J McKenna - Naughty girl

“Not yet convinced? How about this.” He turned to Crystal. “Sit on that stool and spread your legs.”

She obeyed instantly. She leaned back against the wall, her legs hanging obscenely apart. She closed her eyes.

“Service her,” Turk demanded. DeeDee crawled over and fastened her mouth onto Crystal’s bare cunt. Carl couldn’t help but stare. DeeDee probed with her tongue, eliciting soft noises from Crystal. Turk just stood there, smiling. This went on for several minutes, until Crystal’s chin began to bob up and down. Carl could tell she was about to orgasm.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes. “Permission to come, Master?” she asked softly. Her whole body was moving in time with DeeDee’s licks.

“Denied.” Turk seemed to enjoy the pained expression on his slave’s face. He reached out and touched DeeDee on the shoulder and she immediately stopped. She returned to her position of attention. Carl could see the sheen of wetness on her mouth and chin. She seemed completely under Turk’s spell.

“See?” he said to Carl, as if the demonstrations had proved his point. To Carl, it had proved the opposite, but he pretended to think otherwise.

“Okay. I was mistaken. I thought DeeDee liked her life with me.” He made a show of his disappointment. “I should’ve known—after all, I’ve only been going with her a few weeks. If you’ll just let me go, I won’t bother you again.”

For a minute, Turk just stood there, staring at him. Carl tried not to become impatient. He sensed events could go either way. Of course, Turk would be a fool to release him—he’d call the police immediately and Turk would have to explain DeeDee’s unusual lifestyle to them. But what other choice was there? Murder? Carl hoped not.

“You must think I’m an idiot,” Turk said and Carl tried not to grimace in disappointment. “You’d go straight to the police, like anyone in your position would do. And that might cause me some discomfort. Not that they’d find her here, no. She’d be long gone, sold somewhere or sent out for training.”

“You can’t keep me here!” Carl barked.

“Don’t worry—I have no intention of keeping you. Men aren’t my thing; I train only women. I have a better idea. Come, let us go into the library, shall we?” He magnanimously reached down and helped Carl to his feet. Because of the straps around his ankles, he could only bounce alongside the big man, feeling like a fool. Turk ended up dragging him through the door. He noticed that DeeDee and Crystal trailed behind them, like obedient slaves should.

Inside, Carl got another shock. There, in a chair by the cold fireplace, sat Gloria! How had she gotten here so fast? The dark-haired dominatrix was dressed just as she had been at the club—shiny dark leather bustier and black fishnet stockings. She held a black leather riding crop in one hand, slapping it gently into the palm of her other hand.

“You!” he breathed, his anger flaring.

“Yes. Me. Did you think I’d miss out on an opportunity like this?”

Carl was confused. What the hell was she talking about?

Turk helped him to a chair, where he sat down heavily. “What the hell’s going on? If you don’t let me go, you’ll be in a lot more trouble than you’re already in right now.”

“Shut up. You’re in no position to speak.” Gloria’s words stung him.

Carl turned to see Turk walk to a large desk. He tossed Carl’s wallet, cell phone and screwdriver onto the blotter and began rummaging through the drawers. Carl craned his head around until he could see DeeDee and begged for help with his eyes. She just stood there, staring at him, her face blank, her lipstick smeared. Her jewelry winked at him in the lights.

He turned back to Gloria. “Okay, so you guys must think I’m a big chump. I come here to help this girl, and you stopped me cold. Now that we’ve all had our fun, I’d like to be released. If you do, I won’t have you all charged with kidnapping.”

Both Gloria and Turk laughed, as if sharing a private joke. Carl didn’t like the way this was going. Turk returned from the desk, holding up a syringe that he poked into a small vial of clear liquid. Carl watched, horrified, as Turk drew a few cc’s into the syringe.

“No! What the hell is that?! Get away from me!” He couldn’t stop the panic in his voice. He was sure he was about to be killed.

“Relax,” Turk said, as he approached him. “This is just something to make you sleep. So you won’t cause any trouble during your journey.”

“Journey?! What journey?! Where are you taking me?! I demand to be released!”

Turk pinched Carl’s upper arm and effortlessly jabbed the needle home. He could feel the warm solution enter his veins. His arm grew numb then the feeling began to spread throughout his body.

His eyesight grew dim. He heard Turk tell Gloria. “He’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” she replied, standing up. “I could use another slave in my little dungeon.”

His world faded to black.

Carl awoke groggily. He struggled to focus his eyes. His first thought was, I’m glad I’m not dead . His second thought: Shit—I’m naked . He shivered in the cool air.

He was in a small cell, about four feet wide and seven feet deep. It had bars on the top and sides. The floor was cement. He was lying on a small cot. The only other fixture was a metal toilet, with a one-tap sink above it. He had to crane his neck to see it, for he couldn’t get up. Both his wrists were held close to his body, attached to a large leather strap that encircled his waist. He peered down and noticed his ankles were also chained, restricting his movements.

He shifted his gaze to the room beyond the bars. It seemed to be a basement of some kind. Though it was dimly lit, he estimated it measured about fifteen by twenty-five feet. Rafters ran along the ceiling, presumably holding up the floor of the house above him. Stairs ran up into darkness along the far wall. The walls were old stone jumbled together and held by mortar. He guessed it was a turn-of-the-century house. Turning to his left, he saw another identical cell, empty.

He could still be in San Francisco, he thought. Or he could’ve been out for hours and could be anywhere in the world. He’d have to listen carefully for clues. That he would escape, he had no doubt. It was just a matter of time, waiting for the right opportunity.

His bladder ached. He had to pee. “Hey!” he shouted.

He lay there, twitching and struggling against his bonds for what seemed like another hour before he heard the thud-clank of the door above him. That told him it was a thick wooden door, reinforced by steel. He was determined to memorize every clue.

The thump of feet on the stairs caused him to try to sit up, but a collar around his throat held him down. It appeared to be attached to the cot by a short length of chain.

“Hey!” He shouted again. “Let me go!”

Gloria came into view, followed by a tall, well-muscled blond man, naked except for a loincloth. She had on a different outfit—thigh-high black boots under a black leather coat, unbuttoned down the middle. A red bustier winked at him from between the flaps. In her hand, she carried her ubiquitous riding crop. It was like something out of a bad movie. He laughed in spite of his predicament. “What the hell is this? Frankenstein? Or Barbarella?”

She came to the cell, jangling some skeleton keys in her free hand. She just stood there, watching him. Carl waited as long as he could, considering his bladder was about to burst, then said, “Come on! I gotta pee!”

“Your first lesson,” she responded. “You are to call me ‘Mistress’. Can you remember that?”