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Tormented Twins by Reece Gabriel

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Copyrighted © 2001, all rights reserved.  

I Own Them, I Sell Them by Reese Gabriel

       Their destination was a hotel of sorts, though Simon assured her the guests were anything but tourists.  Its location was in a less savory section of the city, not altogether far, she noted, from The Edge.  There were men in suits at the front entrance, muscular men whose stances suggested their brute strength was reinforced by concealed firearms.

       It was unlikely anyone would challenge these men, and yet the doors were locked nonetheless.  A great fuss was made over Simon and Ashley as they entered, which pleased Ashley, for she enjoyed seeing him relish in his position as the boss.  At his side, she felt like a captive queen.

       “We will be taking a tour,” he explained, ushering her by the elbow towards the elevator.  Ashley absorbed the surroundings as they walked, stunned by the elegance of the furniture, high Victorian, upholstered in red velvet.  The carpet was also red, and there were exquisite paintings, some originals from the looks of them. She could hardly believe such a shabby brick exterior concealed such opulence.

       “Eighth floor,” Simon said to the elevator attendant.

       Ashley had thought such luxuries as manned elevators a thing of the remote past, but somehow in this setting, it seemed appropriate.  There was no one in the corridor on the eighth floor. Ashley marveled at the chandeliers and mirrored walls, though it seemed a little sad to see all this beauty hidden from public view. 

       Simon stopped in front of one of the long row of ornately carved doors and pulled out a key, from a ring in his pocket, which one of the men downstairs had given him.  The jingling sound was sexy, and it made her think of chains. She tucked her arm more tightly into his as she imagined Tia, her newly browned skin covered in a sheen of sweat as she writhed beneath her lord, her passion restrained by the metal on her wrists and ankles, and by the links running across her captive body.

       The girl was waiting for them inside the room.  She was lovely, a slender dark-haired girl wearing a long, low cut gown, cut elegantly to cinch her tiny waist and emphasize her full breasts.  She greeted them upon her knees, and Ashley wondered if she was so displayed at all times, or if she merely assumed the position upon entry of a guest.

       “Mr. Rice,” she said, her cheeks flushed, her smile concealing little of her trepidation.  “What a surprise.”

       Ashley inhaled the girl’s heat, her helpless fear.  How exquisite that fear seemed in this wonderfully gilded room, trimmed in gold, a magnificent four-poster bed dominating the classic décor.  Simon Rice had taste, wicked taste to be sure.

       “Colleen, I wonder if you would fetch us drinks?  Champagne, if you please.”

       The girl was on her feet at once, scurrying with a purposefulness that belied Simon’s casual request.  It had been an order.  An order given to a slave.  Ashley felt the heat surge through her loins as she noted on the girl’s trim ankle, just above her delicate high heel, a ring of steel.  As she moved, there was a drag of chain, and Ashley realized she was shackled to the foot of the bed, limited in her motions by the generous length of glistening interlocking rings.

       Simon and Ashley sat on the divan, across from the bed.  When Colleen had brought the drinks, he invited her to stand before them, arms at her sides.  Simon wished her to tell her story, but first, if Ashley would be so kind as to help her undress?

       “Is she your slave?” Colleen asked, as Ashley rose smoothly to do Simon’s bidding.

       “No,” he replied stiffly. “Please proceed.”

       Ashley’s eyes met the slave’s, a single glance exchanging more than she could ever say in words.  They were sisters.  Ashley smiled shyly as she moved to help her pull up the gown.  It came off in a single, graceful motion, a motion designed to please the man before them.  Beholding the girl’s alabaster beauty (she was nude save for garter belt and stockings) Ashley sank to her knees, intent on stripping her clean, bare before their master.

       Stealing a glance at Simon’s obvious hard-on, Ashley put her face to the girl’s inner thigh, kissing, delicately.  She would use her teeth, to lower the stockings.  The only hindrance would be Colleen’s shackled left ankle.  They would deal with that in time.

       “Tell us how you came to be here,” Simon said, trying to maintain an air of business.

       Colleen began to speak, her voice slightly breathless as Ashley worked her tongue and fingers up and down her legs.  The particularities were lost as Ashley focused on the feel, the texture of Colleen’s skin.  She had been a model, or aspiring to such when a man offered her lucrative work in a strip bar.  She’d fallen in with hard-core elements, and had ended up selling herself to support a drug habit.  As her debts mounted, the ‘note’ on her was bought up by an agent of Rice’s, who determined a more permanent solution.

       “Turn around for Ashley,” Simon commanded.

       Colleen obeyed, revealing perfect cheeks, the left incised with a small mark, a trident emblazoned in a circle, the whole of it consisting entirely of deep grooves burnt into the girl’s flesh.

       “What is that mark?” Simon asked, taking the tone of an interrogating attorney who already knows the answer to every question he asks.

       “It is my brand,” Colleen said, her voice a rapturous whisper.

       “What does it mean?”

       “That I am the property of Trident Entertainment.”

       Trident.  Ashley had heard of it.  A subsidiary of an even larger company, on a global scale which her mother—and therefore she herself—had stock in.

       “What is your function?”

       “To serve the clients of Trident, providing one hundred percent customer satisfaction.”

       “To what are the customers of Trident entitled?”

       “To use my body in any way which pleases them, so long as they do not draw blood or inflict permanent damage as defined in usage contracts.”

       “How long have you been here?”

       “Six months, sir.” Colleen shifted uneasily as Ashley kissed the brand, ran her cheeks across its hardness.

       “And before that?”

       “A brothel in Tijuana.” 

       Ashley was licking her now, running her gritty tongue over the grooves of Colleen’s mark.

       “And the terms of your service there?”

       “I was chained to a small cot.  For roughly fifty cents I could be used in any orifice.”

       “Were you clothed?”

       “I was naked at all times.”

       “What you describe is illegal, is it not?”

       “The police were among our best customers.  I was often raped by their batons as well as their cocks.”

       “Touch yourself, Colleen, massage your clitoris, and tell us, what is your future?”

       “I—I belong to Trident,” Colleen shivered as she placed her hands where he had told her, her backside undulating invitingly before her master.

       Unable to resist, Ashley crouched between Colleen’s legs, intent on licking her clit from behind.

        “Ashley,” Simon said sternly, “come back and sit down. Now.”

       Ashley obeyed, though it seemed inappropriate for her to sit on the couch, fully clothed in the presence of another of her kind.  A naked slave.

       “Turn about, now, Colleen.  Lie on your back, draw your legs to your chest and bring yourself to orgasm.  As you do, tell us again, what is your future.”

       Her breath came in short spurts.  “Trident owns me,” she said.  “My future is in their hands.”

       Simon reached across to grab Ashley’s hand, preventing her from touching his clothed penis.  “Pay attention, Ashley.  Colleen, will you ever be free?”

       “No,”  Colleen declared, “no, sir.”  She tossed her head from side to side, a pretty, wicked owned slut in high heels, showing off her pussy as she stroked for them.

       Ashley sighed, feeling the juices between her thighs.  “Please,” she begged Simon.  “May I get down and suck you?”

       “No!” Simon roared, rising to his feet.  “Have you understood nothing?  Must I go to the next level in this little demonstration?”

       Ashley felt herself grow faint as he took the belt from its loops.  On the floor, Colleen continued her motions, lost in her own forced pleasures, oblivious to the pain she might be about to receive.

       “Simon, please don’t!” Ashley cried, interposing her kneeling body between Rice and his intended target.  “Beat me, instead!  It is I who deserve your wrath!”  She put her hands to the neckline of her dress.  “Say the word, and I will tear the clothes from my body.  Teach me, Simon.  Teach me to fear your belt, teach me to fear your cock.  Teach me as you taught Tia.”

       He very nearly struck her then, his manhood surging as he beheld the small, vulnerable target below him: the girl, crouching, head to the floor, enticing, maddening ass poking in the air, soft, silky hair in disarray at his feet.  Compared to her, what other woman mattered?  What was Colleen or any of the others in this place, or in the brothels and clubs he owned or even the harems he stocked for Middle Eastern sheiks?   They were nothing, that’s what they were, nothing in comparison to the infuriating, tempting, insolent, virgin Ashley.

       Simon roared in rage as he snapped the belt down onto the floor, avoiding both girls.  How he longed to release his fury, his passion on this virgin imp.  How would she look submitting to him he wondered, her angelic face lit up and dreamy as he filled her to the quick with his aching cock.  Like the Pirate Lord, when he took Tia.

       Simon pressed his fingers into his skull.  Now she had him thinking like this, dreaming of her ridiculous ghosts!  And what was he doing here, anyway, playing house with a Trident whore, trying to please Ashley and convince her to pretty please go home now?   For heaven’s sake, was he no longer a man?

       If ever there was a time to get his house in order this was it.  Lifting Ashley to her feet, he told her that the games were over.  She was playing at something real and dangerous and it was time for her to make a choice.  Thrusting his ring finger in her face, revealing the non-descript triple bands, each in a different base metal, he said, “Do you see this?  This is a symbol of Trident.  Trident is not just videos and pop music.  It’s flesh trade.  High end.  This woman here belongs to me, Ashley.  I could do anything to her, anything at all and get away with it.  The law means nothing.  And I like it that way.  Do you know why I was at the club that night?  Because it’s mine, Ashley.  I own it.  And do you know what I did to the men who wanted to hurt you?  Nothing.  As far as I was concerned, you got what you deserved for coming in there.  The only reason I intervened was that I wanted you myself.  That’s right, I smelled out your virginity, and it tempted my jaded palate.  I was on the way to conquest, when you slid into the stratosphere on me, spouting all that stuff about pirates.  Not wanting a lawsuit, I nursed you back to health.  Well now I’m done, and I want you out of my life.  And don’t say a word about love, Ashley.  I love no one.  I don’t even like women.  I own them, I fuck them.  I sell them.  That’s all.  Are we clear now, once and for all?”

       Ashley lowered her head to the floor at his feet.  “I do not wish to leave.  I wish to be owned by you.”

       “Very well then!  Colleen, you are my witness.  I tried to employ reason!  Get up, Ashley, we are going to make your wish come true.”

       “Do you mean it?” she asked, as he dragged her down the hall by the arm, having left the hapless Colleen on the floor, still recovering from her flood of climaxes.

       “Never more serious,” he assured her.  “When we are done with you, you will make Colleen look like a dominatrix by comparison.”

       “Thank you,” she whispered, as she stumbled to the car. “Thank you, a thousand times.”

       “Don’t thank me, girl.  You haven’t a clue what you have let yourself in for.”