Pentacle Pt. 04

DAY FOUR

A big part of the preparation for her time in The Pentacle was figuring out the range of limits, her existing interests, and having potential scenes and encounters vaguely described to her. The Summoned adopted the outward detachment of the Society interviewer but determining the parameters of her inevitable sexual torment was deeply erotic.

Once a week for a couple of months, S had what could be described as a deeply weird job interview or maybe an equally weird therapy session and was edging the whole time. The moment the PNS rep closed the Skype call, she would grab the nearest toy and rub one out. It was the most sexual she'd ever been on her own. It was also a time of deep self-reflection she hadn't experienced since college.

Her image in the mirror didn't change at all. If there was a Dorian Gray-like painting of her somewhere, it was now naked and wearing a ball gag, harness, collar, restraints, and a knowing smile.

Three days in, two days left, she found that the anticipation was sweeter, and somehow even more painful, than the execution. Her tormentors were all masters of keeping her on that edge, so that the quiet time following her release from each chamber made her feel like she had truly earned her freedom.

Two days left, two more ordeals.

The Summoned's first moments in The Pentacle were spent crafting a kind of mantra:

THE BED, THE CROSS, THE TABLE, THE STOCKS, THE CHAIR.

She thought that memorizing the big picture would help her in the moments of doubt. She also knew, deeper down, that it kept the edge ever nearby. The points of The Pentacle had been presented to her out of the order that she had assumed. She didn't know which would be next, THE CROSS or THE STOCKS, and she wasn't really looking forward to either. Or was, but the edge seemed harder and sharper when her mind played out the possibilities in those chambers.

Based on the quick view from the spiral staircase, THE CROSS was of the St. Andrew's variety and would probably be another session of impact play. Oof.

THE STOCKS appeared to be the kind you might see in the town square of a medieval village; anything at all might happen in there.

On the morning of the fourth day, the anticipation of two terrible paths had left the Summoned feeling edgy. Music would help, so would binging some Criminal Minds.

Out of curiosity, she decided to try to get some music while she went about her morning routine.

"Alexa, play Lana del Rey."

To her surprise, Born to Die began playing, surrounding her in a familiar soundscape.

S cleaned herself up, ate some cold pizza, and even tidied up around her living quarters. Lost in the music, she found herself finally able to focus on one brainwave at a time.

She also contrived a new pastime for herself. Among the sex toys filling the nightstands of her bed were an assortment of gags, including a softer, and slightly larger, version of the penis gag from the previous day.

The sex toys and lube were just too much, S thought. Who on earth is still horny between their ordeals?

The gags were enticing, though. She had always had an oral fixation, and it was the height of indulgence to walk around wearing a gag while she busied herself around the Pentagon. The ball gags were fun, the dog bone-like bits were pleasantly uncomfortable. She couldn't manage to get the dental gag to fit right, but the ring gag worked well enough. Tonguing and biting down against the various implements was a nice distraction.

The best was the penis gag, though. A vague Freudian thought flitted through her mind as she washed the accumulated dishes, suckling on the ersatz cock that was firmly strapped to her head. She would have to get one of these for her apartment.

How funny/sexy/disturbing would it be to greet the next Postmates delivery at home wearing it? S thought.

Hours deep into Lana del Rey's catalog, the lights finally flashed GOLD, and the instructions were given.

The Summoned was going to THE CROSS.

-

The instructions regarding her makeup and wardrobe for the GOLD ordeal were absurd, and the results were laughable.

S stood in the Gold Bathroom, regarding her full-length reflection in the outer glass walls of the shower. She fiddled with the controls to get them to turn black to get a better look. She stepped back and guffawed.

Shiny black latex, everywhere. Her short hair slicked back with product, bright red lipstick, smoky eye shadow; she felt ridiculous. A college girl with an Instagram following playing dress-up.

The latex outfit was just too much: thigh high stockings, a sort of garter belt thing holding those up that was wide enough across the waist to suggest a super short skirt, cheeky briefs, bustier and bra pushing up and squeezing the girls together, all while she tottered atop stiletto heels. The return of the steel heart and pink leather choker was a nice touch, if a little out of place. It took a bunch of baby powder and endless straining, grunting, and swearing to pull it all into place. Restricting and hot, but not in a fun way.

Inexplicable.

She longed for the business suit of the day before, or the hospital gown.

"Who do I have to blow around here for a simple schoolgirl uniform and comfy panties?" she said to no one in particular.

The door slid open, as if to answer. Her heels sounded like gunfire across the metal catwalk, which would have been a nice effect if there was anyone in THE CROSS chamber to experience it other than her.

The Summoned took in her surroundings and nothing she saw offering any real answers.

THE CROSS had a single device in the middle of the chamber while the walls were lined with racks full of every kind of kinky tool, toy, and torture device imaginable. The backlit gold walls, tasteful lighting, and complete lack of other adornments made the chamber feel like an exclusive shoe boutique where there were no price tags; all that was missing was haughty store clerk.

The device itself was the highest tech St. Andrews Cross that S could imagine. The arms of the cross were stretched out in a Y above a torso with the legs in an identical V below. It was padded with gold vinyl and had plenty of black nylon belts to make sure she wouldn't move around much. Two belts for each arm, plus posts for her to grip. Three belts for each leg at the thigh, knee, and ankle, plus more posts as a footrest. Two wide belts for the torso, one low on the waist and one that would go high on the chest. There was a gold padded headrest with its own belt that would go across her forehead. The whole thing was held aloft by an enormous robotic arm.

Circling around the back of the thing, S could see that it would be able to move and twist the cross around in just about any direction, even being able to lower nearly flat to the ground or raise a couple of meters in the air.

She found the controls on a nearby shelf, a smartphone that was displaying a big red button. Cute.

"Alright, what now?" S wondered aloud.

The member door opened, answering her again. Odd.

A young, familiar looking woman emerged and cautiously started up the stairs. She was naked and trembling and seemed unable to meet the Summoned's eyes.

The Summoned watched the woman mount the stairs, stunned. She appeared to be her doppelganger, so close in build, face family, and hairstyle that she knew that her presence here had to be some sort of horrible joke. Little details were different, like the blue eyes, or the lack of freckles, or the missing birthmark on her hip, and the nonexistent cutting scars on her upper thighs. Her lips were fuller and her cheeks thinner, but the resemblance was uncanny.

S had no sisters or female cousins at all. The Perfectly Normal Society had found and sent a woman to sexually torture her on THE CROSS that could be the Summoned's twin.

"What is this?" S asked the woman. "What are you doing here?"

"I was summoned to THE CROSS to please you, master," she replied, as if that fact was self-evident.

At least she didn't sound like the me, S thought. Wait, what the fuck?

"Wait," S exclaimed. "What the fuck?"

"Do you prefer mistress? I will call you whatever you wish, or you can command me not to speak at all."

"I, uh," S stammered. The weight of what was happening, what was supposed to happen, fell on her all at once.

"I'm supposed to put you on this thing and do stuff to you?"

"Yes please, mistress," the woman pleaded. Unreal.

S turned away and chewed on her lip, mind racing. She'd never once thought to be the dominant, ever. Strapping this woman to the cross, hurting her, fondling her, using toys on her to make her cum, using whips on her to make her cry, it just wasn't on the menu.

"What's your name?" she asked to buy time.

"I surrendered my name when I came to The Pentacle. So far, no one has called me anything other than 'The Summoned'."

"I'm the Summoned," S insisted. "You, you are you, you're supposed to be my, uh..."

The woman stood there, hands open palms out at her side, legs slightly spread, eyes downcast.

"You are supposed to be my slave then," S concluded. "You're my sub and I have to put you on there and do things to you."

"You can do as you wish, mistress. 'Slave' sounds good to my ears, please call me that."

The Summoned stared at the woman in wonder.

"What don't you like?" S stalled again. "Like, what are your hard limits."

"Oh? I thought you would know already."

"Indulge me."

"Um, no toilet stuff, no anal without lube, no cutting or piercing the skin. No choking."

"Same as me, it seems. How about what you like?"

"You really want to know?" her slave responded, surprised.

"Tell me what makes you hot?" S demanded, adding "Slave. What turns you on, slave?" S could barely hold back the wave of manic discomfort.

"I get excited when my master ties me up," the slave replied, nodding toward the elaborate St. Andrews Cross. "I got wet the moment I saw the cross. Maybe you should start there. Be rough with my breasts and nipples. Slap my face when it looks like I'm having too much fun." S could sense the role-play slipping a little, as if this woman were afraid things were going in the wrong direction.

"How do you like to get fucked?" S was struggling with the language of domination. She'd never seen any porn that resembled what was going on here. There were never any newbie doms in any of the videos she'd consumed. "I mean, if you are a good girl for me, how would you most like me to fuck you?" That still didn't sound right.

"My ass, mistress," the sub looked up with a wry smile. "I didn't know until I got here but getting fucked in the ass is just the best."

"Do you cum when you get fucked there?"

"Only if I'm allowed to finger myself, mistress."

S scanned the racks of toys and tools for the perfect thing to begin. She found it, along with a small bottle of lube. S looked around for a place to sit, only to remember the cross's controls could probably provide a suitable place to begin dominating this unexpected woman.

Pressing the big red button was the first real step in her switch, and it felt better than S could have anticipated. A picture-perfect copy of the cross resolved on the screen, and it took a couple of experimental swipes to understand how to move it around in reality.

The cross swung around smoothly in response to her input.

"Oops!" The last move would have knocked them both over, but it stopped short, waiting for the path to be clear. S flattened and lowered the cross on the screen so that she could sit on the one of the legs. She then set aside the controls and grabbed the first tool of domination.

"Come lay across my lap, slave," the words came easier, and the sentiment more sincere.

S was surprised by the sub's weight and warmth. She rubbed the girl's back and bottom, relishing the moment. So many possibilities.

"I'm going to insert this plug as a reminder," S began, borrowing Nurse Joan's language helped S develop a sense of command. "That only your total submission will earn a visit from me here."

S punctuated her command with a strong slap that reverberated through both of their bodies.

Holy fuck! S thought. I can give her a spanking! Hold that thought. Get the plug in her ass first.

S squeezed some lube into the crack of her slave's bottom and watched it roll down over her puckered anus. She then covered her index finger with more lube and began to work it in, making way for the princess plug. Her slave moaned and struggled a little against her lap.

"I thought you liked this, slave?" S found her resistance delicious. Rubbing the point of the small chrome bulb between her pussy lips and around her asshole resulted in more moans and shudders.

"Ungh, yes, mistress." The slave helpfully put her hands behind her back, and S was happy to hold them there tightly for the next part.

S circled her slave's puckered anus with the plug a few more times, teasing, before pressing it in. Inserting it required much more force than expected, requiring S to work it in and out a few times before it popped into place.

Her slave let an "Unnff" escape before she could stop herself.

"It's ok, baby, you can let it out," borrowing the turn of phrase from Mrs. Goode.

"Unf," she said again. "I'm sorry, mistress, I will be more careful with my mouth."

"No, you will not." They locked eyes. "I want you to make as much noise as you have to in here, slave. I'm going to like making you scream," S demanded of herself.

"Yes, mistress."

"That pretty mouth will have to be gagged at some point, but the only time you will be silent is when I'm smothering you with my pussy, is that understood?"

"Yes, mistress."

S knew that she should put her slave on the cross soon, get things moving for real, but it was just to perfect a moment to pass up.

"I'm going to give you a spanking now, girl. You have done nothing wrong, in fact you have been quite good so far. I just can't let your perfect little plugged tushy go without some attention."

"Punish me please, mistress," she pleaded again.

S slapped her poor slave's ass until her hand was numb and both cheeks were rosy. The girl squeaked and moaned the whole time. Very arousing.

S released her slave's hands, and sated for the moment, let them both rest a spell before resolving to begin putting the cross to its proper use. S found her slave's warm, wet pussy, letting her fingers slip and slide around in there a little. Her slave responded by sucking on her own thumb.

How does a dom move on from such pleasures? S wondered. The whole scene could play out here and she could be happy, a little girl getting taken care of by her mommy dom. Have her slave suckle her breasts now, or strap her onto the cross and leave such pleasures till later in the session?

"Stand up, I want to see."

Her slave complied, turned around and stuck her butt out for a proper inspection.

"Oh, baby, that's just too fucking cute."

An evil thought crossed her mind, too devious not to act on in this crazy place.

"Call me mommy," S tested.

"Yes, mommy."

"Oof," already, S regretted it.

"We've wasted too much time here little girl. It's time for me to put you on the cross."

-

It started off good enough. Strapping her slave to the cross was moving and erotic. The rest, not so much. Hurting the girl was hard, infantilizing her was not. Every time S found herself crossing into emotional enemy waters, she was able to right the ship with relentless babying. Framing the sexual torment as punishment for a naughty young lady was the wind in her depraved sails.

"Lay tummy down on the cross, baby," S commanded. Her little girl complied without a word. S felt as though she towered over her ward, looking at her delicate warm body from a great distance.

S busied herself with the bonds, starting with her little girl's arms. She offered no resistance, but she wasn't dead weight, either. The girl turned her head to the side on the headrest, smiling sweetly as though were getting tucked in for the night.

"Grasp the handles here if you feel like you need to hold onto something," S whispered.

"Yes, mommy," she whispered back.

"On second thought," S walking back from the line before it went too far. "Mistress is fine. 'Mommy' is just too fucking weird."

"Yes, mistress," the girl teased.

"You're still my little girl though," S insisted.

Every time S touched her skin there was a spark of electricity there, not painful static shocks, but pleasant shivers that raised goosebumps for both. The arm straps went down, then two across her back. S wanted to try moving the cross's robotic arm around to see what it was capable of but was worried her little girl might fall off. A vision of the girl spreadeagled and inverted, placed just so she could follow through on the threat of smothering the poor girl with her pussy almost had her start over.

It could wait, there's lots of fun stuff to do with her prone, S thought.

The legs went last. The girl pushed her feet against the posts there while she grasped the ones by her hands. S could see her slave coping with the growing anticipation by shifting against the bonds, testing the sturdiness of the support posts. The empathy she felt for the girl's situation was familiar, making the strangeness of seeing such subtle submissive behavior from the other side all the more profound.

Standing between her little girl's spread legs, S did her best to preserve the possibilities before her into a lasting memory. Slim legs, narrow hips, round perky butt now bright red from the recent spanking, the glitter of the princess plug nestled there, S was awestruck. Above all that, the smooth back, dark brown hair framing a delicate face, and upraised arms. The scene could be over, and S would be happy to return to her quarters to use the sight as spank bank fodder for hours.

Alas, her job was just beginning.

S tore her attention away to scan the racks of equipment for some idea of what to do first. It fell first on a slim cane that may have been the same one that Nurse Joan had used on her own poor bottom just one day before.

"Have you ever felt the sting of the cane, little girl?"

"No, mistress."

S grabbed the cane and tested it against her palm.

Was her little girl warmed up enough by the hand spanking? Should I ask? S thought.

On a nearby shelf, there was a small set of TENS electrodes, a slim wand that could deliver unpleasant zaps, and a bowl of clothespins and twine. One shelf down was an overabundance of vibrators, from tiny eggs to massive torpedoes. The top shelf was a line of different colored candles and a bbq lighter. It would take an hour to get a full picture of the multitudes the shelves contained.

"Pain, then pleasure." S ruminated.

"I'm sorry, mistress?"

"You were such a good girl when I punished your tushy, I think you deserve some pleasure."

S mentally ran through a few possible scenarios, tasting each to see if they were palatable, while she lit a couple of candles.

"Yes, and after that, you will pay for your pleasure with pain until I am satisfied."

"Yes, mistress," the girl breathed. S plucked a vibrator from the middle of the pack, a purple one with an extra head for the clit. She then used the controls to raise the cross high enough for easy access.

The vibe slid in easily. S worked it in and out a few times, covering it in her sub's arousal, before turning it on. Heavy breathing and moans of pleasure were a good sign. S found that she could hold the vibe just right so at the end of the inward thrust her thumb would press on the princess plug and get the most delightful reaction. S wanted nothing more than to hear her little girl grunt and watch her tense her butt cheeks with every thrust but held back to make those moments a little sweeter.