give her any TP after she shat," Harding told his co-worker. "We know you like it kinda dirty."
"You bet I do," Cruz smiled.
"But if you want someone to lick her clean first...," offered Segal.
"No thanks. I like a little natural lube."
Harding laughed. "You're a sick motherfucker," Harding said. "Both of you." Segal just shrugged. Janet continued to scream.
"Please, Master, no!" she protested. "I'll do anything, Master! Just spare me... Spare my... ass." Janet was still a new slave and had trouble referring to her own ass by the word.
"Anything?" Cruz asked.
"Anything, Master." She had never tried anal sex, and hoped to avoid it as long as possible.
"Will you let me fuck you in the ass?" Janet thought for a second and the men laughed at her.
"Um, I mean, anything else- AAAA!!" Cruz began squeezing himself into Janet O'Flannery's asshole. "No! Ow!! Nooo!!!"
"Just push out, Janet. Push me out." Janet had no idea what he was saying and just screamed in agony. "Bear down, Janet." Janet realized what he was saying but didn't want to give in. She would only be assisting in her own anal rape if she helped him by flexing her anal muscles. She resisted and resisted, and then, realizing she was tied in with metal cuffs on her hands and feet, that she was stark naked, that three strong men were in the immediate vicinity, and that Cruz was advancing in her ass despite her efforts, she flexed her anal muscles as if she was pushing out excrement and Cruz's dick slid in a bit more easily.
"Oh yeah, Janet. You have the tightest ass I have ever fucked. But who wouldn't expect a tight ass on a lady cop? You're a very anal group of whores." Janet tried to focus her emotions and ignore the pain, but once again, her tears of pain and humiliation streamed down her face shortly after Cruz's anal entry. The discomfort from the new and unnatural pressure at the end of her colon was barely bearable, but the fact that she had no control over who she gave herself was much more painful than the pain in her ass could ever be.
"Ow! Help me! Oh God, help me! Someone help..." Cruz stopped humping Janet's ass and leaned over to her ear.
"Listen, Janet. This is not the movies. No one's going to help you. There are no good guys and bad guys, and no fucker's going to ride in on a white horse to save you. No one even knows you're here. There are women missing all the time all over America, and a quarter of them are here or some other dungeon. But the others- who knows?
"You're my bitch now. And you're going to stay my bitch. So just try to shut up or moan like you like it, and you might just make your way up to Prostitute and get a reach-around when I fuck you in the ass." Cruz slapped her ass and began sawing in and out of her shit-greased asshole again.
Janet cried, primarily because she knew his words were true. No one was coming to save her. She would have to save herself. She began to plan her escape.
"Yeah, bitch," cried Cruz. "Take that shit. Take my dick in your hot cop ass. Aw, shit. Aw, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum in this piggy's ass. What you think of that, Janet?" Cruz grunted as he shot his load in Janet's colon and wiped his dick on her shaking body. "You guys want sloppy seconds?"
"Do cows moo?" Segal said, stepping up behind Janet.
***
Janet set her tray down at the end of the table, next to the Prostitutes' table. Phillia, a gorgeous and leggy brunette, sat down directly across from Janet. She had heard that Janet might require her services.
"I heard you can get people things," Janet whispered. Phillia began to eat her meal, and looked for the guards out of the corners of her eyes. When she decided it was safe, she spoke.
"Some things," she said. "What do you want?"
"I was thinking... like some knives?" Phillia almost choked. She calmed herself.
"I can't get you a steak knife or anything."
"That's okay. It needn't be sharp. But you think you can get me a knife?"
"Sure, though I hope you're not thinking of doing what I think you are. I hope you don't do anything stupid. This place- so then I was taking both of their dicks at the same time, right?" she said as a guard passed by. "Both of them were really big. And one cums in my..." Phillia waited for him to walk a few more feet before continuing. "Look, if you get caught, you don't know who I am and I did nothing for you. Got it?"
"I understand."
"Good. Now this favor is going to cost you." Janet swallowed. There wasn't much that the girls could use for currency at the Dungeon. Even cigarettes were strictly prohibited, except on certain occasions for some of the Prostitutes.
"What do you want?"
"I just want a night with you." Phillia smiled and scanned Janet's naked body. Janet was still a Slave and had not earned any opportunities to be promoted to a level where she might get to wear clothes. Making Janet feel even more self-conscious was the fact that Phillia was completely clothed: she was wearing a mini-skirt and a halter top, a typical Prostitute uniform. "I eat you a little, you eat me a little, and we spend an hour or two together."
"Okay," choked Janet, trying not to imagine what she was getting herself into. "How is this going to work?"
"In a while, I will request to visit your cell. They love letting the women fuck other girls, especially when a good little Prostitute like me wants a girl. After we fool around for a while, I will wait a few days and send a girl over with a knife hidden on her person. It will be the same kind of thing as before, except you don't have to fool around with her. I mean, you can if you want, but you don't seem like the type to. She will give you the knife. The handle will probably be broken off..."
"That's okay, as long as it's a couple inches."
"Good. I'm not going to try to think about what you're going to do with it. And this conversation never happened. I never talked to you. The only reason I'm going to pick you out for fucking is because I've seen you around." The girls grew quiet as the guard passed by once more.
"Okay. You couldn't... perhaps... get me a gun or anything like that?"
"Little girl, do you know where you are?" Phillia laughed. Janet frowned. She was slightly insulted at this woman, who was probably younger than her, calling her "little girl" just because of her ranking in the Dungeon. "So do we have a deal with the knife?"
"It's a deal." Both of them finished their meals quietly.
***
It was a few days later when Phillia visited Janet's new cell. The man who escorted Phillia decided to take Janet's cellmate out for fucking, leaving the two women alone in the locked cell.
"Hiya, Darling," Phillia called to Janet. Phillia smiled devilishly as she took off her T-shirt and bikini-cut jeans, leaving her tennis shoes on her feet. Her pert breasts jutted from her frame, nipples hardening in anticipation of taking Janet. Janet held her body shyly and softly said, "Hi." Her training had begun and Janet was learning to be polite to her masters and female superiors.
Phillia walked over to Janet, who was sitting against the wall. Spreading her legs before Janet's face, she said, "Let's see how good you eat pussy." Janet was quite used to the violent horniness of her captors by now, but was disturbed by this woman's unabashed lust, and for another woman no less. Phyllia was not the only woman that Janet felt was betraying her sex. In the past week, she had seen women beg the men for the delight of their cocks and proposition other women for the talent of their hands and tongues. And now here was Phillia, a fellow victim of her captors, and she was going to force her to perform demeaning sexual acts instead of helping her escape. Janet looked at Phillia's clean-shaven lips, hesitating. She could feel the warmth from Phillia's already aroused pussy. She looked up at Phillia's face.
"Don't tell me you've never sucked a cunt before?" Phillia asked. Janet shook her head. "Okay, let me do you first then." Janet swallowed, but forced herself to spread her legs some for Phillia. Phillia hovered over Janet's full bush that identified her as a Slave. Prostitutes were only allowed to a grow full pubic patch if a clients specifically requested it, so they generally were kept shaven clean. Sluts and Toys were always either trimmed low or shaven clean, and Slaves were only shaved occasionally. Most Slaves were never shaved. With this system, one could often determine if a girl was a Slave just by merely looking at her crotch.
Janet twisted her head away as Phillia spread Janet's labia. Phillia paused to notice this and then dipped her head and tasted Janet's cunt.
Janet was fairly cold and dry. Unlike Phillia, Janet harbored nothing but fear and discomfort from the sapphic interaction. Janet tried to keep her mind on other things, such as her escape details, as she felt Phillia's mouth on her vagina. Unfortunately for her, Janet could think of nothing else when Phillia begin began licking the inside of Janet's pussy. Janet began to silently cry.
"What's the matter?" Phillia asked, noticing the tears running down Janet's cheeks. "You don't like it?"
"I'm not... a lesbian," Janet answered. Phyllia laughed, unconvinced. She rose from between Janet's legs and looked Janet in the eyes.
"You mean to tell me," Phyllia said, placing her fingers in Janet's cunt instead of her tongue, "that as butch as you are, you don't think about women sometimes?" Janet shook her head. "Let's see what we can do about that." Phyllia began to snack on Janet's snatch, but after a minute or so, Janet moistness was due to the saliva from Phyllia's tongue and lips than from her own juices. Phyllia decided to finger Janet instead, reasoning her fingers would provide the pleasure of penetration that her tongue could not. As three of Phyllia's fingers tickled the inside of Janet's cunt, Phyllia stared intensely into Janet's eyes. Janet looked away, whimpering.
"I'm not trying to hurt you," Phyllia said softly. "Just enjoy it."
"I can't," Janet cried.
"Well, I'm doing you a favor by getting you your knife, so at least I'm going to enjoy it." Phyllia gave up trying to please Janet and began to suck Janet's neck as she fingered Janet's pussy. Janet pressed her body against the cell wall in a futile attempt to distance herself from Phyllia. Meanwhile, Phyllia was enjoying herself. Phyllia prostrated herself before Janet to access Janet's cunt, which was beginning to warm up. Phyllia dug out her own cunt with three fingers and twiddled her clit with her thumb as she ate Janet. Janet may have had a cold reaction to having a woman eat her pussy, but Phyllia was on fire.
Gradually, Phyllia got hotter and the sweaty Prostitute rubbed herself more furiously. She was already making the most of her cunnilingus talents that, in her opinion, were wasted on Janet. Janet just sat against the wall, shaking in fear and discomfort. Phyllia approached orgasm and yanked on her cunny, badgering her clit and still eating Janet. Phyllia came.
"Yes!" she screamed, parting her facial lips from the nether lips of Janet. "Fuck! Fuck yes!" Phyllia lied on the floor for a moment, then slid up next to Janet once more. She whispered to Janet, "Thanks for the good time, Lover." With that, she licked Janet's ear, redressed, and waited for the guard to come and return her to her cell.
***
Janet planned her escape carefully, asking around about previous escape attempts (of which there where few), and analyzing possible routes and which areas where patrolled by which guards. This dungeon appeared to have weaknesses, just like any jail or other "secure" place. What Janet didn't know was that hidden forms of security backed up most of the apparent weak points in the Dungeon's security. Hidden cameras, routine inspections, and random cell reassignments were all part of the men's strategies. However, a week after Phyllia's visit, Janet thought she was ready. It was then that Phyllia sent Janet her package.
A guard brought a young blond woman with a pale complexion to Janet's cell. She wore only a red brassiere. Janet could tell immediately from the way she carried herself that she was a submissive. She was probably Phyllia's bitch.
"Hi, I'm Carrie," she whispered to Janet. Janet, who was still only submitting to others at the Dungeon when she had to, decided she disliked Carrie immediately.
"You got what I want?" asked Janet tersely.
"Yeah, I got it right here." Carrie then grabbed Janet's hand and placed it on her crotch. Carrie then whispered to Janet, "We have to put on a show for Master Lewis. Janet looked to her left and saw the guard still standing in front of her cell, watching the girls through the cell bars.
Janet grimaced, having successfully avoided lesbian sexual contact since Phyllia's visit. Many of the men had taken advantage of Janet's beautiful body since then, but at least that was heterosexual sex, she reasoned.
"It's all right, let's just do some mutual masturbation," she whispered to Janet, seeing her hesitation. The women fell to the floor where they both began jilling off in front of each other. Carrie stared at Janet's face as she fingered her snatch, imagining Janet ordering her around and having her way with her. Janet, the more reluctant masturbator, tried to picture anything but the face she was staring at now. She thought of one of her coworkers whom she'd always been attracted to. Janet wouldn't have minded masturbating in front of him.
Just as Janet was beginning to get moist, Carrie placed a hand on Janet to let her know Master Lewis had left. Janet looked outside of her cell to make sure they were alone.
"You got-" Janet began again.
"Relax," Carrie said calmly. "It's on me." Carrie twisted her body and reached inside her vagina, moving her hand around a bit and finally removing her hand. In her hand was a small object wrapped in napkins. She gave it to Janet, who unwrapped it to find the blade of kitchen knife, broken into a piece a little over two inches long. It was very small, but very sharp. It would do.
Around this time, Johns walked by the cell. Perfect, thought Janet. Janet had originally planned to wait another week or so after receiving the knife, but all the variables were right at the moment. Plus, Janet reasoned, with Carrie still here, I won't have to do this alone. Janet walked to the bars of her cell. Showtime.
"Master Johns," she called softly. Johns stopped and glanced at Janet absentmindedly. "Aren't you going to stop to play with me?" Johns smiled devilishly.
"Your girlfriend not enough for you?" he asked.
"I'm tired of pussy, Master. I need a dick inside of me," she whined, and turned around, arching her back to show him her tight ass. Johns licked his lips.
"Looks like someone is finally getting the hang of this place," he chuckled. He shrugged and unzipped his pants. "Well, I've been dry all day. Why not?" Janet had expected him to open the cell when he grabbed her around the waist through the cell bars. It didn't matter. She was sure she could get him to open the cell.
"Bend over," he ordered, as she was still only leaning against the bars. Janet slowly bent over, clasping the knife tightly in her hand. Johns inserted himself into Janet's cunt.
Carrie had found this whole scene a little odd, but as a Whore- an upper level female- and a dim one at that, she knew better than to ask questions. She explored her body as she watched Janet get fucked.
After a minute or so, Janet pulled away, pulled out the knife and pressed it against Johns's throat. Carrie gasped. Johns, while shocked, said nothing.
"Open the cell," Janet ordered.
"Janet, this is a bad idea," Johns said, his voice wavering. He had only been at this dungeon for a couple of months and had no clue as to what to do or expect. Janet detected this and it gave her courage.
"All I have to do is push this into your jugular in one swift motion and you have seconds before you bleed to death. It's not a nice way to die."
"Okay, okay, Janet, just calm down." His shaky hand fumbled through his keys. Carrie just watched in disbelief.
"Gimme that!" Janet ripped the keys off of the chain connecting them to his pants. She shuffled over to the door of her cell, keeping the knife close to Johns all the while. She looked through the keys, found one with her cellblock number imprinted on it, and used it to open her cell.
"C'mon!" Janet beckoned to Carrie. Carrie sat there and shook her head, her eyes getting watery.
"I can't..." Janet cursed her and stepped outside the cell. She walked, naked to the next cell. It was late at night and few guards were to be found.
"Janet, please, don't-" Johns began. Janet let go of Johns's neck for a moment to punch him in the side of the head.
"Shut the fuck up! And it's Officer O'Flannery to you!" She began opening cells on the first floor of her block. Some women were too frightened to leave their cells, but most of the women on the block were new Slaves, and decided to risk it.
Janet wished she could free all of the women in the Dungeon, but even if Johns had all the keys, which he did not, she knew she was short on time. Janet decided she would come back for the women after she had escaped. Or rather, the police would after she tipped them off and went into hiding. There were a few places at which Janet knew she could hide out until it was safe to be in public again.
Janet headed towards the main entrance, which was secured with a large gate rising to the ceiling. All slaves and major deliveries came or left through the gate. Beyond that lay large double doors. Beyond that, Janet's freedom. She wondered how far she was going to get before bumping into another guard. It wasn't long.
She noticed a couple of guards following her and the fifteen or so women surrounding her when she reached the gate. Even with a numerical advantage, she knew the well-trained guards would have the upper hand on the mostly naked women if it came to hand-to-hand combat. As long as she had Johns with her, she knew she had a chance. The employees of this dungeon were treated well. They would not likely risk the life of one of the men to kill her, she reasoned.
"Which key?" she asked Johns. He swallowed.
"I don't have the key to the gate," he told her.
She pushed her blade into his neck. "Liar!"
"No, really, Janet- uh, Officer... the guards don't get the key to this gate." She could tell her nervous hostage was telling the truth. Before she could think of what to do next, a couple of men walked out of the room above the double doors onto the surrounding balcony. One of them had a rifle.
"What are you doing?" asked the first man. The second man held his rifle silently.
"Open the gate!" Janet yelled to him. The men on the balcony were about fifty yards away.
The man stared at her blankly for a moment through the gate. He spoke, "Janet. Do you know the penalty for trying to escape?"
"Open the gate!" she repeated, determined.
"Death. It's death. Now if you let- is that Johns?"
"Yeah," Johns hoarsely shouted, the small blade still on his neck. He nodded, still nervous.
"Yeah," the first man acknowledged. "If you let Johns go now, we might have pity on you and kill you quickly. If not... well, there's no telling what they'll do, Janet. But I promise that it will hurt. A lot."
For the first time since she left her cell, Janet began to feel doubt. She looked back at the women surrounding her. Beyond them, there were now four men waiting patiently. For what, she didn't really know.
"I'm going to kill him!"
The first man sighed. He motioned to the second man, who aimed his rifle at Janet. He spoke again, "Janet. You know we'll never let you leave. Do us all a favor and let Johns go now."
Janet said nothing. A few of the surrounding women began to regret putting their faith in her. But it was too late to go back now. Janet realized she felt cold. Goosebumps rose across her naked flesh.
The first man stared at her. "Alright, fine," he said. He gestured to the second man, who lowered his weapon. Janet relaxed a little, loosening her grip on Johns. Something suddenly pushed her arm away from Johns. Seeing blood and tissue explode onto the gate and the cement floor, she realized she had been shot in the hand. She fell to the floor in pain.
For a few seconds, a sniper had been hanging upside down from a trap door on the ceiling located on Janet's side of the gate. He quickly lowered his rifle and withdrew into the ceiling again.
Johns quickly backed away from Janet and the other women. He joined the other men surrounding the women. Several of the escaping women, realizing it was over, prostrated themselves on the floor, awaiting their masters' instruction. The others stood uneasily, unsure of what exactly to do until the men forced them to the ground as well.
Janet cried, staring at the hole in her right hand. She thought she had everything worked out. She thought the plan was foolproof. How was she to know there was a trap door in the ceiling that her masters never used except for occasions like this one?
"You stupid bitch," Cruz said, walking towards her. She looked up just as he kicked her in the face. She passed out.