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The Dark Place

34600 words

Style: Male Dom - M/F

Jessica was poor but bright, with boundless ambition. She hadn't expected to get into Cambridge, but applied anyway. She was delighted to get a letter inviting her and offering a partial scholarship. But delight was to become terror and pain. The offer was a ruse. Arrogant, cocky rich young students had chosen her to be their private psychological experiment and sex toy. Hidden away from the world in a small dark room, she was to suffer sexual painful torment, abuse and humiliation as they tried to twist and warp her mind into a submissive plaything and pain-slave. And when they succeed, they will use her to abuse other young women.

Price:  $5.95

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EXCERPT

“You mad, bloody bastard!”
Miller had been amused, as Sims had set out exactly how he would entice a lovely young woman to become part of their experiment. But when he’d been shown a digital photo of just such a girl chained naked in a stone room, and after initial disbelief had faded, he could only stare at the man in astonishment.
“It’s foolproof,” Sims said. “No one will miss her but an old uncle, and what’s he going to say? That she came to Cambridge for an interview? He’s got no proof. And the university will deny it. Anyway, she never came near the university.”
Miller examined the picture. The girl had very nice tits, he thought. She was a nice shape, and quite lovely. From Birmingham? Her father had been a librarian. Probably a mousy little thing. A part of him was tempted to wash his hands of it all and tell Sims to push off. But here was a chance to see just how weak-minded this girl could be, what she could be made to do, to think, to feel. Life was intolerably boring. This could liven things up considerably.
And so Miller accompanied him back to the substation, half amused, half scornful as Sims showed him the keys he’d had made, then led him through the substation, down the elevator, and then through the closed, barred steel door to the storage cells.

* * * *
Jessica had felt relief, at first, when she was left alone. But that had not lasted long. Struggle as she might, she could not do a thing to ease the restraints which held her wrists aloft, nor could she rise off the fat latex cock buried in her belly. She pulled hard a few times with her arms, but her ankles seemed bound in place somehow.
It was deep inside her, and she ached from the pressure. All she could do was pull her heels a little under her buttocks to raise her sex an inch or two and ease the pressure against the back wall of her sex. But the thickness of the intruder still forced her pussy walls painfully apart, and gave her a sense of being impaled.
What was she going to do!? What were they planning to do with her?! They had already raped her, already abused her. How long would they keep her a prisoner? Were they insane? Were they going to kill her?
She was cold, chilled, and her knees and feet ached against the cold, gritty floor. Her nudity gave her an added sense of helplessness, of vulnerability. Her head ached from the slapping she’d been given, and she broke down and sobbed for long minutes.
But that accomplished nothing noticeable, and she slowly regained control of herself, resigned to further sexual abuse, and trying to consider how to keep from being hurt, how to get her jailers to treat her better, and perhaps let her go.
Over the hours which followed, she tried in several ways to ease her discomfort, but nothing really worked. She was forced to ease her heels out from under her buttocks to ease the terrible strain on the balls of her feet. There was a great relief there, but this caused her to sink down further on the big dildo already jammed high inside her lower belly. It was thick and fat and hurt deep inside.
She shifted herself from side to side, and back and forth in many small movements over the hours, trying to lodge the big cock more comfortably, and after a while seemed to succeed. Her pussy was almost touching the floor now, so she had almost the full thing up inside her. She remembered how large the thing had looked before she’d been blindfolded and felt a sense of amazement.
She tried to cry out, to make noise, but soon gave that up as pointless. She knew she was underground somewhere, somewhere abandoned, and the noises she was making were such that she doubted they would be heard even outside this little closet or cell or whatever it was.
Occasionally she heard, far distant, odd little machine sounds, but that was all. She was alone, cold, naked, and helpless, and goose bumps rose along her skin as she whimpered in fear and misery and hoped against a sudden terror, that her captors had not decided to simply abandon her like this.
At first, with the gag stuffed into her mouth, holding her lips apart, she drooled weakly, the saliva dripping down her chin and onto her chest. But over time her mouth dried out, and it became hard to even swallow.
Easing her pussy down further on the dildo had also pulled her down more sharply against the wrist restraints. Her arms were taut, straight above her, her back taut as well. Her head hung low on her chest, her shoulders aching, and she moaned miserably, hoping someone would find her.
Then, far off, she heard a sound, as if a door had opened and closed. She stared towards where she thought the door was, then gasped as the bolts were thrown. The door opened, but there was no rescue. Instead she hard his hated voice. “Spread your legs, Miss Slut.”
Remembering the harsh slaps to her face, Jessica forced her knees apart as wide as they would go.
“You see? She’s already learning to obey.”
“So I see,” came another male voice.
They were in the room now, standing before her, and Jessica blushed deeply as she imagined them looking down at her nudity, at her sex lips straining wide and squeezing tightly around the dildo.
She shuddered as a finger traced the line of her sex, and her legs spasmed as she instinctively began to close them, then jerked them wide again.
“What a pretty little cunt,” the new voice said.
It sounded older than the other, more arrogant, and definitely educated, upper class.
Hands moved over her body, caressing her breasts, pinching and plucking lightly at her nipples, then returned to her sex, tracing the line of her pussy where it squeezed down around the dildo.
“I’ve already fucked her a couple of times,” said the other voice, the one she remembered coming from the longhaired man.
“Good for you,” murmured the other man.
“Would you like to see her face? She’s a real looker.”
“We’ll leave the blindfold in place for now, shall we,” said the other voice.
Jessica felt fingers tracing the edges of the ball-gag filling her aching mouth, then sliding behind her head, fiddling with the straps. The gag pulled forward, and she opened her mouth a bit as it was worked out of her mouth. She gasped with relief, drawing in deep, shaky breaths of air.
“How do you do,” said the new voice.
“Please let me go,” she begged.
A sharp slap to the face threw her head back against the shackles and she cried out in pain.
She heard whispered voices, then the new voice came again.
“I would advise you to resign yourself to your fate for now,” it said. “You should recognize that you have no choice whatsoever but to do as we require. Your only goal in life for the foreseeable future ought to be to please us. We do not wish to hear you whining or demanding to be let go. Is that understood or do you require more negative reinforcement?”
“Y-Yes,” she whispered.
There was more whispering.
“You will respond to all requests with “Yes, Lord, followed by the name of whomever addresses you. My colleague here has decided that you will address him as Sims. You may call me Lord, er… Hoohaw. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes,” she said in a small voice.
The slap followed immediately, again throwing her head back, her body jerking against the shackles around her wrists, and her ears rang as she moaned in pain.
“Now surely one who had the ambition of attending Cambridge must be smarter than that,” said the new voice. “Did I not just finish instructing you on how you must respond to each and every query? My name is Lord Hoohaw. Do you understand?”
“Y-Yes, Lord Hoohaw,” she panted.
“Much better,” he said, as fingers caressed her hair. “Now then. Since we’re giving out names and titles, we should find one for you which is indicative of your present position in life.” There was a pause. “Toy, would seem to be appropriate. Do you like your new name, Toy?”
Jessie swayed weakly. “Yes, Lord Hoohaw,” she gulped.
She felt fingers slide across her lips, and closed them.
“Open,” she heard.
She parted her lips obediently and felt his fingers slide over them again, then slide into her mouth and rub against her tongue.
“Suck, Toy,” he ordered.
She closed her lips and sucked obediently at his finger as it caressed her tongue obscenely, twisting and squirming about within her mouth. It pumped slowly in and out, then a second finger was added for her to suck and lick at.
“Good Toy,” she heard him murmur.
“As long as she’s licking and sucking she can suck my cock,” said Lord Sims.
“My dear Sims,” Hoohaw said, “You have no flair for delicacy.”
“No,” Sims said in irritation, “I don’t.”
The fingers were withdrawn, and then she felt rough fingers seize her hair as a cock pushed into her open mouth. It pushed too deep, and she gagged and tried to twist away. But the fingers held her tightly as she desperately closed her lips and tried to suck him, licking wildly at his cock as it pumped in and out.
“That’s right, you cheap little whore. Suck my cock,” she heard Sims jeer as his cock pushed deeper.
“So crude,” sighed the other regretfully.
Sims was almost stabbing her with his cock, and Jessie sucked as best she could as he raped her mouth, as the head of his cock jabbed against the entry to her throat again and again, forcing her to gag and choke and cough. But it was gratifyingly soon before she felt his semen spilling into her mouth and swallowed it. Then he pulled back with a cruse of satisfaction.
“Go ahead. Do her.”
“Not I, my dear fellow. Not yet. My interest is more with her mind than her body, lovely as it is.”
“You fuck her mind then,” chuckled Sims. “I’m happy to fuck her body.”
The gag was shoved roughly back into her mouth. The door closed, and they left.
Jessica sobbed miserably, her head falling down, her insides aching around the thick dildo. She wondered how much longer she would be kept like this, naked, cold and in pain. She felt sick, terrified and miserable, and longed for the comfort and safety of her warm bedroom.
Far sooner than she had feared, however, she heard the door open again. She looked up and about, waiting, listening. She wondered which of them it was, and what they would want of her now.
* * * * *
Miller looked at the young girl admiringly. Her body, so tautly displayed, looked magnificent. Somehow Sims had lucked out with a perfect female specimen, at least physically. Now they needed to make her mind equally perfect. First, she must long for their presence. That seemed unlikely on the surface, but there were ways, not all of them sophisticated at all.
He moved as quietly as he could, feeling a throbbing between his legs he determined to resist. He was not simply going to fuck the girl, not yet. No, he was going to fuck her mind, as Sims had so crudely put it.
His first tool, was a simple package of straight pins he’d purchased up the street for a pound. Each was three inches long, quite thin, with a small plastic fake pearl tip. He squatted down next to her and fought the urge to run his hands over that magnificent body. No, she would feel no touch of human warmth, not unless she was with them. Alone, she would feel cold, dark and – pain.
He took the first pin and considered where to insert it. Then he smiled and thrust it into the girl’s right breast at a shallow angle.
The reaction was rather exciting. She squealed loudly, though the gag kept the sound mercifully low. Her body jerked and twisted to no avail. The pin remained stuck in her taut breast. It wasn’t deep, of course. He had no intention of harming the girl, only hurting her. The pin would sting, like a bee sting, perhaps, or perhaps a little worse, but would cause no damage.
Nor would the second, which he thrust into her right buttock. Her hips jerked forward and she cried out again, and a broad smile lit Miller’s face. The feel of absolute power excited him. This was such fun!
He took up the third pin. There was not a lot of fat on the girl, so best perhaps, not to thrust straight in. If he stuck the pin in at a sharp angle – yes, that would open up far more opportunities.
He held the tip of the pin a few centimetres from the girl’s right arm just a little above her shoulder, then thrust sharply. Again she howled, jerking against the chain, her body twisting and pulling against the chain.
He smiled and waited for her to calm down. He was quite hard now, and he relished the need to restrain himself, the pride which came from being able to overcome his body’s needs.
He stuck the next pin into the girl’s right leg, against the outer thigh. He waited a bit then, waited as the girl’s head moved from side to side, as she moaned into the gag, as she waited with dread for the next stinging stab. He moved ever so slowly around to the other side, feeling his cock throbbing, then thrust the pin into her foot.
The cry was louder, her body thrashing against the chain, and he smiled as he moved around her, amazed at how incredibly intense the rush was. Perhaps he was a latent sadist, then again, most boys who came through the elite schools of the upper classes were.
He did not wish to touch her at all, but that was why he had brought gloves, and a few other things as well. He put a loop in a simple rope and then worked it under her right leg, pulling the loop tight and then drawing the loop sharply to the side before tying against a metal brace. He tied a similar rope around her left leg just behind the knee, ignoring her moaning complaints to pull that wide open too.
God she looked good! Exotic and erotic, delicate and enticing. She was kneeling, legs spread wide, smoothly shaven sex open to him, lips spread wide around the thick dildo.
He squatted before her. She must know what was coming now, and he could see the muscle spasms in her thighs as she sought to close her legs, to protect herself. He grinned, then brought the tip of the pin to just in front of the very centre of her cold-hardened left nipple.
Then he thrust it in hard.
Surprised you, he thought in delight, as the pin stood out, quivering, in the centre of her delicate little pink nipple, her body twisting and jerking frantically.
And now, while you’re still thinking about that, he said to himself.
He bent low, examining her sex, then thrust the pin down and in at an angle, piercing her left pussy lip. A few seconds later the next needle went into the right, and then he pierced the hood over her clitoris, pierced it clean through.
That gave him an idea, and he pinched her left nipple tightly, pulling it out, and then stabbed the next pin right through. Her body thrashed and shook and her cry was loud and passionate as he smiled and took out several more pins. He had been stabbing her slowly, letting thirty seconds – sometimes a full minute pass between each pin. Now, as quickly as he could, he stabbed five pins into her breasts and belly.
He drew back, waiting for her to calm down. There were a few trickles of blood, but they were tiny things. The pins weren’t in her very deep, and they were all quite sharp and thin. They would leave no marks behind.
There was little fat to work with so he stabbed the next dozen in at sharp angles, sliding them into the skin over her ribs and back, then sent the next dozen into the skin around her belly and sides. He pierced her other nipple straight through, and then, to match the second breast, stabbed a pin into the centre of that nipple, straight on.
Then, cruelly, he closed the door and waited: a minute, two, five.
He stabbed the next pin directly into her clitoris
Then he pushed one into the soft flesh between her nostrils, then jabbed her fingertips and the palms of her hands. The last dozen needles went rather playfully into her breasts. They were pulled taut against her ribs because of how her arms were held up above her, but they were full enough that more than enough fat remained to thrust the thin silver needles in again and again without fearing any damage.
What a vision, she looked, he thought, controlling his breathing with effort. Her young, beautiful body still stretched out, pale, trembling, the needles jutting out from half a hundred different places, tiny dots of red surrounding many. He longed to do more, but hadn’t the proper equipment. He really would have to do some shopping.
He let her dread the next stab for a few minutes. Then, he tugged all the pins out. He tore open a plastic bag, took out a rag, and poured a little alcohol on it, then rubbed her down, eliminating the few tiny bits and trickles of blood which marred her perfect white skin.
He left quietly, knowing as he did that she would not trust that she was actually alone for some time, that she would cringe at every sound, tensely waiting the next needle. He toyed with the idea of having a drink at the closest pub, then coming back to do it all over, but decided not to. This was enough for now.
He was surprised to discover, as he walked up the passageway, that he had come in his pants. He frowned at his own lack of restraint. Yet, he had managed to keep from touching the scrumptious looking naked girl, which was the more important thing, so in that sense he felt strong.
He would touch her a lot more next time, of course.
“We have to plan this out rather more carefully than you two have already done.”
“We got her, didn’t we?” Sims said with a glower.
“Yes, my dear fellow, so you did. But however much thought you put into it, and I admit the likelihood of discovery remains slim, it will avail us little if we don’t conduct the experiment properly. You can rape her all you want, of course, but that’s simply brute force, and has little to do with what we were discussing. We want a reliable training session so that she comes to accept her place as our, er, toy, and doesn’t need to be chained up in a dark tunnel somewhere.”
“And what do you conclude from your studies, doctor Miller?” Sims replied sourly.
Miller smiled genially. “We need her to love us,” he said.
Sims snorted while even Callingsworth looked doubtful.
“Don’t be foolish. You know it can be done, has been done, by lesser beings than we, and to much stronger minds than this little twit.”
“And how do we get the slut to love us?” Sims asked.
“Well, first of all, we break her down to the point where she has nothing and thinks of nothing but her own needs. We don’t want her thinking of escape. We don’t want her thinking of how much she despises us. We don’t want her thinking of how shamed and angry she is every time we stick it to her. What we want her to be thinking about is how hungry she is, and how thirsty she is, and how cold or hot she is, and how much in pain she is. And we want her to know without a shadow of a question of a doubt that we, and we alone are the means to alleviating all these discomforts.”
“And not that we’re the cause of them?” Sims said. “Good trick if we can do it.”
“Oh we can do it. One of the ways is blame her every time. Blame her for everything. Blame her constantly. Tell her it’s her fault if she has no food, because she’s not being a good toy. It’s her fault if she’s being beaten, because she disappointed us and didn’t act like a proper toy. It’s her fault if she is too cold, for if only she cooperated and did what she knew she was required to do she would be much more comfortable. It sounds unlikely, I know, but repetition works, especially on a mind which is traumatized and terrified and suffering from lack of food and rest.”
“I can get her to do anything I want,” Sims said darkly.
“Of course you can, “ Miller said, “but the trick is to get her to want to do what you want, to like doing what you want, to enjoy it when you bend her over and stick it to her. And she must rely on us for everything. We must be as gods to her, responsible for everything good or bad which happens to her. We give her hunger, and we sate it, we give her thirst, and water, we give her pain, and pleasure. She must long for our attention, beg for it, desire it, be sad when we’re not with her.”
“Are we going to tell Bradson?”
Miller pondered the question. “Yes, but not just yet, I think. For now, here is what we need to buy, and here is what we need to do.”


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