Chapter 3: Train of Thought
We walked in silence for about a mile until we reached a large clearing. By now, the sun had nearly set. One of the gamesmen raised his walkie-talkie and spoke into it, “Gordon to base- be advised, team is approaching checkpoint 9. Prepare for entry” Then, the man placed the walkie back into his hip holster.
Just then, I heard a loud, high-pitched beeping noise up ahead. It almost sounded like the sound a golf-cart makes when put in reverse. Then, I saw it. A large metal cylinder roughly 12 feet in diameter began rising out of the ground in the middle of the clearing. I stopped in my tracks, unsure of what I was looking at. It continued to ascend until it was about 12 feet into the air. Then the beeping stopped. The gamesmen and rest of the group appeared completely unfazed and continued walking towards the structure. Just another stroll in the woods.
As we approached, I saw what looked like the outline of a door as well as an electronic keypad of sorts. One of the gamesmen lifted his smartphone to the lock, triggering a green light to blink. Just then, a wide door slid open revealing an empty circular chamber. The gamesmen led the way inside and everyone followed in behind them. Everyone except for me.
“What is this?” I asked, nervously.
Everyone turned to face me. “Just an elevator, ma’am,” The gamesman replied. “It’ll take us down to the tunnels. From there, it’s a straight shot to the Kingdom.” He must have seen the uncertainty written on my face, because he followed by saying, “It’s safe, I promise.”
While I had difficulty trusting anything that any of these people had to say, I definitely didn’t want to be left in the woods by myself and risk being spotted by any more sexually depraved hunters. So, I stepped inside the circular room. As soon as I was clear of the door, one of the gamesmen pressed a button on the wall. The large metal door began sliding shut behind me. The room was lit by bright LED lights on the walls and ceiling. When I reached the middle of the room, I turned to face the door as it sealed shut. I heard a hydraulic hiss from beneath my feet and felt the elevator begin to descend. My stomach churned, causing me to close my eyes. I’d always been a lightweight when it came to motion sickness. But after about 10 seconds, the elevator came to a stop and the door slid back open.
On the other side of the door was what looked like a small subway station. Four guards dressed in black stood in front of a sleek silver subway car roughly 25 feet in length. Attached to the back of the car was what looked like an open-air cargo caboose with a sort of crane attached to the rear. The gamesmen stepped past me toward the subway car, pulling the leashed women along with them. The Asian hunter and I followed behind. As we approached the subway car, I saw what looked like a line of metal crates to the left. Brandy was first to reach them. One of the guards standing by the crates raised a smartphone and tapped Brandy’s collar. The straps of her armbinder suddenly sprang free and dropped to the ground. Another guard grabbed ahold of the tip of her armbinder and tugged it off of her. Brandy gasped in relief as her arms were finally freed from her dreadful restraint. She may have still sported the black wrist and ankle cuffs, but for a moment, she certainly seemed to be soaking in her temporary freedom. With her eyes closed, she groaned blissfully as she rolled her shoulders backwards and forwards. She stretched and flexed her toned arms in every direction until the guards stepped behind her and once again forced her hands behind her back. To Brandy’s right, the guards repeated the steps to the Asian girl. With her eyes still closed, Brandy seemed to go quietly as her wrist-cuffs were secured together by a silver padlock.
Then, one of the guard gripped her by the upper arm and leading her toward the metal crate. Brandy had obviously done this before because without instruction, she hoisted her leg over the side of the metal crate and stepped inside. The Asian girl did the same, stepping into the second crate.
“Kneel,” the guard said, emotionless. Both girls obediently knelt down and placed their knees into what looked like padded foam cradles that kept their bent legs in a spread position. The guards then anchored each of their ankle-cuffs to hooks on the floor of the crate with padlocks.
Then, a guard placed his hand on the back of Brandy’s head and pushed her downward. Her torso was bent so low to the ground that her large breasts bulged against metal base of the crate. The same was done to the Asian girl, but her smaller breasts hovered an inch or so above the floor. The guards then lifted Brandy’s secured wrists into the air and slid a metal bar through a ring in the side of the crate. The bar was fed horizontally across Brandy’s back, beneath her elbows. Once the bar passed through the ring on the other side of the crate, I heard a loud metallic click. The guard gave the bar a rattle, demonstrating that it was now secured in place.
Next, he guard grabbed a valve that was beneath the ring he’d fed the bar through and gave it a few turns clockwise. The horizontal bar suddenly began to rise upward, bringing Brandy’s elbows along with it. I heard her grunt in discomfort as her elbows raised nearly a foot in the air. When he stopped turning the valve, Brandy was now trapped in a low groveling position with her knees spread and her wrists dangling in a strappado position behind her. In this position, her muscular shoulders looked even more uncomfortable than they looked to be in the armbinder! Then, the guard began closing a solid metal lid, hinged to the side of the crate. With a final click, the human cage was now complete.
But the guard wasn’t done yet. Walking to the front of her crate, he squatted down by her face and began fidgeting with another metal bar. I stepped closer, curious to see what they were doing. Upon getting a loser look, my stomach dropped. Attached to this metal bar was a rubber dildo. The bar appeared to slide up and down along a vertical track in the crate. Brandy’s guard raised it upward until the dildo was positioned directly in front of her face. He tightened a knob on the side of the vertical track, locking the dildo at the desired height.
“C’mon,” I said. “Is this really necessary?” The guard ignored me, grabbing a hold of Brandy’s blonde hair and tugging her head upward to face him.
“No,” Brandy replied for him. “It’s really nommmph.” Without warning, the guard had pushed the bar forward, sliding the dildo straight into Brandy’s half-open mouth. Her reply was cut short as the dildo forced it’s way past her front teeth. Once it was roughly 4 inches submerged, the guard let go of Brandy’s hair. With the dildo now trapped in her mouth, her head remained upright, locked in a craned, forward facing position. She growled at the guard and bore her teeth, which were now clamped firmly down around the rubber dildo. The guard ignored her attempts at resistance and proceeded to tighten the knob positioned at the base of the dildo bar. I guess this prevented the dildo from sliding out of her mouth.
I looked over to the Asian girl who had gotten the same exact treatment from her guard. I shook my head in disgust. This was ridiculous! Talk about overkill! But no sooner did the word “overkill” cross my mind, the guards began making their way around to the backs of each crate.
“More?!” I asked, incredulously as they knelt down. They began fidgeting with what looked like another metal bar located directly behind each woman’s pussy. “Oh for fuck’s sake-” I said.
Another guard walked up to me, holding a briefcase with 3 different-sized dildos. I glanced back and forth from the dildos and him in confusion.
“So, what’ll it be?” He asked me. “Would you like her to have small, medium, or large dildo?”
“What?” I asked, in shock. “How about no dildo?”
“Sorry, ma’am. Rules require all slaves wear one for transportation,” he replied patiently.
“Yeah, she’s already wearing one,” I replied defiantly. “In her mouth.”
“If you refuse to pick, the large-sized dildo is considered standard.” the guard replied, matter-of-factly. I heard Brandy squeal and mmph frantically. She squirmed as best as she could, presumably to convince me to save her from the largest dildo.
“So, which will it be?” the guard pressed. I could feel my face growing flush. This was a special kind of twisted. What the kind of sick fucks came up with this shit?!
“Small,” I spat, turning away. Brandy gave a small sigh of relief. I didn’t want to watch. I loathed the idea that I was essentially becoming complicit in this perversion.
“My slave’ll take a large,” the Asian hunter, looking down at his own slave. I glared over at him, fighting the urge to walk over and hit him in the nose again. I saw the Asian girl take a deep breath and close her eyes, almost as if to mentally prepare herself.
“Large, it is,” the guard said, picking up a large dildo. He wore a rubber glove on one hand which he used to coat the dildo in some kind of lubricant. Once finished, he handed the dildo to the guard kneeling by the Asian girl’s pussy who proceeded to screw it onto the end of the metal bar. Then, he pushed the bar forward. I heard the Asian girl exhale slowly. Her whole body seemed to tense and her toes curled as the dildo made its way through the metal ring in her chastity belt and into her pussy. Once it looked to be fully submerged, the guard tightened the knob at the base of the bar, locking the dildo home.
The Asian hunter knelt down inches from the girl’s face. “What do you say?” he asked.
With her eyes still closed, the girl softly replied, “Ahnk oh heh,” My jaw nearly dropped. Did she just say ‘thank you, sir?’ There’s no way in hell that she was actually enjoying this! No. She must have been doing what she thought she needed to in order to save herself from worse to come. There’s no way a person could actually want any of this. Right?
“Alright,” one of the guards said, “All aboard! Master, Mistress- please find a seat inside and make yourself comfortable.” I looked up as the door to the subway car slid open. Padded seats lined the walls of the subway car, facing inward. To my left stood several vertical support bars. To my right, was a buffet table of sorts with a variety of finger foods and drinks.
“And please go ahead and help yourself to some snacks and refreshments,” the guard added.
I stepped inside and headed straight for the buffet table. I hadn’t eaten all day and was famished. I must have looked like a starving Ethiopian child as I shoveled food onto a small plastic plate. Moments later, I was seated and tearing into my mini-mountain of chicken nuggets, sliders, and pigs in a blanket. The Asian man made himself a plate and sat in the seat across from me. I didn’t care how glutinous I looked. After finishing my plate and downing my bottled water, I went back up for seconds. I piled another plate high with food and returned to my seat.
Turning to my right, I could see that the back wall was actually a large Plexiglas window that allowed you to see into the open-air caboose. I could see the guards talking outside the door, but the subway car must have been sound-proofed, because I could no longer hear anything outside. I watched one of the guards walk over to the side of the caboose where a control panel was located. I leaned over to try to see what he was doing. Suddenly, the crane on the back of the caboose began to move. It looked like the guard was controlling the crane with some sort of joystick. I continued eating as I watched the arm of the crane swing outward. On the underside of the end of the arm was a large metal disc of sorts. When the disc came to hover above Brandy’s crate, the arm descended, lowering the disc until it came to rest upon the lid of the crate
The disc must have been magnetically charged, because moments later, the entire crate was lifted into the air. The crane’s arm rotated horizontally, bringing Brandy’s crate toward the subway car. Moments later, she was slowly lowered onto the floor of the open-air caboose. Brandy stared straight ahead into the glass, her expression cold and expressionless.
It was then that I noticed the decals along the base of the Plexiglas window that read- ONE WAY MIRROR. We could see her, I realized, but she couldn’t see us. The only thing she could see was her own reflection. I stared into Brandy’s lifeless eyes, wondering what she must have been thinking.
“Your slave’s godda be a tough cookie to break,” the Asian hunter said, lounging back in his seat with his legs crossed. I turned to look at him. With the cotton balls still in his nose, his voice sounded stuffy and ridiculous.
“Shut the fuck up,” I said with a mouth full of food, turning back toward Brandy.
“What are you so sour about?” He asked. “You just wod your freedob. You got a milliod dollar paycheck for rudding aroud daked id da woods for half a day. What gives?”
I ignored him as I finished my last bite, wiping my hands on my pants. Leaving my dirty plates where they were, I stood to my feet and crossed to the back of the subway car. Grabbing ahold of the vertical support pole in the middle of the room, I stared out through the one way mirror at Brandy. A few seconds later, the crane was lowering the Asian girl’s crate next to Brandy’s on the caboose. Her eyes were closed and she almost looked to be asleep.
A few moments later, the Asian man had creepily joined me in the back of the subway car.
“You’re gonna need to step away from me,” I warned coldly without looking at him.
He casually raised both hands in a surrender gesture and stepped away to grab the adjacent vertical bar to my left. We stood in silence, watching the guards busy themselves on the caboose, running black straps across the crates which secured them to the deck.
“I’b really dot a bad guy, ya doe,” the man said.
“No, of course you’re not,” I replied dryly. “You’re just a regular prince charming who enjoys capturing and raping women.”
“Doe, dat’s just it-” he replied, defensively. “I would’t be here if dis was dodcodsedsual-” Frustrated by the sound of his stuffy voice, the man rolled his eyes and tugged the cotton balls out of his nostrils. “Ouch,” he muttered under his breath. “Look- I’d never participate in any of this if the women weren’t here by choice. It’s a transaction. My enrollment fees go directly into your pockets. Most women earn enough money from this gig to straight-up retire once it’s is all over. Others return each year because they enjoy it.”
“So, that makes it okay, does it?” I asked, turning to face him. “Just so long as your victim gets compensated, you’re justified in taking advantage of her and treating her like a piece of shit?”
The man suddenly pulled out a cell phone from his pocket and began tapping his screen. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and read,
“June Singh, 21 years of age, 5’4”, 113 lbs., 1st year. Personal notes- To my new Master- I so look forward to meeting and serving you. As you will quickly notice, I have quite the contrary spirit. I’m a fighter at heart and enjoy the role of resisting. But with a firm and steady hand, I have no doubt that you will quickly succeed in breaking me, body and mind. As difficult and challenging as my journey will be, I’m overcome with the excitement of being trained by someone who is truly superior to me. I look forward to you showing me why am now the luckiest girl in the world. Here’s to 3 months of dreams coming true. Yours truly, June.”
The man looked up at me from his phone. “She even put a heart emoji at the end,” he added.
I shook my head in shock in disbelief, looking back out the window at the Asian girl named June. The guards were now finished securing the crates and were exiting the caboose. This was all beginning to feel like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Could this actually be a turn-on for these women? It was hard to fathom, but after listening to June’s own words, it was difficult to rule out the possibility.
“Understand?” the Asian man asked. “Everyone is here voluntarily. Could some women be second-guessing their decision to enlist? Possibly. But I’m willing to bet that the vast majority are excited about the next 3 months. It’s why so many come back every year. It’s a paid sex vacation.”
Just then, I heard a loud ding from over head, followed by a female voice. “The train will be departing momentarily. Please take your seat or grab ahold of a nearby railing.” Moments later, I felt the car lurch forward and slowly accelerate in the direction opposite of the caboose.
“You wanna read your slave’s profile?” the man asked. I hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “What’s her name?” he asked.
“Brandy,” I replied. “And she’s not my slave.”
After a few seconds of tapping his phone, he replied, “Okay, there are a few Brandy’s, but I think this one is yours.”
He held out his phone to me and I took it from him. Staring up at me from the screen was Brandy’s smiling photo. Beneath the picture was text that read-
Brandy Michaels: 28 years of age
5’9”
139 lbs.
2nd year
Personal notes:
Well, golly gee. You caught me. I imagine you must be feeling pretty
proud of yourself at the moment. I recommend you take the next couple
of hours to bask in your victory. Because, it won’t be long before you’re
faced with the reality that you are Completely out of your league... As a
Dominatrix of 6 years, I can assure you that I will not be broken. I will
not be ‘tamed’. Any attempts to do so will end in failure. Instead, set me
free and secure the collar around your own neck. The longer you take to
turn the reigns over to me, the harder life will be for you. I give you my
professional guarantee- I have the power to make your next 3 months a
living heaven or hell. Obey me and I’ll give you satisfaction beyond
your wildest dreams. Refuse, and I’ll ensure that you remember these
next 3 months as the single worst, most disappointing investment you’ve
ever made. So, congrats on your capture! See you after orientation J
-Mistress B
“Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath.
Brandy ought to be thanking her lucky stars that I was the one to capture her. No guy in his right mind would take an offer like that. Not after putting up the fortune to have the opportunity capture and train his very own sex-slave. Brandy definitely misread her target audience. I shuddered to imagine what kind of misery she’d have had to endure if a horny alpha-male were reading this as her new master.
Beneath Brandy’s personal notes, there were two red buttons. One read ‘Pleasure’ and the other said ‘Pain’. I tapped the ‘Pleasure’ button, half-expecting some sort of fantasy checklist to pop up, outlining what Brandy found to be ‘pleasurable’. Instead, the button turned from red to white and began to jiggle and bounce on the screen. Confused, I continued to stare at the screen.
“Woah,” Eric laughed. “Someone’s a bit triggered.” I looked up at him and followed his gaze toward Brandy. Brandy wore a ferocious glare and was throwing what looked like a temper-tantrum in her crate. Her teeth were digging nearly a half-inch into the rubber dildo. If looks could actually kill, we’d all be dead for sure.
“Is she okay?” I asked. “Wait-” I stammered, holding the phone away from me. “Did I do that? I pressed this button- did I do something?”
Eric took the phone from me and looked at the screen. “Yeah,” Eric chuckled. “You activated the vibrate function on her dildo. She doesn’t seem to be enjoying it very much, though, does she?”
“I didn’t know that’s what the button did!” I said frantically. “How do you make it stop?”
“Don’t worry, it’ll stop after 30 seconds,” he explained casually. “Hell, you’re a lot nicer than I am. I’ve clicked ‘pain’ three times now.”
I glanced over at June to see her demeanor. “What does pain do?” I asked nervously.
“Just gives her butt-plug some pecks of electricity at random intensities for 30 seconds. I saw her jump a few times but it didn’t really seem to effect her much beyond that.”
“So, anyone can just do this to anyone?” I asked, still in shock. “I mean, you can just look up anyone’s profile and click on these buttons?”
“Only if they’ve already been captured.”
“So, nobody can see my profile?” I asked.
“I’m pretty sure they can’t,” he replied. “Hold on- let me check. What’s your name?”
“Jodie,” I answered.
“Jodie, I’m Eric,” he replied with a smile. “Sorry about meeting the way we did. You know- with me pulling a Negan and making you kneel down in the woods. What can I say, I’m a big Walking Dead fan.”
Not eager to give him a pass, I ignored him. Brandy’s vibrating dildo must have stopped vibrating because her tantrum had ceased. But she still wore a pouty face and appeared to be breathing heavily.
“No,” he said after a long pause. “I’m not seeing your profile. So, it must be hidden, seeing as you were never captured.”
All of this seemed way too advanced. It was hard to believe that minds were perverted enough to dream this up, let alone execute it. I looked back out the rear window at our slaves. The subway tunnel was well lit with fluorescent lighting, so there was clear visibility of the women. The subway car was now traveling at what felt like over 50 mph, causing the women’s hair to flow and flutter behind them.
“Whaaaat?” Eric suddenly exclaimed out of nowhere, his eyebrows raised in glee as he stared at his phone. “No way!”
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve got three trade offers already!” Eric looked up at me, wide-eyed like a like a kid on Christmas morning.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means my slave is a bombshell and everyone wants her!” He continued grinning stupidly at his phone. “Once a hunter registers a capture, they can enter the marketplace. It’s basically an online database of all captured slaves. Hunters can trade slaves with other hunters and venders. They can even buy additional slaves if they have the money.” He looked down at his phone and began furiously typing. “Sorry fellas, you’ll have to trade elsewhere.”
“Are we allowed to set slaves free?” I asked.
“Uh- I actually don’t think so,” Eric replied, crinkling his brow in contemplation. “I mean, I suppose there’s nothing to stop a hunter from treating their slave like she’s free. But I think I remember reading that once a slave is registered, she has to remain under someone’s custody for the rest of her stay.”
“So… if I decided to leave, what would happen to her?” I asked, nodding toward Brandy.
“I think,” Eric replied contemplatively, “-if a hunter leaves early, their slave goes up for auction. And if a slave were to somehow escape or… if a former slave like yourself decides to leave, you’d forfeit your paycheck. It’s why they don’t pay you until check out on the final day.”
“And how do we get paid?” I asked.
“Damn, you really didn’t pay close attention to your contract, did you?” he asked, chuckling. “Lucky for you, I’m a finance guy. So I read this part backwards and forwards. When you leave at the end of your three months, you’ll sit down with one of the accountants and they’ll set up an off-shore account for you. That way, the funds are untraceable. Also non-taxable. Just don’t make the mistake of withdrawing all of it at once. The government’ll be all over your ass.”
“And does it have to be under my name?” I asked. “Or… can I list the account under someone else?”
Eric looked puzzled. “You planning on giving your million dollars to someone else?”
“I-” I stammered, not quite knowing how to answer. Should I tell Eric the truth? Could I trust him with the fact that I’m not Jodie McConnell? That I found my way to this moment because I’d made the impulse decision to pretend to be Jodie for the purpose of trying to uncover what the Renaissance Faire was being used for during it’s off-season? No. I needed to keep him in the dark.
“Well… my sister has a lot of money,” I began, coming up with a story on the fly. “Me, not so much... I thought it might raise less suspicion to use her as an intermediary.”
“Hmm… I guess that makes sense,” Eric replied softly, seemingly still a bit skeptical.
Eager to move on, I continued, “So, what you’re saying is- I’m stuck here for three months?”
“Only if you wanna keep your money.” Eric replied with a half smile. “To be honest, I can think of worse ways of becoming a millionaire.”
I stood in silence, contemplating my options. I really could use the money. Truth be told, I missed having money… And if I were being honest, I’d always enjoyed practicing BDSM in my personal life. I was all too familiar with role-playing and tying up my partners for a fun evening. But this was a 3-month investment of my life! These girls may have been expecting all of this to happen, but I wasn’t. I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a 24/7 domme. There was no way I could pull this off. Could I?
I stared out the window in contemplation. I couldn’t believe that I was actually considering this. What was purely unthinkable just 15 minutes earlier had suddenly become shockingly tempting... One million dollars! For 3 months of bossing someone around. And that person I’d be bossing around actually signed up for this gig with the expectation of being bossed around… I felt like I could rationalize that... Lord knows I’d be easier on Brandy than someone who purchased her on auction! I’d be doing her a favor! And who cares if I turned out to be a lame, inexperienced domme? It’s not like I needed to impress Brandy. My mind danced between pros and cons for the next several minutes. Eric was silently tapping away at his phone, allowing me time to gather my thoughts.
“What if I don’t know much about being a domme?” I asked Eric. “Or… anything about being a domme?”
Eric looked up, smiling. “Hey, you can’t possible be less prepared than I was last year. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. But after you take advantage of some of the classes and seminars they offer, you’ll be a pro in no time. You drop your slave off at day-care while you go to class and you learn. Seriously, everything’s free, so it’s in your best interest to learn all you can. But honestly, the main thing is confidence. If you act like you know what you’re doing, that’s all that really matters.”
I stared out the window, considering his advice. After about a minute of silence, I suddenly remembered how tired my legs were. Why the hell was I standing? I walked back over to my seat and sat down.
“How much longer til we get there?” I asked.
“Uh, I’m not sure. I’d say about 15, 20 minutes,” Eric replied.
I leaned back in my seat and rested my head against the window behind me.
“I’m gonna take a nap,” I said.
“Do it,” Eric said in agreement. “I’ve gotta reply to some of these trade offers.”
I closed my eyes. Somehow, despite the odds, I’d managed to make an acquaintance in Eric. Though I felt somewhat guilty for engaging with him, he really had proven to be a wealth of information. And he’d certainly given me a lot to think about...
But thinking would have to wait. Because after only a few seconds with my eyes closed, I could already feel myself drifting off. I desperately needed a power nap. Just 15-20 minutes of rest could be just what I needed. I shifted in my seat and lied down across the seats next to me, curling into a fetal. A few seconds later, I was out.
Story continued in Chapter Four
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