Spartan

Mercy Graves led the way into the cabin. Lois Lane followed. It was...stark. Concrete floors with multiple drains; walls covered with sound-proofing, like a music studio. It was a single vast room. One corner was a kitchen with oven, sink, washing machine, washer and dryer; another held a queen-sized bed; a third a workshop space, with guns and knives locked away in cabinets; and the fourth a bathroom space with a sunken tub, plastic curtains giving the only hint of privacy. Plain LED lights hung from a metal framework on the ceiling, leaving no shadows in the room at all. There was no real furniture, no windows. The front door—the only door that Lois could see—was a serious piece of work, solid steel, at least three inches thick on shiny gold hinges.

It locked with the magnetic thunk of massive bolts.

"Security system engaged and secured," Mercy said. The air conditioning kicked in, sucking out the stuffy air and a light breeze filling the space. "I'll take your coat."

Mercy held out her hand. Somewhat self-consciously, Lois took off the labcoat. She stood there, naked, her hands covering her cock. The reporter was feeling suddenly self-conscious about this situation.

The woman hung Lois Lane's coat over the back of the chair at the workshop space.

"Hungry?" Mercy said. "Need to use the bathroom?"

"I could pee," Lois said. The brunette nodded toward the sole toilet.

Lois crossed over to the toilet. There was nothing else for it but to face away from Mercy as she aimed her cock at the bowl. It was surprising how easily she was getting used to this. As her pale stream hit the water, she was aware of Mercy moving around the room behind her. As she was shaking off the last drops, out of the corner of her eye, Lois saw the bodyguard disrobing, dumping clothes into the washing machine. Caught a brief glimpse of Mercy's sideboob...

Almost instantly, the reporter was hard. She blushed, took a square of toilet paper to wipe off the swollen purple head of her dick. For the first time, Lois understood how teenaged boys must feel seeing cheerleaders in their tight little dresses.

Lois flushed. Just at that moment, something locked around the reporter's neck. Her hand reached up and felt hard metal, lined on the inside with velvet.

"Not too tight?" Mercy said in her ear, and Lois felt her heart start to race. She hadn't even heard the woman move up behind her. "You can breath okay?"

"Yes," Lois said, before she even thought about the answer. She swallowed, glad that she could swallow.

There was a slight tug. Lois went along with it. She saw the chain leading down from the back of the collar around her neck. Mercy was nude, pulling Lois gently toward the bed...and for the first time, Lois saw the shackles hanging from the walls above the bedposts, the hard metal half-loops bolted to the floor.

She thought about resisting...but wondered if that was a good idea. So far, Mercy hadn't hurt her...and Lois had essentially offered her sexual services. If she tried to back out of it now...she wasn't in a good position to say no to Mercy.

The nude bodyguard looked back. The chain was taut now, maybe six feet of it between them.

"Are you coming?" She asked, then a slight smile appeared on her lips. "Or do I have to make you?"