When One Day We are Gone Ch. 02

Cassie stood, her body rigid, with the sliver chain dangling from her nipple. She watched twin points appearing in the black latex surface as Syn repeated the same process on the trapped woman as she had on Cassie. This time though, when each nipple was engorged and hard, Syn took them between thumb and finger, pinching hard enough that her knuckles went white.

There was no reaction from the stool. Syn released her grip.

"So gratifying," Syn mused, "To inflict pain and see absolutely no response. Aside from this."

Syn stood and showed Cassie the phone screen again. The heartrate had spiked hugely. Cassie nodded quickly in agreement, her focus on the throbbing pain in her own breast, seemingly quite forgotten about by the other woman. Syn looked down at Cassie's breast, noting the quivering of her torso. She picked up the dangling chain and tugged gently. Cassie hissed in pain.

"That should be throbbing quite nicely about now. You probably want me to take it off."

Cassie nodded. "Yes," she gasped.

"It's a two-edged sword. Are you sure?"

Cassie frowned, trying to make sense of Syn's words. A haze was settling over her thoughts, brought on by the pain that the clamp was inflicting. She nodded.

"Okay."

Syn squeezed the clamp, sliding it off Cassie's nipple. Cassie shrieked as a wave of fresh agony washed through her when the blood flooded back into her punished nipple. She doubled up, moaning.

"I warned you."

Cassie drew breath, trying to bear the pain without giving in to the temptation to rub herself. At last, she straightened up again.

Syn was dangling the clamps from her fingers. Once she saw that Cassie was paying attention, she turned the screws.

"And that was just the lowest setting," Syn said; she held the chain out and waited.

Cassie realised what Syn meant for her to do. Dumbly, she took the chain, letting it run through her fingers until she was holding the clamps at either end. She looked down at the stool, at the prominent points in the black latex. Do no permanent harm, Syn had said, and Cassie began to understand what Syn had just done: Cassie now knew the pain the clamps would cause, and Syn was waiting for her to inflict that same pain on the body of the helpless woman in the stool. The points in the black surface seemed to beckon her.

Slowly, Cassie sank to her knees in front of the stool. She ran a hand over the black mounds, feeling where the hard fibreglass shell gave way to soft, warm, yielding flesh. Cassie stroked a nipple with her thumb: she had reached the point of no return. Her professional training would demand that she communicated with the stranger trapped inside the stool, to try and work out why she would want to be turned into an object, a piece of furniture, helpless to resist the pain that was to be inflicted on her.

Trust me, Syn had said. This was a new world, the rules here were not the same. Cassie took a breath and slid the jaws of the clamps over each nipple. She hesitated for a moment, bracing herself for the woman's cries of pain, then she let the jaws close, biting into the slick black surface.

Nothing happened. There was no cry, no wild bid to break free. The silver chain swung gently between the shiny black breasts. The sight of what she had done triggered something primal in her, savouring the feeling of taking control. She rose to her feet, eyes still on the frozen, black sculpture beneath her.

Cassie felt a soft hand on the small of her back, pushing gently.

"Sit," Syn murmured in her ear, "Take your reward."

Cassie allowed Syn to guide her over the stool and lower her down to the leather. The tongue darted up out of the leather immediately, frantically searching until it tasted her slit. It wormed its way inside her and this time Cassie didn't flinch. Instead, she spread herself wide, opening up to admit the slick intruder, letting the tongue probe deeply inside her. She felt the heat of pleasure growing in her core as her body responded to the eager tongue.

"Encourage her," Syn murmured, "Use the chain."

In a daze of burgeoning arousal, Cassie reached down and took hold of the sliver chain dangling between the breasts. She tugged once, gently, and felt the immediate reaction of the tongue, frantic now in its movements. Cassie was approaching her edge too, no longer questioning the situation, or the morality of her actions, or the fact that a woman was trapped beneath her, forced to service her pleasure. All Cassie could focus on, after spending months trapped in the prison of sexual frustration that Lily had constructed for her, was how good the trapped woman's tongue was making her feel.

Cassie could feel her moisture beginning to soak the leather, but she bore down harder on the surface, straining herself wide to admit the ravenous tongue deep inside herself. Cassie felt her thighs begin to tremble with the exertion, but also with her impending climax. She looked up to see Syn standing over her, her face no longer cold and calculating; now she bore an expression of wanton lust.

The merciless blue eyes met hers, making contact with her at a fundamental level, and Cassie's orgasm erupted, gushing into the waiting mouth beneath her. Her thighs spasmed powerfully, clenching the sides of the stool, bracing her crotch in place with the power of her contractions, allowing the tongue to keep licking and probing. Cassie felt herself building up and she began to shudder again, riding a second orgasm as her body reacted to her pent-up need.

Gasping, Cassie pulled herself up and off the stool, staggering backwards a step, almost twisting her ankle in her high heeled boots. She propped her hands against the stool to steady herself, looking down at the pink tongue, sated and relaxed, in the centre of a patch of leather slickened with Cassie's own juices.

"At last," Syn said, in quiet, almost reverential tones, "Now you understand why we do what we do."

It took Cassie a while before she could collect her thoughts.

"That was incredible," she said at last.

"That put us behind schedule, actually," Syn replied.

Cassie looked up at the older woman.

"Her husband has been downstairs at the bar for half an hour now. He's going to start thinking we've sold her. We have work to do."

Cassie straightened up and pulled down the hem of the tiny, tight-fitting dress. She tugged until she could feel the latex once again cradling her buttocks tightly. The hem was as far down as it was going to go. Cassie could still feel the slickness between her legs from her climax.

"Well," Syn said, "Are you going to go get him?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Dressed like this? Downstairs?"

Syn laughed. "Yes. Privileges of command. I get to make you parade yourself in public while I stay up here out of the way."

Cassie looked down at the stool again. The husband of the woman that Syn had trapped in the stool was waiting to see his wife; the evening was far from over. Cassie straightened her hair and swayed on her high heels towards the door. As she opened it, Syn spoke again.

"Everyone will see you like that. They will all be looking. You have a reputation to establish," Syn cautioned, "Walk in there like you own the place."

Cassie stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at Syn. The other woman smiled mischievously.

"This is the Lost and Found, Mistress Grace," she said, "Welcome home."

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[Next chapter: Syn ups the stakes in her little game, and Cassie has a ringside seat.

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