“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.
Chapter Fifteen
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?”
If he hadn’t been on the verge of wetting himself, Carl might’ve told her to go fuck herself. But he sensed that arguing with her right now would be counterproductive. “All right, Mistress. Please release me so I can pee—unless you want me to soil your nice bed here.”
Gloria opened the door. The big blond man came in behind her, no doubt backing her up. Good thing, he thought. If she unlocked me without the muscle, I’d probably kill her. Carl could feel his rage building. He knew he could take down the blond man. He prepared to launch himself at him once he was freed.
She leaned over and unclipped the chain from between his ankles, then came forward to release the chain on his collar. Carl sat up immediately glad to be in a different position. He waited until she unlocked his hands, but she made no move to do so.
He wiggled his fingers by his hips. “Hey. What about my hands?” He quickly added, “Mistress.”
“You don’t need your hands.” She turned to the blond man and nodded. “Sven will help you.”
“Help me pee? Oh, come on, I don’t swing that way.”
She laughed. “You aren’t supposed to enjoy it. It’s just that you aren’t, um, trustworthy enough to have your hands released right now.”
“Well, why don’t you help me?” Carl hoped maybe he could make her let down her guard with his charm. He felt his chance slipping away.
In response, she cracked the riding crop across his thigh. “Yeouch!” he yelped.
“You are not to question my decisions. That’s lesson two.” She locked her eyes with his.
The ludicrousness of the situation kept him from losing his temper. Pee first, then kill. “Yes, ma’am.”
Again, the riding crop struck him, this time on the other thigh. “Ouch! Dammit!”
“What is my name?”
“Mistress! Mistress Gloria!” Hell, he thought, what’s wrong with ‘ma’am’?
“Very well. You may stand and approach the toilet.”
Carl did so, trying to ignore the throbbing in both legs. He shuffled to the toilet, aware of Sven right behind him. The blond man pressed up tight against his backside, his left hand reaching around to rest on Carl’s stomach, giving him the creeps. But he really shuddered when Sven brought his right hand around and gently took Carl’s soft cock in hand. Sven aimed it at the water.
Carl didn’t think he could release now. His muscles froze.
“You’d better take advantage of this opportunity because it’s the only way you’re going to be allowed to pee,” she said. He sensed she was moving away, perhaps to give him a little space. But it wasn’t her that he was worried about. Sven seemed like the kind of guy who could swing either way and he didn’t want to encourage him.
Finally, he relaxed his muscles enough to let the first dribble of water come out. Sven adjusted his aim to the center of the toilet. Soon, the dribble became a stream and he began to feel better.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Gloria’s voice came from outside the cell, to Carl’s left, and he couldn’t help but turn in that direction. There came a sudden flash of light and he blinked in surprise. A camera! Despite the spots in his eyes, he could see Gloria, standing there with a Polaroid.
He felt Sven press his stomach tighter, encouraging him not to move, while the stream began to fade. Another flash caught him in this embarrassing position and he felt violated and enraged.
“Dammit!” He said under his breath.
His stream petered out and Sven dutifully shook his cock for him and stepped aside. Carl wanted to kick him, but held off. He really wanted to kick Gloria, even if it meant falling down. He waited until the so-called Mistress began to re-enter the cell, then took a step forward, getting his right leg ready to kick her right in the stomach. Suddenly, Sven pushed him hard, and Carl fell heavily onto the cot, banging his head against the bars.
“Ow!”
Gloria bent down, her face close. “Don’t ever think of attacking me. Sven is very protective of me.” While he was helpless, he could feel Sven reattaching the chain between his ankles, preventing any further leg movement.
She crouched down and admired two Polaroids. Carl could only see the backs. “Rather nice, if I do say so myself. Looks like you’re enjoying yourself a little bit too.” She turned them and Carl could see himself being held by the tall Swede, his cock in the man’s hand, his face relaxing from the release of urine. But it also might look like a man who was enjoying the attention of another man.