Prince of Darkness vs Prom Queen

The padded table had wheels, and Victor was rolling it across the room. He stopped in front of a door with a small window and Laci could see the thick glass coated with frost. Victor unlatched the door, pulling it wide and she felt a blast of frigid air hitting her. Realizing what was about to happen to her, she again started struggling, but Victor pushed the table into the cold room, turning it so she was facing the window. Donovan had followed them, but from the way he was standing, she couldn't tell what he was doing, until he turned and she saw the coiled hose in his hand. With the push of a button, she was sprayed with freezing water, from head to toe. Crying, sputtering, she again attempted to free herself, but could only watch as Donovan and Victor exited, slamming the door behind them.

Now she knew why he called it the ice chest. The small room was so cold she was almost instantly frozen to the padded table, her wet skin burning as she tried to move. Through the window, the bastard was watching as her tears froze solid on her cheeks. Naked, wet, and fastened to the table, it took less than two minutes for every inch of her to be shivering and in pain.

Why was he doing this to her? She tried to make her brain work to help her deal with the cold. What had he said about Frank Harding? Frank told him she loved to play the role of victim? He wasn't interested in her liaisons with Harding? All of this had to be a mistake. She never had a liaison or anything else with Frank Harding. Until she met Donovan Corbett, she thought Frank Harding was the most repulsive creature on the planet. Obviously Donovan Corbett thought she was someone else. She looked at him watching her through the frosted window, clearly enjoying her suffering. He hadn't listened to one thing she'd said since she entered his house. How would she make him understand she wasn't who he seemed to think she was? That she was there to interview him.

Donovan was watching her and very focused on what he was seeing. The red welts on the front of her thighs were quite a contrast to the soft, creamy whiteness of the rest of her skin. She was still attempting to struggle with the straps holding her, clearly in pain with every movement. In a moment or two the shuddering would start.

The drug in the water she had gulped hadn't been very strong. It wasn't enough to knock her out, just subdue her for a while. He watched with interest as Victor undressed her and strapped her to the table, admiring her perfect little body. It wasn't going to remain perfect if Frank Harding had anything to do with it. For years Donovan heard stories about Harding and the horrors he inflicted on the women foolish enough to get involved with him. Donovan had seen more than his share of pain inflicted on others, and even he was chilled by the stories describing Harding's treatment of his slaves.

Not surprisingly, none of them seemed to last very long. Returning them after training, Donovan never asked what happened to any of them, although he had his theories, and there was that one.......he remembered her. She hadn't been that much older than Laci Grace, but she was more than a little impressed with Frank Harding and his money, impressed enough to be a willing sex slave for him. It was Victor who talked to her, told Donovan she wasn't the usual type Harding sent for training. Five months after Donovan turned her over to Harding, her body had been discovered about two hundred miles away, brutally beaten, strangled with a leather strap. Frank Harding had conveniently been out of town when she was discovered. Even if Laci Grace was stupid enough to get involved with Frank Harding, that wasn't a fate she, or anyone else deserved.

He turned and realized Victor wasn't paying any attention to Laci. Victor was watching him. "What's on your mind, Victor? I can tell by the look on your face, you have something to say."

Victor had worked for Donovan Corbett for years. He wasn't just a houseman and assistant, as he had been introduced. He was actually the closest thing Donovan came to having as a friend. Victor knew almost all there was to know about his employer, yet in many ways, Donovan Corbett was a complete mystery. He had a strong personality and claimed to enjoy the life of a dominant. He had what he referred to as a training facility in one of his homes and he trained slaves and submissives for other people, but not for himself. Victor didn't exactly agree with the choices his boss made, but he was paid well, the two trusted each other, and he usually maintained his silence.

Today wasn't usual. "What's your problem with this one? You're being a little hard on her, aren't you?" Victor always took the role of Donovan's conscience. "What about her annoys you so much?"

Donovan scoffed at the questions, but motioned to Victor, indicating he was to remove Laci from the ice chest and prepare her for what was to come next. "She's earned her punishments with her attitude and insolence, and what she's going to suffer at the hands of Frank Harding will be far worse than anything I'll do to her. Someone who looks like her can do a lot better than Harding. Let her think she's got the inside track on his money. She'll learn the truth soon enough. She can start learning now."

As she was wheeled back to the center of the room, Laci was so cold, shuddering so hard, she could barely speak, still he heard her struggling, a whisper all she could manage, pleading for Victor's help. "There's been a mistake. Please don't let him do this. Help me."

Victor had seen it all before, had heard it all before. He appeared unmoved as he returned the table to a horizontal position, placing a blanket over Laci to warm her. When the ice on her skin had thawed enough to be moved from the padding on the table, Victor unhooked her ankles and flipped her over. Reattaching her feet to the table, he made another adjustment, allowing the apparatus to move, bending Laci at the waist. Her arms still attached uncomfortably above her head, her ass now made a perfect target for whatever means of torture the Prince of Darkness intended to inflict on her.

"Well, Miss Grace, I hope you've finally learned who is in charge and now we can proceed. Considering how opinionated and vocal you've been, feel free to scream. Only Victor and I will hear you."

The first stroke of the paddle felt like a knife cutting across her skin.

Again the pain knocked her breath from her body. Struggling, writhing against her restraints, she sobbed, gulping, almost feeling as if she was being asphyxiated, but Laci did not scream. She didn't care if he beat her within an inch of her life, she wasn't about to give the Prince of Darkness the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

Ten strokes. At the end of ten she'd be begging for mercy. He was positive.

Twenty strokes. By the end of twenty strokes, she'd be screaming for sure.

Thirty strokes. He wielded the wooden paddle with every bit of strength he had. Still no sound other than sobbing. Maybe she was accustomed to harsh treatment if she was involved with Harding.

Forty strokes. Why wasn't she begging? She sounded like she was having trouble breathing, and her ass was so battered, it was almost purple, but she still hadn't screamed.

He was about to strike again, when he caught Victor looking at him. When Victor shook his head, Donovan flung the implement across the room, his anger more than obvious.

Victor moved silently to the table, releasing Laci from her bonds. Trembling, still gasping and sobbing, in more pain than she'd ever felt in her life, she would have fallen if Victor had not been by her side to hold her up. It took more than a few minutes for her to regain anything even approaching composure.

Almost instantly she was across the room, faster than Donovan or Victor would have ever anticipated, and she was full of fierce, almost violent rage. If he hadn't seen her coming to attack, if she hadn't been exhausted from what he just put her through, if he hadn't been at least a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier, Laci Grace would have ripped him to shreds.

"You filthy barbarian! You inhuman deviant!" Now she was screaming as loud as her lungs would allow. "I'm two minutes late to interview you and this is what you do to me? Why? I've never hurt you." Donovan had grabbed her arms and even having the advantage of height and weight, he was barely able to control her. Over her head, he and Victor were staring at each other in astonishment. "Let me go!" She struggled, screamed, kicked, trying to go for his eyes and any other part of his anatomy she could wound. "I'd call you an animal, but that would be an insult to animals. They only attack the defenseless for survival. Animals don't hurt other animals because it gives them pleasure. Let go of me you son of a bitch! You really are the Prince of Darkness and I hope you rot in hell!"

"That's no way for a Prom Queen to talk," Donovan informed her. He tried to sound cold and intimidating, which would have been easier if he wasn't out of breath from trying to control her.

The statement stopped her for a moment. "How did you know I was Prom Queen?" The moment didn't last long, and she was more furious than before. "You checked me out, you freak?" She seemed to have forgotten she was naked, but he didn't. Still astonished by her outburst and strength, he was even more astonished to realize he was becoming aroused by the spitfire struggling in his grip. "Let go of me! You're as perverted as Frank Harding!"

Still trying to protect himself from bodily injury, Donovan used his head to gesture to Victor, who darted across the room and pulled open the door of the ice chest. With every bit of strength he could muster, Donovan literally flung the still struggling Laci into the room. Hitting one of the icy walls stunned her just long enough for him to grab the hose and spray her with freezing water. He was barely able to make his escape, slamming the door closed, then standing back to watch as she pounded on the glass. He couldn't hear her through the insulated walls and door, but he was sure she was screaming obscenities, every single one he had ever heard, and a few new ones she had just invented.

Nothing about this training session was going the way it was supposed to go. Nothing was going the way any previous session had ever gone. Between the adrenaline surging and the way she continued to pound on the window, it was going to be a little while before she cooled down enough to talk to her.

Donovan turned to Victor, asking, "How long has she been here?"

Not taking his eyes off Laci, Victor responded, "About two hours."

Running his hands through his dark hair, Donovan shook his head in frustration. "Is it just me, or does it seem more like two months? Why wouldn't she scream?"

"Who knows?" Victor turned to him. "How'd you know she was Prom Queen?"

"Lucky guess. What did she call me?"

"Which time?"

Donovan tried to remember. "I think it was between filthy barbarian and freak."

Victor thought for a moment. "Then it had to have been either inhuman deviant or the Prince of Darkness. You have to admit...she has a way with words." He thought again. "You know, Donovan, she also said you were as perverted as Frank Harding. It didn't sound like a compliment."

"Thank you for reminding me." It appeared the chilled room was finally getting to Laci. She had stopped pounding, but was watching him through the glass, obviously shivering, her hair crusted with ice crystals, tears frozen mid-way down her cheeks.

"Hear me out," Victor continued, attempting to sort his thoughts. "If she knows Harding is perverted, and she's involved with him, then the presumption is she likes perversion."

"So? Why else would someone who looks like her be involved with someone like him? Obviously she's selling herself for money, not that she'll get much, if any, from that warped son of a bitch."

"Donovan, you've been doing this for as long as I've known you, and I've never interfered, even when I didn't agree, but, something doesn't add up. Something about the Prom Queen doesn't make sense."

Chapter 3 -- Truth or Dare

Donovan Corbett was on his way to an unplanned, unscheduled and surprise meeting with Frank Harding. The surprise was going to be on Frank, especially when Donovan put his hands around the deceitful fucker's throat and squeezed as hard as he wanted to squeeze. Donovan shook the murderous thoughts off. He was going to have to stay cool and calm if he wanted to get answers from the debauched son of a bitch. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, replaying the entire scenario from the beginning, everything he could remember.

Harding had called a few days earlier telling him he wanted someone trained. He claimed he had been seeing her for a while and she had agreed to be part of his wicked life. That was exactly how Harding always phrased it....his wicked life. He said there was nothing out of the ordinary, it was the typical arrangement he usually had with Donovan.

The woman would arrive at Donovan's training facility, by taxi, just as all the previous women had arrived, and she was to remain until she was completely willing to submit to all of the wicked things Frank was planning. Again that word....wicked. The word had its place, but not in Frank Harding's world. The word he should have been using was heinous. Debased would have been a good fit. Vicious and depraved were even better.

There was nothing unusual in Frank Harding's request. Donovan Corbett provided a service and Frank Harding was just one of many, willing to pay for that service. It was a business transaction and after the individual sent to him had been trained, Donovan would be paid very well for his expertise.

No. There was nothing at all unusual about the situation, until the Prom Queen started walking up his driveway. She wasn't like any of the others. She was polite and well-spoken. There were plenty of men who went for the Prom Queen or cheerleader type, but Frank Harding wasn't one of them. He preferred the ones who were more experienced, a little harder in attitude and demeanor, the ones who thought they had seen it all. If they hadn't, they would have by the time he was done with them.

Frank always gave Donovan a little background on the trainees he sent. He never referred to them by name, and Donovan never asked. It didn't matter who he was training, or who their intended future master was, he preferred to keep things as impersonal, nameless, faceless as possible. To him one male slave was no different, had no distinction, from another male slave. One female slave was the same as the next. He never asked their names, where they were from, or what they did in their spare time. It wasn't his concern. His sole concern was doing his job and getting paid.

There was that one who talked to Victor, the one who ended up dumped into a ditch. After her body had been discovered, it was Victor who gave Donovan the news. It was Victor who told him she had talked to him many times and she honestly believed she was going to be Mrs. Harding and have access to his money and the prestige of his name and power. Donovan wasn't certain how it happened. Maybe she pushed too hard for the money and power. Maybe Frank pushed too hard and things got out of control. In the end, the reason didn't matter. The woman was very dead and both Victor and Donovan were sure Frank Harding was responsible.

When Frank called about the new trainee, he said she liked to play the victim and be overpowered. He said it was a game they played all the time and she was really good at it. He told Donovan she was a slut from head to toe, and brute force was her biggest turn on. Donovan could do anything he wanted to her, and she was going to love it, even when she said she didn't. He said the rougher it was, the better she liked it. Donovan wasn't sure what to believe. It was true, Laci played the part of a victim quite well, but he hadn't seen anything submissive about her. He might have to agree she liked things rough, but that was mostly because she had tried to beat the shit out of him. More than once.

Last night, after her second visit to the ice chest, Victor had opened the door, wrapped her in a blanket, and drawn her into the warm room. Without thinking, Donovan demanded she sit down so they could talk. It was the wrong thing to say.

Instantly, she had again gone for his throat, screaming on the top of her lungs that she didn't appreciate his humor and how, thanks to him, she wouldn't be able to sit anywhere for a week. How was it that when he was spanking her with the paddle, all she uttered were sobs, and now she was so violently loud, he was positive he heard glass shattering?

Luckily, Victor hadn't yet had the chance to close the door of the ice chest. Donovan had been able to shove her back inside, slamming the door in her face. Then he had done the most sensible thing he could think of. He went to his office, locking the door behind him, leaving Victor to deal with her.

Donovan Corbett, Dominant, Master, Trainer of Sex Slaves, Mephistopheles in an Armani suit, was hiding from the Prom Queen.

Donovan never kept track of the number of men and women he trained over the years, but Laci Grace was the first one who had ever tried to attack him, screamed obscenities at him, or called him names. Clearly the woman was unclear about her role and required a dictionary with the words submissive and slave boldly highlighted.

It was nearly an hour later before there was a quiet knock on the door. Donovan had facetiously inquired if a whip and chair had been required to subdue her. Victor had facetiously responded Donovan should keep his warped attempt at humor to himself while Laci was around, especially since whips and chairs were topics that would likely cause problems.

Victor said when he returned to the ice chest, he found her on the floor, curled on her side, quietly crying. She seemed exhausted from her punishments, being repeatedly subjected to the frigid temperature, and attempting to single-handedly slay the Prince of Darkness.

It took a while, but he had again wrapped her in a blanket, and had managed to get her into one of the cells used by former trainees. About seven feet long and seven feet wide, with an uncomfortable cot-like bed built into the wall, a toilet and a small sink, the area was truly like a prison cell, and Laci had struggled and begged Victor not to lock her inside, to return her clothes and help her escape.

At that point Victor had actually gotten annoyed enough to ask what she expected by agreeing to become involved with Frank Harding and agreeing to be trained by Donovan Corbett. He warned her she had gotten off easily so far and her behavior was unacceptable. He was certain she would be severely punished in the upcoming days. He told Donovan, she seemed confused, kept saying there had been a mistake, kept asking 'why?' and he had never seen anyone look so frightened, but he had locked the door, and left her alone, sobbing in the dark cell.

Victor again stated something wasn't making sense, and asked why she kept mentioning an interview. Donovan wondered if her real name was Laci Grace or if that was a name she made up to accompany her reluctant victim persona. The resourceful Victor thought he might know of a way to find out.

Leaving the office briefly, he returned with her purse, dumping it on Donovan's desk. The two men looked at each other, unexpectedly feeling almost guilty about rifling through her belongings. The momentary guilt didn't stop them.

Her name was indeed Laci Grace. It was on her license, her credit cards, and an employee ID card.

Donovan was more than a little surprised when he realized she worked for Frank Harding. He had never mentioned that, and Donovan knew Harding never mingled his public, professional life, and his wicked life. There were too many potential complications, too many things that could go wrong, too many ways for people to discover just how immoral Frank Harding actually was.