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| Kara cowered down in her home, a sliced up cola can. She�d seen Lauren�s crucifixion and her heart grieved. In their original introduction, she�d brought out feelings and passions Kara had never realized before. She owed much to Lauren for what had been revealed within her. She wouldn�t be coming back and Kara curled her naked body into a fetal position and cried.
�If you�re going to cry, you�d better have a damned good reason,� Mistress warned her. �I�ll give you one.� Kara might as well have been a real doll for all the control she had now. She was carried to another room and secured down with string. She pleaded with the massive redhead not to do it. Other girls told tales of this room. Tweezers ripped her pubic hairs loose. �Now Mistress will make you feel better.� She untied Kara and brought her to her breasts. Kara chose one and wrapped her arms around it as best she could. Her tongue went to work on it and her lips kissed the nipple gently. The dark flesh soon tasted salty from spilled tears. Rachel wept, her sorrow consuming almost every facet of her self. Everything she�d lived for in her recent life, all that had driven her, was gone. It had evaporated, a puddle in the Sahara. She had thrown her entire self into survival for the sole aim of freedom. Every second of her life after Janel died had been devoted to never being another�s slave. Four months of random sexual assaults were breaking her down. Quality of life now weighed foremost on her mind. �Somewhere better� was a highly relative phrase. Memories of starvation in that apartment became her Pleasuredome. Even the gentlest, most playful touch, stung her flesh. Kylee waited for the other girls to drift off. Mistress had retired to her bedroom and her pattern suggested she wouldn�t be back until morning. She grabbed the pair of scissors left over from when Alicia had cut her hair that afternoon. The tiny Fed scowled at that memory, a haircut an ADHD-addled toddler could have done better. Of course, humiliation had once again been the sole intent. Now those scissors could be her savior. Suicide wasn�t her option; it wouldn�t do to leave the giant bitch free to hurt others. The sharp blade instead gouged at the plastic wall of the tank. She worked rapidly, but with every bit of care an artist gives to a new piece. Every training session had prepped her for this, if not this exact situation. It took two hours and the blade was worn out, but the hole was nearly finished. She could soon escape and come back for the others once her size was fixed. At least she could be through with her work and get out of this business. Everything was great until the hand on her shoulder and the shrill blare of a rape whistle. Her assailant got a shock of her own when Kylee grabbed her wrist and flipped the tiny Benedict Arnold. She followed up with a left before confirming that it was Alicia. That drove her further. Kylee got in a few sharp kicks to Alicia�s ribs before huge fingers squeezed her. �A teeny Steve McQueen?� Mistress purred. �Little Kylee, you are stupid.� She looked at the other women; all now awake. �I should crush someone else as a lesson, but I don�t believe that will educate this one.� She flicked Kylee across the chest; a blow she knew would take the blonde�s breath away and nearly break every rib. She placed the teeny blonde back in the tank. �Next time, I won�t be so kind.� Kylee stayed where she was, gasping and fighting for every lungful of precious air. The bruise was coming fast and so obscured her nipples and the breasts as a whole that an observer would think it a tube top. She was vaguely aware of the other girls as they went back to bed. They muttered insults at her and several derogatory epithets. Those who conspicuously avoided eye contact, lest they be viewed as accomplices. Alicia got to her feet and tapped Kylee�s left breast hard enough to elicit a yelp of pain. Despite tremendous self-control, he shrieked. Hot coffee in the lap was bad enough, but having every nerve amplified in sensitivity made blackouts easy. Special Agent Duverge was bordering on yet another one as his assistant let loose a torrent of apologies. He brushed them off and wheeled away. �This is what happens when you come back too early,� his supervisor quipped. �Funny, really. Next time, try the subtle approach, like slapping me with a calendar.� Even with his best efforts, he let out a smile during the retort. He wheeled to his desk and opened a folder of needed paperwork. �Honesty for a moment? I�d take total paralysis, complete lack of feeling, to not being able to walk anyways hitched right up with sensitive nerve endings.� The supervisor leaned in close. �Million-to-one odds the explosion would�ve only caused the injuries it did and you won the goddamned lottery. You know blasts can be unpredictable unless they�re carefully controlled. Besides, I thought the sensitivity was supposed to be gone by now.� Duverge sipped from his new mug of coffee. �Just doubly lucky lately. The procedure didn�t work exactly as they planned. No pain and walking were the intended results. Good thing there are lots of feds to use as guinea pigs for these top-secret medical procedures.� �Kinda makes that size thing they do downstairs seem like a cakewalk.� His face locked into an �oh shit� expression. �I�m sorry, I didn�t�� �It�s okay, a boss gets to be an insensitive prick. Goes with the territory.� His gaze drifted to the hidden elevator. �If only we could find out for sure. I know I�m not the only one who still believes.� �Where�s Ms. Pac-Man?� Rachel shouted, a pang of bitterness cutting her words. �She found a hungrier opponent,� her captor sneered. �That�s the way life goes, eat or be eaten.� The giantess lifted away the cover and placed a bag next to Rachel. �Some new roommates. You�re the leader of this community because you�re the big� strong� survivor.� Those few words stung with patronizing. �Show them the ropes.� |
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