Escape from Dominatrix Island

As I put the broom away, the two guards called out to me. They were sitting on their tall stools again, tapping riding crops in the palms of their hands. One of them made the licking motion and then tapped the tip of her riding crop on her spike heeled boot. My mouth was dry but I was pretty sure there was no way they would let me go to the water trough first. I just had to kneel in front of her and start licking her boots.

Their knee high boots looked like they were made of a fine quality leather that was warm with their body heat, and somewhat pleasing on my tongue after licking who knows how many pairs of rubber boots that had been run under a cold water faucet.

The toes of their boots came to a gentle point, a zipper went up the inside of the shaft, and the slender heels might have been four inches high. These were the sort of boots a woman might wear afterhours, and probably not to an office. Certainly not appropriate for any military force, although they seemed to be part of some paramilitary unit at least. While at first the two guards appeared to be wearing identical pairs of boots, I did notice they were slightly different in the stitching, where the shaft met the base of the boot. Any military would have a standard uniform, including the boots.

I was then taken to what looked like a holding cell in an old castle dungeon, with a large arched opening covered with iron bars and a heavy gate. Once I was locked inside, the ladies reached in through the bars, removed my shackles and walked away down the hall.

The cell was large, dimly lit, and had what looked like a comfortable bed. A chamber pot bucket like I had used earlier in the interview room was in one corner. On a table was a small loaf of bread, a bowl of that slimy gruel, but also a mug of broth, still steaming as if freshly poured.

Most interesting to me though was an old cast iron radiator against one wall, and it was giving off an amazing amount of heat. I had been so chilled, naked in the old stone fortress all day, so I wrapped myself in a blanket from the bed, pulled the stool from the table over to the radiator and sat down to enjoy the hot broth. Down the corridor I could hear faint muffled voices of at least two guards, and I assumed they would be standing watch down there all night.

After I finally ate the gruel I was ready to go to sleep. It had been a long and stressful day. That was when the voices down the hall stopped, and I heard the sound of high heels slowly coming down the passageway towards my cell.

It was the tall blonde woman that dressed all in silver with the tall boots. She stood a distance back from the bars and just looked at me for what seemed like a long time.

"I'm guessing you're the person in charge here," I told her quietly. "You interrupted Anastasia a few times during that interrogation so maybe you can understand me. I just want to go home."

Then I noticed she was carrying a thick, unlit cigar in one of her hands. She raised it to her lips and very neatly bit off the tip, lightly spitting it to one side. Taking out her lighter, she puffed on the cigar for a while, still eyeing me with a blank expression on her face.

"Trabuc?" she asked with a pleasant tone of voice. I didn't know what that meant, but she held out the cigar towards the bars, as if to offer it to me. I assumed it was some cruel trick, but for the sake of getting it over with I walked up to the bars, and slowly reached for the cigar, expecting her to snatch it away. To my surprise, she let me take it.

I am by no means a regular cigar smoker and wouldn't know a good one from a cheap one, but I took a few puffs and nodded with satisfaction. When I thanked her and reached the cigar out to return it to her, she turned and walked away, leaving it for me to enjoy before turning in for the night.

The next morning I was awaken by the sound of high heeled boots echoing down the passageway. It was two guards in black leather and they handed me a bowl of gruel with a spoon, a small loaf of the usual bread and a mug of the broth, through an opening in the bars.

While the menu here had a lot to be desired, I was surprised that I had slept really well. I wasn't even finished eating when I heard a large group of the women approaching. Anastasia, dressed as yesterday in her black thigh high boots and matching shorts, silver leather jacket glowing in the dim lighting, had about four ladies with her in knee high boots and black leather jackets. They were carrying chains and shackles.

"Stand by gate," Anastasia ordered. "We take you for medical check. Replace bandages." After the ladies had me all chained up I was roughly hustled down the corridors. Along the way I noticed that most of the pain was gone in my feet. Whatever medicine they had put on my cuts yesterday, painful as it had been at the time, seemed to work quickly.

At the infirmary, I was once again forced down on the cold metal table and secured in place with wide leather straps.

"Do they really have to strap me down like this?" I pleaded with Anastasia as a young blonde placed one spike heeled boot on the edge of the table and tugged at one of the buckles to tighten it one more notch, grinning with satisfaction as I winced in pain.

Anastasia didn't answer me but said a few words to the other women in their foreign language, and then walked out of the room. All of a sudden I cried out in pain as the women swarmed over me, ripping bandages off my body. I was gasping and panting, but painful as it was, it was at least over quickly.

A brunette woman with three silver stripes on the sleeve of her black jacket took a jar of the orange fluid from a metal cabinet, and I realized there was more pain to come as she began soaking thick wads of cotton in it.

I recognized that she was one of the women that patched me up yesterday. Although I couldn't move much because of all the restraints, I tried not to flinch as she roughly cleaned my wounds and applied fresh bandages. Her painful first aid got good results and I didn't want to make her job difficult.

The other women just lit up cigarettes and chatted with each other while she worked, and a few of them even stepped outside the room. Eventually, all of the women left the room, but they stood outside. Maybe waiting for the medication to soak in, or maybe waiting for more orders.

After what seemed like a long time, a large group of women in black leather entered the infirmary and began to release me from the table. They were being directed by a woman in black thigh high boots and a silver leather jacket, similar to Anastasia's uniform, but this woman had three black stripes on her sleeve. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and I recognized her as the leader of the group that had found me yesterday on the shore.

I thought they might take me back to the cell where I had spent the night, or maybe the room where I'd been interrogated. Instead, I was lead through a maze of corridors, eventually ending up in a large room with a high ceiling, and windows covered with bars.

It looked like some S and M torture chamber you'd see when surfing for porn on the internet with all sorts of paddles and whips hanging on the walls. In the center of the room was a wooden framework built of heavy timbers, and just beyond it, Anastasia sat behind a table, one of the binder notebooks open as she calmly flipped through the pages and smoked a cigarette.

I started to freak out and told her there was no need to torture me and I would answer any questions she wanted. I swore I had told the truth yesterday when she questioned me.

Anastasia didn't look up from her notes. The other woman in silver was directing the younger ladies in black leather as they strapped my body into some elaborate harness of leather straps, while at the same time removing some of the metal shackles and chains I'd been forced to wear.

One of the first things they did was connect one of my leg irons to the base of the wooden frame with a short chain, so there would be no chance of me running away. The harness was then anchored by numerous points to the heavy frame, so I was firmly mounted in place, standing upright, yet my body leaning forward slightly.

My arms were pulled away from my sides and strapped to the upright supports, and one of the ladies slid a long wooden trough in between my legs on the floor, as if they expected me to lose control of my bladder, or worse.

When at last I was secured, the women stood either to the sides or behind me. The only sound was Anastasia occasionally turning pages in one of the notebooks. Her cigarette had burned down to the butt. She flicked it towards me, and it came dangerously close to hitting my exposed penis, before landing in the trough on the floor between my legs.

"I ask questions again today. Mostly same questions as yesterday. Again, I ask you nicely, so you answer nicely," she said calmly. "My kolegas will provide you pain and distractions. Your test battery yesterday says you do not like dominatiz game, so that will make short time here."

"That isn't necessary," I tried to tell her. "Ask me anything you want."

However, it was no use. She called out to the ladies in black leather, gave some instructions in their language, and two women walked over to a wall. Each of them took down a medium sized wooden paddle. High heeled boots clicking on the floor, they walked behind me, one standing on either side.

I saw Anastasia give a small nod of her head, and one of the ladies gave me a firm swat on the left cheek of my ass with her paddle. That was quickly followed by the other one swatting me on the right cheek of my ass. The swats hurt, but I was surprised they were not more painful, if that makes any sense.

However, it got worse from there because they didn't stop. It just went on, each one giving a swat, back and forth, the sound of the wooden paddles smacking against my bare buttocks echoing in that tall room like some perverted tennis match.

The pain and burning of the paddling seemed to sink deeper into my buttocks, and before long I was gasping with pain after each swat landed on my backside. Tears in my eyes, I begged Anastasia to make them stop, but she just coldly lit up a smoke, and got up from her chair to slowly walk around behind me, maybe to inspect their work, or perhaps worse, to join in.

I heard her say something to the two women and the paddling stopped. Gasping for breath, I thanked them over and over, even though Anastasia was probably the only one who understood what I was saying.

As she returned to her seat across from me, she gave orders to another woman. I begged for mercy, not even sure what she was going to do. However, she simply pulled a rag from a bucket of water, wrung it out, and wiped the tears from my eyes, and the snot from my nose. I thanked her repeatedly as she walked away.

"Now," Anastasia said firmly to get my attention. "You will tell story of how you come to be here."

She already knew. I told her yesterday, but there was no way I was going to argue with her. Anastasia wrote down notes as she did yesterday, but it looked like she had notes from the other day out on the table and was probably comparing. Checking for lies, but there wouldn't be any. I had told the truth yesterday, assuming I had nothing to lose.

Periodically one of the ladies behind me would swat me on the ass with her paddle. I flinched every time, and there were a few times I thought I heard them giggle. Then I got to the part of my story where I was found by the first group of three ladies.

"The one wearing the silver jacket seemed to be in charge," I explained. "You only have two black stripes on your jacket but she had three, like your ranks. The women in silver are like officers, and yesterday they were the only ones with walkie talkies and Makarov pistols."

Anastasia, who had been taking notes without expression, suddenly stood up and approached me.

"You tell me have no military or weapons training. Do not know of Kalashnikov but know of Makarov less common in your homeland. Why is that?" she demanded to know. "Pain and distraction stir memory?" she asked with an accusing tone.

Behind me, I heard the sound of high heels slowly approaching across the stone floor. A woman came around the side of the heavy wooden framework. It was the tall blonde with the elaborate hair braids. I had no idea that she was in the room. Dressed in her usual silver jumpsuit and matching thigh high boots. She took a long drag on a half smoked cigarette then dropped it in the trough between my feet.

There was some quiet, yet intense conversation between her and Anastasia. They said Makarov many times, but I could make out nothing else. I blurted out how Makarov pistols had been a fad for a while with some of my coworkers and that was how I knew what they looked like. They scowled at me.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you both," I hastily apologized, realizing I may have made my situation even worse. "I didn't think to mention the guns or the ranks you have. I'm pretty sure she's the one in charge here," I said, tilting my head towards the tall blonde.

The two women argued quietly some more. Anastasia began flipping though pages in one of the binders, evidently proving her point, as the blonde woman in the tall silver boots gave a sigh of disgust and walked off to one side.

Anastasia called out to someone behind me, and gave some instructions. It was the woman who wore the silver jacket with the three black stripes, the one I had been talking about. She walked with purpose in her black thigh high boots over to the wall behind Anastasia's table, and took down a long, coiled, black whip.

"You have already met Ula," said Anastasia. "She is expert with bull whip. Normally not used for play games except for threat. Enforce stress."

Ula walked a distance behind me, and began cracking the whip, the lash snapping loudly just inches beside me. Anastasia popped open the rings in one of the binders, removed a page and brought it over to me, but held it behind her back so I couldn't see what was on it.

"On page is wiring diagram from yesterday. Simple timer for explosive device. You have ten seconds to cut one wire to stop explosion. Ula will provide explosion." Anastasia gave a brief nod of her head and the whip cracked loudly just to one side of my ass, and I swear I could feel the breeze of the lash as it popped.

"You should not guess like other day," Anastasia said menacingly. "Explosion is, painful."

I was barely aware of her giving a hand signal, and am still not sure if I heard the crack of the whip but I immediately felt a hot and forceful impact that felt as if it plunged deep into the right cheek of my ass.

I was still groaning with pain when the one guard in black leather wiped my face clean with the wet rag. Behind me, someone was applying some kind of salve to what must be a wound on my butt. When at last I had calmed down, Anastasia held up the diagram in front of me.

"Ten seconds before explosion," she said with surprising calm.

Her simple diagram was a tangle of colored lines and symbols like some road map of hieroglyphics. I looked intently, knowing time was running out quickly.

"The blue wire!" I shouted out. Anastasia held up one hand, and I sensed she had stopped Ula just in time.

"Why blue wire?" Anastasia asked curiously, turning the page slightly so that she could see the diagram. "Is this a guess?"

"The blue wire goes to that plus sign on that black rectangle. I'm thinking it's the battery that powers the timer or the detonator. No power, no explosion," I explained.

The silence was long and very uncomfortable. I heard the click of a cigarette lighter somewhere behind me.

"Blue wire is good answer," Anastasia said calmly, and slowly walked back to the table. She replaced the page in the binder and snapped the rings shut. Then she flipped through some more pages, and removed one of them with a devious smile. Again, hiding the page from my view, she approached me.

"Perhaps you are more clever than you show. I have diagram for more complicated detonator. Multiple power sources, and what you call booby traps," Anastasia said with an evil grin. "I will give you twenty seconds."

There would be no countdown. I heard the tall blonde speaking from behind me to Anastasia with an irritated tone of voice. She walked up faster than usual and took the page from Anastasia's hand.

I caught a glimpse of the diagram. There was no way I'd have figured it out in twenty seconds. The blonde in the silver boots was pointing at the diagram, and clearly displeased with Anastasia. Then she pointed at my hands, and squeezed my thin biceps as she did yesterday. Some of her language was the same too, but I didn't understand what it meant.

"What is she saying?" I dared to ask.

"She says you are not operator," Anastasia said, clearly annoyed.

"Operator? What the hell?" I asked" "I don't answer phones. I told you I work in an office."

Anastasia was walking back to her table. After putting the diagram back in the binder and giving the rings a loud snap shut, she said,

"Operator. One who does covert operations. Commando. SEAL. James Bond."

A few of the ladies behind me giggled and then stopped when the tall blonde turned to look at them. She spoke once again to Anastasia, who looked defeated, at least for now.

The blonde all in silver gave orders to the other women, who began to unbuckle me from the leather harness, though they left one of my ankles shackled with a short chain to the base of the wooden frame.

A low table was brought over to me, along with a small cushion to kneel on. Anastasia, who had been riffling through one of the binders, brought over a stack of papers and slammed them down on my table.

"Take test battery again. Draw detailed pictures of private vessel and small watercraft," she nearly spilled the ink bottle when she roughly set it on the table, along with the fountain pen. "There will be distractions," she added before she walked out of the room, high heels stomping loudly on the stone floor. The tall blonde followed her out and closed the door behind them.

I gave a quick glance around the room before turning to the paperwork. Ula was the only one left in the room wearing a silver jacket. Thankfully she was coiling up the whip and walking towards the wall where I assumed she would hang it up.

There were about six ladies in black leather. The two that had spanked me earlier had set their paddles down and were smoking cigarettes. Ula called the others over to the wall and began to hand out what looked like riding crops and slim bamboo rods. Then she spotted me looking around.

She called out to me, though I didn't understand her, and made a motion with her hands as if writing on paper. Clearly she was in charge for now, so I focused my attention on the tests.

They were the same ones from yesterday, and for some reason I seemed to be able to get through them faster. Every now and then one of the women in black leather would walk over to me and give a light flick of her crop or cane on my sore bottom. Sometimes they would circle around the table first, high heeled boots slowly clicking on the stones. Other times they might swish their crop through the air behind me, giggle, and then walk away leaving me untouched. It was distracting as Anastasia had promised.

The usual food was brought in after a while, and Anastasia stopped in briefly to collect portions of the tests I had completed and drop off that old calculator. I'd been working on the drawings and she gave them a critical look but said nothing. After chatting for just a few minutes with Ula, she left the room.

Now I hate to give their interrogation techniques any credit, but I felt as if I was doing better on the tests, or at least trying harder on some of the math and science problems. I also had the idea that they weren't finished torturing me, and thought the longer I spent on the tests the shorter time I might spend trussed up on that wooden frame.