tagBDSMThe Convergence

The Convergence


Hi all

So here it is. I promised you all a story that would converge the characters of several major stories I was writing, and bring them all to a climax simultaneously (pun very much intended!). And now, after several months, I can finally deliver.

My reason for writing this convergence story was a combination of things. First, I realised that I had quite a few serials that could potentially go on for ever, and was in danger of severely limiting my storytelling abilities (particularly as I like to write one story at a time rather than several at once). Second, most of those stories are from a time when my tastes and creative choices, as well as my relationship with BDSM, was very different. So I wanted to wrap them up now, and start focusing on stories that were a little more like my "A Night With a Friend" one. So just to be clear, this will be absolutely the last instalment in several major serials of mine. They are:

A Willow in Summer

She Was Always the Evil Twin

Taken by the Barleys

The Woman in Flat 213

Also, while I am sure it goes without saying, you should probably have read all of them up to this point, or else none of the stories will make sense to you. The order that I recommend reading them in are as follows:

All of the "Taken by the Barleys" stories first

All of "The Woman in Flat 213" second.

"She Was Always the Evil Twin" and "A Willow in Summer" can be read concurrently.

Just to warn you a little, there are a couple of parts of this story that are way darker than what I normally write. They'll become clear as you read.

Last, but not least – please enjoy!




The drive from Central London to the cathedral city of Chichester, in West Sussex, is about 80 miles, and would generally take about an hour and forty minutes. An hour and forty minutes is not long compared to many other journeys by car.

But to Willow, tied up and naked in the boot of the Tesla Model S they were driving in, it felt like forever.

Of course, the drive to London from Wales had been well over four hours. You can imagine how long THAT must've felt for her.

It had been about eight days since she had been taken. At the time, she had thought that someone was coming to her rescue. That the awful situation she had found herself in with her former best friend, Christine, and her former bully, Rosie, was finally over, and someone had come to rescue her.

Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire.

Mere minutes after watching her tormentors being carted off by a rather large looking man to God knows where, she had herself been held at gunpoint by her supposed rescuers, stripped of her clothes (again!), bound hand and foot, and bundled into their car. Said "rescuer," as it turned out, was Elizabeth Barley, who was one of London's most notorious crime bosses, and whose reputation was almost on par with the Kray Twins and Richardson Brothers. Not that Willow had had any knowledge of this.

In London, she had been taken up to a very nice, obviously expensive flat and shown to the guest bedroom. She was given limited freedom – enough to move about the flat, but not enough to leave the premises. She had not been given any clothes to wear, and was kept under constant watch by Marie, the French woman who had been her other "rescuer."

Marie was nice enough – she was friendly, warm and gentle. She was also very tactile, and hugged Willow a lot, which made her a little uncomfortable at first, but that was largely because of her ASD, and Marie was very good at making her feel more at ease.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, had been very busy handling the day-to-day operations of her organisation, and she had seen very little of her. When she had been in, her demeanour had been friendly enough, although there was something about her Willow didn't like, but couldn't quite get her head around. Perhaps it was the fact that she showed barely a flicker of emotion most of the time, and her calmness was unsettling. Her piano performances were nice, though.

Besides them, the only other person who had turned up at the flat on a regular basis was Elizabeth's younger sister, Camilla (or "Milly" for short), who was older than Willow, but not by much. Although Willow liked her, there was, like her older sister, something off about her. Something about the way she carried herself and viewed the world around her that didn't seem right. She would only arrive for a couple of hours every evening and then leave.

Although she had been kept naked the entire time she was in their custody, they hadn't touched her sexually or shown any interest in doing so. This was a welcome change to what she had experienced with Christine and Rosie.

Speaking of whom, Willow had no idea what the hell had happened to them. Elizabeth and Marie had refused to share any details. In much the same way, they had refused to say anything about what the "surprise" they had in store for her actually was, or when she could expect to be freed. She had a feeling it was going to be like one of the "surprises" that Rosie and Christine always had for her – not actually something she should look forward to.

Then, one day – today, in fact – Marie had received a couple of phone calls. Willow had not overheard what she was saying in them, but as soon as she hung up, she informed Elizabeth that "the plan" was a go, so they'd quickly packed a couple of bags, tied Willow up again, bundled her into the boot of Elizabeth's new car, and set off for her retreat in Chichester.

So now here she was. Trapped, alone, and on her way to an uncertain future. She just hoped, against all hope, that an opportunity to escape would finally present itself.

–- –- –-

Marie was giggling away in the passenger seat at a comedy programme that was on the radio. She could be so annoying, Elizabeth thought as she kept her eyes on the road. Even though there was no doubt that she served a valuable role in some of her operations, Elizabeth did not particularly enjoy her company.

People like Marie – full of mirth and positive energy – always irritated her. Because she knew that they were lying. Who could possibly be so positive in a world so shitty and fucked up as this?

As she drove, Elizabeth couldn't help thinking back to when Marie had first entered her service. She had been working for a branch of British Intelligence for quite a few years beforehand, and had just been contracted out to MI5 to try and bring down the Barley Crime Family. Doing so would have dealt a serious blow to drug-related crime in London, and taken out one of the most notorious organised crime figures in recent memory.

Unfortunately, it had all come to an end when Marie had been sacked, after she had been arrested for doing cocaine while on the job. Her contract of employment had had a massive morality clause, and if the news had gotten out, it would have caused some serious embarrassment in the media.

The fact that she had literally just helped bring down a syndicate who were taking advantage of a government contract to steal and misuse government equipment for purposes that would have been even more disturbing had it been made public, had meant absolutely nothing.

Rather than be bitter and dwell on her own mistakes, Marie had sensed an opportunity. After all, even in the short time she had been working the case, she had seen the kind of money that the Barley Crime Family was handling, and the life she could be living. Plus, since she had insider knowledge of the investigation, she knew that she would be a valuable asset to them. So – under the cover of some skilled tradecraft – she had made contact with some of Elizabeth's lieutenants and senior members in her organisation, warning them of who the moles in her organisation were, who was under surveillance, and how to spot the surveillance teams. That was the first of several secret communications she had made to them.

Two months later, the investigation had collapsed, all of the moles and some members of the surveillance teams were in body-bags, six-feet underground or at the bottom of the English Channel, and a couple of senior heads of the Task Force were facing dismissal for career-ending sex scandals.

Only then had Marie felt comfortable stepping out from the shadows and revealing herself to the Barleys, in a clandestine meeting in the bathroom at a production of Les Miserables in Shaftesbury Avenue. She had asked for a job with the crime family.

Elizabeth, as it happened, had very little trust for police officers at the best of times, including the ones on her payroll. Marie wasn't a police officer. She was someone that Elizabeth had even less reason to trust. But she had said she'd consider it.

Then, when Marie had left the theatre, she had been grabbed by Elizabeth's foot soldiers and carted off to one of Elizabeth's private dungeons, where Elizabeth had subjected her to four hours of tease-and-denial torture. Even though Marie was older than the girls Elizabeth liked, she'd nevertheless had fun. And Marie had still shown willing and strength throughout the ordeal.

In fact, because she'd done this to Marie, she had given her more of an advantage than she'd thought. The ordeal had alerted Marie to Elizabeth's... sexual predilections. This meant that she knew exactly what she could offer Elizabeth next.

She had told her about the operation that she'd recently undertaken, and how the two victims at the very centre of it were two very young girls, one of whom an Irish girl like Elizabeth. She'd told her how a mother had subjugated her own daughter. She'd told her about the mind-control techniques that had been used to make them fall in love. And she'd told her that the girls had been subjected to scientific experimentation that had ended with them being able to have orgasms that lasted an entire thirty minutes.

Part of the story had struck a chord with Elizabeth, because of her own dark history, particularly with her sister, Milly. But the idea of two girls being so in love that they became physically and emotionally frail when away from each other, and having 30-minute orgasms intrigued her.

It naturally went without saying, she had told Marie, but if she could get her those girls, she would have her set up for life.

The girl in the boot, meanwhile, was the product of a slightly less complicated transaction. A key to Elizabeth's ability to remain so powerful was her understanding that one has to utilise every resource available to them. This included the Dark Web. Though she mostly used that to sell her product, which significantly reduced her need for street dealers, she also used it for other things...

One particular source of hers had reached out to her a few months previously with a very promising lead – a girl who was being blackmailed into a relationship with two other girls, neither of whom had any respect for her right to consent. They had offered her the details in return for 100k, and to sweeten the deal, had provided excerpts of the chat and recordings of their conversation with the poor girl.

Elizabeth had been more reluctant with this one, because if anyone knew a thing or two about being fucked over by an unscrupulous individual, it was her. Eventually she had agreed a deal: she had bargained them down to £50k, and would offer £25,000 now, and £25,000 once the girls were in her custody.

She had plans for the two abusers. And she was looking forward to showing and telling the girl in the boot exactly what they were. Once she'd played with her, of course! And the two girls that Marie had promised her.

Plus the two twin girls they had also managed to procure along the way. That find was just pure luck.

Elizabeth was dragged from these thoughts by the upbeat tune of Barwick Green playing over the radio. The Archers was about to start.

Without even a moment's hesitation, Elizabeth switched it off.

"Hey, I was listening to that!" Marie protested.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth snarled. "But I hate that shit."

"What shit?" Marie asked. "I think it's beautiful. Fifteen minutes to follow the lives of fictional characters in a lovely English village in the countryside. To escape from your own reality for fifteen minutes a night. A show that will remind you of this beautiful country no matter where you are in the world. My parents used to love listening to it whenever they took me here!"

"You must be listening to a different show, then," Elizabeth muttered. "When I hear it, I hear one-dimensional, overacted characters, working their way through contrived, bullshit plotlines that are either about affairs, pregnancies or "public information broadcasts." Every time I listen to it, I feel like they think I'm a moron."

"Maybe that is because you are... how do you say? Cynical?" Marie replied, in a cheeky tone.

Elizabeth paused, considering her response.

"Possibly," she conceded. "But I'd rather feel miserable the whole time and know what kind of world I live in than live in sweet, blissful ignorance."

"Why?" Marie asked. "That seems so... so depressing."

Elizabeth didn't answer. She just shook her head.

The conversation was already quite staggered and awkward. Elizabeth knew that continuing with it would just make it more so. She forced a smile.

"Actually, you know what? I will listen after all. Maybe it'll be a good one this time"

She switched the radio back on.

Spoiler alert: it wasn't.

–- –- –-

Much later, the car pulled up at Elizabeth's holiday residence in Chichester. The two white vans in the garage told her that the "guests" were already there, and the blue Renault parked in the driveway told her that Milly had also arrived.

As soon as Elizabeth had killed the engine, Marie leapt out and bounded over to the front door, eager to get inside and use the bathroom. Elizabeth opened the boot and helped Willow out.

"Come on, darlin'," she said in a reassuring tone. "Let's get you inside where it's warm."

"Mmmm" Willow replied through the gag she was wearing.

As if understanding what she'd meant, Elizabeth reached behind her and untied it, slipping it off. Then she removed the set of knickers she'd "borrowed" from Milly the previous day from her mouth.

"Thanks," Willow muttered irritably. "So where are we then?"

"You're about to find out," Elizabeth said, putting an arm around her shoulders and guiding her as she walked unsteadily on the concrete driveway into the house. "Looks like we're the last to arrive."

"The last to arrive to what?" Willow asked, even though she knew she wasn't likely to get an answer.

She got a semblance of one.

"To that surprise you were promised!" Elizabeth said.

"You keep saying that, and yet you refuse to give me a clue what it is," Willow snapped. "Rosie and Christine used to do that as well. I always knew that it wasn't going to be a pleasurable experience when they called it a "surprise.""

"Well..." Elizabeth began. "I can assure you that if you get no pleasure from it, it won't be a success for me either. But let's just say that it'll end with a little revenge."

Willow perked up.


"Yes. A chance for you to see your former tormentors being shown a thing or two about how badly they treated you. Before I put my own plans for them into action."

"And what would those plans be?"

"Oh, you'll see, my sweet little angel. You'll see," Elizabeth's smile briefly touched her lips.

They entered the house, which was big and spacious, and a near sight bigger than the flat in London. But Willow didn't have time to take it all in, as a blindfold was immediately tied over her eyes, and she was instead guided along, down some stairs into another room.

The ground under her feet was carpeted, and although they had gone below ground, it was quite warm and well insulated. But these details didn't give much away. She hated being blindfolded.

Eventually, she was sat in a rather comfortable, cushioned chair. Her wrists were fed through some leather straps and tightened in place. The same happened to her ankles, and a couple more were wound round her thighs. Finally, a large strap was wound around her chest, just above her boobs, and tightened. She was now completely immobile in the chair. A piece of tape was placed over her mouth, and the blindfold was removed.

The first thing she became aware of was the fact that, besides Elizabeth and her sister, Milly, there were four other girls in the room, sitting in a semi-circle, two on either side of her. They all looked to be about the same age as her, and all were naked and bound to chairs, just like her, their mouths taped shut.

Two of them were identical twins. Their skin was very pale, and their eyes were a deep shade of green. They each had long, mousey-brown hair with firm boobs and long, willowy bodies. They were pictures of almost pure beauty, Willow thought.

The other two girls were different in appearance, but it was immediately obvious that there was a connection between them. A physical one. Though they were seated in separate chairs, their wrists were connected by a single set of handcuffs.

The first one had aquamarine blue eyes and a deep, golden-blonde hair that had been cut quite short. Her breasts were very small, but her physique was lean and toned, and she looked like she had been exercising quite a lot recently.

The other one, meanwhile, was very skinny, frail-looking and unhealthy. She had blue doe-eyes, hair that was bright red and very messy, and skin that was clean and well-moisturised.

And all of them, not unlike her, looked absolutely terrified.

"Well!" Elizabeth said, bringing her hands together in an almighty clap. "I think we've got a full house, tonight!" Looking around, she eyed up each girl individually. "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Elizabeth Barley. Who I am... well, that's not really important right now."

Moving over to a cabinet in the corner, she opened it and sorted her way through what turned out to be a stack of vinyl records. Eventually, she found one she liked, put it in the record player on top of it, and began to play. The sound of sweet, sultry jazz music, combined with the vocals of Ella Fitzgerald began to play.

"Ahh, Ella Fitzgerald!" Elizabeth crooned, in a relaxed tone, as she began to sway to the music, almost skipping and dancing towards the centre of the group of chairs. "I remember my dad used to play this to me whenever he was in a good mood. Never before or since has a purer voice existed. You damn millennials with your iPhone speakers, MP3 audio files and whatever the fuck that "Skrillex" bloke is using. You've forgotten what REAL music sounds like!"

Moving to Willow's right, she knelt down in front of the two twins, smiling as she looked into their wide-eyed, frightened faces.

"Now, Willow is the one who came with me, and I know that Ginny and Emily over there are Marie's girls. But I don't believe I know who you are. Lily and Megan, right?" She got no response, but just smiled darkly. "I'm told that you two were in bed together when we found you. Naked as the day you were born. Sounds like somebody's engaging in a bit of forbidden romance!"

She ignored the murderous look that the twin on the left was giving her, and the shock on Willow's face as she realised what had just been said, leaned forward and kissed the frightened-looking one on the forehead, causing the angry one to scream and yank at her bonds.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to judge. I know all too well how... delicious it can be, fucking your own sister. You've met Milly?" She gestured to her sister, who waved. "She was in more-or-less the same position as you, when I first met her. Never knew she was my own flesh, of course. If I'm being honest, I was a bit disheartened when I found out. But then I realised that it didn't matter. When there's nobody to stop you, you can pretty much have whatever you want, be it money, pretty young girls such as yourselves, or the right to fuck your younger sister!"

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