Pentacle Pt. 03

DAY THREE

The next day, the wardrobe choice that followed the PURPLE flashing of lights was unexpected. Severe black business suit with a pencil skirt, white button-down shirt, and black stiletto heels. The lacy black bra and panties, silky black stockings were the only whispers of anything kinky. With a small amount of makeup and her hair up in a tight bun, her look was pretty close to how she showed up for her last serious job interview.

It did not inspire the same confidence, though. After taking an hour to dress according to the instructions, the wait for the door in the Purple Armory to open had S truly worried for what lay beyond.

When it slid open to reveal a single wooden chair under a harsh spotlight, her heart dropped and her whole body felt cold and alien. The Summoned's teeth chattered, her eyes watering in real fear as she crossed the catwalk into THE CHAIR.

The rest of the room was in shadow, the walls darker than midnight at the bottom of a coal mine. There could be anything lurking there, but all the Summoned's attention was focused on the chair. It was so simple, part of a cheap dinette set you might find at Target, but her imagination made it utterly menacing. Tied or cuffed, blindfolded and gagged. Such a simple thing; so terrifying to behold. Noticing that it had been bolted to the floor made the rising anxiety make a hard turn into panic.

The Summoned stopped short of the light, hoping to remain hidden in the shadows for a few moments longer, to maybe catch sight her tormentors before the inevitable darkness fell.

-

"So, you used your safeword," Nurse Joan stated.

"I did," S admitted.

Safe in the Red Lounge, sometime later, Nurse Joan appeared with the Summoned's favorite hot coffee drink, complete in a paper Starbucks cup, her real name written on the side. Nurse Joan in street clothes, blue jeans, white t-shirt, sparkly flipflops, and warm smile but searching eyes.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," S lied. "It was all just too much."

-

Rough hands grabbed her from behind, one encircling her arms low around her waist, the other clamped over her mouth.

Then she must have fainted?

Her next moment of awareness was of her ankles and wrists already tied tightly to the chair's legs, another rope just below her breasts binding her torso to the chair back. One of her heels was missing, the concrete floor shockingly cold through the thin stockings.

A cruel metal device was holding her mouth about half-open; a black bag was over her head with just enough light seeping through the fabric to see the two men that loomed before her.

The Summoned's heart was pounding, jumping out of her chest. Her head swam and she started to hyperventilate. No comfort at all could be found awakening into this reality.

Something else, a foreign mass of plastic seemed to be tied to high up on her thigh, a bulbous mound pressing insistently, wedging her panties uncomfortably between her pussy lips.

Before she could register what it was, the Hitachi began to vibrate.

-

"I've fantasized forever about getting kidnapped and, you know, raped," S offered, suddenly ashamed of the admission. "It's weird though, it's like a secret that I keep from myself. And like, you know, I only indulge in that fantasy when I'm feeling like shit then I try to forget about it."

"I do know," Nurse Joan nodded.

"I never even shared that fantasy with any of my partners," S admitted. "Knowing that I was coming here, seeing it on the list as a possibility, I actually thought...I don't know."

"That you could get it out of your system," Nurse Joan finished.

-

Struggling and groaning the whole time, S found herself forced into a long, unpleasant orgasm. When it was over, her pussy felt raw. Shame spread from the continued vibration, adding to her panic.

The situation was becoming untenable.

One of the men pulled off the hood. The Summoned recoiled from both the light and the smear of cold gag slobber that got dragged across her face. The Magic Wand seemed to drill into her, adding pain to the whirlpool of sensations and emotions.

Her eyes adjusted and she was finally able to make out her two tormentors. The taller, heavier one seemed to have on a blonde wig and fake mustache and wore with an ill-fitting black business suit. The short, thin one was wearing a balaclava and an off-brand red track suit. S would have laughed if she had the wherewithal.

Mr. Tracksuit held a smartphone with an attached ring light. Mr. Fake Mustache had the remote for the Magic Wand in one hand and his cock in another.

"This video is proof of life. Now that you've seen her, if you ever want to see Mary-Elizabeth again, come alone to Union Station at 6 pm, the cash in a rolling suitcase."

"Uhhhhh," was all the Summoned could manage. Mary-Elizabeth? What the hell was going on here?

"Can I fuck her mouth now?" asked Mr. Fake Mustache, grinning.

"Good question," Mr. Tracksuit answered. He then addressed the unseen recipient of the video. "Does watching my friend fuck your wife's face make her more or less valuable to you?"

The tall one dropped the remote in the Summoned's still vibrating lap and began wrenching the dental gag open wider.

-

"I couldn't remember, at first."

"What's that?" Nurse Joan asked.

"The safeword, the finger code that could stop it."

-

Within moments, Mr. Fake Mustache's thick cock was sliding on her tongue, nudging the back of her throat while Mr. Tracksuit came in for a closeup.

-

"It was when I tasted him, that's when I remembered."

"Interesting."

"He smelled and tasted nice," S admitted. "Part of me wanted out of that chair so much; another, weirder part wanted this stranger, this rapist, to have a nice time fucking my face. I wanted the other guy to free one of my hands so I could jerk him off at the same time."

"Hmm."

"I thought, they went to all this trouble to kidnap and tie me up, why not give them what they want? Is that weird?"

-

The Summoned extended three fingers on both of her hands, clenched, then showed the safeword again. Thirty-three. The tall one moaned once and a couple of generous squirts of cum went down her throat. Coughing, she began flashing three fingers on each hand rapidly.

The tall one withdrew allowing S to see that the short one had removed his pants and was evidently ready to make his own deposit.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-three.

The Hitachi burned her crotch, her jaw ached from the dental gag, and her body strained against the bindings, but the pounding of her heart and the raging chaos in her head was the worst.

Thirty-three.

Eleven, or one-one on her fingers would have cautioned them to back off, slow down, or move on to the next bullet point on their 'Kidnapper's To-Do' list.

Twenty-two, two-two on her fingers would have put a hold on the scene and the tormentors would have left character for unambiguous communication.

Thirty-three, three-three on her fingers was meant to be the evacuation alert and worked as promised.

-

"Why did you never share that fantasy with any of your male partners?"

"They were all nice guys, you know. Kinky was just a thing that happened occasionally as, you know, a treat. Darker stuff like that, I respected them all too much to ask them do that to me. I guess?"

"I hear you," Nurse Joan sighed. "You think to yourself, sure it would be hot if my boo roughed me up and forced me to have sex, but do I really want to be in a relationship with someone who would get off on that?"

-

The walls were suddenly white, and the overhead lights were on, exposing the rest of the room.

S couldn't make out what the voice was saying through the fog of panic, but it seemed to startle her kidnappers. They jumped into action, Mr. Tracksuit untying her bonds, while Mr. Fake Mustache removed the gag. Neither of them looked her in the eyes again.

She couldn't find the strength to look at them either, so she took in what devices she would have been in store her had she not pulled the ripcord. One was a narrow cage with a top that appeared to be a barstool seat, complete with a hole for her neck. Another was a large red painted metal monstrosity that wouldn't look out of place in an auto-repair shop. The last was a tall, varnished wood stool with a slatted, concave seat, a sturdy base, and multiple leather belts for restraint.

She was shocked to recognize this last one as something she had seen falling down a rabbit-hole of spanking porn one night. An old series of videos shot in Eastern Europe starring a stern principal and many, many naughty schoolgirls. Ursid Studios? Lupin Pictures?

Lupine, she thought. Lupine Films, or something.

Anyway, it was an odd train of thought barreling through the wasteland that the kidnapping scene had made of her mind.

Her stomach sunk again. The ass whipping and sodomy that would have happened to her, strapped to that thing.

Once free, the Summoned kicked off her other shoe and walked alone back across the catwalk, physically rescued but still in throes of panic.

Thirty-three.

Defeated.

-

S sipped on her sugary concoction, rubbing the small white pill that Nurse Joan had pressed into her other hand. Saint Xanax, to the rescue.

"Something you should know, though," Nurse Joan broke a long silence. "You shouldn't feel ashamed, or broken, or angry with yourself for using the safeword."

"No?"

"No. I was serious when I said that this isn't a test or a competition. It's great to find your limits and push them a bit, and so liberating to embrace submission, lose yourself in a sexy scene."

S smiled and sipped, waiting for the 'but...'; Nurse Joan was content to let the conversation play out.

"It is, but there's also like a weird pressure to this thing."

"True, but you aren't a captive here," Nurse Joan insisted. "You're a free agent, your submissive role notwithstanding."

"I guess so," the Summoned sighed.

"You are a trooper, and I believe in you. I feel like no one has shown you that the healthiest way to play is by assuming power and maintaining control, and you have it all here."

"That's such a weird thing to say, you know, about me getting tied down and face-fucked."

"No scene can play out here without your consent. It's that simple."

S rolled the chemical manifestation of calm between her thumb and finger. She decided she didn't need it now but would save it in case it was hard to sleep that night.

"What I'm trying to get at is, I sense some regret over using your safeword," Nurse Joan concluded, "and really you shouldn't."

"It's not that I used the safeword, now that I've had some time to think," S ruminated. "I panicked. It's not the first time, but usually it's work deadlines, or knowing I'm going to sit in an hour of bad traffic."

Nurse Joan simply nodded, stepping back from their talk to let the Summoned figure things out. A couple of quiet minutes past, an idea brewing that S finally felt courageous enough to give voice to.

"I do regret something, though," S broached. "There was a thing in THE CHAIR chamber that I kinda wished I'd known about before, maybe I could've held out."

"Which one?" Nurse Joan asked. "It's not too late, you know."

"What?"

"This is your show, sweetheart," Nurse Joan stated.

"The wooden bench thing, not that crazy barstool, but the other thing."

"Oh, THAT thing," Nurse Joan nodded, knowingly. "The Society had it shipped here from the Czech Republic when that porn studio folded, along with a few other, vintage pieces. Lupus Pictures."

"It's the real thing? Does it have a name?"

"It's real, but as far as I know, it didn't have a name," Nurse Joan replied, "but we call it Pověstný. Notorious."

The two women shared a long, wordless look.

"Would you like to go back into THE CHAIR, do a scene on it?" Nurse Joan asked, a little meek and mischievous.

"Umm."

"With me, I mean?"

-

The Summoned was back in THE CHAIR awaiting Nurse Joan's arrival. She'd left everything behind in the Purple Armory and stood naked and proud.

Pověstný had been moved to the middle of the room along with a free-standing rack of canes, riding crops, and floggers. Far from intimidated, S was eager to begin. The dining room chair was gone, and the notorious spanking bench had been bolted down in its place.

The Barstool of Insanity and Big Red Monster remained nearby, tugging a little at the Summoned's reignited imagination.

She approached the spanking bench, wanting to, but not giving into the temptation to, touch it. It radiated a menacing power that had her giddy and wet all over again.

She'd only talked a couple of her partners into mildly disappointing pre-sex spanking sessions. One night, after a bad date had left her restless and horny, she fell down the spanko-video rabbit hole. So many couples, so many lovely bottoms bent over stern laps getting reddened, so many implements and dignity destroying positions.

After that sweaty night of porn inspired masturbatory self-spanking, S woke up the next morning to the open browser and idly searched the endless boxes of suggested videos. The further she scrolled, the more intense and extreme the scenarios got. The home-brewed stuff was great, the more professional scenes were enticing, but the Lupus Pictures films were deviant and malicious in the most exciting way. Foreign language, ancient looking sets, grainy video, convincingly scared girls, scene-chewing men. Fascinating.

The Summoned wondered why any self-respecting woman would get involved with such a production, and whether they were still making them so she could sign up. Especially one where she could play a misbehaving reform-school girl getting strapped to the wooden bench.

Now, it was real and someone she respected was going to help her experience it.

"You could act a little scared, you know."

"Yes, Nurse," the Summoned joshed.

"How many misbehaving young women do you think were corrected on this," Nurse Joan arched an eyebrow, "do you think?"

She had returned wearing the same outfit as she appeared in THE TABLE as Dr. Benway's assistant: a set of classic whites, hat, and sensible shoes. The look was less Nurse Ratched and more 'Hellooooo Nurse' complete with the platinum blond hair and immaculate make-up, just a little bit of cleavage showing.

The transformation from friendly confidant into stern disciplinarian was startling, even though S had met this character before. She suddenly felt exposed, twisting her ankles together and self-consciously crossing an arm across her chest in modesty.

"You know how this is going to work, right dear?"

The Summoned nodded, biting her lip as she side-eyed Pověstný.

"Good," Nurse Joan moved over to the rack of instruments, back to S for a short reprieve from her attention. "Why don't you tell me how this will go."

Oh, nice, S thought. Putting the condemned in charge of the punishment.

"First, I'll step up onto these rails and bend over the seat. I'll make sure my thighs are pressed against the back legs, then I'll grab the front legs."

Nurse Joan turned around, having chosen a riding crop. She tested it against her own palm a couple of times, letting is snap there loudly. The Summoned flinched.

"Where should I start with the restraints?"

"My legs," The Summoned bit her lip a little too hard. "No, my wrists should be first, so I'm not tempted to get in your way. You should take care to belt in and buckle them tightly so I can't get them free."

"Very good. And then?"

"Then, my legs. It's too bad there aren't straps for my ankles because sometimes I kick when I'm, um, being corrected."

"I'll be standing off to the side once we've begun."

"Then strapping each of my thighs with the leather belts to the bench's legs should be good enough. I'll do my best not to kick, Nurse Joan."

"Thank you, dear."

"Lastly, the big belt will go over my back. I think if I position myself right, my tits won't get squished against the seat."

"Careful with the language, girl."

"Yes, Nurse, sorry, my breasts," the Summoned corrected herself before continuing. "The thick belt should be pulled tight across my back, that way I'm not able to squirm or move while you are, you know..."

"You can say it, sweetheart," Nurse Joan goaded. "It'll be good for you to say it."

"That way I'm not able to squirm too much while you are whipping my ass, er...bottom."

"You've been very bad you know," Nurse Joan said. A few words containing utter condemnation. "Being overly familiar with the Reform School's staff, staying up past bedtime, cavorting about after hours with the other girls."

"I have to something else to confess, Nurse Joan."

"Go on."

"I've had impure thoughts about the Headmaster. I dreamed that he visited my dorm room last night, at least, I think it was a dream."

"Did you now?"

"Yes, and I'm embarrassed to even say what he did to me in the dream. What I let him do to me."

"Thank you for your confession, dear. Now, once you are restrained, I will brook no pleading or talk-back, no speaking at all will be tolerated."

"Yes, Nurse."

"That is why you must tell me now, how we are to proceed with your punishment."

"Yes, Nurse?"

"What implements, how many strokes? Simple as that."

Oh gosh, S thought, this game.

"The riding crop should be 20, I think," the Summoned replied with little hesitation. "Then you should use the rattan cane for 20 strokes again."

"That is a good start."

"I think the big paddle, 10 hard ones, so I don't think about the Headmaster's...thing like that again."

Nurse Joan nodded.

"Finally, the Cat-o-Nine-Tails until I cry real tears."

"Ok, sweetheart. If you are good and take all of this like the big strong girl I know you are, I will apply the special cream to mend your bottom, and maybe even give you a hug and kiss."

"Thank you, Nurse Joan," the Summoned smiled radiantly. "You are so kind to me."

"Let's begin, then."

"One more thing, though."

"Anything."

"I think you should probably gag me soon, right before the paddle. I don't know if I can keep myself from yelling without it."

"Of course, dear." Nurse Joan motioned towards Pověstný.

The Summoned turned to face it, embracing the return of her quickened pulse, dry mouth, and wet pussy. She stepped up onto the base rails and bent over, grateful to now count herself among the girls that had endured punishment on Pověstný before her.

"Squeeze this between your buttocks," Nurse Joan put the riding crop's shaft between the Summoned's cheeks. "If you let it fall before I'm done strapping you in, I will have to double your punishment with it."

"Yes, Nurse Joan."

-

The session went almost exactly as planned. The Summoned's explanation of her own punishment caused a fire of anticipation to grow within her that was quenched by Nurse Joan's skillful use of the riding crop. Dreadful forethought was sated and replaced by the delicious sensations and emotions of each stroke, each new instrument.

What amazed her at first, though, was how naturally they fell into the role playing. She was instantly reminded of her matriculation at the Spanking Academy, now more than a year ago.

Nurse Joan told her each step of her binding before she did it, reassuring instead of frightening.

"Now I'm going to bind your right wrist," Nurse Joan said. "I have to strap your arms and legs down firmly, but you can tell me if it's too tight or you are getting tingles in your fingers or toes."

Stimulating and scary, S mused.

"I'm moving back to your legs now. Don't strain yourself trying to look back, just relax and let Nurse Joan take care of you."

Reassuring and soothing, S sighed.

"Now the big belt is going across your back. Most girls feel calm once the binding is complete. I think it's the idea that struggle is futile, and punishment is truly earned when you must be restrained for it."