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Monica and the Black Fortress

by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)

(story continues from Monica and the Black Fortress)

Chapter Nine  –  Backwoods Prison: Trish’s Story

Not for the first time I wondered why things seemed to happen to me whenever Monica went away.  While she had been in Hong Kong, Wayne Bennelli had broken into Bilboes and had all but carried off this same terrifying abduction, prevented then only by the presence of mind of Mary and Shawnee.  On our round the world trip – following along behind Monica – I had wound up in the hands of Portia in Hong Kong, and then the sadistic Earl of Penrhoth in England, having very painful things done to me.

If those instances had been bad, this one was terrifying.  I lay on my side in the boot of the car, bound hand and foot and gagged very securely with duct tape that was wrapped around my mouth trapping a sponge ball inside and locking my jaw shut.  Everything seemed to hurt at the moment.  Ropes melded my wrists together and tugged painfully at my elbows.  Once he had got me into the boot, Wayne had bound my ankles and knees, then had run a rope from my ankles to my wrists, back between my knees, and up to my neck, where he tied it off.  I was bound into a ball, and any attempt to struggle just pulled everything tighter and would start to threaten my breathing.  The big butt plug jammed up my arse and the painful clips still gripping my nipples told me he wanted to make us suffer at every available opportunity.

Mary lay beside me in the darkness.  She had not had the nipple clips fitted, but she was blindfolded, whereas I was not.  For all the difference it made, I would far rather have been in the dark without the biting ache on each of my most tender places.  Mary, too, had been bound into a ball.  I’d watched the expression of relish on Bennelli’s face when as he had pulled the ropes immovably tight, perspiring with the effort that brought forth grunts from Mary with each tightening tug.  Now she was immobile as we were transported somewhere, with the road noise and vibrations from a clearly non-maintained car drumming through our bodies.  If Mary made any sound, I couldn’t hear it above the road noise.

At one stage we must have pulled into a petrol station.  There was a clunking of a nozzle against the side of the car, somewhere close to my ear.  I strained at the ropes and made plaintive mmphing sounds around the ball and through the tape, but I was sure I couldn’t be heard.  Certainly any attempts to kick or bang the inside of the car boot were hopeless.  I could barely move my fingers, and the feeling was slowly disappearing from them while my feet were also turning numb.  That only left my head, and I wasn’t about to knock myself out on the remote chance of somebody hearing.

Then we were off again.  The road noise changed to a rougher, bumpier ride, and there seemed to be more and sharper curves.  We were going slower than before, but I’m sure Bennelli was still travelling faster than necessary for the road, just to ensure his bound cargo slid about and had an unpleasant time.  If I could have talked I would have been able to assure him he was doing a good job.

I have no idea how long the ride lasted.  Maybe an hour and a half, maybe two hours.  It seemed to go on forever, and I was getting woozy from fumes when we finally stopped.  There was a pause and what might have been the sound of a gate swinging open on squeaky hinges.  Then our driver was back in the car and we had turned off the road on to a gravel track of some sort.  

There was another halt while the gate was closed again, before we were bumping up a rutted, potholed trail that was obviously meant to be taken at a walking pace, but which our captor took at a faster speed for our benefit.  Mary and I were bounced about, sometimes against the sides, sometimes each other.  There were some tools and other rubbish, as there always seems to be in car boots, and I kept landing on something hard, which dug into my left side.  I knew I would have a nice display of bruises from this, and Mary would be even more painfully decorated, adding this to the beating she had already received from Bennelli.  I already felt guilty about causing her unnecessary strokes of the cane, but then Mary never knew when to shut up herself.  Dearly as I loved her, she sometimes had an attitude problem.

More bouncing, then grinding to a halt.  The boot lid opened and I drew in a grateful breath of fresh air, looking up at Bennelli’s ugly frame silhouetted against a pale blue sky starting to darken with the onset of dusk.  

“Enjoy ya ride girls?  Good.  ‘Cos it’s one long ride from here on.  It’ll get better every day.” He laughed and pulled out a wicked-looking knife.  For a moment I thought he was going to stab us right there, but he sliced through the rope holding my body bent into a ball, then hauled me clumsily out of the boot before dumping me face down in a mud puddle.  I squealed under the tape, both with the unexpectedness of the cold clinging mud, and the fact that my dress was open down the front and my breasts took much of the impact, along with the terrible nipple clips.  I squirmed onto my side, feeling the slippery mud sliding between my thighs and snorting through my nose to get rid of the bit that I had managed to inhale.  He laughed again, and moments later Mary was dumped face down beside me.

“Fancy a mud bath?” he grinned.  “Good for ya skin, eh girls.”  Mary, blindfolded with the tape, also squirmed in the mud, not knowing what she was in, but managing to wriggle upright, mud all over her pvc top and lycra skirt, which now clung even more closely to her thighs.

He reached down and grabbed Mary’s ankles where the ropes wrapped around the leather of her thigh boots, and raising them to a convenient height, began to drag her across the grass around the side of the car.  Mary mmphed and grunted with pain as her skirt rode up and her already bruised bottom was subjected to further discomfort.  No doubt the butt plug was bumping up inside her.  I couldn’t see where they were going because the car was in the way, but I used the brief time I had to struggle into a half-sitting position and to look around.  

We were in a small valley, with low but steep forested hills on one side and cleared but scrubby coverage on the other.  The car was parked beside what might have been a barn of some sort, but it looked pretty derelict.  The ground sloped up from the barn for maybe fifty metres, to an old house that was probably shearers’ quarters at some stage in a past life.  It was a single storey wooden structure with the typical Australian verandah all round, and hadn’t seen a coat of paint for fifty years.  

Behind me, in the opposite direction to the house, the sun had dipped behind the trees and the hills, and the bottom of the little valley was in the shadow that was the prelude to dusk.  At any other time the scene would have been idyllic – peaceful and pastoral, the calm broken only by the odd squawk of a crow or the distant laughter of a kookaburra. 

The tranquillity was shattered by the return of Bennelli, and I knew I was about to get the same treatment as Mary.  Sure enough, he grabbed my boots and dragged me roughly through another small patch of mud, and on to the grass.  My undone dress immediately rode up around my waist and my backside was subjected to the bumps and tussocky humps that sprouted through the long grass.  I grunted behind the tape as I slid about in the course of a twenty-metre haul that predictably made the butt plug thrust uncomfortably up my arse, more so with each thump over a grassy knob.  

I saw my destination – a cage of sorts that stood alone in the grass next to the barn.  It was about two metres by one and rectangular in shape, built around four solid poles that were embedded into the ground and rose a metre and a half high.  A wooden floor had been constructed of split poles, leaving a crawl space beneath the floor.  There was no closed roof, only the same heavy gauge galvanised reinforcing mesh that made up the walls.  The mesh bars were maybe five millimetres thick and spaced too closely to get a hand through, I judged.  A barred grille formed a door in the middle of one of the long sides, and this now stood open.  Mary, still bound, gagged and blindfolded, lay on her side on the floor of the cage.

When we reached the cage Bennelli picked me up easily and dumped me on the floor beside Mary, his hands encircling my breasts and groping them roughly, tugging on the chain linking the two nipple clips.  I moaned behind the tape as the pain shot through my tender flesh like two needles – a reaction which prompted further tugging by him, further stifled screams by me, and his obvious amusement.  He climbed in beside me and picked up a heavy chain with one end already locked around a corner post.  The free end he now locked around my neck, and I saw that Mary was already similarly secured.  Escaping from this cage was clearly not going to be easy – or even likely, if I admitted our true plight to myself.

Bennelli climbed out and without ceremony swung the grille shut before snicking a heavy padlock closed at top and bottom.

“See you later, ladies.  Have a nice night.”  Then he was gone, walking up the path in the rapidly fading light, towards the house.

I lay there for a couple of minutes, catching my breath and letting my heart rate settle down.  We were in a real predicament, and couldn’t stay like this all night.  Bennelli had no concept of safe bondage, and everything he did was designed to inflict maximum discomfort and pain.  He didn’t care if our circulation was cut off, nor would he be back to check on us.  Even if we could somehow free ourselves and open the cage, with the chains about our throats we wouldn’t be going far.

Mary groaned softly.  I mmphed back to her, but it’s hard to express moral support with a sponge ball taped inside your mouth.  Unfortunately Mary couldn’t see and thus could not properly appreciate our situation.  Both of us, however, had experienced enough bondage situations to know where our best chance lay to free ourselves – our only chance, for that matter.  

Stretching out along the cage, I worked myself beside Mary – my feet at her head and my bound hands against hers, as we lay back to back.  The split pole floor was made with the rounded sides upwards, and was hellish uncomfortable to lie on.  It was also very solid, however – nothing about this cage looked like being sub-standard, I admitted to myself.

My fingers were becoming numb as I began to work on the ropes binding Mary’s wrists.  It was not easy, for the knots were many and some were difficult to reach.  Every so often I had to stop and ease the cramps that were setting in, but I was making some progress.  The ropes tight at my elbows were really starting to hurt, now, and it was probably these as much as anything that were affecting my circulation.  

After perhaps a quarter of an hour I finally got the ropes off Mary’s wrists and squirmed further down to get at the ropes binding her elbows.  I found I could not reach them, however, and for a moment I panicked, as the chain drew tight around my neck as I was a few centimetres short.

“Mmrry!  Ur hrrn rrsh ur…” I garbled unintelligibly to Mary, trying to convey the problem.  I managed to grasp her pvc top and pull it a tiny bit down the cage, and she realised my intention at once, wriggling sufficiently to allow my hands to reach the elbow ropes.

The knots were tight and it took me ages to get them free, by which time darkness had fallen and there was a decided chill in the air.  I had the feeling we were in for a very cold and uncomfortable night.  When I finally freed the last rope, I was exhausted.  It had been a simple task, seemingly, but lying in a constant tensed position while concentrating on mentally picturing what I was doing had drained me.  Mary groaned – a sound made up of relief and respite from the biting cords.  She slowly straightened her arms out in front of her, making small grunting noises as she did so.

I expected her to undo the tape on her head, or at least the cords at her knees and ankles, but instead she rolled over and began to undo – by touch – the ropes bound around my wrists.  I felt enormous gratitude at this, and comfort in that Mary and I were like minded.  We knew when the other was in pain, and that some things were more important than others. We had been together too long not to understand the realities of this life.

I snorted with the exquisite pain that came as my blood flowed back through my arms and hands after Mary finally got the knots undone.  It was too dark to help her undo the tape on her head – we would have to manage this on our own. Knowing that it would not be a quick process, both of us in our gagged state in the darkened cage attended to priorities first.  I gasped and groaned as I slowly eased the terrible bite of the jaws on my nipples, finally removing the clips and dropping them outside the cage.  I zipped up the front of my dress, for I was feeling decidedly cold, and then set about undoing the ropes around my legs.  Both of us were quiet for quite a while as we attended to our bonds, with only the sound of our laboured nasal breathing breaking the night silence.  

With the blood returning to my legs I could finally undo the rope around my waist and then the doubled up one through my crotch.  The pressure eased on the butt plug that had remained trapped up my arse until now, and I squatted in a corner to work it free as slowly as possible.  It was a case of not wanting to crap in one’s own nest.

I could then turn my attention to the tape wrapped around my head.  Removing it was a long process.  A nearly full moon rose over the mountains as I laboriously found the ends of the tape by touch and slowly unwound it, making little sounds of pain as I tried to detach the tape from my hair in the least painful fashion.

I was finished first and waited patiently for Mary to catch up.  In the cold light of the moon we found we had just enough length on our chains to hug each other as the night closed in on our prison cage.

*   *   *

Predictably we found it difficult to sleep in the cage.  We were cold and the boards were hard and uncomfortable to sit on, and the mud caked on our bodies didn’t help things.  Despite being chained at the neck to the posts, we still explored the cage as best we could in the pale moonlight.  We found the mesh to be firmly screwed on to the wooden frame, and no amount of kicking it or pushing against it had any effect.  We discovered a removable piece of flooring right in the middle, about fifteen centimetres square, beneath which there appeared to be a darker hole, which I confirmed by dangling a bit of the cord down.  The cord was at least two metres long but did not touch the bottom of the hole.

“You know what that is?” I said to Mary.

“What?”

“The john.  He’s built this over a long drop – were caged in the outdoor dunny.”

“The ultimate in modern conveniences,” Mary said without humour, replacing the two short pieces of wood that had been lifted from the hole.  “No more having to get up in the night to pee.  Just do it where you sit…”

We also found a similar sized circular opening in each end of the cage, cut into the mesh at about mid height.  It looked like part of the cage could be removed, for it was hinged at the top and locked in place at the bottom, forming a sort of port hole, but far too small and solid to squeeze through. 

After we had done our explorations we talked for a bit, but we were cold and hungry and sore, and eventually we ended up trying to sleep.  We could not snuggle up like spoons, for the chains weren’t long enough to have both our heads at one end.  We ended up cuddling each other’s legs, our boots just below each other’s chin, being careful not to cause damage with our spiky heels, while wondering at our decision to wear them today.  Mary at least had some protection from the cold, since her black leather boots laced up to mid thigh, while my white zip-up ones only came to below my knees.  Nevertheless, they provided better protection from everything – cold, ropes, you name it - than if we had worn ordinary stilettos.  I tried to convince myself that things could always be worse. 

Somehow we must have dozed, though I couldn’t remember doing so.  I seemed to be permanently awake and shivering.  At various stages we’d sit up and hug our knees, but nothing could get us warm.  It seemed an eternity before the hilltops began to grow light in the east.  Bird calls started and there were grunts from a nearby copse of trees as some grey kangaroos came out to feed in the long grass.  We watched with envy as they bounded effortlessly away down the hill.

The sun finally appeared and we began to absorb some warmth into our bodies, able now to look about our surroundings with more clarity but no less certainty that we were well and truly prisoners to be dealt with at the whim of Wayne Bennelli.

Bennelli appeared about an hour later.  The sun was warming us up by that stage and held the promise of a warm winter’s day.  He came strolling down the path from the house with a bucket in his hands and what looked like two broom handles under his arm.  When he got nearer I saw that he had a small pack on his back as well.  I didn’t like the look of any of this.

“Good morning pets,” he grinned.  “Have we had a comfortable night?”

Please don’t tell him to fuck off, Mary, I willed.  Mary didn’t even look at him, but stared at some distant point down the valley and said nothing.  I did the same.

“Want some food?”  This was a hard question to ignore.  We had to eat to keep our strength up.  Starving ourselves would get us nowhere.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes what?”  he demanded, obviously peeved at our act of ignoring him.

“Yes please…sir…” I ventured.  He smiled.

“Very good.  You’re a smart one, Trish.  Would ya friend like some breakfast?” He looked at Mary.  She dropped her head.

“Yes please… sir…” I could almost hear her teeth gritted.  Bennelli’s grin returned.  He was now putting into place the start of our torture that he had been planning for God knew how many months.  Blind Freddy could see that much.  This was just the preliminary stuff.  Heaven knew what else he had prepared earlier and which now probably waited for us in some nasty form.

“You’re improving, Mary.  I see my little orientation session yesterday had the right effect.  Get used to it - there’s plenty more where that came from.  Now, let me explain about breakfast.”  He moved to Mary’s end of the cage and unlocked two padlocks that held down the top half of the porthole grating.  When he raised it, the opening turned from a circular one to one with a semi-circular lower half and a square upper part.   “If you want your breakfast, Mary, you’ll put your head through this hole.”

Mary eyed it dubiously, then decided it was either do as he said or starve, and or get beaten for refusing to cooperate.  Cautiously she moved on her hands and knees and poked her head through the hole.  It was just at the level of her shoulders when she was on all fours, so that her back was level.  Bennelli pushed her head down and swung the upper half of the grille down then padlocked it.  Mary’s neck was now trapped like a pillory, and the fit within the circular metal band looked very snug.

“You’re next, Trish.”

Likewise, I didn’t have much choice in the matter, and after I had pushed my neck chain out of the way, I pushed my head through the extended opening and felt the top part of the metal ring come down on the back of my neck.  I suddenly felt very vulnerable, particularly when Bennelli climbed into the cage.  

I found out then that I couldn’t see behind me at all.  I felt the lower part of my dress being lifted up and his hands over my naked buttocks.  There was some rattling about and the sound of the broom handles clattering on the floor.

“I’ve made these adjustable rods,” he explained to us, though neither of us could see what he was doing.  There are two pairs and each pair can extend and then be taped together to that length.  Guess where they’re going?”

I thought it was a rhetorical question until a hand slapped me hard on one buttock cheek.

“Guess where they’re going!” he demanded fiercely.  His abrupt rage scared me.

“In my backside…sir….”

“Not just in your little backside, sweetie, but Mary’s as well,” he said, suddenly cheerful again.  “Butt to butt, joined like Siamese twins, except that you’ll be joined pussy to pussy as well, with the other pair of rods.  Shit, this is so much fun!”  I groaned inwardly, knowing this was the start of the torture we had dreaded, but neither of us had been game to speak of during the long night.

That was when I felt the first nuzzle of a butt plug, that seemed to be attached to the broom handle.  He was far from gentle, and I was forced to grip the mesh with my hands and grit my teeth as he finally plunged the plug inside of me.

“Aarrhhh!” I cried, unable to help myself as the big plug pushed past my sphincter muscle and filled me uncomfortably full.  He then must have dropped the end of the pole, for the plug then seemed to tilt upwards inside of me and I squirmed to ease the discomfort, but unsuccessfully.  He turned his attention to Mary, and a minute later I could hear her breath turning to a series of barely suppressed gasps as presumably the same thing happened to her.  Then my pole was picked up again and the plug wobbled about inside as he taped the two poles together.  There was now a steady pressure on the plug, resisting any attempt by me to move backwards.  At first, though my neck was firmly secured in the collar at the end wall of the cage, I could at least have knelt on my haunches or been able to move a bit.  Now, with the plug firmly jammed up my arse, I was compelled to stay on all fours, and unable to move forward to ease the load because my shoulders were pressed against the end wall of the cage.

But worse was to come, as the second intruder found its way into my pussy.  It was a big fat monster that forced my legs apart and seemed to go on and on.  It was like a fence post being pushed inside of me.  I groaned, and that was exactly what Bennelli wanted to hear, for he shoved it in further.  My mouth was now open like a panting dog as I closed my eyes and struggled to accommodate the beast with the other plug already restricting me.  I could sense movements by Mary as she shifted her weight, the motion transferring itself through the poles into my butt plug.  I broke into a sweat as the big phallus finally halted, my pussy muscles stretched and straining around it.  I couldn’t remember when I had last been so filled to capacity. 

Again there was the sense of the end of the pole being dropped on the floor, tilting the dong up inside me, and I had a minute or so to come to grips with the engorged sensation while Mary suffered the same treatment – or so I presumed from the barely suppressed gasps from her end of the cage.  Then it was the same thing as before – the two poles must have been taped together, and Mary and I found ourselves interacting even more, as every tiny movement by Mary was now communicated to me in the most intimate way.

Bennelli crawled up beside me and slapped me hard on the bottom.  I jumped, at once wishing I hadn’t, and prompting an intake of breath from Mary.  

“Here’s your breakfast,” he said, and I was conscious of something placed beside my left hand.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see a banana and a bread roll.  He moved away and said the same thing to Mary.  “Enjoy.”

I realised then exactly what he’d done, with my hands trapped inside the cage and my head  outside, eating was going to be quite a problem.  The mesh openings were only five centimetres square – enough to barely poke a few fingers through.  That was the first problem.  In then found that I really needed both hands on the floor to avoid putting too much pressure on my throat, since my arms were supporting the top half of my body.  And of course every time I moved my arms the damned dildo and plugs moved disconcertingly inside me.  To say it was a distraction was to put a very positive spin on it.

But I had little choice in the matter, if I wanted to eat.  I slid the banana across between my hands and gradually peeled the skin from it.  That was the easy part.  I now had to get it through the bars to my mouth.  It was a big banana – fresh and thick, not unlike a few other things I’ve had in my mouth from time to time.  I wondered if this was part of what Bennelli wanted to see.  It took me several attempts to get the banana through the bars, with one hand poked through to guide it and the other feeding it.  At the edge of my vision I was conscious of Bennelli watching me, a huge grin on his face.  He had something in his hand, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was.  Finally I managed to get the end of the banana into my mouth, and knew I would somehow have to eat the whole thing while retaining it there without the benefit of my hands.  At that point the lower end slipped from my grasp and I was left half-biting and sucking on the banana, struggling between actually biting off a bit and chewing it, and retaining the remainder in my mouth.  

I sucked for a moment, gently getting my teeth into the soft flesh and concentrating furiously on coping with the weight of it.  I thought I had the battle won when there was a sudden burst of pain in my arse, and a mad vibration in my pussy.  God! I was not just plugged, but wired as well!  Shitshitshit!  In a moment of panic I bit too hard, half choked and three quarters of the banana dropped to the ground as I squirmed in surprise and pain.  Bennelli laughed as though he would die.  I wished he would, though we would then be stuck there.  No, perhaps now was the wrong time.

“Urrrgh!” I blurted in disappointment, then chewed and swallowed the big mouthful of banana.  “Mary, the plugs are wired!  Be ready for it when you eat.”

“Yes, Mary,” Bennelli spluttered in what I took to be a poor imitation of my voice.  “Be ready for it when you eat.”

The sensations had been only brief but I had not expected them.  I knew moments later when Mary received a shock, for the two plugs inside me jerked reactively and there was a grunt from Mary.

“She’s doing much better than you,” Bennelli told me smugly.  “Obviously has more sucking power,” he sniggered.  “She might even get the whole banana in… Yes!”

I pictured Mary with bulging cheeks struggling to deal with the whole fruit, and at the same time there were more thrusts from the plugs as she obviously had to cope with more electrical stimulation with her mouth full.  The jerking on the plugs continued, while Bennelli gave encouragement.

“Don’t choke on me, Mary.  There’s so much more to look forward to – for me, that is.”  I could hear nasal grunts and heavy breathing as Mary strove to deal with the painful and stimulating electrical impulses while trying to eat and breathe at the same time.  Finally things calmed down.

“You shit,” said Mary in a low voice, which was not a wise thing to do.  In this case I was the one who received a dose of electricity in both passages, and both hurt.

“Arrrgh!  Owwww! “  Cramp-like pains shot through my lower body.

“Ya see, Mary?  Insubordination means your friend gets hurt.”  The pains stopped and I was gasping and groaning.  “What d’ya say, Mary?”

“I’m sorry…” Another burst inside me.

“Ohhh – Jesus!”

“I’m sorry –sir!”

“You’re a slow learner, Mary, but I don’t mind that.  I have lots of time and patience.  Indeed, I’m rather looking forward to it.”

The bread roll was marginally better than the banana in that it was more flexible and could be squashed a bit – again, like some things I’ve had in my mouth, and elsewhere.  Given how hungry I was, this tasted much better than most.  I had now experienced the pain, and was expecting it.  When it came, I was prepared, and clamped my teeth down on the roll like a dog.  There was no way I was letting go of it, and I grunted through the electrical cramps as though I was gagged, in a struggle to see who could outlast who. Finally Bennelli relented and the pain eased off.  I was still snorting and whining, but I had my bread roll, and managed to eat it, while Mary obviously went through a similar trial at the other end, and the plugs lurched about inside me.

“Would you like something to drink?” Bennelli asked.

“Yes please, sir” I said, knowing – and resigned to the inevitability of it all – that whatever form it took it would be unpleasant.  I was right.  It took the form of a ball gag strapped into my mouth, the ball having a plastic hose nozzle fitted through the middle of it.  The moment I saw this, I knew I would rather stay thirsty, but I had no choice in the matter as he grabbed my ponytail and pulled my head back, tilting my jaws apart and allowing the hard rubber ball to slip between my teeth and the strap to be tightened behind my neck.  The hose plugged into the nozzle with an ominous click.

He walked away and a moment later the cold water was flowing into my mouth.  It was not excessively forceful, and I found I could cope with it.  Swallowing around the rubber ball was not easy, but somehow I managed – at least for the first minute or two, anyway.  Then I began to get tired and feel very satisfied.  I found I was lagging behind in swallowing and it began to leak out around the rubber ball, though not much, for the ball was a tight fit.  Suddenly I was in real distress, struggling to breath and not have water going down my windpipe.  It was getting up my nose and I began to panic, struggling against the steel locked around my throat and against the big plugs jammed inside me.  There was a roaring in my ears and I thought I heard Mary’s voice in the distance pleading for Bennelli to stop whatever he was doing.  I was choking and drowning and straining every nerve to resist the blackness that was starting to overwhelm me.

Then the water stopped and the gag was undone, and I was coughing and gasping for all I was worth.  My body was wracked with spasms, all of which impacted on the plugs and no doubt Mary felt every cough transferred straight up her rectum and pussy, as I was to be on the receiving end of, minutes later.  I had almost recovered my breath, but was still dribbling water from my nose in most undignified fashion, and was unable to do anything about it when Mary began to snort and splutter, and I knew she was getting the same treatment.  The two dongs tilted and moved inside me as Mary struggled to cope with her water torture and I accommodated the squirming invaders as best I could.  The day was young, but already I felt worn down by the cold night and what we were now going through.

When Mary had drunk her fill, as Bennelli would probably have viewed it, she was left to recover while he walked into the barn to fetch something.  But of course simply leaving us to recover, would have been too easy, and he obviously felt obliged to turn the butt plug electrodes on.  I couldn’t see how they were powered, but I suspected it was by battery somehow, since I’d not seen any sign of an electrical cord.  

Whatever the power source, the power was cranked up to near maximum, and it buzzed painfully in may arse.  I could just reach behind with my hand, but couldn’t manage to get to anything that might have been a switch.  I came into contact with the upper wooden pole, which ended in tape where the plug was joined to the end, and the tape seemed to be wound down the pole, presumably covering the wiring.  I must have moaned out loud after a minute or so.

“You okay?” Mary asked, her voice sounding hoarse and strained.

“Uh-huh…” I said.  “How much longer are we going to have to suffer this, d’you think?”

“Go knows.  I’m sure he’s up to something more.”

“Uhhh…” I groaned, not wanting to think about that.

When Bennelli returned a few minutes later it seemed like I had a hot poker up my backside.  I was panting and trying to stay focussed on anything except the pain. 

“Had enough?” he asked with a grin.

“Yes, thank you sir,” I replied meekly.  “Please turn it off.”  He grinned again.

“I’ll turn it off when I’m good and ready, Trish, not when you suggest it.  Is it really uncomfortable?”

“Uhh yes, sir.  It’s…really bad…” I wasn’t making this up.  “I think I’m going to scream… I don’t think I can take much more.”

“That’s okay, Trish.  I figured you might need a little help there, so I’ve brought this along.”  He held up a black leather discipline hood and moved over to stand alongside my head, taking hold of my ponytail again.  I knew what was coming, but couldn’t help myself.

“No, please, just turn off the – Urrgh! Mmmph!”  A large squishy sponge ball was compressed and pushed into my mouth, after which my ponytail was undone and the hood was pulled over my head.  It had two eyeholes and a zippered mouth as well as a nose outlet.  I suspected it was one of ours he had nicked from the dungeon when he ransacked the place the previous day.  He laced up the back and I felt the smooth leather become tight across my cheeks, mouth and chin.  Somehow, though, it felt slightly different from normal, as though it had been modified, but there was nothing I could immediately discern.

When he had laced it as tight as he could, there was the soft snick of a padlock going through the bottom eyelets at the back of my neck.  Then came something I hadn’t expected.  It was a rubber breathing mask, of the sort workers use in dusty areas or when spray painting.  It had a single filter in the front and was designed to cover nose and mouth.  This one, however, had been wrapped in stiff black leather and had a buckled leather strap rather than an elastic or rubber strap.  It also had what looked like three white pipe cleaners sticking out on each side at the front.  In fact, it looked like the muzzle of a dog.

I now saw where all this was going.  Bennelli buckled the mask on over the hood, pulling the strap tight at the back of my neck.  I sensed at once that breathing was more difficult as the rubber seal of the mask closed against the leather of the hood, the mixed scents of both mingling in my nostrils.  I shook my head to see if I could dislodge it, which prompted more mocking laughter form our captor.  He patted me on the head.

“Good dog.”

Bastard!  In some ways it was bearable what he was doing to us physically.  He was subjecting us to a physical torture that lowered his own esteem further in our eyes.  It was as though he was reduced in stature himself by having to torture us, but the humiliation we were now going to have to endure was something else again – a less physically painful, more mentally taxing form or torment.

He now climbed inside the cage and taking my left hand he folded it into a fist and wrapped it securely in silver duct tape..  The right hand was the next, and he could only reach this by climbing over the poles linking me with Mary.  Of course he was incapable of doing this without gripping them and waggling them about inside us.  The butt plugs were still giving out painful buzzes, and while I could now only make stifled gagged noises, Mary let out a soft cry which was predictably ignored.

Soon my right hand was also bound into a fist, and he had climbed back out with more painful waggling to start work on Mary.  I heard Mary’s laboured breathing become stifled as the gag went in, then the hood was secured, and finally another doggie muzzle.  Only at that point were the butt plugs mercifully turned off.  If I could have slumped, I would have, so keyed up was I from the painful electrical sensations inside me, but the presence of the poles and the rigid neck restraint minimised the movements I could manage.  Or so I thought.

Moments later the big vibrator started up inside my pussy, and I knew we were into the second stage.  He was clearly going to make us climax, playing off one against the other, seeing how long we could withstand the relentless vibration inside, before we started to weaken and make little adjusting pelvic movements, then some squirmings, then some discrete backward thrusts against each other.

Bennelli sat on a log at roughly the midpoint of the cage as the vibrations drummed into us, and we slowly weakened exactly as would be expected.  Mentally I strove to at least maintain my dignity longer than Mary.  Mary was proud and at times arrogant, and she would be absolutely loathing this treatment.  She would be determined not to give in to his ministrations, to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to a snorting, trembling wreck.  The very least I could do was to see if I could outlast her.  I treated it as a secret mental competition.  The minutes passed.  Perhaps a quarter of an hour went by, and I knew buttons were being pushed inside of me and juices were being released that I could not control with my mental abilities.  I tried surreptitiously squeezing my legs together, but that only made things worse, so big was this thing jammed inside me.  I detected very subtle movements to the plug up my arse as Mary shifted her weight.

After another five minutes I knew I was in real trouble.  I was sweating under the hood and in my pvc dress in the sun, despite my backside being exposed to the breeze.  This was really nothing to do with external heat.  This was internal, and my own fires were being stoked more than I could handle. I knew Mary had won this round, but I couldn’t withstand the rising tide any further.  As though some form of mental door had suddenly been opened and the charge had been sounded, a hot flush arose from my loins and I submitted to its urges.  I found myself thrusting backwards, a move which drove the plug in harder, stimulating me unfortunately more, as it must surely have done with Mary.  Was it a responding thrust I felt?

I didn’t know, nor did I care at this stage beneath a roar of blood in my ears which saw me grunting hard under the hood and mask.  I struggled to breathe through the mask and filter, and there were a few stars as the explosion in my loins drove me over the edge.  I was dimly aware of thrusts inside me which seemed to be unrelated to my own movements and it was only later that I learned that Mary had succumbed moments after me.  We must surely have looked like two dogs impaled on sticks – the original hot dogs, I thought later.  Despite the ball in my mouth, the hood and the mask, I cried out in animal fashion as the surge rushed through me.

“Nnnnnnnnmmph…!” 

Bennelli was also swept away with his own power, shouting at us to go for it, urging us on and calling us every foul name under the sun.  Somewhere in the midst of all of this I think I cried at the humiliation and depravity that was being forced on me.  My tears mingled with the sweat under the hood, and were overtaken by the uncontrollable rush of pleasure that finally suppressed all other sensations.

I was drained, limp and trembling still on all fours, and I could sense the same vibrations through the arse probe from Mary.  The electrical vibrations ceased, eliciting a heart-felt sigh from me.  I couldn’t hear anything from Mary, because of the hood and my own hoarse breathing ringing in my ears.  My eyes stung from sweat and tears.

“Wow, that was great!  Two bitches in heat!  You are a couple of animals all right!  Finally reduced to your real role in life.  That was really something.  I feel good, now.  Time for a beer, I think.  I’ll leave you two dogs to enjoy each other’s company.”

With that comment he walked off up the hill to the house, no doubt to sit on the porch and revel in our suffering in the sun.

As he walked away a thought occurred to me that he had not yet taken advantage of us personally.  I supposed that this pleasure was still to come, and that we would no doubt be raped in a major way.  It was not a pleasant thought and something I mentally steeled myself to accept as best I could.  Clearly he now wanted to humiliate us and wear us down, in a series of punishments that were entrees for the real thing, or prologues to the final act.  What scared me was what that final act might be. Bennelli had now kidnapped us and was going to be subjecting us to all manner of tortures that he could not hope to get away with if we were released.  The thought of the sawn-off shotgun sent shivers down my spine.

*  *   *

07.02.05

story continues in Monica and the Black Fortress

o0o