The Ring

Chapter II

Danielle Paulson was wide-awake when her wooden shipping crate was cracked open. Unlike the rest of the girls, she wasn’t kept drugged during transport, the mask strapped over her ballgagged mouth and nose providing her only with oxygen while she was moved to and from. Usually she still managed to find sleep while strapped down into the stiff, body-conforming, foam packing. It was peaceful, the gentle motion of the truck on the highway, the darkness, and most importantly, the absence of her captors, specifically one man in particular who had made her life a living nightmare for decades.

But this time she was awake the entire trip.

Part of her was convinced Wesley had crafted the whole scenario just as a way to torture her. It wasn’t beyond him, finding new, creative, and psychotic ways to give her just a glimmer of hope when she lost that spark of resistance he loved in her so much. But the look on the two women’s faces when they realized that their cover had been blown, that had been real. Danielle had grown accustomed to the many violations of her body her owner had inflicted upon her over the years, but for the first time in way, way too long, she felt used. He had gotten her to reveal to his latest prey that the jig was up, and he had made her complicit in their capture. She had to live with that now, and he had known it would have exactly that effect on her.

Two slavers started unstrapping her from her crate. “You’re home, 7023,” the bearded one said, pulling off her oxygen mask. She didn’t know their names. In some small way, they were dehumanized just as she was, just physical attributes replacing numbers.

She refused to make eye contact as the bald one deflating the bulb in her catheter and reaching between her legs. She was used to the uncomfortable feeling as the clear plastic tube was pulled out of her urethra.

“Are you thirsty?” the bearded one asked, slapping the warm, piss filled bag against her tits. She knew he wouldn’t dare; she was off limits, but it served as a reminder of the kinds of cruelty the slavers inflicted on the other girls.

Danielle grunted, still not making eye contact, and the two slavers pulled her from the crate and helped her stand. Her aging joints ached, but she found her footing as her arms were quickly wrenched behind her back and efficiently bound with rope while the other bound her legs together just above her knees. All around them were other packing crates, some still sealed, others opened while more slavers unpacked and carried drugged girls back into the compound. Danielle looked for the two newest acquisitions, but she didn’t see them. They were either still inside their own crates, or Wesley had already had them taken inside to initiate personally.

They finished binding her, and now helpless and hobbled, they marched her back to her room.

The slave in charge of taking care of her was waiting for her, a dumb, busty, submissive girl that had broken easily and could be trusted to follow orders. Like the slavers, Danielle didn’t know her name, but she didn’t even have a nickname for the woman who fed, bathed, and took care of pretty much her every need. Every need except for her freedom.

The well-endowed slave girl curtsied to the slavers when they entered, even though her outfit was neither a skirt nor a dress. She wore a corset that thrust up her ample bosom and kept her waist cinched incredibly tight, and a chastity belt that kept the audibly buzzing toys nestled inside her at all times from being tampered with.

“She’s all yours,” the bald one said, shoving Danielle into the room. The former detective stumbled, but her caretaker was quick to catch her before she fell on the carpeted floor.

“Ymmpfff phhmrrr,” the slave said into the black leather padded gag she was typically muzzled with. She looked down at her charge, her eyes smiling. She wasn’t sadistic, but she seemed to be unable to understand Danielle’s misery. The slave was just happy to have her company.

The door slammed shut, and a heavy deadbolt clicked into place, locking them in. The slave helped Danielle back to her feet and guided her into the bathroom. The older woman bent forward, resting her cheek on the cool porcelain sink. She grit her teeth into her gag, bracing herself. Her caretaker deflated the sizable plug buried deep in her rectum and eased it out before helping her onto the toilet to relieve herself.

The slave girl was always less patient during this process when Danielle first returned from being away. The captive detective had no idea what her attendant did while Wesley took her on the road with him, but she was always happy when Danielle was returned to her care, and she watched Danielle while she did her business, eager to get on to the duties she enjoyed more.

The slave was humming into her gag as she cleaned her charge up and got her into the shower. She was excited as she washed the helpless former detective, her massive breasts pressed hard into her charge’s smaller, saggier tits while she lathered her up, making sure every inch of her thoroughly clean.

In spite of herself, Danielle too was finding herself eager to get on to the next step of their routine. Her stomach growled with hunger, and her keeper rushed through drying her, leaving her graying hair wet so she could pull her back into the main room and the waiting couch. She sat on the couch and pulled the helpless woman onto her lap. A finger to Danielle’s lips reminded her to be quiet before she reached under her damp hair and unclasped the ball gag. She knew she would be punished if Danielle spoke to her while her gag was out, and she had proven that she was willing to put the gag right back in and put her charge to bed hungry if Danielle broke the rules.

Danielle gave her a small nod and soft grunt of understanding before tilting her head forward. She stretched her jaw wider, allowing her caretaker to pop the big, black silicone orb from behind her teeth.

The slave girl didn’t give Danielle the usual minute to stretch her jaw before entwining her fingers in Danielle’s wet mane of hair and bringing her face up to her full, heavy breasts.

Danielle had time to see the white droplets already dripping from her engorged nipples before her face was buried is the hot, soft flesh of her wet nurse’s bosom. Danielle pushed her head back and struggled, and the slave girl relaxed her grip on her head a little, just enough for the hungry woman to find one of her nipples with her mouth and wrap her lips around it, latching on and with practiced ease began suckling, drawing warm breast milk into her mouth and swallowing.

The wet nurse cooed happily into her gag. Danielle could feel the vibrations of her caretaker’s toys intensify under her. Whoever was watching the cameras had turned them up. Years of conditioning and positive reinforcement had programmed in incredible arousal during breastfeeding for the slave. It was very likely that she would be unable to cum without having her charge suckling away at her hormone-augmented breasts. She moaned deeper, her free hand moving between Danielle’s legs. She didn’t do it often, but every once in awhile, usually after Danielle had been away, she seemed to forget that her charge didn’t enjoy feedings as much as she did. She played with the older woman’s pussy, seemingly frustrated that she couldn’t seem to share her immense pleasure with the woman she took care of.

This time, the fingers trying to stimulate her pussy were more irritating than anything. She was usually largely ambivalent to her caretaker’s attempts to share her pleasure with her, but at that moment, she just wanted to eat. It dawned on her as she wiggled her bare feet in a useless attempt to deter her horny wet nurse that, for the first time in years, she wasn’t suckling away at the slave girl’s breasts because she knew that the poor slave would be punished if she didn’t feed her charge. She was slurping down the warm breast milk because for the first time in years, she didn’t want to die.

Wesley had found a way to give her hope, even if it was likely only fleeting. He’d grown bored of tormenting her as she resigned herself to her fate and accepted that she was never going to be free again. And the devious bastard had made her fantasize about him dying instead of herself.

The wet nurse’s breathing was getting faster, quick puffs of air through her nose blowing on Danielle’s forehead. She moved her charge to her other nipple, making the quick, high pitched moans that meant she was getting close to her first orgasm of the meal.

Danielle latched onto the other nipple, making her caretaker writhe in ecstasy. She knew that Wesley had the two girls in his clutches. They were in store for just as much torment as she was, and none of them were ever getting free. But still she couldn’t help but hope. And she hated him for that giving her that back.

The wet nurse squealed into her gag as she came again. Her head was thrown back, her eyes screwed shut, her fingers gripping her charge’s hair tightly in one hand while the others furiously fingered her, imagining it was her own locked away pussy she was playing with.

Danielle’s face was buried in her caretaker’s voluptuous tits, her mouth and nose pressed deep in the sweaty flesh. She sucked harder as she tried to breath. Often, she had wished that the wet nurse would get too carried away and accidentally smother her to death, but this time she fought, shaking her head and trying to pull back for a precious breath of air. Her lungs burned, and she was on the verge of passing out when her wet nurse relaxed her grip on her hair, shuddering in the aftershocks of her last orgasm. They could both feel the vibrators slow to a teasing hum as Danielle pulled her face free and gasped for air, coughing and sputtering on her last gulps of milk.

The slave held her there, petting her hair while she herself bathed in the afterglow. Feeding was over, and she was happy to have her charge back. She waited until Danielle got her breathing under control before gently wiping her face clean. Danielle opened her mouth, allowing her attendant to stuff the washcloth into her mouth to gag her once more. She took another cloth and cleaned herself, wiping up the excitement that had squirted out from under her chastity belt, and she tied the cloth tightly over her charge’s mouth and nose, trapping her in her scent.

Danielle’s fury at her captor abated somewhat as the familiar smell enveloped her nose. She’d come to associate that smell with bedtime, and with a belly now full of breast milk and after not sleeping the whole ride back, she was tired. With her caretaker’s help she got to her feet and hobbled back into the bathroom. The slave girl got her ready for bed, temporarily removing her gag to brush her teeth for her and apply her nightly regimen of anti-aging and wrinkle creams and lotions. It seemed that time was the only thing discouraged from ravishing her body.

Her caretaker gagged her once more and made her use the toilet again before escorting her to the bedroom. Danielle stood obediently in front of the king sized bed while her arms and legs were untied, staring across the room at the massive painting that dominated the far wall. It was of her and Wesley. He was seated in a large black armchair, and she was seated on his lap. He was completely naked, and she wore only a black ballgag and collar. They were both a lot younger in the picture, but it had been very accurate at the time. He even insisted the artist depict his then only graying at the temples hair and the garish scar across his knee. It was a constant reminder that she had managed to hurt him, badly. The cane he needed to walk was even in the painting, leaning against the side of the chair in arm’s reach.

It also served as an ever-present reminder that she had failed to kill him.

She was allowed a few minutes to stretch before the slave girl moaned and gestured to the bed. Danielle nodded and climbed onto the smooth, satin sheets and assumed her position, spreading her arms and legs to the four corners of the bed to be rebound spread-eagle for the night. Her caretaker bent over and pressed her muzzle to Danielle’s gagged lips as she finished binding her last appendage in place, as though kissing her goodnight. She moaned at her, curtsied, and then turned out the light and left. Danielle’s last thoughts before she feel asleep were that she hoped Wesley would be up all night playing with his new toys before he came to bed with her.