Broken in the Attic

by DX

Copyrighted 1987, 2020, 1/2025, all rights reserved.

 She sighed, and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes slowly moved about the shadowed room before returning to the ledgers laid out on the desk before her. She looked at the calculator tape again and compared her findings as if she hadn't just compared them moments ago. Perhaps she had misplaced a decimal and the embezzled sum was not five hundred thousand, but only five thousand. Regardless of the sum, it was apparent that Mark Teller had been embezzling money. It was obvious that one hundred thousand had been misappropriated just two days ago.

 "I'll be leaving now, Miss Winters.” Came a voice suddenly out of the darkness. 

 Winters gasped and tossed back in her chair. She clutched her blouse and could feel her heart pound. 

 "I'm sorry, Miss Winters." Continued the voice from the darkness. "I didn't mean to startle you." A woman came from the shadows and leaned into the light.

 "Well Mrs. Rios..." Winters tried to set her heart back to normal "You gave me a start. I would have thought that everyone would be gone this late hour--I mean with the extended weekend and all."

 "My weekend will be beginning soon." The Latin woman looked over the ledgers. "Did you finally find something?"

 She nodded grimly. "I would say about five hundred thousand."

 "I am sorry to hear that."

 Winters looked up to Mrs Rios. In the shading of the light she seemed taller and darker, and her lips were full and black. Her cheeks still pouted of that remaining baby fat. She was indeed a very attractive woman. Miss Winters only happened to lower her gaze and notice the glint of steel beneath Mrs Rios' full breasts. Before she could think, the over head light sparked to life with a tiny electric hum. Her eyes squinted, trying to shield out the sudden light, but never left the gun pointed at her.

 "Good evening Miss Winters." Came a curt voice from the door." If you will step out slowly from behind the desk and lie down here on the floor." Mark Teller casually closed and locked the door behind him. From the deep pocket of his trench coat, he withdrew his .44 automag and stood there, pointing it to the floor and waiting.

 Winters slowly did as she was told, never taking her eyes off of Rios and her small pistol. 

 "I say we shoot her now!" Rios hissed. 

 Winters could feel her heart pound in her chest as she slid passed the file cabinets.  Sporadically her knees bent and she knelt to the floor. Rios suddenly snatched at her long hair and jerked it back. She put the gun to Winters' face. "We have to kill her now!"

 Trembling, Winters'  tried to plead to Teller, but fear robbed her voice. Teller calmly slid his gun back into his pocket. "We may have to if she does not cooperate." Teller looked to the young woman in a determined way. "But she will cooperate."

 Winters nodded her head as far as it would go and Rios slammed her to the floor. Teller stepped close to her and knelt beside her. "I would very much like to keep you alive, however, I have too much at stake to sacrifice if it comes down to letting you live. Do you understand me?" He spoke so calmly and simply that Winters had to comply.

 Rios kept her gun at the back of the young woman's head. Winters could feel the barrel press into her skull. Images flashed in her mind of the dark barrel exploding to light and ending her life. 

 She felt Teller take hold of her wrists. She was limp in his strong, quick grasp.

 Teller pulled a plastic tie from his other pocket, made a loop with it and encircled her wrists, back to back. With a tug, he cinched them tightly. Then a second tie brought her elbows together. 

 He was amazed at how flexible she was. 

 A third tightened around her ankles, while two more went quickly above and below her knees. He sat back on his knees and watched her lying there, afraid to move let alone fight her bonds.

 "Get into the safe and get the books." He ordered to Rios. As she left to complete her task, he began digging around in his pockets only to find that he was missing something. "You wouldn't happen to have a hair pin would you?" Winters was far to afraid to answer so he stood up and walked over to the desk.

 Winters turned her head far enough to watch him as he opened the drawer and began to go through it. She began to feel tiny needles in her hands and feet as their circulation began to wane.

 She couldn't move, she didn't try. "Please...." She began to plead. "Let me go.." 

 He looked at her there on the floor with her small breasts pushed into the rug by the straining positions of her arms. Her long black hair was draped over her face.

 He stepped back over to her with a rubber band laced into his fingers. "You will be quiet." He instructed as he took her hair and looped it into a single pony tail in the back. He then gently rolled her over, lifted her up and set her down in the chair. From one of his deep pockets he pulled out a two inch wide roll of elastic bandage. He quickly popped off the metal clips and put them back into his pocket.

 She was didn't even think of what it was for until he took hold of her lower jaw and gave a slight pinch. In fear she opened her mouth and let him stuff the roll in, wriggling it back and forth to get it into her cheeks and between her teeth to pin her tongue down. Holding it in place with his thumb, he took up a roll of surgical adhesive tape and ripped off a long strip and put it to her face from ear to ear. A few more to secure it in place and it left the lower half of her face lost in white tape.

 Then to finish it off, he took up a five inch wide elastic bandage and wrapped several layers around her head securing it in place with the metal clips. "Now you will sit here!" He whispered harshly as he got up and left the room.

 She quickly glanced around. Rios came from out of the boss' office only to dump a pile of ledgers on to the desk and leave again.

 Alone, Winters quickly began to fight her bonds. Her hands had long ago lost their feeling and the idea of being tied and kidnaped was sinking in. She twisted her feet as best she could but the thin plastic straps cut into her flesh. Her twisting and pulling was doing her nothing.

 Teller stood before her tapping his foot.

 Her wide brown eyes looked up to him in dead fear for in his hand was his magnum. 

 "Now let me make myself clear." He said fishing his hand around in his pocket. "The janitor is still in the building. And if you make any noise, or any attempt to escape..." He pulled long metal cylinder from his pocket and began to screw it into the end of his gun. "Do you understand?" 

 She had seen silencers in movies.  His message was clear.

 He wheeled in a garbage cart.  He pocketed his gun and bent down to her feet.  He took another plastic tie from his pocket. He gently removed her shoes and tossed them into the cart. Then he tightly cinched her big toes together.

 He looked her over again before he stepped over to the desk. He took up the ledgers that Rios had left there and tossed them into the cart. Rios came from the other room and tossed what she had into the cart as well. Teller the lifted Winters up and gently placed her in the cart. He took up a large tarpaulin and covered over the cart, leaving her head exposed. He held up the gun for her to see before he covered her head over.

 The rickety squeaking cart made its way down the hall into the elevator. She listened for any voices or strange noises that would indicate someone in the hall. She could only hope that if someone saw him, they would ask why he was pushing a cart around at this hour.

 It didn't happen. Into the elevator and out again. She could hear the echo of the garage. She gasped and bit into her gag as Rios stripped back the tarp and suddenly exposed her. The woman looked down and smiled at the tight bundle in the basket. Teller reached down and slid his strong arms around her and lifted her out of the basket and into the trunk of her own car.

 She didn't move until the car started and was on its way. She again fought in her bonds to no avail. She tried to feel around in the darkness for a sharp instrument to cut her bonds. She ran in her mind of what she had in the trunk. There was a pocket knife in the glove compartment. A lot of good that was. All she could do was wiggle barefoot in the trunk and wait.

 It seemed forever before they stopped and the engine turned off. The trunk sprang open and Teller lifted her out. He tossed her over her shoulder and headed somewhere.

 The sound of a car came close and Winters lifted her head to see two bright headlights coming up the driveway. Her heart sprang for joy, someone to rescue her! She would be free!

 Teller turned around and blocked her view. He stood there, in his calm manner until the car stopped, the lights turned off and she heard Rios step out.

 They headed up the drive and Winters could hear the sound of ocean waves. They were by the beach! She tried to look around the dark moon-less night to see any other houses, but she could not.

 Inside the house was dark, and Teller pulled a small flashlight from his pocket as they made their way up two flights of stairs to the attic.

 The warm, musty smells assaulted her nose and made her head spin as Teller sat her down in an old rattan chair. 

 "Miss Winters..." Teller began politely. "What we have to know is what does the company know?" She tried to shrink in her bonds but there was no where to go. "We knew that you would find the 500,000. That was taken by Mr. Brukner, the man who held the job before me. What we have to know, is what else did you find missing?"

 She knew of nothing else, but then she knew that if she would answer positively or negatively, they would have no longer any use for her and kill her. She didn't answer.

 Rios came up the stairs holding a pair of scissors. Teller nodded as he took a seat on the floor and watched.

 Winters'   terrified eyes locked on the Latin woman coming closer with the scissors. "This is going to be much fun." She smiled as she pulled at Winters' blouse and snipped off the first button. Then she leaned closer and bit off the second and third. She parted Winters' shirt as far as it would go to expose her small, but nicely formed breasts. 

 Rios slid the scissors up underneath Winters' bra. 

 Winters shivered as she felt the cold metal on her skin. With a snip, they fell apart. With Rios' free hand, she slowly began to caress the small breast, kneading it slightly and tugging at each nipple. 

 "They are so small..." She twisted a nipple and Winters winced from behind her gag. "They should be big like mine!" Rios shoved her huge bosom into Winters' face. She tried to turn away but Rios grabbed her pony tail and held her head steady. Then she took the scissors and placed it against Winters' small nipple. Winters felt the pinch and pain of the shears at her nipple. "You will want to cooperate." Rios coached as she forced Winters to rub her face into her large bosoms. Winters could smell the woman’s perfume, and feel the pattern of the bra underneath her clothing. Rios pulled way. 

 She looked down and tugged at Winters’ nipple again. She turned and took spool of thread from a box beside her, and setting down the scissors, she began to pull off a strand. "You seem to like this." Rios teased. 

 Winters could feel her sensitive nipples hardening against her will.  After Rios twisting them, they felt sore and red.

 And alive.

 Rios took the thread and lashed it about the young woman's right nipple several times, stretching it out to what felt like nearly a half of an inch. She then stooped down and licked the other nipple quickly with her tongue. Winters felt it getting to her. Her nipple was sensitive before, but Rios' hot tongue was too much. Rios was now sucking heavily at it, teasing the nipple with her teeth as she played with her own breast.

 Rios suddenly pulled away and stepped aside. Teller was standing before her now. He pulled up a chair and sat before her. With a knife, he sliced through the bonds that held her legs. Then he quickly refastened her right leg to the chair itself leaving her wide open. She tried to close her legs, but Teller harshly grabbed her knee and forced them open again. He then took out a needle from a medical kit and unwrapped it from its sterile plastic. She began to buck as he brought the thing close to her tied and aching nipple but he only gripped it tightly with a thumb and forefinger and pinched it harshly until she stopped. She winced in pain and tried hard not to pull away as he began to run the needle through her nipple.

 Rios stood behind her, caressing Winters' other breast and face--cooing to her as she did.  Winters only watched as the pin painfully poked through the other side of her nipple. Teller then reached back and took up a small little box and attached two small wires to it and to her nipple. He then took tape and strapped it to her free left leg. Then he lifted her leg to a certain height and turned the box on.

 Nothing happened. 

 Winters looked around and waited. He had let go of her leg and out of fear she held it up for a moment before slowly, tentatively letting it down. 

 Burning pain flashed across her chest and she quaked in her chair. Instinctively she lifted her leg higher and the pain stopped. 

 "There is a simple mercury switch inside the transformer. As long as you can keep your leg at that height you'll be all right.

 Rios stepped in front of her now. She took her scissors and slowly cut away Winters' skirt. When it was free, she reached for her panties.

 Winters bit her gag as her nipple suddenly screamed with pain as her leg dipped too low. 

 Rios only watched her for the moment and finished her work. Rios then slowly began to strip her own dress. She slid it free of her wide, shapely hips and let it drop to the floor. A moment later, her bra chased after it.

 Rios kicked Winters' leg just to watch the electric spasm again. Then she unwrapped Winters' gag and slowly, painfully, pulled off the tape. As the roll was pulled free, Rios shoved a giant breast into the girl's mouth and ordered her to suck on it. Trying to comply and holding her now quivering leg was difficult. Rios began to rub her knee into Winters' exposed sex, and pushed deeper until her clit could feel it.

 Fear and pain mixed with confusion as tears trickled down her cheeks and splashed on the latin woman's breast. It was all getting too much. Long minutes were passing while Rios caressed the girl's other breast and massaged her cunt with a well aimed knee. Winters' could feel the woman getting hot from what she was doing and smell her sex. The odor assailed her, and she tried to resist what she was feeling, but Rios' knee set a spark in her sex. She could feel the rising heat of the attic and sweat cling to her body. Her leg was shuddering with stress.

 Her muscles waned and her leg dipped low and volts flashed in her breast. Instinctively she bit into Rios' nipple and she pulled back quickly. Winters' large, brown, puppy eyes quivered for an instant before Rios slapped her face with such force that it turned her head. Rios again kicked the girl's leg and watched her writhe in pain from the transformer. Without the gag she shrieked in pain until Rios slapped her to silence.

 Rios again thrust her tit into the girl's mouth and twisted her free nipple until she began to suck. Rios put her knee back and continued to massage into her clit. Again Winters' leg dipped too far, but this time she locked her jaw and felt the pain without biting Rios. The pain flashed and she felt as if her body was on fire but she went on sucking the woman's nipple in fear of her reprisal. Her leg was trembling and the muscles needed to hold it up forced her hips to thrust against Rio's massaging knee. She found her self grinding in sync with the woman. Her revulsion caused her to fall out of step, but a heart beat later she realized they were as one again. This time she couldn't fight it, she didn't want to. Sweat and juice flowed within her, rushing insanely towards inevitable climax. Her leg dipped down again but the pain flowed smoothly into her orgasm as she quickly faded into unconsciousness.

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Copyrighted, 1987, 2020, 2025, all rights reserved.
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Yours to Command

By DX

Copyrighted, 10/2024, all rights reserved.

 “I shouldn’t even be here.”  Walter mumbled to himself as he looked at the last two bullets in the magazine from his M-18, Sig Sauer 9MM pistol.  “Sgt Montgomery was supposed to be here,”  His hands shook as he re-inserted the magazine.  “not me.” 

 He was bleeding from his head.  A bullet had scraped him, leaving a groove in his skull and a bit of a concussion.  Listing his resources:  at hand he had a broken Kalashnikov, a multi-tool, a flashlight, a first aid kit, and a compass.  

 He was in a small outcropping of a cave, just a slight space.  Wedged in with him was Sheik Bahir.  An opulent man dressed in the finery of a tribal leader.  His regal robes were all ruined with blood stains from where a bullet had shattered his hip.  Slave Chanda was applying direct pressure to the Sheik’s wound.  Blood was oozing between her fingers.

 “I wasn’t supposed to be here.”  Walter whispered to himself.

 Forty eight hours ago Lance Corporal Walter Gains got up at precisely oh-dark-thirty, dressed, and headed over the motor pool.  It was cool, and he watched his steaming breath curl as he walked down the path, brightly lit by street lights.  At the motor pool he checked out an ULTV, a small but rugged vehicle, then drove to the SBEQ to pick up Staff Sergeant Montgomery.

 Staff was sick.

 “It’s your lucky day.”  He said through his mask as he climbed in.  “You’re single, right?  No girlfriend?”

 Walter didn’t really understand the question as it appeared out of context.  “Uh, what?”

 “Just drop me off at Sick-Bay, then head to the tarmac.  Tell them you’re there to meet Mr. Warner.”  He sneezed and blew a massive booger into his mask.  “Ah, fuck.”  He mumbled.

 Struggling with a fully loaded mask, Staff said nothing else until he arrived at sick-bay and climbed out.  “Remember!  Mr. Warner!”  He waved feebly and walked into the clinic.

 Confused, Walter drove to the flight deck.  At the gate, he told the Sergeant that Staff was sick.  “I guess someone should tell a Mr. Warner?”

 The Sergeant smiled.  “Must be your lucky day!  Single?  No girlfriend?”

 “What the hell does that mean?”

 “They didn’t tell you?  Well…”. He paused as he heard the roar of a C-130’s engines as it pulled from the hangar.  “They’ll explain it to you!  You’ll find Warner there!”  He handed him a small plastic sealed package containing ear plugs.  “Hurry up, Devil Dog!  Your transport awaits!”

 Walter shook his head.  “I don’t have orders to…”

 The Sergeant waved him on.  “Double-time!  Ooo-rah!”

 Walter drove where he was directed, until an airdale with a flashlight showed him were to park.  “I have a message for Mr. Warner?”  Walter said.

 “That way.”  He pointed to the C-130, now being loaded.

 Walter sighed, then put in the ear plugs the sergeant had given him.  He clambered out of the ULTV and headed to the back of the C-130.  

 The C-130’s engines made a horrible racket, and as Walter approached, someone pointed to the back of the plane.  There, lights from all the service vehicles flashed and created a myriad, maddening pattern, lighting up the plane.  Walter saw the back of the plane was open and cargo was being wheeled in.  

 On the ramp surveying the operation was a man dressed in a cross between a tan business suit and utilities, looking more like a British soldier from Queen Victoria’s army.  His well polished boots were bloused, his trousers pressed and starched, and his cargo pockets looked as if they’d been glued flat.  To add to his look, he wore a pith helmet with a green ribbon around its crown.  Clasped around his waist was a utility belt the same color as his helmet ribbon.  He had a holster and pistol, and two utility pouches.

 He wore no rank or any insignia.

 Not knowing if he should salute or not, Walter didn’t.  “Mr. Warner?”  Walter shouted over the din.  “Staff Sergeant Montgomery is sick and is at sick bay.” 

 Mr. Warner turned, and his glacier cool eyes regarded the young Lance Corporal.  Warner was excessively handsome, with a cleft chin that could smash ice, and cheek bones that could cut paper.  He had either just stepped off a movie production, or Walter had accidentally driven on set and was talking to the leading man.  

 Mr. Warner motioned to his ear, showing his ear plugs, then walked into the back of the plane, inviting Walter the follow.  From the wall, Mr. Warner pulled down two head sets, handing one to Walter, and plugged them in.

 Hearing the click, Walter adjusted the mic.  “Staff Sergeant Montgomery is sick.  I dropped him off at sick-bay.”

 A warm smile crawled across Mr. Warner’s face and he glanced at his watch.  “Must be your lucky day.”

 “Why does everyone keep saying that?”  Walter said, a little hotter than he intended.

 “Strap in.”

 Panic flashed across Walter’s face.  “What?  Uh, I have get back to motor-pool.”

 “Not any more.”  Mr. Warner said casually.

 “But I checked out a ULTV.”  Walter protested.  “I gotta bring that back.”

 Mr. Warner glanced at his distractedly.  “It’ll be taken care of.”

 Walter looked to head out of the back of the plane, but the back hatch started to close with a painful whine.  “What?  Wait!  Wait!  I’m not supposed to be here!”

 Warner held up his hand.  “Calm down Marine.”  He then took out his mobile.  “What’s your name?”

 “Lance Corporal Walter Gains, sir.”

 Mr. Warner tapped his phone, then reached up and turned a switch on the com.  “Hey, Skipper?  Can you step back here?”

 Stunned, Walter watched the pilot, a Lieutenant Colonel, climb down from the cockpit, walk over and plug into the com.  

 Mr. Warner pointed to Walter.  “This is Walter Gains.  Would you inform him he’s with me?”

 The Colonel looked at the young Marine and smiled.  “It’s your lucky day, War Dog.”  He pointed to Mr. Warner.  “He’s your new commanding officer.  His wish is your command.  He says, jump, you say, ‘how high’, while you’re on the way up.”  He then added.  “Don’t salute.”  He then looked at Mr. Warner.  “With your permission, we’re cleared to taxi.”

 Mr. Warner shrugged.  “It’s your plane, Skipper.”

 The Colonel nodded, unplugged, and disappeared up the ladderwell.

 Walter blinked as he realized that Mr. Warner had just commanded a light colonel, pulling him out of his cockpit.

 Mr. Warner, was in charge.

 Mr. Warner nudged him.  “Buckle up.”

 So commanded, Walter sat down in the web harness against the wall, and bucked up.

 As they taxied, Mr. Warner held out his phone and showed Walter his new orders.  Walter had been assigned to a command he had never heard of, and based in a place he had no idea existed.  Mr. Warner flashed to another page and pointed at the words, Non-Disclosure Agreement, then showed Walter where to sign with his finger.  He then slid to another document and signed out to Walter a web belt, holster, a 9mm pistol, thirty-one rounds of ammunition, a first-aid kit, compass, K-Bar, and sheath.  

 Walter signed.

 The engines roared and the C-130 rattled and ran, and slowly, desperately crawled its way into the sky.  

 When they reached cursing altitude, Mr. Warner clicked on the com.  “In the remote region of Somewherestan, in the mountains of Irrelevant, there is a band of tribesman called Urktus.  They have been their own kingdom before the building of the pyramids.  They live as if it was the third century, but they like their twenty-first century toys.  Well, in their mountains they are sitting on a massive vein of raridium.  We need it.  I can’t stress how important this stuff is.  More importantly, we need no one else to have it, especially the Kragiras, sworn enemy of the Urktus.  Sheik Bahir is friendly to our country and we are going to do everything to make sure it stays that way.”  He looked at Walter.  “Nod if you’re with me so far.”

 Walter nodded.

 “Good.”  He smiled.  “Part of their ethos is hospitality.  Any welcomed visitor will be offered to sample their hospitality.”  His cold eyes peered at Walter.  “These guys will jump off a cliff if they fail to please their guest.”

 “So no matter what,”  Walter offered.  “I’m happy.”

 Mr. Warner nodded slowly.  “and accept their hospitality.”

 “Oh, well that’s easy.”  Walter said, relaxing.

 “Your lucky day!”  Mr. Warner said triumphantly.  “Not every day you get to lay pipe as part of your job description, am I right?”  He leaned back into the harness as he thought.  “Yeah, guys like us, you know,”  He flashed his wedding ring.  “the wife isn’t too keen… so that’s why we bring a single guy like you to sample the hospitality.”  He grinned at Walter.  “Sacrificial lamb.”

 Walter looked confused.  “Lay pipe?”

 Mr. Warmer fanned his hands, back peddling.  “Okay, one more time.  We need to be their favorite guest.”

 “Yeah,”  Walter said not fully understanding it.

 Mr. Warner blinked.  “I’m surprised I have to explain this to a Marine.  To be clear, there will be a woman,”  He paused,  “or man, however you swing, to show you all of their hospitality.”

 “Yeah.”  Walter said, now understanding it.

 Mr. Warner shook his head.  “You don’t get it.  They will show you… everything.”

 “Yeah, everything.”

 “Sex, Marine.  She’s going to want you to sleep with her.”

 Walter’s face lost all expression.  “With me?”

 “Yes, you!”  Mr. Warner pointed to Walter.  “Besides, you’re a good looking guy!”  He smiled.  “I’m sure she would be happy to sleep with you.”

 “What if she doesn’t?”

 Mr. Warner tried to speak several times before finally finding words.  “She will.  I promise.  You just let it happen.”  He smiled.  “I will be giving the Sheik the latest high tech, while your job is to enjoy the hospitality.  Those are your orders.”  He snapped his fingers as he remembered something.  “Oh!  Take this.”  He pulled something with a lanyard and draped it over Walter’s neck.  “Whatever you do, don’t lose that!”  He slapped Walter on the back.  “You get to take one for the team!”

 Walter smiled weakly.  “Your wish is my command.”  He replied less enthusiastically as he looked at the object Mr. Warner had given him.  

 A gold, ornate, old timey key glinted in the dim light.  Walter slipped it under his blouse.

 Hours later they landed in a place that didn’t have a runway and met with the rest of their team which comprised of U.S. and U.K. civilians, all armed with holstered pistols.  They then drove by hummer to a place with no roads, then on horse back up into the craggy rocks where there was no trail, before arriving before two, massive iron doors nestled in a titanic crack in a mountain face, hidden from the world.

 When the doors slowly opened, Lance Corporal Walter Gains stepped back in time.

 It was a city carved from solid rock.  

 Dark, hooded and shadowy men dressed in flowing robes, strode out, rifles slung over their shoulders or casually in their hands.  Walter noted it was a mishmash of FNRLs, M-16s, SA80s, and one M1 Garand in sniper configuration.  Each man had a curved dagger tucked into their waist sash.

 Walter followed Mr. Warner’s lead and dismounted.  Unfamiliar with horse technology, Walter’s foot snagged in the stirrup.  Balanced precariously on one leg, he struggled not to face plant.  He could hear the laugher of the men around him as he desperately tried to keep his balance by hopping in a circle with one foot on the ground, and the other tangled in the stirrup.

 The horse, perhaps trying to be helpful, took a casual side-step, and inadvertently took away the last of Walter’s balance.  As Walter prepared for impact, he smelled the wonderful aroma of jasmine.

 Strong, lithe arms embraced him and held him up.  Then, with an easy sweep of her hand, slipped his boot free from the stirrup, and stood him up.

 Walter looked into the eyes of the jungle, and thought of rain rolling across a deep green leaf.  She had delicious, creamy skin, and vibrant, fiery red hair.  She was dressed in near invisible swaths of silk, showing clearly her curves that ran for days.

 Her dimples flashed as she gave him a warm, bemused smile.

 “Thank you.”  He managed to say.

 A moment of pride hinted on her face.  “You have my key, I am yours to command.”

 Lost in the music of her words, Walter had no idea what she was talking about.  He looked around for a bit of guidance and saw other women, draped in vibrant gossamer veils, were fawning over the party, while Mr. Warner shook hands with, based on his royal garb Sheik Bahir, while showing off the gift of new computer servers.

 The woman, still holding Walter’s arm, gently lead him to follow the rest of the party, and Walter, awestruck and bewildered, numbly followed.  Everyone was laughing and chittering like friends re-united.  Walter noticed everyone had a beautiful woman holding their arm.

 “What do I call you?”  He asked the woman holding his arm.

 “What ever you would like.”  She said, smily dubiously.

 Walter swallowed nervously.  “What does everyone else call you?”

 “Slave Chanda.”  She said proudly.

 “Can I just call you Chanda?”

 She smirked.  “In private.”  

 Slave Chanda ushered him to a bench along side the rest of his party outside a central building.  There she knelt before him and began to remove his boots.

 “Whoa, careful there.”  He warned.  “I’ve been percolating in those boots all day.”

 She pulled off his sock, then lifted his foot slightly, and put her nose to his toes.  “They smell of blossoms.”  She said happily.

 Walter was speechless.

 Slave Chanda gently washed, then dried his feet.  She then helped him up, and lead him into the great hall.

 It was a huge, arched, palatial room lit by hundreds of lanterns.  The steady lantern light illuminated the mosaic tiled walls and floor.  In the center was a massive fire pit where cooks worked the spitted lambs roasting in the flames.  Musicians played happily, and filled the air with the top ten hits from the year 800AD.

 Slave Chanda lead him to sit on some giant pillows, carefully arranging them so he was comfortable.  She then gave him a drink, cutting it with a little water, and fed him cheese and grapes.

 Walter checked on his party.  Mr. Warner and Sheik Bahir were laughing raucously.  The rest of the men each had a drink in one hand, and a slave in the other.

 “My orders are to be happy.”  He reminded himself.

 “What did you say?”  Slave Chanda pressed, her voice almost lost in the echoing sounds of the festival.

 “Oh, nothing.”  Walter replied.  “I’m good.”

 She nodded to his drink.  “Drink slowly.”  Her wonderful eyes regarded him.  “You don’t want to over do it… yet.”

 Walter nodded and sipped.  

 It was molten fire.

 Walter, a U.S. Marine, displayed no emotion as he swallowed the lava, but Slave Chanda sensed his distress.  

 “Is it not to your liking?”  She pressed.

 Walter glanced at the others, then held up his cup in a silent toast and sipped again.  As his lips went numb, he tasted on the one part of his tongue that had not been burned with acid, a flourish of liquorish.  “It’s lovely.”

 She added a splash more water.  “Pace yourself, we have all night.”

 Walter looked at her, and was trapped by the magical green glow of her lidded eyes and didn’t notice when the servers brought him dishes of couscous and lamb and spiced olives and flat bread and rice and more lamb, until Slave Chanda was stuffing his face with it.

 He also noticed as she refilled his glass, she cut it with even more water, giving him a sly wink.

 As dessert was brought around, the music grew louder and Slave Chanda got up and danced.  Through her thin, translucent veils he watched her shifting, swaying hips slide and jerk to the beat of the music.  He could see her silhouette through her veils and she had the curves of dunes, sweeping and heaving through the desert sands.  When she arched back, he saw her breasts were magnificent and bountiful, very, very bountiful.  As she turned, her eyes sought his and pulled him into her trance.  Although she danced for everyone’s entertainment, and she would dance for anyone who held her key, Walter couldn’t help think she danced for him alone.

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Copyrighted, 10/2024 all rights reserved.  

My Fantasy

by DX

Copyrighted 8/2006, 7/2024  all rights reserved. Story may not be used without permission from the author. Contact at [email protected]

On a cold, grey day, when the trees were stark and bare, I gather my things and prepare for my adventure. My heart begins to flutter with excitement, with lust. I have a simple, one room cabin tucked away in the middle of nowhere. I have a simple life, a simple world. I do not have a television or a computer. I do have a telephone, but I have no one to call. I have walls of books. Some I wrote, most, I didn't. Books, and the stories within them, are my life.

But sometimes, they are not life enough.

I clear off the pile of blankets from the foot locker. There is an antique pad-lock securing it. The key hangs from a gold chain around my neck. People think it’s such a pretty key. They don't know what it goes too. It goes to this chest, to my kink, to my lust.

Inside the chest is oblivion.

The smell fills the whole room. Black as tar, my reflection peers up at me from a wavy pond. I pull open the zipper on the rubber bag and I release the alien creature within. First I find the eggs. Silver and smooth. I slide them up into my body. Their remote control antenna dangle like mice tails between my legs. Next go my training panties. They are rubber with a long drain tube. It will allow me many hours without needing release.

And I plan on many hours.

Long and stretchy, the cat suit merges with my body, numbing my hyper senses. With a little lubricant, it slides on, squeezing me. I thread the drain from my panties through a hole in the crotch and zip the suit up. As it closes in on my breasts, I take electric clamps. They are two wooden dowels with copper wire wrapped around them connected by screws. With twists of a screw they squeeze my swelling nipples until they feel they are about to burst. I endure their harsh pinch as I connect the wires to a small remote. The remote nests in the cleavage of my breasts. I zip all the way up, the zipper ending at my chin. I run my hands across my breasts, feeling the tightness. My breath grows short.

I lace up my high heel combat boots, the leather coming up over my calves. I carefully step into the ring of my corset and slink my hips through. I wrap the laces around my fingers and pull, feeling the clench across my waist. I take a breath, exhale and pull again, tighter. I gasp, then force the last of my wind from my lungs and pull again. I quickly double knot the laces before I dare breathe again. My breath is very shallow. Beads of sweat dot my brow as if squeezed from my body.

I don rubber gloves, rolling them up over my rubber sleeves, up over my elbows.

I take my rubber mac from the stand. I pull it on and tighten the belt across my already constricted waist.

As I don my hat, surplus Soviet winter issue, black fur and a red star on the brow, a story, much like the many stories I have written, is running through my head. I am a Nazi spy, an evil seductress. My weapons are my breasts, my body. I can kill with a flash from my dark eyes. Deep inside me I have concealed secret crypto gear.

My code name is, DX.

I step outside. My shack is hidden, deep in the woods. I am traveling through the old country of Romania, searching for my contact. I am a villainess and I am planning to kill him. I will lure him off guard with my wiles, closing with him, my breath mixing with his. I will embrace him, my lips on his. As the last of his will ebbs, I will scratch him with my poisoned claws. As the chilling death grips him, paralyzing him, his lungs, his heart, I will suck the last of his life into me.

I am a Vampire!

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Copyrighted 8/2006, 7/2024  all rights reserved. Story may not be used without permission from the author. 

Contact at [email protected]