Monica's Justice - Captives of Shark Island

by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)

(story continues from Monica's Justice - Captives of Shark Island)

Monica's Justice - Captives of Shark Island by Richard Alexander
Chapter Twelve - Tortured Toys

Whether by accident or fiendish intention, our physical and mental state was being undermined at every turn. In some cases the methods were unsubtle, brutal and barbaric; in others they were devious to the point of being subliminal.

Bradley’s parting words were evil in their import, conveying more fear than any swish of the cane could ever do. Bradley was a known killer, with psychotic and misogynistic tendencies the extent of which we could only guess at, based on the deaths of Tara and Catherine. There was now no doubt that he was behind those killings, and the thought of being left alone and at his mercy on this remote island was something I could hardly bare to think of.

It was another half hour before Jade and Portia finally came up to the pool deck. Both wore short evening dresses and high heels, as though they had been to some swanky uptown soiree. Without ceremony, they deflated and withdrew our butt plugs, leaving them lying on the floor, presumably for Kim or Seb to clean and tidy up later. Our ankles were untied, then our collars and arm ropes released from the handrail. The weights on our nipples remained in place, however, and once again our collars were linked with a metre-long chain. Stiff, aching, still gagged and with our wrists tied, we were in no condition to resist their directions. At that stage, however, anything new – even be it a further bound position – had to be better than the hours we had been bent over the handrail.

Disconsolate and exhausted, we wearily followed Portia down the stairs and into the living and dining areas. Here Portia paused only long enough to drain the last of a glass of champagne that stood on a glass-topped coffee table. Sebastian and Kim were clearing away the debris of the meal from the big chrome and glass dining table. Seb wore brief leather shorts while Kim was encased in a black corset from her crotch to the underside of her breasts. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail as she moved about the table on high, tottery heels, collecting the used glasses. Seb’s feet were bare, but both slaves wore hobble chains linked to leather cuffs locked on their ankles, which leant a shuffling gait to their movements.

Both servants averted their eyes from us, in contrast to Jax and Bradley, who reclined in the deep leather armchairs with glasses of port, while Borodin played softly in the background. In the air-conditioned comfort of the big room, the contrast to what we had endured outside seemed to make my body at once even tireder. Jax and Bradley wore amused expressions as at Portia’s command we trailed out behind her, with Jade following in the rear.

We descended to the sleeping level, then watched as at the touch of a button the hydraulic stairs lowered smoothly to the ground and a soft breath of warm humid air flooded in. Portia and Jade both kicked off their shoes and slipped on sandals before prodding us down the stairs on to the concrete landing at the bottom.

The area immediately under the house was quite open, with the underside of the structure some five metres above the rocks. It was brightly lit by several floodlights that made the soffit hard to make out, but which served to illuminate the configuration of the rocks in minute detail.

The steel poles supporting the house were founded on two lines of rocks leading into the water. I was shocked to see that the sandy space between the rocks, which varied from a metre wide at the high end to two metres at the water’s edge, was enclosed in a steel cage, the roof of which was supported by steel bars spanning from one side to the other. The cage was only perhaps half a metre deep, and I saw it was divided in two, halfway up the beach.

“Welcome to your new home,” Portia said, unable to hide the gloating from her voice. “This way.”

We followed her several metres along a concrete pathway on the rocks to the lower of the two cages, where it took both she and Jade to lift the hinged grille in the top of the cage, at which point Portia motioned to us to enter. The grille was about a metre square, while the floor area of the cage was probably four times that. I led the way across the close-set bars forming the roof of the cage and stepped down through the opening on to the damp sandy floor of the cage while Monica bent her head to allow slack in the chain. Only with difficulty could I then kneel down and wriggle clear of the grille to allow Monica to follow me.

Portia and Jade watched with evident enjoyment as Monica knelt down on the sand and rolled on to her side. Our captors let the grille drop with a clang, and Jade snicked two big padlocks through the holes to secure it in place. She retrieved a tupperware box and two plastic water bottles from where they had been sitting on some adjacent rocks and dropped them through a square hole in the bars just big enough for a person’s head.

“If you can get yourselves free of your ropes and gags, your dinner’s in the box,” Jade said with a laugh. “Sleep well!”

The pair padded across the bars to the rocks and disappeared up the stairs which rose silently after them.

Monica and I lay bound on the sand looking at each other. There was barely enough room beneath the overhead bars to kneel, but both of us knew the drill, as we rolled over so that we were back to back. In our exhausted state it took us perhaps fifteen minutes to work the knots free and finally remove the weights and clothespins from our nipples and prise the rubber balls from our mouths. Only then could we let free the emotions that had been forcibly bottled up inside us. We lay there and held each other tightly, not daring to speak for a long while. I felt Monica’s body shaking with stifled sobs as she struggled to regain composure. It was all I could do not to give way to despair myself.

At length she broke away, pushing he matted hair behind her ears and sniffling apologetically. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed but she still tried to smile bravely.

“I – I’m sorry…”

“Shhh…” I tried to comfort her, pulling her head back against my chest. “It’s just a temporary setback…” I said, trying to make light of it. “Just like the Black Knight’s ‘flesh wound’ when King Arthur chopped off his arm,” I ended lamely.

Monica lifted herself on to one elbow and smiled wanly at me again, then kissed me on the lips.

“What would I do without you, Steven?” she murmured.

“Probably have a much saner and safer life,” I mumbled.

“You’re my sanity,” she said. “Without you I’d go loony.”

“You’re already loony,” I said.

Despite my efforts her smile weakened and she looked on the verge of tears again. I gripped her tightly and tried my best to sound brave and determined.

“Mon, you’re the strongest, cleverest person I know. I also know that you won’t let these people beat us! We’re smarter than them! We’ll get out of this if we keep our heads and use our brains! But you have to show your leadership…”

She looked up at me.

“But…it’s so hard sometimes… And right now all I have is you to lead… What about the others? Are they going to be tied to those posts all night? God!”

“No, I’m sure they won’t be. Our friends are either waiting for the tide to go down a bit more so they won’t get their feet wet, or they’re finishing off their port and cognac. Or both. Just be patient. We’re the ones they really want to suffer – you and me. The others won’t be worse off.”

“Thanks for those words of encouragement,” she said, trying to smile again. I kissed her back.

“That’s better. We’ll all be together soon. Trust me.”

“Strangely enough, I do. But you don’t really know these things – you’re just trying to make me feel better…”

“Okay, explain to me the three water bottles and the other plastic food box in the next cage,” I said, pointing through the vertical bars that divided our little cell from the one higher up the beach.

“Oh… I hadn’t seen them…” The sight seemed to cheer Monica a bit.

“We should eat,” I told her, and as I lifted the plastic lid from the box and saw the mess of roast meat and vegetables left over from our captors’ meal I at once realised how famished I was as my saliva glands switched into overdrive.

The sight of the food also boosted Monica’s spirits further and we tucked in with gusto, smiling as we got gravy smeared around our mouths and gently licked it off each other.

When the food was all gone, we felt a little better, and were able to take stock of our situation in more detail. I checked out our cage, which really didn’t take much doing. Vertical bars as thick as my finger formed a grille at the seaward end, dropping into the sand. Our clearance between the sand and the roof bars was only half a metre, though I figured by digging a bit of sand we could create some more space for ourselves. Overhead the bars stretched from one rock wall to the other, where they were concreted in, while a mere body length up the sloping beach from the lower grille was the dividing grille that separated us from the upper cage, which was about the same size and was constructed identically.

I explored both vertical grilles, digging into the sand with my fingers, but found that the sand was very shallow and that the bottom ends of these bars were also concreted into the rock.  I was under no illusions as to the strength of the bars themselves. They were only a hand-width apart and were welded to a cross bar at the midpoint of our cage. The locks on the hinged grille were solid and immovable, and I was now sure of the substantial construction of our prison.

Monica lay on her stomach, watching me. I tried not to let my eyes linger on the cruel welts and red weals that marked her normally flawless skin. With the exploration out of the way and convinced that any escape was unlikely in the near future, I lay down beside her, conceding temporary defeat. She must have seen me wince as my bruised buttocks made temporary contact with the damp sand.

“You okay?” Concern showed in her eyes.

“Uh – sure. But what about you? I didn’t have that arsehole Bradley dealing to me.”

Monica shrugged as best she could.

“I’ve had worse. Portia was far more painful with that bloody rubber dick of hers. Shit, I’ll give the bitch a going over before we leave her!”

I put my hand over hers.

“That’s better. That’s the Monica we know and love.” She smiled back as best she could. “But physical pain is one thing. They’re out to humiliate us. And Bradley’s another thing entirely.”

“I know. Look, Steven, I’m not some eighteen year old who’s just been raped, you know. I’ve been down this road before and it’s part of the risk of the business. I can deal with it. It’s all about focus and you only focus on the future the way you want it to happen.”

This time it was my turn to smile. This was the old Monica talking.

 

We lay for a while in the bright light of the overhead floodlights, talking in a desultory way, until our thoughts were interrupted by the lowering of the hydraulic stairs. Jade and Portia descended and walked off along the beach, behind the rocks blocking out our view. Perhaps a quarter of an hour later they reappeared, leading the three girls who had been bound to the posts for most of the day. Helen was in front, followed by Mary and Leila, the three again linked by chains between their collars, as they had been at the start of the day. The duct tape was still in place across their mouths, and the nipple weights were still bobbing from their breasts in what must have been agonising fashion after all that time.

The girls had their hands bound behind them, and looked shattered as they stepped shakily across the bars to step down into the opening in the roof of the adjacent cage. The three of them stood there for a moment, as though not comprehending what was happening, before Portia shouted at them to kneel and they managed to squeeze down into the space beneath the bars before the grille dropped into place and Jade snicked two more heavy padlocks in place.

The two Chinese girls laughed as they retraced their steps and climbed the stairs, pausing at the top to cast some no doubt hurtful aspersion in Cantonese before they disappeared and the stairs closed behind them.

The three in the cage next to us looked all in, and it took some cajoling and directions from Monica for them to squirm down on the sand close to where we could get our hands on the ropes.

“No, let me take those clamps off first, Leila,” Monica said. “The tape stay’s on until the clamps are off – you know the rules.” Leila wriggled her still bound and swollen breasts close to the bars where Monica could reach. “This will hurt, sweetie. Hold on…”

Leila screwed up her face as Monica slowly released the clamps from the pinched blue nipples, Leila making muted squeaks of pain from beneath the duct tape. Her breasts heaved within the confines of the rope as the clamps came free and she uttered a final drawn out moan as she was freed of the torture devices.

After taking a moment to recover herself, she rolled on to the other side to give Monica access to her bound hands, which were free within a minute. Leila snorted with relief, and her hands went to her mouth to remove the tape wound around her head.

“No, Leila!” said Monica sharply. “You tend to the others first, then let one of them remove the tape, or else you’ll mess it up and won’t know where to start.” Leila looked sheepish and mumbled what might have been an apology. She turned to Mary and carefully removed the clamps on Mary’s breasts. Mary closed her eyes and had sharp intakes of breath but stayed silent. Helen, too, retained her composure in spite of the obvious pain, by which time the three of them had their hands free and could tend to the duct tape sealing their mouths.

It took them a few minutes of painful picking and pulling to rid themselves of the tape, by which time Leila was struggling with the rope binding her breasts. Again, each needed help to undo the knots which had been saturated with water and had hardened under the strain they had experienced from the girls’ struggles during the day. Our only blessing in this instance was the brightness of the light from above, which made everything as sharp as day. Having to remove tape in darkness would have taken three times as long.

When the last of the rope had been removed and the trio were tucking into the food in the container, I saw the deep bruises and indentations left in their skin by their bonds. Their knees were also red and roughened where they had been forced to kneel on the sand, regardless of how much weight had ultimately been carried by the ropes.

We talked softly through the bars as they told of their painful experiences and how they felt seeing what we had endured. Monica tried to rally them, and while they no doubt felt better with food and drink inside them, it was evident they were worn down both physically and mentally by the hours they had endured on the beach that day.

“We must sleep,” Monica told them. “I don’t know when ‘lights out’ is, but I suggest we will need all our strength from now on if we’re to resist and overcome these people. And trust me, we will overcome them.”

 

I slept fitfully for maybe a couple of hours. My back and buttocks were too painful to lie on, when meant sleeping on one’s stomach on the hard sand. Monica had to dig a couple of indentations for her breasts, after which she professed to be as comfortable as she could be under the circumstances. Unfortunately the blazing lights above us made sleep difficult, and I guessed that this was yet another of Portia’s ideas to weaken our resolve. Despite this, I drifted off for a while, lulled by the gurgle of water but partially disturbed by soft cries coming from Leila as she dealt with some inner demons that were haunting her dreams. I finally snapped fully awake as water lapped at my toes.

I realised with horror that the tide was on the way in again, and that we were trapped in the cage with no way out if the tide was higher than the topmost bars where they joined the other cage. Monica was still asleep, curled up on her side in a semi-foetal position, her feet clear of the slowly creeping water. I let her rest while I looked at all the options. ‘All’ was the wrong word, for it implied a number, and ‘options’ was just as incorrect, for it implied some sort of choice. I could see none.

Soon the water slopped against Monica’s feet and she came awake with a start. I put my finger to my lips.

“I know,” I whispered. “Unless you can come up with a bright idea, we have to hope that our friends are as aware of the water level as they were yesterday when they tied up the others. I can’t believe they want to get rid of us already. Portia hasn’t had enough fun yet.”

Monica nodded, but I saw doubt and only partly concealed fear in her blue eyes. We both curled up close to the top grille, awaiting the inevitable rising water.

By the time dawn broke, the water was lapping about our hips and was past the base of the top grille. It had already woken the others, who were alarmed at our predicament. The sun rose above the glassy sea and the first intimations of the heavy humidity began to weigh down on us.

There was no sign of the stairs being lowered. I figured everyone upstairs was having a lie in after the alcohol the previous night and no doubt whatever hanky panky went on between the various dom(me)s and subs in residence. I confess I was getting agitated myself as the water crept up to our chests and forced those in the other cell to shift to the higher end of their cage.

When the stairs finally did drop, Portia and Jade seemed indifferent to the rising water. Both wearing swimsuits – scarlet and deep green – with matching sarongs, they stood over the five of us in our cages with an air of disinterest in our plight. Portia dropped three pairs of handcuffs through the bars of the other cage.

“Put those on – hands behind you,” she ordered. Nobody gets out until that is done.”

“But what about Monica and Steven?” Leila asked fearfully, for we were now half floating in an effort to keep our faces close up in the highest part of the cage.

“Oh they’ll be all right,” Portia said dismissively. “I still have plans for them. Now get out.”

Portia and Jade unlocked and lifted the heavy grille and the three chained and handcuffed girls wriggled into the opening where they could stand up. With anxious glances over their shoulders they were herded up the stairs which closed up behind them.

Minutes passed as Monica and I struggled to take in breaths between the bars as the water rose higher.

“She’s forgotten us!” Monica gasped between gulps of air. “Or else they’ve got it wrong…” There was undeniable panic in her voice. “God, Steven… this is it!”

But it couldn’t be it! Things couldn’t end this way! I refused to believe it, but it was only as a wave washed over my face that I realised she could be right, and that Portia had got it wrong. That was when the two empty plastic water bottles bumped against my head where they, too, had been trapped by the rising water against the bars of the roof.

In desperation I grabbed one and tore at the bottom of it with my teeth, just enough to make a bit of a hole in it. It was a struggle and I was coughing and trying to snatch breaths in between. Finally I managed it and pushing it inverted up between the bars I unscrewed the cap and guided Monica’s mouth to it. It would gain her perhaps half an hour, depending on how much longer the water continued to rise, breathing through the bottle like a snorkel. I managed to make a duplicate for myself just before I found myself fully submerged and drew in a deep lungful of air as I sealed my mouth around the inverted bottle top. Summoning all our mental strength, we tried to lie calmly and breath through the bottles as the waves lapped above us and the sunlight sparkled down through the clear water.

Portia and Jade appeared about ten minutes later. I couldn’t hear what they said, since we were still under water, but I recognised the looks of surprise and horror on their faces as I peered up at them from below the surface. It looked like there was a brief exchange of words before Portia pushed Jade towards the locks on the grill. Jade knelt down in the shallow water over the roof of the cage and undid the padlocks then she and Portia heaved the grille open.

Monica was the first to be dragged out, coughing and spluttering as the bottle was torn from her lips. Her wrists were immediately handcuffed behind her and then I was dragged out by the chain connecting our collars.

I, too, caught a couple of mouthfuls of seawater in the process and was in no state to resist as my wrists were likewise secured behind me. Our captors were talking rapidly in Cantonese, and it sounded as though Portia was abusing Jade, although I knew from past experience that trying to decipher the intent of any Cantonese was a futile exercise, and Portia could just as easily be professing her undying love. I did pick up the sulky look Jade gave her mistress, and then us, as though we were the cause of her being chewed out.

We were towed back across the bars and up the path to the base of the stairs. Here, however, the chain was unlocked from Monica’s collar and the loose end padlocked to an eyebolt sticking out from the base of the rock cliff under the stairs. The eyebolt was just above my head, and Jade made a point of ensuring the chain was sufficiently taut so as to put pressure on my collar and ensure I was standing on my tip toes. Then they shoved Monica towards the stairs.

“What are you going to do to her?” I demanded hoarsely, and needlessly for that matter.

“You’ll find out,” Portia sneered at me, pushing Monica up the stairs. “Enjoy the peace and quiet while you can, Gweilo,” she added before turning her attention back to the naked, dripping figure in front of her.

The procession disappeared up the stairs which closed up above me, and I was left there alone, also dripping and naked, chained to the rock face.

The sun was warm and the temperature began to climb. The wetness from the sea dried off, leaving a salty residue that was slowly overcome by perspiration as the humidity quickly reached saturation. I was uncomfortable, hungry and thirsty, and I had no idea what was happening upstairs to the girls or how long I was to remain there.

After perhaps half an hour the stairs lowered again and Jade came down to unlock my chain. She was sullen and uncommunicative as she dragged me roughly up the stairs by the chain without explanation of what might lie ahead. At the bedroom level I was towed into a large white tiled bathroom, where glass and chrome abounded. A large Jacuzzi was in one corner, along with his and her pedestal wash basins. In another corner was a huge walk-in shower that must have had the floor area of a double bed. Inside the glass screen, Monica stood, her ankles stretched wide by a spreader bar and her handcuffs – now joining her wrists in front of her – tied by a rope to a high fixed shower nozzle, one of several that sprayed from different angles. A naked Kim was in the shower with her, watched by Portia who sat on a leather padded stool immediately outside the glass door.

Kim was being quite energetic with a scrubbing brush and Monica’s skin was glowing bright red from its application. As Kim applied the brush to Monica’s buttocks, bearing the welts from the previous day’s caning, Monica flinched and grunted, the pain in the sound evident over the hiss of the shower spray. There was a toss of her head and I saw that she was gagged with an inflatable gag, the black tube and squeeze bulb hanging down from her mouth.

“Harder,” Portia directed, and Kim scrubbed the red cheeks some more, while Monica twisted and groaned around the bladder filling her mouth. “Now the other brush!”

Kim swapped the coarse scrubbing brush for a thin bottle brush which was inserted without ceremony in Monica’s pussy, where its movement prompted further agitation from the handcuffed figure. Kim left the brush dangling, fully inserted, while she retrieved a further bottle brush and inserted this into Monica’s rear passage, prompting further gagged protests and squirming from the helpless prisoner. Portia smiled vindictively and at that moment I saw the lust for revenge fully etched on her face.

Jade tugged on my collar and I saw that she, too, was enjoying the show and her surly attitude seemed to have lightened at the current floor show, as well as whatever lay in store for me.

I was about to protest, to abuse the crap out of Portia and to hell with the consequences, when Jade yanked my head back by the hair and thrust a similar inflatable gag into my own mouth, pumping it quickly so that my tongue was squashed down, my jaws forced open and my cheeks distended. I tried to chew on it, to fight it, to somehow puncture it, but it was too springy, requiring too much effort for no gain, so I gave up and resigned myself to the aching jaw that always came with this mouth-filling device.

“On your back, on the floor – there!” said Jade sharply, pointing to a position between the two basins. I did so reluctantly, wondering what was going on, my focus momentarily diverted from the reaming that Monica was getting from Kim. Jade nudged me into position so that my head was touching the wall between the two basins and my body was sticking out at right angles to the wall between them. She wasted no time in tying a length of rope around each ankle, and when she was done, Portia tore herself away from watching Monica suffer long enough to help Jade by taking one of the ropes. They looped each rope around one of the taps on each basin, and suddenly my legs were being pulled up over my head and spread apart, my weight coming to bear on my shoulders as they tied off the ropes to the taps.

That was when I saw the heavy duty plastic bag – like one of those portable showers you take camping – hanging from a coat hook high up on the wall. More specifically, I saw the fact that it was bulging with some form of liquid content and had a rubber tube dangling down from it.

Portia produced a thin cane and let me have an unheralded cut hard across my exposed, upturned buttocks. I jerked at the searing, sudden pain and spluttered into the rubber bulb filling my mouth.

“Nrrfff!” I said. “Urrnn hhch!” It did not make a lot of sense, but I meant every distorted syllable of it. Portia and I locked eyes and she grinned at my utter vulnerability.

“Want some more?” she asked with a saccharin smile. I shook my head, while the tube from the gag flopped back and forth. “If this tube doesn’t stay where we put it, you’ll get plenty. Understand?”

“Urrgh,” I said.

“Good. Jade?” Portia raised her eyebrow and Jade took the end of the rubber tube from where it rested in one of the basins and shoved it unceremoniously in my arse. I suspected this was the same treatment that Monica had already received ahead of her shower, and I took some solace that at the very least I might get a decent wash and a chance to relieve myself. Going for a piss when you’re half submerged is one thing, but I was in serious need of a crap – a need that was about to become a whole lot worse, I realised.

Jade released a clip on the tube and I felt warm fluid flood into my bowels. In this position my abdomen was folded on itself and would not easily take in the fluid in the same way as I might have done lying flat. That didn’t matter, of course. I was where I was in the position I was and there was nothing I could do about it.

The tube was thicker than a garden hose and the fluid entered me quickly initially then slowed as it had to seep more slowly through my innermost recesses. My belly began to distend and if I had already felt in need of the loo, suddenly my need worsened dramatically.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling between my spread legs as the bag emptied into me. Portia and Jade grinned down at me, revelling in my discomfort, before returning to watch Monica get the finishing off treatment. Finally satisfied that she was as clean as Kim could possibly get her, Portia ordered the water turned off, and the naked and dripping Kim emerged to briefly towel herself dry, before returning to dry off her charge then blow dry Monica’s hair.

“We want you looking beautiful, Monica,” Portia said. “Nobody wants to fuck an untidy slave. I don’t want to have to put a bag over your head, as you westerners say so crudely.” Monica did not appear to hear, remaining still as the dryer fluffed the coal black hair. Her lean body remained rigid - trapped by the handcuffs above her head and the spreader bar. At length Portia was satisfied and gestured to Kim to turn off the dryer and to leave the shower. Now it was Portia’s turn to inspect the merchandise, letting her hands rove over Monica’s body, stroking her breasts and squeezing the nipples to prompt a faint squeal of protest. Portia laughed, then worked her fingers into the two passages in Monica’s crotch, wriggling them and forcing them deeper to the sound of harsh breathing from the helpless woman.

I watched this scene unfolding, trying to take my mind off the growing cramps in my abdomen, before Portia produced a silk scarf and blindfolded Monica, then untied the rope from the showerhead, and removed the spreader bar. She pulled the rope – still connected to the handcuffs – through Monica’s crotch and stood behind her. Monica was now unable to raise her hands to perhaps try to remove the blindfold as Portia turned her and pushed her towards the door. The pair shuffled out and I heard their footsteps going up the stairs to the next floor. Jade gave me a final withering smile and swished the cane through the air.

“Be good, honey,” she said with a hard smile before she closed the door and left me.

 

There was no way I could reach the ropes on my ankles or the taps. I rapidly concluded that I had to lie there and take it. I felt like a patient in a hospital being prepared for production line routine surgery. Except that there was nothing routine about this from my perspective, and I had no idea what the surgery might be. I wondered what Monica was in for and where the other girls were. Had they undergone this most uncomfortable form of ablution?

Perhaps half an hour passed and I was becoming desperate, for the cramps were getting intense and I didn’t know how long I could hold out. My sphincter muscle felt distended and I was sure I was on the verge of giving way when Jade returned. She still carried the cane.

“I’m going to remove this tube, and if you let out one spot of shit you’ll feel this cane, and I’ll make you lick the floor clean, Gweilo,” she hissed at me.

I felt the tug and the slide of the tube as Jade pulled it free and I clamped my muscles hard to avoid what I dreaded would happen. She stood back and watched me straining, fighting the spasms wracking my body and the aches in my muscles all coming together from the trials of the last twenty four hours.

She finally undid one ankle but left me in the half contorted position for a further couple of minutes with one leg up and one down, grunting plaintively for her to complete the release.

My pleadings obviously appealed to her sense of appropriateness, to her suppressed desire to dominate, now overruled by Portia’s own power. She finally acceded to my appeals, untying the other ankle and allowing me just enough time to make it to the toilet before my bowels rebelled and disgorged their contents.

Jade wrinkled her nose and left the room while I sat there, still handcuffed and gagged. The thought of some sort of escape occurred fleetingly, but short of an exit through the door – with Jade probably waiting on the other side – there was no opportunity, and right then I did not have the strength or the willpower. I simply wanted to sit there and be left alone.

Jade did just that, until the third flush, at which point she returned and dragged me unresisting into the shower. The spreader bar, the handcuffs in front tied to the showerhead – it was déjà vu and predictable. Kim was summoned and I got the scrubbing brush treatment and the bottle brush reaming from a naked woman in the shower with me. The water was nevertheless bliss, as the smell of my recent torment was dispelled by hot water and soap. I wondered if the experience could be described as enigmatic – I mean enematic?

I was past caring. A bottle brush up my arse didn’t really make a lot of difference, now, considering what my butt hole had been through in the last day. There was nothing else to come out. The hot water overwhelmed me, the subsequent towelling down instilling a sense of lethargy and resignation. Then it was handcuffed hands behind back again and finally the wretched gag was deflated and removed and I was able to move my jaw again.

Pushed up the stairs to the living room I saw at once what had been happening to the others in my absence. Immediately inside the living room was Leila, her arms laced into a single leather glove behind her back and attached to the ceiling by a rope tied to a D-ring at the end of the glove. She was bent over with her arms nearly vertical behind her. My eyes followed the rope and I saw it was looped over a small hook in the ceiling. The discrete hook was painted white to match the colour scheme and positioned near a recessed downlight. I then saw a number of such hooks, which virtually disappeared when the ceiling lights were switched on. If there had been any doubt at all that the place was owned by a serious bondage practitioner, such doubt was now fully dispelled.

Leila was on her tiptoes, her backside available to anybody walking past and now striated with red weals from what looked like a severe flogging. Jade gave her a hard slap as she passed, prompting a squeal from the doubled-over girl.

Beyond her, Portia, Monica, Jax and Bradley were seated at the big rectangular glass-topped table. Monica was bound to the chair, her arms behind her and her ankles pulled back so the soles of her feet were exposed. On the table, as a kind of centrepiece, were Mary and Helen, bound back to back, their legs spread wide and tied by ropes leading under the edges of the table. Their arms had been taped together sticking out from their sides so that neither could bend them forward or back, swathed as their limbs were in yards of black duct tape.

The same duct tape had been plastered over the lower halves of their faces and as I approached the table I could only meet Mary’s eyes since Helen had her back to me. I also saw that the soles of Mary’s feet, protruding just beyond the edge of the table bore marks of a cane or some other such implement.

Mary’s expression was one of frustration and fury that these people would dare try to dominate her, and I took small comfort that whatever they inflicted on her, whatever she was forced to do, it would be through purely physical coercion rather then mental defeat.  Right then I noticed the wires running to flat washer-like objects encircling her nipples and further wires running to her crotch, and I knew just what torture they had been experiencing. The wires would link up to a TENS machine somewhere, and they would have been receiving a combination of shocks and vibrations to their most sensitive parts.

“Steven – so glad you could join us for breakfast,” Jax said, leaning back languidly in her seat. We’ve been having a couple of little verbal contests between Bradley and myself. It’s been kind of fun. Instead of buzzers we have your two sweet friends here. I press my button here…” she held up a small button switched at the end of a thin wire and her thumb squeezed it.

“Urrmmmmph!” Helen jerked and cried out behind the tape.

“See? How cool is that? Beats the crap out of buzzers and bells. Bradley has one, too,” she added. Bradley held up an identical button and pressed it with a slow smile, holding his finger on it.

“Nnnnerrrmmph!” Mary’s stifled nasal scream echoed in the room as she closed her eyes and screwed up her face as the current shot through her.

My stomach turned over at the sight of Mary’s slender body tensing and struggling against her bonds, her fists clenching, ripples coursing through the taut muscles of her abdomen. Her arms – taped as they were back to back with Helen’s – jerked up and down erratically, for such was the rigidity of the tape that neither prisoner could properly move her arms. It was at that moment that something snapped inside me and without considering the consequences I lashed out with my foot at where Bradley’s finger rested on the button on the table.

It was not a powerful kick – not like a kick boxer or some sort of martial arts whiz. It glanced off Bradley’s forearm just as Jade grabbed me by the arm again and hauled me back. Bradley and the others were momentarily taken aback, then they seemed to all smile at once.

“You bastard!” I yelled at him. “I’ll stuff that down your throat if you try that again!”

My reaction elicited a flurry of action from around the table. Bradley smiled with an expression that scared me and I knew that for once I had let my emotions get away with me. Monica and Mary wore shocked looks, as though struggling to believe that I should have done such a thing. I suspect firstly that they were surprised at me – Steven, the cool cat losing control – and secondly they knew we were all going to be punished as a result of my transgression.

Jax was on her feet, moving surprisingly fast for a woman of her bulk, but evidently not wanting her guests to be upset. She grabbed the arm that Jade wasn’t hanging on to, and between the two of them I was wrestled to the ground. Both women were strong in different ways. Jade was lithe and athletic, while Jax had inertia behind her movements. Seconds later Jax had squashed most of the air out of me and Jade was stuffing a rubber ball in my mouth and pulling the buckle way too tight behind my head.

Being naked, handcuffed and under attack from two determined women was not a good position from which to retaliate, and I knew that. When Jax finally got off me I was snorting and gasping around the ball in my mouth, which I ascertained had some sort of plastic pipe through the middle of it, though this was somehow stoppered and I couldn’t use it to breathe any better.

As I was hauled to my feet, Jax grabbed Mr Willy and any remaining ideas I might have had about resistance vanished as her big hand squeezed my balls. I made a plaintive moan for which I hated myself, doing so in front of the others, friend and foe alike. There are times when a guy just has to stand up for his principles, but having your balls squeezed tends to make you lose focus on such ideals in a way that no woman will ever understand.

I was totally compliant as Jax dragged me to a chair at the head of the table facing Mary, sitting legs spread and bound as a centrepiece. For once Mary’s proud, no-compromise expression softened at my plight.

My handcuffed arms were pushed over the back of the chair and the linking chain was tied in place to a lower rung that I couldn’t reach. Jade and Jax each took a length of cord and attached them to my ankles, before pulling my feet backwards and up and tying the cords together across my lap. I was well and truly trapped, the cord cutting deep and uncomfortably across my thighs from the weight of my lower legs.

“Not really thinking properly, are we?” Jax cooed, controlling her heavy breathing from the struggle. “Feet are for walking on, not kicking people.” She disappeared behind me and the next thing I felt was a searing pain on the upturned sole of my right foot as a whippy cane cracked down across it.

“Urrrrrgh!” I spluttered into the gag, waggling my foot in agony. Another crack and the left foot matched the pain of the right. I was jiggling my feet trying to make a moving target, but that only got me into more trouble. Jax paused in her assault long enough to take another thin cord, attach it to my left big toe, then pull it tightly across to tie to my right one. Both feet were now firmly held against the sides of the chair with soles exposed for her pleasure.

And a pleasure it obviously was for her. I writhed under the blows that came from different angles, jerking as the cane turned my flesh into a red hot surface. I was barely conscious of screwing up my face and biting down hard on the ball as I grunted and cried out as best I could, while still endeavouring to breathe. My whole body was tensed and straining as I tried to anticipate the fall of the cane, and invariably got it wrong.

Finally Jax stepped back, leaving me quivering and gasping, but it seemed she wasn’t finished then – only with my feet. Out came a heavy flogger as she set to on my arms, thighs, chest and stomach as I continued to squirm and struggle against the ropes and cuffs, unable to avoid the rain of blows that turned my skin bright crimson.

When Jax at last stepped back and the blood stopped pounding in my ears, I gradually got my breathing under control. My whole body seemed to be one big throbbing pain. My muscles were locked in tension and sweat rolled down my skin. It had dampened the thongs of the flogger and had given an added extreme to the inflicted hurt.

Jax resumed her seat and I was only then able to focus beyond my own suffering to the mute distress of Mary, immediately in front of me, and Monica beyond her at the other end of the table. Both now had their heads down, unable to watch the torture being inflicted on me.

“Breakfast has been such fun,” Jax said brightly. “Although perhaps we’re forgetting ourselves. One of our guests here has had no sustenance, and heaven knows, he’ll be needing it today.” You didn’t need an IQ of 100 to work out who she was talking about. “Who would like to do the honours, and feed our recalcitrant visitor here?”

“Jade will do it,” Portia offered.

Jade did not look at all put out by being volunteered. Rather, she arose from her chair with a tight smile that might almost be described as predacious. She moved across to where I sat bound and helpless, my flesh still burning from all that had been inflicted on it.

Her face was in front of mine as she grinned and removed some sort of stopper from the pipe that must have penetrated the rubber ball strapped in my mouth. At once I could suck in a lot more air, and – had I so wished – could no doubt have made a bit more noise. It would not have done any good, mind you. I knew enough to realise that any such sounds would be both unintelligible and probably embarrassing. What I didn’t like was what Jade then picked up from some place behind me and held in front of me.

It was a black plastic funnel with the bottom vertical tube joined to a rigid 90o elbow which in turn joined to a short horizontal tube. I knew at once what I was in for, as Jade proceeded to attach the end of the tube to the tube through the ball. A strap around the funnel was then fitted around my head, so there was no chance of the funnel rotating and spilling its contents. My breakfast was evidently going to be force fed.

Kim appeared with a jug of what looked like some form of fruit smoothee – thick and viscous, a pale pink colour – which Jade took and began to pour into the funnel. I struggled to swallow quickly enough, discovering that I could not block the end of the tube with my tongue and thus I had no choice. It tasted quite pleasant, but there was an awful lot of it as Jade kept the funnel full as I swallowed as rapidly as I could, desperate not to choke on the stuff.

Finally the jug and funnel were empty and I sucked in further air through the tube while Jax and Portia clapped in recognition of my accomplishment.

“Good,” said Jax. “Breakfast is complete. I trust everyone enjoyed it?” There were murmurs of appreciation from the others. “Well, I think we can leave these two here on the table, and start the morning’s entertainment with the guest of honour. Who would like to assist me? Bradley?”

“Delighted, my dear,” said Bradley, a cold enthusiasm in his tone that sent shivers down my spine. He and Jax arose and moved to Monica’s chair, undoing her ropes and hauling her to her feet. Monica was unsteady and her eyes met mine, showing a brief glimpse of fear before her courage reasserted itself. As she was dragged away, Portia moved her seat closer to mine.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun today,” she whispered to me. “Or rather, I am going to have a lot of fun. I’m going to fuck your brains out, Gweilo,” she hissed. “I’m going to use you then spit you out and throw you away for the others to play with. I will be the one having fun, you will be the one suffering. The more you suffer, the more I will have fun. Do you understand me?” There was a wild look in her eyes, as though she was on something. I turned away, avoiding making contact by keeping the black funnel between my eyes and hers.

I had expected the worst, though whatever that might have been I had no idea. The potential range of tortures awaiting us was too great to imagine, so I didn’t try. What I wasn’t expecting was her hand dropping to my groin and pulling Mr Willy out from between my thighs.

‘You’re kidding,’ I thought. ‘After what you’ve just done to me?’

But Portia knew exactly what she was doing and she certainly wasn’t kidding. With one hand teasing and tugging at my nipple rings and the other stroking my manhood, things suddenly began to happen that were beyond my control. Mr Willy now appeared oblivious to the hurt in the rest of my body, and the attributes of my tormentor now appeared to be more attractive. I now knew my liquid breakfast had been doped with something – maybe Viagra – and I knew what effect this had on me. Monica had done it before now and the whole team at Bilboes had taken advantage of me. It had been exhausting but pleasant, though I suspected my next ordeal was to be only the former.

I could not see what Portia was doing in my crotch because of the presence of the funnel still in front of my face. I felt the presence of something on my dick, however – something comprised of two semi-circular halves that somehow fitted together around Mr Willy in his now very erect and very hard state. The two halves of the device began to contract as Portia – armed with a screwdriver – began to tighten it. There was a brief but exquisite sensation of full engorgement, before there came a tightness and frustration that made me gasp through the funnel.

“You like?” Portia teased, her hand now gripping my manhood and squeezing further, before moving it around like a gear stick. “Good.” Maybe it’s time to get you ready as well.” She undid the funnel and removed it, jamming the stopper back in place so that once again my mouth was effectively plugged, allowing noises to escape only through my nose. I could now look down at my dick standing at attention, with a one-inch plastic collar constricting the base of it. Looking at the collar made it at once feel even tighter and more uncomfortable, swollen as the portion above the collar was, looking pink and ready for action despite the discomfort.

Portia untied my ankles and while there was relief in being able to let my feet down, a jarring pain shot through them as the soles touched the floor. I moaned, which made Portia smile as she untied the connecting rope securing my handcuffs to the chair rung.

“Get up!” she snapped, pulling me to my feet by my nipple rings. I gasped as more pain shot through my feet. Now I knew what a firewalker went through when things went wrong. I staggered and nearly fell from the shock of it, but Portia wrenched my nipples and pulled me after her. Making little noises of protest I could do nothing but follow, each step sending a new wave of agony through my nerve endings.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be on your back for the rest of the day,” Portia laughed harshly.

We moved into a room that might once have been intended as a big study or some other such hideaway where one could write one’s novel or autobiography perhaps. One wall was glazed from floor to ceiling and looked out along the rocky beach on the opposite side of the house to the beach where the girls had been tied the previous day. There was no balcony outside the window and we seemed to be hanging thirty feet above the sand.

The room might once have been a study, but it was devoid of any such trappings now. Focal point of the room was now Monica, attended by Bradley, for Jax had evidently gone off for further supplies. Monica was leaning back on a device like an enormous pair of stocks. The two wooden halves trapped Monica’s arms behind her as the top of her biceps passed through the holes, with her wrists presumably secured behind and beneath the planks, which extended down to her buttocks on a slope like a lectern. Monica’s legs were bent wide and pulled back beneath the device, anchored in cuffs locked to the main supporting structure.

Bradley stepped back as we entered.

“This is a wonderful device which dear Monica is going to try out.” He held up a small control panel like the remote to a TV set, connected by a wire to the stocks. “It operates like one of those beds for invalids.” He pushed a button and there was a quiet whirring. The surface with Monica on it dropped gently floorwards then stopped. Bradley pushed another button and the device tilted further, bringing Monica into a more vertical position, transferring weight on to her trapped arms and legs. Bradley reached over and stroked Monica’s right breast, toying with the nipple that was adorned with a ring like mine.

We were soul mates, Monica and I, and these rings were a badge of honour, identifying the tortures we had been through together, our nipples pierced by Portia some years before in one of the blacker moments of Bilboes existence. Now the wheel had turned full cycle, and once again we were trapped in Portia’s clutches, although this time with the evil presence of Bradley adding to the sick feeling in my stomach.

Monica made a low moan behind the gag as Bradley squeezed the nipple hard.

“I’m going to enjoy today,” Bradley said simply.

“Me too,” Portia agreed. No further elaboration was necessary to understand that our fate was not going to be a pleasant one for us.

“Over here,” Portia ordered me, tugging on my own nipple ring. In my concern for Monica I had overlooked a padded leather bench that sat at right angles to the wall like the top off a vaulting horse. “On there, astride,” Portia said. Jax bustled in at that point and with one woman on each arm I was made to sit astride the bench.

It was just above knee height, and slightly wider than my body. Jax took a two metre metal pole half the thickness of her wrist and passed it through a couple of holes in the sides of the bench a foot from the wall so that it stuck out parallel with the wall like a cross.

That was when they unlocked my handcuffs, and that was the one chance I had to escape. It was also when they realised exactly that, and I never stood a chance. The pair of them pushed me on to my back on the bench and bent my arms back to the pole, where first one arm and then the other was taped to the pole with duct tape. Whatever else happened, I was immovably secured to the bench, awaiting their every whim and pleasure.

Jax grabbed my dick, still erect and engorged and toyed with it.

“Nice work, Portia, my dear. I hope it wasn’t too difficult?”

“Easy-peasy” said Portia. “Men are such children. They think through their dicks,” she scoffed. “A little touch of a drug and the blood rushes down there and they have no control. I will have this thing raw by the end of the day, and our little boy here will be begging me to stop and pleading for me to let him climax.” Jax laughed, then remembered Bradley – another member of the male gender – was in the room, and nudged Portia, inclining her head towards Bradley.

“No offence, Bradley,” Portia added, though it was plain that she included him in her demeaning generalisation of the male species. Bradley said nothing, and I couldn’t see his expression. I did see further conspiratorial looks exchanged between Jax and Portia in the way only women do.

Portia ran her fingernails over my dick in a way that made me squirm and shudder.

“Ugggnnh!” I moaned around the gag.

“Not so fast, big boy,” Portia said. “Pain comes with pleasure, pride goeth before a fall, too. You’re in for a lot of pain, a big fall, and a lot of my pleasure.”

Things happened very fast after that. Bradley disappeared, only to return – shirtless – with an ugly-looking flogger. He was in good shape for his age, and his body was muscled and tanned, with the tattoo of a snake spiralling down his chest to disappear into his trousers. I didn’t even want to think how the work of art ended up.

The first thwack of the leather thongs on Monica’s taut and helpless body echoed within the room. Jax sat down in a chair to watch the proceedings while I struggled futilely against the tape binding my arms. Seeing Monica suffer like that drove me into a rage in a way I have rarely experienced, and my utter helplessness made the emotion at once unfamiliar and awful.

Portia paused briefly to watch the flogging, and to take in Monica’s gagged cries with a smirk of satisfaction while I growled my fury against the rubber ball in my mouth. As though my grunts of rage brought Portia back to the present, she turned her attention to me and flourished a rubber hood. I groaned inwardly. It looked like the one I was subjected to on the ship, and its prelude was Portia stuffing plugs into my ears then taping my eyes closed with duct tape, before she and Jax dragged the tight-fitting rubber hood over my head.

At once I was trapped in darkness and silence, the pressure clamping evenly over my scalp and jaw, pulling it tighter on the ball trapped in my mouth. The smell of the rubber was the strongest sense, save for the tape binding my arms immovably. Sight and sound had now been stifled, and my discomfort became more intense as I felt the increased pressure as the hood was pumped up. I rolled my head feebly from side to side, trying to discern what was happening around me, but of course this was futile. The only blessing that came with this sensory deprivation was that Monica’s despairing gagged cries were now silenced from my ears, though the memory of them still echoed disconcertingly in my brain.

I lay there, trying to control my breathing and scared of what might come out of the blackness. I felt ropes encircle each ankle and then my legs were pulled up and backwards, the ropes being tied around the cross bar at the points of my wrists. If I had been exposed before, I was doubly exposed now, my arse in the air and available to all who might take an interest. Despite all this, Mr Willy was still at full stretch, and every now and then a long-nailed hand would caress him to maintain his interest. This was not hard to achieve, and further restraints of thin cord wrapped around him in a series of ever tightening turns brought an exquisite pain that I could do nothing to relieve.

I had believed Mr Willy to be as hard as he could possibly be, such was the intensity of the feelings coming from him. When the cold hardness of a conical butt plug began to be pushed into my arse things only seemed to get tighter and harder for my dick. I was breathing hard as I struggled as best I could, which in fairness was a mere squirm of frustration. Whoever was doing the butt plug thing was in no hurry to get it in, as they played with the sphincter muscle and caused me to make plaintive grunts of pain.

Finally, as the pain reached a new peak, there was a sudden surge of fullness and the plug was forced in to its full depth. I snorted as a rushing ache shot through my guts, still getting over the effects of the enema only an hour before. So far I had had a pipe, a brush and a plug shoved up my arse and the morning was still young.

The thing that really scared me, however, was the sudden sensation that there were wires attached to the plug, as they brushed my buttocks. I felt further wires leading on to my chest and delicate fingers attached these to my nipple rings. Like a victim in a dentist’s chair I prepared myself as best I could for the worst.

When it came, my mental preparations were completely inadequate, as the current shot through my arse and nipples and I writhed and tugged against the ropes anchoring my ankles. My tormentor’s answer to this was to simply tighten the ropes so that my feet were pulled further and tauter backwards over my head. My further struggles were rewarded with another blinding pain as a cane cracked across my backside. I realised now that it was Monica’s turn to suffer through being forced to watch my torture, while I was held in my black world of pain that matched the black world of despair in my brain.

* * *

10.02.06

story continues in Monica's Justice - Captives of Shark Island

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