Author: Hoop

Title: Incarceration Ch.9 

Part: Chapter 9

Summary: Laura serves as a plaything for two men. 

Keywords: MF, bd, nc, rape, dp



Claire and Laura had been sitting in silence for well over an hour. Laura's gag made any attempts at conversation rather futile. She was glad to be free of her constricting ropes, though. They had been replaced with another set of restraints like Claire's - wrist cuffs lined with soft material and attached to a waistband, which also bore a thin chain that hung down to a strap between her ankle cuffs. They afforded just enough freedom to walk slowly and carefully.

It would have been trivial for Claire to remove the other girl's gag after the attendants had left them. For this reason, they had bound the girls' hands with plastic tape - just a few strips that held them balled up into fists, and unable to interfere with each others' bonds. Laura had long since grown frustrated with choking on her own saliva and had resigned herself to laying on her side, every so often moving her head away from the damp patch of her drool.

She sat up awkwardly as the cell door opened, shuffling her back against the wall. It was Helen, again, clearly not finished tormenting them for the day.

"Time to go, 523," she said cheerfully. "There's something I want to... oh, dear, just look at you, 523."

She squatted down on her haunches in front of Laura.

"Look at what a mess you are," she said. She touched her finger against Laura's lip, and a string of saliva hung from the tip as she pulled it away.

"Mmph uu," said Laura.

"You messy girl. We must get you tidied up first. Up you get."

She grabbed Laura under her arms and pulled her up.

"As I was saying," she said, pulling on Laura's waistband, who had to stumble forward to avoid tripping over, "there's something I've got planned for you." She flashed her a smile. "Some people I want you to meet."

She pulled Laura out of the cell, through corridors, until they arrived in the same room as before, filled with dubious equipment. Laura waddled towards the back of the room, with Helen behind her.

"We're going to find you some nice clothes," said Helen. She pulled open a pair of doors set into the wall, revealing racks of garments arranged in the huge wardrobe. The variety was immense. The few normal-looking sets of clothes were outnumbered by costumes that seemed to cater to those with every conceivable specific taste - there were full-body suits of some stretchy, shiny material. There were black leather corsets with neon-coloured lacing. The frilly apron and black dress of a maid's outfit. A school uniform, the kind that Laura had only ever seen girls wearing in Japanese cartoons. A bewildering array of shoes.

"What do we think would look good on you, hmm?" said Helen. Her voice was infuriatingly sweet. She angled the wardrobe door so that Laura could see her reflection in the full-length mirror mounted on its inside. It was the first time she'd seen herself in a while. Her hair was hanging in disordered, limp strands across her face and over her shoulders. Her overalls were loose, and creased from being slept in. She hated the sight of herself with the ball gag in her mouth. It made her feel completely helpless.

Helen set about rifling through the racks of clothes, making little noises to herself as she found ones that took her fancy in some way, pausing to pick them off the rack and drape them over her arm. She held various items up in front of Laura, cocking her head to one side, mulling over her choices.

"This, I wonder?" she said, holding a dress up in front of her. "Yes. I think this will do."

Laura scowled at the girl's selection. 

She managed to undress Laura around her restraints, much to her frustration. Helen was very careful, only freeing one of her hands at a time, pulling down the sleeve of her overalls, changing grip, repeating the process the other side. Most of this process had gone on with Laura lying on her front, with Helen's knee in her back. By the time she stood again she was stripped nude, her hands held behind her back with a pair of metal cuffs. Helen stood behind her and put a hand on Laura's chest, giving a playful squeeze.

"I do wish I were as lucky as you," she said. "They've got great shape. Nice and modest, not overlarge." Her hand wandered downwards, and her fingers brushed across Laura's crotch. "That needs to be seen to, though," she said. "You're starting to get a few bristles, 523."

Helen began her unwelcome dressing-up session on Laura. It was a laborious process: Laura was constantly looking for openings, opportunities to lash out or escape. She tensed her muscles against Helen's grip, but she always seemed to know how to hold her arm at an awkward angle, or pin her in such a way that she couldn't bring her full strength to bear. A growing part of her mind was telling her that she shouldn't bother, that even if she did get out of the room, all she would meet would be a group of attendants who would probably delight in the chance to put their electric batons to good use. She allowed herself to surrender to the girl's attentions, telling herself that she'd make up for it by being extra difficult later on.

Helen finished after fifteen minutes, smiling to herself at Laura's grudging, limp-bodied compliance. She turned her to face the mirror again, allowing her to get a look at her new outfit.

Laura's legs were clad in stockings of white nylon, their contours accentuated as she stood in black, high-heeled shoes, polished to a glossy shine. An elaborate black dress with lacy frills and embellishments hung halfway down her thighs - far too short, considering that she wasn't wearing any panties underneath. 

"Oh, your gag just doesn't go with the colour theme," said Helen. She removed Laura's ball gag. Laura closed her mouth slowly. She made weird expressions as she finally had the chance to exercise the aching muscles around her jaw, wiggling them from side to side.

"You needed to lose it anyway for this," said Helen. "Take a seat."

She sat Laura down in a chair facing a smaller mirror. Helen produced a makeup kit from somewhere, and applied a few light touches to Laura's face, covering up the dark rings under her eyes that had resulted from scarce, poor-quality sleep. Laura held very still while she was applying the eye-liner. That would not have been a good time to start struggling. She combed Laura's hair, tidying the knots and tangles into straight bangs.

"There," she said, "all done. You look gorgeous, 523."

Laura was silent. She thought to herself, reluctantly, that the girl seemed to be quite skilled. She had done a good job - not that she'd ever admit that to her.

"And now, it's time for you to meet two clients of mine."

Laura didn't like the sound of that. "Clients?"

"You'll see."

---

The attendants were not quite so rough manhandling Laura this time, under strict orders from Helen that the girl's hair and outfit should remain immaculate. They had collected her from the dressing-room and escorted her off, taking her to a room with a polished floor of dark wood, warmly illuminated with lights recessed into the walls. The centre of the room was a clear space , surrounded with heavy furnishings. There were immense chairs upholstered in dark green leather, and low tables with inset designs and checkerboard surfaces. There was a horizontal metal bar hanging from the ceiling, and the attendants shackled her wrists with manacles that hung from it. Her ankles were tethered to the floor with short chains that passed through D-rings set into the wood, and the attendants adjusted each of the restraints to afford her a minimal amount of freedom to move. Her abdomen tensed as she balanced on her toes, spread out in a frozen star-jump.

The attendants left her in the middle of the room. They took up positions either side of the door, standing identically with their hands clasped in front of them.

Then, the other people started to arrive.

An assortment of men and women gradually filled the room over the next ten minutes. Many of them were elegantly dressed. The room murmured with the sounds of their conversation over glasses of wine, whiskey, and in some cases, elaborate cocktails. They settled in chairs and leaned against the walls. Occasionally, one of their gazes would flicker over to Laura for a moment before they returned to their amiable conversation. Standing spread out in the middle of the room, she felt very exposed.

Helen was the last to enter. She had changed her clothes, and looked businesslike in a white blouse worn beneath a black waistcoat. Her hair was tied back neatly.

"Ladies," she said, "gentlemen. Thank you for your patience."

Laura was shocked at how different she sounded. Helen was always so easy and playful when she was talking to the girls during their torments, and yet now her voice was wavering ever so slightly. Was she nervous?

"This is number 523," she said. "She's undergone preliminary conditioning, but there's still some fight left in her yet. We are joined by a pair of clients today who have asked that their identities be concealed. Please respect their wishes."

There were a few mutters from the audience.

A door on the other side of the room opened. A pair of men walked in, both a few inches over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, the musculature of their chests visible beneath their white shirts. Their faces were hidden. Each of them wore a close-fitted leather hood which covered their entire head. There were metal zippers on the parts covering their mouths, looking like a metallic, small-toothed grin. One of them carried a coiled whip.

They parted ways as they entered. One stood before Laura, and one behind her. The man moved in very close to her, and she could see his brown eyes through the holes in his mask. The material around his nose was moving as he breathed. She thought the masks must be terribly uncomfortable. His eyes wandered over her body, as if he were inspecting a piece of merchandise. He drew open the zipper on his mask and extended his tongue between metal teeth. He licked her cheek.

He grabbed one of her breasts suddenly, giving it a violent squeeze. Laura yelped. The man leaned to speak to his comrade behind her.

"Good reaction," he said. 

The other nodded.

She felt a hand between her legs as the man behind her reached up under her dress. Another sudden pain jolted through her as he pinched the inside of her thigh. She was unable to stifle her reaction, another surprised shriek of pain. His touch found her genitals, and the man flattened the palm of his hand against the lower part of her buttock as he reached under with a pair of fingers. He stroked against her labia slowly and deliberately. She found herself looking directly into the eyes of one of the audience, a shaven-headed man wearing a dress shirt and a silk cravat. He sipped his drink, watching the activities unfold with a sort of detached interest. The feeling of her genitals being stimulated while so many others watched felt profoundly wrong to Laura.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she grimaced as she felt the man's middle finger sliding deeper into the slit of her cunt. He eased his thumb up into her anus, and the intrusion had Laura groaning from the discomfort. Her asshole was virgin territory, except for Helen's vibrating implements. Many of the audience members were grinning at her expressions of pain, watching on with rapt enthusiasm. She felt the fingers in her pussy start to move more easily. Her body was betraying her. She was becoming wet.

It somehow seemed too much, and she clenched her fists, rattling the chains that held her arms high above her. Her body trembled as she tested her bonds, and found no slack at all.

"You sick fucks!" she screamed. 

There were sounds of tutting from the audience. A man leaned in close to his neighbour to mutter a few words, and he nodded gravely.

"What is this?" Her voice was quivering, "some kind of club for deviants? Is this entertainment for you?"

The man standing in front of her gestured to Helen, tapping his finger against his mouth. She walked over quickly, heels clicking against polished wood. She was holding a restraint that Laura was becoming all too familiar with, a red ball gag with a wide, black leather strap.

"No!" Laura screamed, "not another gag!" She had spent far too many hours already with something or other wedged between her teeth. "I'll be quiet," she pleaded. "Please don't. Please."

Some of the audience were grinning. Others shared subdued laughter. Helen stood close, her face inches away from Laura's.

"You had better behave yourself," she hissed. "Otherwise, you're going to find yourself wearing something like this on a permanent basis," she said, holding the ball gag up in front of her. "Do you want that, 523?"

"N-"

"Ah-ah, you said you'd be quiet. Now, I'll ask you again. Do you want that, 523?"

Laura shook her head.

"Good," said Helen. She returned to take her place standing at the back of the onlookers, leaning against the wall. She never seemed to be without that computer of hers, and she held it in the crook of her arm, scribbling on the screen with its stylus. The room quietened down, and the man fingering her resumed his dexterous manipulations. His fingers glided in and out of her. He reached under further, rubbing his fingers in circles against her clit, then detouring down either side of her lips. Laura could feel herself tingling down there.

The hand was withdrawn, and Laura blinked open her eyes. Her breathing was heavy. She felt the man's hand on her back, pulling down the zip of her dress. He parted the material, and she felt the air against her exposed back. She remembered the whip he had held when he first entered the room, and she cringed in anticipation.

There was a swish and a crack. She screwed her eyes shut, but no pain came. He was taunting her. Some of the audience chuckled. Another crack and she let out a little squeak, quite involuntarily, and still she felt nothing. The third stroke cracked against her back, and this time she cried out in genuine pain. The whip left a stinging line across her back.

Another swish, another crack against the exposed skin below her shoulders. There was a delay of a single heartbeat before the hot, searing pain emerged and started to throb. No sooner had it done so than a third blow broke against her, and then a fourth. She let out a moan of pain.

The fifth strike came, and then the sixth. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and a straining in her throat. The seventh blow brought forth another scream, and the eighth elicited a sob. Her noises ceased to be punctuated by the strikes after that, and she started to bawl openly, her head hanging limp, tears running down her face as the whip cracked against her bare skin over and over. She raised her eyes. The audience was enthralled. She hated all of them. 

She lost count of the number of blows. Her jaw was straining as she gritted her teeth. The makeup that Helen had so carefully applied to her was ruined by her copious tears. The man continued to rain down lashes upon her back, and her whole body throbbed with the pain.

A time passed when the whip ceased to lash against her, and she opened her eyes warily.

"Think she's had enough?" the man in front of her said to his comrade.

"Maybe so. Let's move on."

She felt cautious relief at their apparent decision to stop. A final, stinging blow caught her unexpectedly, and the audience laughed at her surprised cry of pain.

Both of the men stood in front of her now. The one with the whip gestured to a pair of women sat upon a low, cushioned bench.

"We'll need to take that, if you don't mind," he said.

The women found their places elsewhere. One of them perched upon the arm of the chair in which the shaven-headed man sat. The other pulled up a stool and sat with her legs crossed, sipping her drink. Laura's tormentors pulled the bench over in front of her. 

They zipped her dress back up. A new pain like a hideous sunburn pulsed on her back as the fabric brushed against the welts. Her shoulders drooped as they released her arms from the restraints above her. She was freed from her ankle cuffs as well. She stood nervously.

One of the men lay down upon the bench, face-up. His hand reached down to his trousers, and he unfastened them. He reached inside and brought out his cock, which was already stiff. It stood proudly upright. There were sounds of approval from the audience. The other man held her by her shoulders, moving her into position to stand above the first, legs either side of the bench. He pushed her down.

The frills of Laura's dress gathered up around her thighs. She bent her knees, and the man on the bench used one hand to guide himself into her. She felt him enter. His passage inwards was lubricated by her residual juices. The hands on her shoulders continued to push her down, and she settled upon the man's prick, her thighs resting on his hips. She shifted from side to side as she tried to accommodate him. His cock had an uncomfortable girth. 

He bucked his hips, bouncing her up a few inches before she slid back down his shaft. He put his hands on her ribs, and pushed her up again before bringing her back down, slamming deeper into her. His pelvis ground against her, and she could hear his laboured breathing through his mask as he started to fuck her in earnest, using one of his big hands to hold her wrists together behind her back. His pace varied, deep thrusts coming between quicker in-and-out motions, and then he seemed to settle upon a pace that he found the most pleasing. Laura's breasts jiggled in time with the rhythm of the man's thrusts.

His eyes were closed, as if deep in concentration. There was no escape from the mounting tension in Laura's nethers. Each inward thrust was pushing her closer to release, whether she wanted it or not. The man seemed to be inexhaustible, his pace was relentless. Laura was getting out of breath, she could feel herself sweating as he surged into her over and over. She resented the audience's amused reactions to her breathless moans, but she couldn't stop herself from vocalising them.

Suddenly, she was being pushed forward. With her hands held behind her back she toppled over, landing on the man's chest, who let out a grunt, only breaking stride for a moment before thrusting into her at a new angle. His face was right next to hers now. Whatever expression he wore was a mystery behind the black leather of his mask. She felt a second pair of hands - the other man's - on her thighs, pulling the folds of her dress up around her waist. She felt the hands on her bared buttocks. A pair of thumbs teased at her anus, and she made a quiet sound of despair as she realised what was coming next.

A second cock entered her body. The man's thumb in her ass was nothing compared to this new intrusion, and she heard herself making a weak, pathetic scream as he drove his cock further and further into her ass hole. She had never found the idea of anal to be appealing. She had imagined it would be quite uncomfortable, and now she found all her fears confirmed as the man started to pound her ass, taking up the same tempo as his comrade below her. She lurched back and forth on the man's chest, doubly impaled, not even able to squirm, held in place by their cocks. The man behind her took hold of her wrists and used them to pull her back, with the apparent aim of burying his member as deeply as he could. Her insides felt strange. Muscles in her vagina rippled under the pressure from two directions.

She wished it would end. The three of them lurched against each other, hot, sweating bodies entangled in a mess of arms and strong-handed grips and Laura's dishevelled hair hanging down over her face. The feeling of fullness was total, overwhelming, she struggled to accommodate both of the men at once. Her body writhed under the conflicting pleasure and pain, so many sensations, the thick cock pounding away at her wet genitals, the second member favouring her with unknown sensations as it forced its way into the tightness of her ass hole, the whip-marks on her back still burning. The man below her grasped both of her breasts in his strong hands, and, with her arms held by the other, she was completely at his mercy. She gasped and panted, the myriad sensations were becoming far too much for her, and then a tingling, overwhelming warmth spread throughout her whole body as a powerful orgasm took hold.

The men had obviously been waiting for this moment. Her release continued, the electrical sensation of orgasm spreading up through her belly as she gasped and moaned. Their work was done, and now both of the men allowed themselves the pleasure of their own release. Twin surges of thick, warm semen filled Laura up from inside and brought yet another sensation into the chaos. She lost herself in the ecstasy of her release, forgetting all the circumstances under which it had been wrought. Her wrists were released, and she slumped forward on top of the man beneath her. She could feel his chest rise and fall from his own heavy breathing.

The minutes after that passed in a sort of haze, confused by the remaining sensations that filled her with a warm feeling. The masked men arose and left, leaving her draped limply across the bench. The various audience members departed, and soon only Helen remained, with the pair of attendants still stood to attention at the door. She sat alongside Laura, pulling her upright to lean on her shoulder, one arm across her back. Her face was close.

"You did well, 523. In the end. A little disobedient at first, but we can work on that."

Laura blinked tearful eyes. "Why do you do this, Helen?"

By way of answer, she placed her finger against Laura's lips.

"Now," she said. "You know what comes next after things like this. I might even let you have a nice, hot shower this time."

She beckoned to the attendants.

"Take her back," she said. "But be gentle this time."





