Elena the Sex

Elena shivers by the bath, cleansed of the remnants of her stay in the dark room she’s called home for twenty-four hours. It’s obvious her captors have something planned for her, yet questions still swirl in her head. What exactly will happen to her?
How will she get out of this?

She thinks of the burly men and what Jess told her. Whatever she’s gotten herself into is bigger than she imagined. Big enough for the powers that be to **** her and whisk her away without attracting so much as an eyebrow from the authorities. But how exactly does her boss fit into it? Donna? It’s like there are pieces of a puzzle lying around, but she doesn’t know which fits.

Her heart burns with anger at her boss for betraying her. The woman she trusted to take care of and look after her, and she turns her over to the people who care for her the least. Not so much as a handshake with Alex. Just passes out and wakes up in some subterranean hell. It’s as though her life is forfeit.

It could’ve been worse. She’d expected Donna to be rough. Real **** stuff, the kind one hears about in dramas and police shows. Yet Donna’s caresses were gentle.

They weren’t invited. But they were kind, and Elena saw a side of her captor that was anything but the Saw-type killers she’d grown accustomed to hearing about.

That doesn’t make Donna her friend, or anyone else. So long as she’s here, Elena’s at the mercy of anyone and everyone. Even as she looks over her shoulder at the sleeping Jess, she remembers the cautionary lesson she received minutes ago. She feels guilty for cutting Donna some slack, as though she was somehow less culpable.

Mistress, that’s what Donna called her master. From what little she knows from peeking at one too many of her ex-boyfriend’s porn stash, she knows that means that the visit wasn’t her choosing. She walked in there for a reason. Why she wasn’t more forceful, no one will know.

Jess rouses from her sleep and glances at Elena’s shivering form.

“Still bathing?”

“Huh?”

“I said, are you still bathing?”

“No.” Elena shakes her head.

“Come over here.” Jess motions toward the young woman. “Don’t want you to get sick on us, do we?”

“I’m fine.” Elena replies, remembering what happened when she took Jess at her word.

“Suit yourself. Just remember if you die, it ain’t on my account.”

Elena glances at her calloused feet.

“How do you handle it?”

“What?”

“The uncertainty.”

“You never get over it.” Jess shrugs. “You just learn to expect the unexpected.”
Footsteps reverberate in the distance.

“Sounds like they’re coming for you.”

Elena’s stomach tightens.

“I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Tough luck.” Jess snorts. “Just remember what I taught you.”

As the footsteps get closer, Elena’s feet shake violently. She doesn’t care if she’s cold or that she might get sick. All she can think of is the men coming to take her Heaven knows where. She spies them walking toward her. She tries to run, but her legs give out. She’s simply too weak.

Jess and the others don’t even lift a finger in protest.

Her eyes flutter as she’s sedated. A burlap sack is placed over her head as she’s bound and escorted. Her thoughts are muddled. Yet she still has the image of the four captives in her mind. The four who never protected her.

When Elena comes to, she notices herself lying on a plush bed, her arms and legs chained to the metal post of the double. A sweet smell—is it tangerine or dates?—floats in her nostrils. She sniffs, savoring the aroma. It’s almost enough for her to forget the gag in her mouth.

Hey, it beats being leashed to a wall any day.

She notices candles of various colors and ornaments spread out on the mantle. A giant pewter hookah pipe lies in the corner of the room. A jar of oil rests on the nightstand. Somebody must’ve gone to pains to make her comfortable.

For a moment she wonders if it is all an elaborate joke at her expense. No way would they treat her so well after so many days of being holed up in a windowless room and dragged through a dank tunnel. Not to mention getting shocked and fucked at every opportunity. It could be an exercise in reverse psychology—lower her defenses so she’ll be docile and thus easier to mold. She’s seen enough wolves in sheep’s clothing to know she’ll never fall for that.

“Enjoying your stay?” A familiar sing-song voice echoes.

Elena casts her eyes toward the silhouette at the other corner of the room. She doesn’t even have to venture a guess.

“I thought you’d like it.” ****-Donna steps into the ambient yellow light, her blonde locks looking angelic as she props herself against the doorframe. “I arranged for this all myself.”

The captive—so far as she knows she’s still a prisoner—doesn’t quite know what to make of this encounter. The set up strikes her as weird. The candles, the oil…this has the feelings of a honeymoon, not a **** session. ****-Donna cracks a smile, enjoying the scenario a bit too much for Elena’s liking.

“So what do you think? I personally think the Mediterranean vibe gives it a nice touch.”

“Mmmmmph!”

“What’s that you said, ****?” The blonde cocks her ear. “You feel lonely? I can fix that.”

****-Donna whistles, signaling a pair of women to step into the light, one olive-skinned, the other pale. Their heads appear to be hooded, their arms bound behind their back. Elena looks them over, not quite getting the point of bringing them in.

“Elena, this is ****-Erika and ****-Christie.” Her captor gestures to the both of them respectively. “I asked them to join us this afternoon for a little lesson in something I call obedience.”

The blonde guides the two toward the nearest wall. She unhooks Elena’s chains, gripping her forearm tightly.

“Kneel.”

The captive glances at her, a puzzled look in her eye. ****-Donna slaps her hard across the face, producing a red mark on her left cheek. Elena whimpers.

“I said, KNEEL!”

She quickly gets on her knees and waits patiently, wondering if this is some sick joke. Dabs of oil are squirted in her hands. She glances at the liquid, guessing the limo driver’s intent.

“Rub it in real good. I want every inch on your palms covered. That’s the spirit, ****. Now massage Erika the way I massaged you. You remember that, right?”
Elena nods.

“Good. Get hopping.”

Elena starts at the bottom, caressing Erika’s toes with the meticulousness of a spa employee. She glances occasionally at ****-Donna for input, only to get pulled up by her hair and slapped once again.

“You’re really asking for trouble, aren’t you ****?”

Her captor tosses her towards the ground, landing in a thump at Erika’s feet. She groans.

“MMMMMMPH!”

“Shut up and start working, ****.”

Elena resumes her task, alternating along inner and outer thigh, remembering how she was caressed only days earlier. She hopes Erika’s low moans will stave off any further punishment. But she isn’t holding out for anything. She hesitates over the hooded captive’s sex, wondering if she should continue or stop.

She gets her reply in the form of a spanking as ****-Donna bends her over, smacking her even harder across the bum than she did her face.

“Did I tell you to stop!?”

Elena whimpers, shaking her head.

She works her fingers throughout Erika’s snatch, rubbing it vigorously in an effort to please the mercurial blonde. Erika’s moans grow louder. She continues to work it, accidentally rubbing against the olive beauty’s clit, which makes her cry out even more. It is now the ****’s turn to whimper, begging Elena to continue her strokes and let her come.

“STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” ****-Donna yells.

Elena glances back at her.

“She doesn’t come unless I tell her to, you got that ****?”

She bristles at the tone of ****-Donna’s voice, a far cry from the tenderness she showed a few days ago. She abandons Erika’s slit and works toward her stomach, massaging it with the same care. The captive reaches toward Erika’s breasts, yanked away by ****-Donna at the last minute.

“Did I say you could massage those cans, ****?”

Elena shakes her head.

Another dab of oil is squirted in her palms as she is directed to work on Christie in much the same way as before. She begins to work on Christie in much the same way as before, starting with her legs and working up. She zones out, going through the motions as she caresses the pale girl’s thighs.

She massages the girl’s jewel as expected, adding a sense of rhythm to her movements. But when Christie reaches the edge, Elena continues, heedless of ****-Donna’s instructions. The intern braces for the worst, but gradually she becomes aware of competing cries from Christie and someone else.

She snaps around and notices ****-Donna crouching, fingering herself as she watches Elena pleasure the girl.

“Please don’t stop.” Donna begs. “Pleeasse. I beg you.”

Surprised to see the captive suddenly turn submissive, the intern acquiesces to the request, working Christie to lather. Rivulets of the latter’s juice cascade down her thighs coating them in white thickness. Elena’s feels her own jewel grow damp, embarrassed to be aroused in the presence of strangers.

“Come here.” ****-Donna coos.

Elena crawls toward her, wondering what **** lay in store. Suddenly her gag comes undone as her captor removes the mask, affectionately running her hand through Elena’s hair.

“I’m sorry to be so cruel.” ****-Donna kisses her on the forehead. “Mistress prefers to have her slaves broken-in before they begin their indentured servitude. I try to make it as gentle as I can but…the process has its drawbacks. You have some ways to go, but I think with the right ambience and training you’ll prove adept at whatever path Mistress sets you on.”

She grabs tufts of Elena’s hair and pushes her face into her dripping sex.

“Now hurry up and show me what you can do.” ****-Donna hisses.