No… please… no.
Pansy’s eyes widened at stepmother’s comment.
Anything would be preferable to a commitment to Sloan… except the promise of the witch keeping her as her personal slave.
Cynthia’s finger traveled lower, and Pansy quivered when she felt two tapered fingers spread her denuded pussy lips and stroke along her moist folds.
Stepmother’s green eyes gazed into her frightened lavender stare, and Pansy felt her coaxing more juices with her stroking.
“You are such a good flower, Pansy,” Cynthia purred.
She continued to gaze into the humiliated eyes, knowing the girl would not dare to look away.
Even in climax, Cynthia insisted they keep their eyes open and acknowledge it was she who controlled them.
Pansy… she had had another name once, less than six months ago… but,
that
name was irrelevant, now.
She was another flower in stepmother’s garden, to be tended and weeded to excellent service.
Anything before her incarceration at the estate was too depressing and remote.
She was the stepmother’s Pansy, and any hope that she had of being sold to a kinder situation had just been dispelled, due to the violet eyes that had always intrigued her former lovers.
She had used her lavender eyes to persuade and flirt with Sloan and unknowingly earn her place in the garden.
Pansy felt her insides begin to spasm while the woman continued to stroke her exposed pink wrinkles.
She fought the urge to look up at the Master… she could feel his black eyes burning into her, shifting between the glistening issue from her cunt and the disparaging pain in her eyes.
Her heart rate quickened and she fought to control the quivering gasps of arousal the hateful woman was insisting upon.
The cruel green eyes narrowed, and the slightest edge of amusement crossed her lips while Pansy felt the damned response begin to claim her.
“You do not have permission, Pansy.”
Cynthia issued the taunting warning in her low seductive voice, and Pansy wanted to scream at the desire she saw building in the woman’s eyes while she tormented her.
“Yyyes, stepmother.”
Pansy’s eyes filled with tears, and she fought her response to the witch’s controlled stroking.
As fearful as she was of the woman and the promise of some cruel punishment, both of them knew that Cynthia was an expert at manipulating her arousal, and that she would continue her stepdaughter’s degradation until Pansy’s body betrayed her.
It seemed so unfair, as Sloan had already denied her completion earlier.
Pansy felt the pain of her nipples tightening further, squeezing the welts from the whip that had kissed across the tips only moments ago.
Her hips began to rock in an effort to elude the woman’s stroking, but the spasms constricted and the unavoidable release kept building.
At some point, she began whimpering.
Pansy thought of the numbness of the climax that would offer her a brief respite from the torture she had endured.
She knew that the punishment would be severe, and she fought the building heat as long as she could.
Pansy felt herself crest, and she gasped in a sob when the pulsing of her pussy gushed cream down her thigh.
“Oh, dear,” Cynthia purred.
“Such a bad, bad girl.”
She turned to Alexander while the girl continued to press into her hand.
“The cane, I think.”
She turned back to Pansy and brushed her wet cheeks with gentle, moist fingers, leaving cream from her orgasm on her face.
Cynthia curled a lock of Pansy’s hair behind her ear and stared into her humiliated tears.
“Directly on this disrespectful slut’s pussy.”
“Oh… Oh please, stepmother,” Pansy wailed as the last of her quivering had her pulling against her chains.
The cane burned like a knife even on her thighs, and she was terrified of the thought of it on her sensitive lips.
“Eyes open, girl,” Alexander ordered.
Pansy opened her eyes so wide that the violet was completely surrounded by white, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
The cane slashed up between her legs so quickly that it took a moment for her to register the pain.
“Aaayeee… aaayeee,” she screamed.
It felt as though she had been split open when her post climatic swollen sex received a direct blow.
Another strike lashed up and she screamed again, making incoherent promises to the cruel man.
One more, and she most probably would have the relief of unconsciousness… which was the reason that Alexander stopped.
When Pansy was able to regain her senses and the wails had subdued themselves to sobbing, she looked across the room to the awful wooden table that promised tortures of its own.
Through her tears, she saw the witch leaning over the platform with her sapphire robe raised to her hips, while Alexander’s long, slick cock pounded into her.
They were completely oblivious to the girl’s torment, with Cynthia gripping the opposite edge of the table and Alexander gripping her hips… watching himself plunge into his wife’s pussy.
Their eruptions were simultaneous and accompanied by almost triumphant calls of pleasure.
They usually were, after a particularly arousing exercise with one of the stepdaughters.
Pansy was left hanging in her chains with her pussy tortured and throbbing in agony, while the Mistress and Master righted themselves and their clothes.
They left the stone chamber without looking back at her… presumably to visit another flower in this dark dungeon garden.
The girl knew that she would be left to suffer her painful torment alone, until one of the servants brought her back to her cage.
Chapter II
Sloane traveled down Interstate 4, just south of the conglomerate of central Florida’s wonderland of attractions.
With so many visitors, his presence would be unremarkable.
There were small towns close by, and he glanced at his map and drove towards one to the south of the city.
He found a rooming house where he paid cash for one month’s rent to the widow who owned it.
She had two other boarders that were both well into their seventies, but Sloan’s charm won him the room over her garage.
She had agreed that the space with its outside entrance would be perfect, when he explained that he worked at night.
Sloan kept his things in his opened suitcase by the door, and he studied the newspaper he had purchased.
After a few minutes of scanning the crime reports, he had a pretty good indication where the poorer sections of the city just north were located.
He would begin at the bars on the fringes of these areas… the purgatory realm where the sluts hoped to meet wealthier men and wealthier men hoped to meet sluts.
Sloan was into his third night of prowling at another smoky pool hall, sitting alone at a table by the window and sipping his drink.
A few girls had brazenly approached him, swaying their tight jeaned hips in an exaggerated drunken roll.
He affected an easygoing manner and bought them drinks as he managed to send them away.
It was not a slut he was after… just yet.
It was almost eleven when the door opened and a pretty young blonde walked in.
She was dressed in jeans and a casual top, with her hair pulled back into a tail.
There was a fresh innocence about her, and that was something Sloan desired in his conquests.
Her eyes… Sloan always decided by the eyes… were a deep blue.
She walked up to a woman Sloan recognized as one who had approached him earlier in the evening.
She was currently wrapped around a middle-aged man who was obviously enjoying her attentions.
“Mom, I need a ride home,” the girl said.
“I thought you were staying at Nancy’s tonight.”
The woman replied irritably, keeping her eyes focused… as much as she was able to… on the man she had singled out.
“Brian called, and she decided to go out with him instead.”
The girl’s expression let Sloan know that she was well used to her mother’s behavior.
“Who’s this pretty little thing?” the targeted man slurred.
Sloan caught the beat of promise in the man’s inebriated eyes, when he considered that perhaps he had walked into an even better opportunity than he had originally thought.
Sloan scanned the bar for one of his earlier stalkers, and he caught the eye of a washed out brunette who was sitting by herself and drinking away her misery.
He waved her over, and she staggered to his table with her beer.
“Thought you wanted to be alone,” she muttered.
Peggy was not having a very good night, even though this guy had bought her a beer earlier.
Losing Reggie to Patsy an hour ago had pretty much assured Peggy that tonight was going to be a bust for her… and she needed twenty dollars more for rent.
Sloan smiled and said, “I guess I need some company, after all.”
Peggy shrugged and sat down with an awkward thump that caused her beer bottle to slam on the table.
“Damn heels,” she cursed, and reached down to rub her ankle.
She looked back at the man and felt pleased that he had come to his senses and finally singled her out.
He was maybe even richer than the usual fare that came into the bar in the middle of the week… and he had no pale indication of a wedding ring he had taken off and hidden in a pocket.
With the black shirt and day old groomed whiskers of his dark beard shadowing a strong jaw and handsome features.
Peggy thought he looked sexy and mysterious.
His eyes were pitch black in the dim light, but Peggy imagined she saw desire lurking in their depths.
Peggy was a rough looking forty, but the alcohol convinced her that she still had the appeal she did in her twenties… like Jenna, Patsy’s daughter, who was trying to interrupt her mother’s try with the impotent insurance representative that came in at least once a week.
Reggie was a loser, but he always paid for their drinks and gave them a good tip for an evening of company.
On a Wednesday night, he usually got lucky with the slim competition.
Peggy noticed the man across from her glance at the young girl.
“The kid’s only twenty, so Patsy’s going to have to get her out of here.”
Sloan controlled a wince.
He did not mean to get caught looking at the girl.
“I was thinking she didn’t look old enough to be in here,” he said disapprovingly.
Peggy was relieved that she was not going to have to fight for his attention.
“Nope.”
She watched the bartender make her way towards the girl, and she smiled.
“Hi, Jenna.”
“I’m not staying, Ronnie,” Jenna assured her.
“I just wanted to ask mom for a ride.”
Patsy grabbed five dollars of the insurance man’s money from the bar.
“Wait across the street and get yourself a burger.
I’ll be over in a while.”
Jenna said, almost too softly for Sloan to hear, “Don’t be too long, mom.
Okay?”
“I’ll be as long as I damn sure want to be,” her mother snapped.
She was losing her rhythm in coercing her target.
Jenna walked out of the bar, and Sloan saw her enter the small diner across the street.
He waited a few minutes and asked Peggy, “Do you want to go someplace for a private drink?”
“Sure,” Peggy smiled.
“I’ve had a few,” Sloan slurred.
“Is there a place we can walk to?”
“My apartment is just up the block,” Peggy offered.
This was perfect.
She hated to be driven off to some hotel near the highway, only to waste money for a cab home in the morning.
“That sounds good.”
Sloan stood and held down his hand for her, making sure he wavered just the slightest amount.
He also made sure that the bartender noticed them leaving together.
The couple walked out arm and arm, with Patsy looking up once in annoyance.
Peggy was leaving with the handsome guy who had blown her off earlier.
Shit.
He said he wanted to drink alone.
She considered Peggy competition, and she had been feeling smug and cocky about scooping Reggie.
She shrugged and continued flirting, forgetting all about Peggy… and Jenna waiting across the street.
Sloan left his black truck hidden in the shadows of the lot beside the bar.
He glanced across the street to see the girl ordering from a menu, and continued up the sidewalk with the drunken woman hanging onto him.
When they got to her apartment, she fixed them each a drink.
His glass remained on the table while she finished half of hers in a gulp.
She fell against his chest while they sat on the couch, and her hand rubbed his crotch in a crude act of foreplay.
Sloan carefully reached into the pocket of his jacket and flipped the cap off one needle.
He circled her in an embrace, and slid the injection into the back of her shoulder.
“Ouch.”
Peggy jerked back.
Sloan looked surprised while he slid the needle back into his pocket and recapped it.
“What happened?”
“Felt like a bee stung me.”
Peggy searched the room, and her eyes began to droop.
Sloan left her lying on the sofa sleeping, and he wrapped his hand around a dishtowel before emptying half his drink down the sink and replacing the glass on the table.
He carried Peggy into her bedroom and stripped her, noting the sad, sagging body once it was released from the confines of her tight clothing.
He punched the pillow beside her and messed up the blankets.
Tomorrow she would wake up with a headache, and only a vague remembrance of the man who apparently had spent the night and left in the morning.
Sloan left the apartment, walked back to his truck, and stood in the shadows watching the diner.
Eventually, the young woman would get tired of waiting for her mother.
It took another thirty minutes and Jenna looked irritated as she made her way across the street.
“Excuse me… can you tell me how to get back to I-4?
I think I got twisted around,” Sloan said.
Jenna looked over and recognized the good looking man from the bar.
He was better dressed than those who usually showed up at the dumpy place.
She walked in his direction saying, “It’s all these stupid one-way streets.
Look, you gotta’ go up two blocks and head south.”
She was almost in front of him, and she turned to point.
“Then, go left one block and you’ll see the sign for the ramp.
You have to go under the over-pass if you want to head west.”
Sloan had the rag with the ether out of the baggie in his pocket, with an empty and full syringe underneath it.
Just as the girl turned, he wrapped his arm under her breasts, pulling her back into his chest while his hand covered her mouth.
It took Jenna a moment to realize what was happening.
When the man had pulled her against him, her first thought was that he was just another jerk.
When the horrible smelling cloth covered her mouth, she began kicking and grabbing at the arm holding the rag.
“Hush, girl,” Sloane whispered calmly.
“Just breath and lean back.
I won’t let you fall.”
He felt his cock thickening while it pressed into her bottom, and he let his thumb reach up and brush across her nipple.
Jenna had already inhaled two deep breaths of the chemical and her head was getting woozy.
It burned her eyes, causing them to fill and mix with the tears of her terror.
She felt her body going slack and black shadows mixed with her fear, stalling and confusing her attempts to escape him.
Just before she passed out, she felt his warm lips kiss her temple.
Sloan dragged the unconscious girl to the back of his truck and lifted her into the bed.
He opened up the silver toolbox that ran the width of the truck behind the cab and placed her on the blankets.
Sloan reached for the other needle and slid it into her arm.
It would keep her unconscious for several hours… more than enough time to get back to his apartment and secure her.
Sloan was back at the widow’s place within an hour, and he noted that all of the houses on the street were dark.
He parked in his spot on the side of the garage and jumped into the back of the truck.
The girl was quickly blindfolded and gagged, with her arms bound underneath her and her ankles tied together and wrapped in a thick quilt.
The toolbox had been padded on all sides, and no one would hear her when she awoke.
With the restraints and the confining cage, her struggles would be minimal.
Sloan quietly climbed the steps and grabbed his suitcase.
He left the keys in the outside door lock, climbed back into his truck and headed north.
He crossed the state line before dawn.
Jenna awoke in darkness with her head aching so badly she was afraid she had been hit.
She became slowly aware that she was in the back of some swiftly moving vehicle… and that she was tied up and gagged.
There was a blindfold over her eyes and she tried to rub her head against padding to get it off.
The blankets around her had been stuffed so tightly she could barely move, and if it were not for the sound of the road beneath her, she would have been petrified with the belief that she had been buried alive.
The guy… the one who asked how to get back to the highway.
Jenna was slowly remembering the stranger.
Oh, god.
How long have I been here?
Mom could still be drinking with that insurance guy and she might not even know that I’m gone yet.
God, she’ll think I got tired of waiting and walked back to Nancy’s.
Jenna began to cry when she realized that no one would be looking for her.
Nancy had not really left on a date.
The two girls had gotten into an argument when Jenna had told her that she was leaving town.
She had enough of her mother’s drunken escapades and had managed to save two hundred dollars.
It was in her pocket, and when her mother finally sobered up enough to call Nancy, she would figure that Jenna had finally made good on her threat to leave.
Jenna cried in dismay, remembering that her last plan… when the stranger had called her over… was to leave her mother in the bar.
She had been hoping that the man would give her a ride, far away from the shack she had lived in with her mom for the past ten years.
After several hours of travel, Jenna’s bladder finally let go and the remnants from the three cups of coffee drenched her jeans and the blankets underneath her.
Soon after that, she felt the truck slowing and following the curve of an exit.
She heard the muffled metal sound of the gas cap and she tried to scream and bang her feet.
She cried softly in frustration when she realized that she could barely hear the noise she was making.
There were two loud bangs on the lid of her tomb that made her jump.
The man was letting her know he was aware that she was awake.