The Ring
Chapter V
Two Years Ago
Grace fidgeted nervously in her seat, resisting the temptation to check her phone again. Grace had taken the FBI’s policy of “on time is late and five minutes early is on time” to the extreme, arriving at the restaurant Ellie had picked for them to have lunch at a full half hour early. Grace couldn’t help herself. She’d been up all night, and was now hopped up on Red Bull and coffee. She couldn’t believe it. The senior agent wanted to investigate the missing women. Not just that, her superior wanted her help.
She glanced at her phone again. It was still 11:53, seven full minutes before noon when Elizabeth told her to meet. She chanced it, getting up and trying not to run to the bathroom as all the caffeine and energy drinks caught up with her.
It wasn’t just vindication that all the extra hours she’d spent of her own time looking into connections between all the disappearances that everyone else seemed to shrug off as coincidence had paid off. That was huge, and the mess of files and pictures and strings connected by pushpins was evidence of her dedication, evidence she’d probably wait a little bit before showing Elizabeth. There was hope. On her own personal mission since before she’d even considered applying to the FBI; she finally had an ally.
The agent looked at her phone while she sat on the toilet, navigating to her photos. She’d taken the picture off of her home screen years ago, tired of it being brought up, but not a day went by that she didn’t look at it. It was a picture of her and her sister, Tanya. It was the night before Tanya had gone off to college, when the older O’Conner sister had come home early from a party to spend one last night with her little sister. They had their arms around each other, Tanya taking the selfie while the sisters mugged at the camera.
It was the last time she had seen her.
Grace pressed her thumb against her phone, and then with a flick, zoomed in. Tanya looked so happy.
She put her phone away and finished up in the bathroom, washing her hands and walking back into the restaurant. Elizabeth was already sitting at the table, and she waved to her.
“Hey.”
Grace briskly walked over, sitting down across from the older woman.
“Hi. Thank you again for bringing me in on this…” she fumbled with what to call her. Special Agent Harper sounded too formal, but she didn’t want to offend.
“Ellie’s fine,” the other woman said, seeming to sense her hesitation.
“Ellie,” Grace said to herself, nodding. “You can call me Grace.”
“Alright,” Ellie said. “Did you already order?” she asked, waving towards a waiter.
Grace shook her head. “No, I just got here,” she lied, looking at her half drunk water that said otherwise.
Ellie didn’t seem to care, already addressing the waiter. “Yeah, I’ll just a take a BLT and a garden salad, and a diet Pepsi,” she said without even looking at the menu.
“Oh, uh,” Grace flipped open the menu, rapidly scanning until she found the first thing she’d eat. “A salad is fine.”
“To drink?”
“Uh, just more water.” She thanked the waiter and he left. She looked at Ellie, who seemed to be studying her. “So, how did you figure out what I was doing?” There was no point in dancing around it.
Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a big secret. You’re the girl who’s fascinating by all the missing person cases, specifically the female ones.”
Grace nodded. She was never actually assigned to any of those cases, even the few times she was bold enough to ask, but she’d taken her superiors’ lack of telling her not to investigate on her own time as tacit permission. In a way, it was kind of a relief to discover she’d been so transparent, especially if it meant that someone like Ellie had come to her for her help. On the other hand, it was a little demoralizing the offhand way Ellie had categorized her.
“So you think there’s more to the Laura Redding case?” Grace asked.
“Yeah, the asshole that was keeping her said something about a big sex slavery ring, and at the hospital before she was abducted, she got x-rays showing she was tagged like an animal.”
Grace’s eye lit up. “What does he know?”
“Easy,” Ellie said. “He won’t say anything without a deal, and that ship has sailed.”
“Surely there’s something. I mean, we can make him talk. Can I talk to him?”
“No, no, and no,” Ellie said.
Grace realized she was leaning so far over the table she had risen out of her seat, and she sheepishly sat back down.
“Trust me, I came to you because my lead is a dead end.”
“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt if I just talked with him,” Grace offered, hoping that Ellie hadn’t intended her phrasing to be as insulting as it sounded.
“It could hurt,” Ellie said. “Like how that guy you think killed your sister has a restraining order against you now.”
Grace reeled back like she had been slapped.
“Like I said, I did my research on you,” Ellie said. “But it’s fine, you’re passionate, that can be a good thing.”
Grace was fuming. She wanted to grab her water, but she knew she was just as likely to shatter the glass and stab Ellie as she was to throw the water in her face. Instead she kept her hands tightly balled at her sides, her nails digging into her palms until it hurt. “First of all!” She stood up in a burst, knocking her chair over. The other people in the restaurant all hushed, watching. Ellie herself sat bolt upright in her chair, seeming to not have realized the nerve she had struck.
She was suddenly very conscious of all the eyes, everyone around them listening intently to what she’d say next. She realized then that she’d missed her moment, and instead of spewing a torrent of white-hot rage at this arrogant bitch who thought she knew anything at all about her, she was going to cry.
“Screw you,” she managed to get out before her voice wavered, and she turned, fleeing from the restaurant.
***
Grace cried until she had no tears left.
She hadn’t even been restrained. Wesley hadn’t needed to. She knew the statistics; precisely how many women were victims of sexual assault. She had known many women who had personal experiences. But never her. She had been careful at parties, always watching what she drank, never letting herself get isolated from her friends, always being responsible. And, if that failed, even before joining the FBI, she was well versed in self-defense, not that it ever came to that.
Until today. And then none of it had mattered. Even though she was, conservatively, a good thirty years younger than him, even though he could barely walk without a cane, it had been nothing for him to overpower her. To hold her down. To enter her.
She’d been powerless to stop him.
The light finally came back on. She wanted it to turn back off. She wanted to curl tighter into a ball on the floor and hide.
“Does someone not like her new life?” a male voice came from the direction of the footsteps that had entered the room. They weren’t accompanied by the click of a cane. That was a small consolation.
“Come on, on your feet slave,” another male voice said.
Calloused hands grabbed her from behind, reaching under her arms. She knew how to escape that hold. It was a simple maneuver, twist out of it, grab her attacker’s wrist, and spin. A little extra pressure and she could break his wrist if she wanted to.
But Grace couldn’t bring herself to do it. She allowed herself to be hauled to her feet. Once again she found herself in front of the mirror. She could see the smudges where her sweaty body had been pressed against the glass while he raped her. Her reflection was blurred, but not marred enough to hide her face, still red and splotchy, though more from crying than her time spent hanging from her ankles at this point. Her eyes were bloodshot and wet from tears. Her shoulder length red hair was matted and gross. She barely registered the two men behind her that were grabbing her arms and forcing them behind her back, once more binding her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and checked out,” one said, grabbing her by the back of the neck and pulling her away from the mirror.
She offered no resistance as she was lead out of the room and down the hall. Even as her bare feet stumbled on the smooth tile floor, her captors steadied her by a firm grip on the back of her neck and her bound arms, keeping her moving until they halted her with sharp jerk.
Grace looked up for the first time since they’d started moving her. The tile floor here had a slight decline set in it, leading down to a drain in the middle of the room. A pair of manacles hung from the ceiling, beneath a large showerhead. Leaning against the tiled wall were several long brushes on wooden handles.
Grace knew what was coming and didn’t struggle while her wrists were untied, only to be locked above her head from the dangling shackles moments later. She balanced on the balls of her feet on the slick wet tiles, her toes digging into the grout for purchase while she braced herself for what she knew was coming next. Even still, the torrent of ice-cold water that cascaded down on her nude form shocked her, knocking the air out of her lungs with a gasp, and she lost her footing, dangling painfully by her wrists while her feet danced on their own accord, trying to no avail to move her out of the way of the freezing shower. She didn’t know if the water ever actually warmed up or her body just became numb to it, but she eventually came to be able to stand it, balanced in the middle of the water, while her captors rubbed coarse, soapy brushes over her naked body. The chattering of her own teeth filled her ears, drowning out whatever taunts she knew they were throwing at her. She didn’t care. She’d brought this on herself. This is what she had wanted. She had gone looking for Wesley, and they had found him. It was time to reap what she’d sewn.
Her head hung low, watching the soap suds spin in a spiral around her feet, circling the drain.
***
Two Years Ago
Grace jumped at a knock on her car window. She hurriedly wiped her eyes before looking up, to see Ellie at her passenger window.
She held up a bag of McDonald’s. “Mind if I join you?” she asked.
Grace sniffed and unlocked the door. Ellie opened the door and slid into the seat, setting the bag in between them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a couple fries and eating them.
It had been twenty minutes since Grace had stormed out of the restaurant.
“It’s okay,” Grace said, taking a single fry and holding it, not feeling very hungry.
“No, it’s not. I read your file, I made assumptions based on that.” She took out and unwrapped a burger. “So, you wanna tell me about her?” she said around a mouthful, scooting around in her seat, putting her back to the door and crossing her legs in front of her. It was cramped, but Ellie didn’t look uncomfortable.
“My mom finally had her declared dead,” Grace said, steadying her voice. “But you already knew that—”
“I don’t know shit,” Ellie said with a shrug, taking another big bite. She held out the bag for Grace. “Do you like McDonalds? It’s gross and I eat way more fast food than I should, but it’s also really, really tasty.” Grace didn’t respond, looking at the offered bag. “Come on, take the other one. If you don’t, I’ll eat them both.”
A faint smile crossed Grace’s lips as she reached into the bag, fishing out the other burger. “For you,” she said as she unwrapped it.
“Thank you. Now, tell me about your sister. Not what happened to her, that can wait. Tell me about her.”
Grace’s smile grew. “Her name is Tanya. She’s two years older than me, but she never made me feel like the annoying little sister, you know?”
Ellie chuckled. “Nope.” She jerked her thumb towards herself. “I’ve got brothers, and I was, and still am, depending on who you ask, the annoying little sister.”
She decided then and there she liked Ellie, and the comment in the restaurant could be forgiven. She laughed with her, eating McDonald’s in her car and sharing stories about her sister for the first time in years.
***
As awful as the shower was, being rid of her rapist’s spunk lifted the heavy weight that felt like it had been crushing her. Grace knew better than to try to resist as her hands were freed from the manacles above her head, but she was looking for her moment while her wrists were swiftly bound behind her back and she was pushed from the shower into another hallway.
Her bare feet slapped wetly on the smooth tile floor. Now she was paying attention, counting the doors she was marched pass, noting both the fingerprint readers and keypads on all the doors. Everything was secure, and cameras mounted on the ceiling monitored everything. One of the guards blocked her view of him typing in the code on the keypad with his body, and the door slid open. The captive agent was ushered inside to what looked like a hospital exam room. Her eyes were fixated on the table in the center of the room, with its stirrups with built in leather straps.
“We got a fresh one for ya, Doc,” one of the slavers said.
A man in a lab coat strolled out of the back room, followed by a woman in a short, white nurse’s uniform. He pulled a lollipop from his mouth, twirling it in his fingers while he walked around Grace. “Very fresh,” he said, finishing his circle and standing in front of her. He popped the lollipop back in his mouth and grabbed Grace’s chin, tilting her head back. “How old are you?”
Grace considering not answering, or lying, but what good would it do? “Twenty six,” she said, making eye contact with him.
He switched the lollipop from one cheek to another as he leaned back, eyeing her up and down again. She could feel his gaze, scrutinizing every inch of her naked form. “Any major surgeries? Clearly these are natural,” he grabbed her breasts. “But any other augmentations?”
Grace had endured plenty of physicals for her job. She tried to pretend this was just another one. She tried to block out his hands on her breasts, the sticky sweet smell of cherry from his lollipop on his breath, his lecherous eyes. “I’ve got two screws in my left shoulder,” she answered flatly. “Car accident when I was in college.” She watched the nurse out the corner of her eye. It was hard to tell with the surgical mask covering half of her face, but she looked young, her blonde hair done up tight under her nurse’s cap. The white uniform was ludicrously short, and if she did anything other than stand up perfectly straight she would surely flash whatever she did or did not have on underneath. She had a clipboard in one arm and was jotting furiously with a pen.
“Are you a smoker?” he asked, grabbing her chin and lifting her lip to look at her teeth. She tried to reel back out of his reach but was reminded of the two slavers who brought her in as they grabbed her arms and held her in place.
“No.”
“Are you on any drugs or medication, recreational or otherwise?” He eyed her, spinning the lollipop in his mouth. “That includes birth control,” he added, taking out the candy and using it to point between her legs.
Grace shuddered. Even after the shower and the scrubbing, she could still feel Wesley’s cum inside her. She’d likely never feel fully clean again, and the idea that the monster might have impregnated her consumed her thoughts.
“Well?” the doctor asked, rubbing the sticky tip of his candy between her legs.
“No.” It had been awhile since she’d been on the dating scene and had stopped worrying about it. Too busy with work. Now that work had landed her here.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” He started to put the lollipop back in his mouth but stopped, staring at it. “Gross,” he noted, rotating it slowly in front of Grace so she could see one of her pubes stuck to the candy. “Not to worry, I’ll make sure you’re waxed smooth. And if Wesley wants it, I’ll make sure you never grow any of that unsightly body hair ever again.”
She’d shaved once in high school, an experiment leading up to sleeping with her first boyfriend. She had felt weird about it, but Lindsay Mullens had her pussy waxed and she’d slept with at least five guys, seniors too, so Grace had done it. Her first time had been less than memorable, and later she’d read that the expectation to shave was a way for the patriarchy to infantilize women and hold them back, plus it was healthier. She’d trimmed downstairs, of course, but the desire to be clean-shaven died with her virginity at 17. It seemed that choice was about to be taken from her, and the choice if she could ever grow pubic hair again went to Wesley.
“Get her onto the table,” the doctor said, and with a flick of the wrist he tossed the lollipop to a trashcan in the corner. It missed, clattering on the floor. Without missing a beat, the nurse walked over, her stiletto heels clicking on the floor, and then she bent over to retrieve the trash off the floor. She moved slowly, her short uniform rising up a millimeter at a time. The slavers had started hustling Grace over to the table, but they stopped, watching, something about the clothed girl about to reveal something more interesting than the completely naked girl in their hands. All three were treated to the same view, but Grace’s reaction vastly differed from her male captors’. She gasped audibly as the nurse’s labia was revealed, thick steel rings pierced through the puffy flesh, and small heart shaped padlocks held both sides together, effectively sealing off her pussy. As her uniform rose higher, the big fake rhinestone base of a plug resting in her ass was revealed. All while bent over at the waist, the nurse picked up the lollipop and deposited it in the trash before slowly straightening up and pulling her uniform back down over her round butt. She turned back to face them, her expression perfectly hidden behind the mask.
“Show’s over,” the doctor said. He’d donned a stethoscope around his neck and was holding a blood pressure sleeve.
The slavers thrust Grace towards the examination table, shoving her up against it while they untied her wrists. Knowing it was inevitable, she tried to climb up onto the table to spare herself having them do it for her, but before she could manage it one grabbed her from behind and the other bundled up her legs, and they adeptly hoisted her up and laid her down on the table, wrangling her legs into the waiting straps on the stirrups and her wrists into straps by her sides, leaving her spread and open and exposed.
“We’ve got it from here,” the doctor said, shooing the two other men away dismissively while he sidled up next to his newest patient. They grumbled to themselves while they exited, leaving Grace with the doctor and nurse.
“Are you a real doctor?” Grace asked. The thought of some failed veterinarian performing medical experiments on her plagued the back of her mind.
“Yes,” he said as he strapped the blood pressure sleeve around her right bicep. “Graduated from Johns Hopkins. Good school, but pretty terrible student loan debts. And the malpractice insurance is pretty steep, especially when patients accuse you of touching them inappropriately. But that’s the benefit of working here,” he said, smiling down at her while he squeezed the pump, applying pressure around her arm. “I get to do whatever I want to you, and you can’t say anything.”
Grace had taken her eyes off the nurse, who came up above her and suddenly stuffed a wad of gauze into her mouth. “Mmmmph!” Her latex glove covered hands clamped tight over Grace’s lips, preventing her from spitting out the gag.
“I make sure all you sluts are nice and healthy,” he explained as he put the stethoscope to her arm, listening as he slowly released the air in the sleeve. “I patch you up when you earn yourselves a well deserved beating. I make sure you don’t get too damaged from all the training. I make, mmm, customizations, where required.” He grabbed her breasts, feeling her up. “I make sure you’re perfect.”
***
Two Years Earlier
Grace dragged her feet as they approached the prison.
“Come on,” Ellie beckoned her.
“Maybe I should wait outside…”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “You’re not to here to harass him, you’re here working on a case.”
Grace was pretty sure Peter Culpepper’s restraining order didn’t have a clause in it that let her visit him in jail if it was for FBI business. But it was more than that.
“You didn’t go psycho on him or anything?”
“No, nothing bad...” She recalled the one time she’d gone too far, grabbing him by his orange jumpsuit and slamming him against the wall, demanding to know what he’d done with Tanya. It was the incident that had let a judge grant him the restraining order, and it was the last time she’d seen him. Ellie had probably already found out about that, but if she had, she didn’t call Grace out on it. “I just harassed him one too many times.”
“Just let me do the talking. If the guards don’t let you in they don’t let you in, but if they do, I think you should be there.”
Grace nodded. She’d had several other leads she tried to steer Ellie into exploring first, but her new partner had fixated on this one, and now it was happening. She trusted Ellie, she just wasn’t sure she was ready to face Culpepper again. Her inability to see the man she suspected took her sister had been actually quite healthy for her, and it wasn’t until he filed the restraining order that she was able to get her life together and join the FBI. “Alright.”
“It’ll be fine,” Ellie assured her for the umpteenth time as they headed into the prison. Sure enough, when they signed in and asked to visit with Culpepper, no one stopped them. It had been almost five years since she’d been here last, and she didn’t recognize any of the staff.
Ellie took a seat at the table in the private visitation room. Grace waited behind her, pacing nervously.
Ellie didn’t try to calm or reassure her any further, letting the younger woman work through it on her own in the short minutes they were left waiting. All she said was another reminder to let her do the talking as they heard the door unlock, and then a guard ushered in Peter Culpepper.
Five years in prison had aged him, poorly, but to Grace he looked exactly the same. He looked evil, the flesh embodiment of a man who had been charged with the abduction, sexual assault and enslavement of thirteen women, and the murder of four of those young women. And none of them were Tanya O’Conner. No, there’d been no evidence that he’d taken her, nothing the district attorney could prove anyways, but Grace knew. She could tell in the way the bastard had salivated over the pictures of her sister they’d shown him.
“Peter Culpepper?” Ellie asked.
The convicted felon looked right passed her to Grace. “The hell are you doing here?”
“She’s with me,” Ellie said, standing up and putting her palms on the table. “You mind giving us a couple minutes?” she asked the guard.
He glanced at her hip, and the prominently displayed badge. “You’ve got five. I’ll be right outside the door.”
“I’ll knock when we’re done,” she said. The guard left, locking them inside together. “Have a seat,” Ellie said.
“I’m good where I am. I do enough sitting,” he said, rocking on his feet, the shackles on his wrists and ankles clinking. “Who are you?”
“Special Agent Elizabeth Harper. FBI.”
“So you got someone halfway important to come bother me now?” he asked Grace. “What more do you want from me? I’m already in here for life, and last time I checked there’s no death penalty in this state, so I dunno what you’re hoping to achieve here Red.”
Grace’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. Above all the other emotions she felt when she’d attacked him, she remembered vividly it feeling very good. And for a brief second, she’d seen a flicker of fear in his killer’s eyes.
“You’re right,” Ellie said, sliding back into her chair. You’re here, and you’re staying here, so I’m not really interested in you.”
“She’s interested in me,” he said, flashing a toothy smile at Grace.
“She’s interested in you because she thinks you took her sister. But me, I’m interested in something bigger. And so is she. You took thirteen girls,” Grace stiffened. “Maybe more,” Ellie continued, “over the course of almost ten years. That’s more than one girl a year, but still, small potatoes compared to the list of missing women we’re looking for.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Oh, that’s simple. I stay not interested in you.”
He snorted. “You already said there ain’t nothing that can be done to me.”
Ellie smiled. “I lied. I left that part out, Petey. People do that sometimes when they think they can get away with it. You understand.”
There it was, that glint of fear in his eyes again. Only for a moment, but Grace saw it, and she was sure Ellie had seen it too.
“Virginia might not have the death penalty, but North Carolina does.”
“I’ve never been to North Carolina.”
“Gabriella Juarez has. She was from North Carolina. Last seen alive in North Carolina. You might have asphyxiated her to death with a plastic bag while you raped her in Virginia, but you kidnapped her from North Carolina.”
“I did not!”
“Prove it! Cause here’s the thing Petey, I know you can’t. But know this; I will make it my life’s mission to make sure you wind up before a judge in North Carolina, and they won’t have any problem giving you the needle.”
“There ain’t no way in hell—”
“Try me. Or give me something else to chase after.”
Ellie hadn’t told Grace her plan before coming in. The senior agent had just told her to trust her, and to let her do the talking, and now she understood why. Ellie had leverage, and she knew exactly how Grace would want to use it.
Ellie seemed to sense her partner’s inner conflict, and before Grace could jump in on the silence Culpepper was leaving, Ellie continued. “This thing is so much bigger than you. A huge slavery ring, hundreds of missing women, kidnappers, buyers... Give us something, and you can just enjoy your life sentence in peace. I mean, it’s not great, but it’s not death.”
He glowered at her.
“What’ll it be?”
“What do you want to know?”
Ellie smiled, leaning back in her chair. Grace tried to share in her happiness, but it just wasn’t there.
***
Grace’s eyes widened over the latex covered hands smothering the lower half of her face as she watched the doctor play with the speculum. She loathed this process with her regular gynecologist, who was at least a professional, and while she was often getting her work mandated physical, it was more or less voluntary. Now, strapped down, a helpless captive, effectively muted by a woman who was likely just as much a prisoner as she was, the prospect horrified her.
“Let’s take a look under the hood, shall we?” the doctor said, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, snapping them at the wrists. The act of him putting on fresh sterile gloves before he went exploring between her legs was somehow the opposite of comforting.
The helpless agent glanced up at the nurse, but when her eyes met the other woman’s, she could tell she’d get no sympathy from her. The nurse stared back, her expression devoid of any emotion, as though keeping the doctor’s patient quiet during the exam was completely mundane. To her, it probably was.
Grace jumped when she felt his fingers touch her. She’d broken into a cold sweat, and her back stuck to the padded leather surface of the examination table. Her arms strained against the cuffs at her side and she reflexively tried to close her legs, but between the restraints and the nurse holding her down, she was helpless to do anything to stop him.
“You’ve got a pretty pussy,” he told her. “It’ll look a lot better once we can see it properly,” he added, tugging on her pubes.
She grunted, looking again up at the nurse for any kind of reaction, but the woman who presumably didn’t choose to have her own pussy pierced and padlocked was unfazed by what was happening. She only had to make sure Grace couldn’t spit out her gag, and that’s what she was doing.
Grace squirmed as his fingers spread her lower lips, tugging at her folds. She couldn’t suppress a gasp of shock, muffled as it was, when she felt the cold metal device press against her opening. The helpless girl tried again in vain to squeeze her legs shut, but instead she felt herself being opened wider, the clinical tool more an instrument of medieval torture in the hands of the lecherous doctor.
“Very nice,” he commented, using a penlight to illuminate her stretched open private passage.
Grace’s cheeks burned under the nurse’s tight grip. She could almost physically feel his eyes upon her. Inside her.
“How does that feel?” he asked, looking up at from between her legs as he thrust a finger inside her.
Grace wiggled involuntarily, the instinct to shake him off like he was some parasite overriding her rationale desire to stay still and get it over with as quickly as possible. The shake, with the accompanied ripping sounds of her sweaty back tearing free from the hot leather and the jiggling of her breasts which they both noted, only made his finger rub along her inner walls. Try as she might to tell her lower half that she was revolted, her body responded, a flush creeping up her chest.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?”
She tried to shake her head, to say no, but the nurse gripped her face tighter, preventing her from trying to contradict the signs her body was giving out that it was enjoying this.
His gloved finger circled her clit, rubbing her sensitive nub. “Are you sexually active?” he asked.
Of course she couldn’t answer, but he didn’t seem interested in an answer, continuing on as he played with her.
“How often do you masturbate?”
Even though she couldn’t answer, wasn’t even expected to answer, just him asking brought a deeper flush to her cheeks.
“Can you achieve climax through vaginal stimulation, or do you need clitoral stimulation to get off? Or perhaps you need both?” As he asked he assaulted her with both hands, one playing with her button while the other stroked her walls.
“Nnnff! Nggggmmph!” she whimpered desperately, straining against her restraints.
“Nothing wrong with both,” he said, his fingers working faster. “It’s important to understand how crucial stimulation is.”
Grace gripped the padded surface of the table, her sweaty back ripping from the leather surface as she arched it, shimmying her hips forward.
“It’s important to know what you’re missing, in case it ever gets taken away,” he said, going in for the kill.
* * *
Two Years Earlier
Grace and Ellie were quiet on the way back to the car. It had started raining while they were inside the prison. They got in in silence, both processing what they’d learned inside. Grace reached for the radio when Ellie started the vehicle, turning it off.
“I wish you would have told me,” Grace said.
“Fair, but you get why I didn’t though, right?”
Grace sighed, watching the windshield wipers slide back and forth in front of her. She did, and it’s why she had let Ellie take the lead. But it didn’t mean she was happy about it.
“You’re too close to this one. I get it, you want to find out what happened to your sister—”
“You don’t get it!”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Ellie said. “I can’t pretend to understand how you feel.”
“It’s okay,” Grace said, her eyes fixated on the back and forth of the wipers.
“Thank you, for not trying to hijack that.”
“You were worried I might?” Grace looked at her new partner.
Ellie shrugged. “A little.”
“But all that stuff you said was bullshit,” Grace said.
Ellie raised an eyebrow.
“There’s no way anyone would open a case against him in North Carolina to get him put on death row.”
“Alright Grace, I might have underestimated you.” Ellie flashed her a wry smile.
“Yeah, you might have.” Grace couldn’t help but smile herself as she earned Ellie’s respect.
“He doesn’t know that though. And we got him to talk.”
“It wasn’t much.”
“But it’s a start. We’ve got a name.”
Grace nodded. “Wesley,” she said, the single name Culpepper had given them, the mysterious figure who he claimed ran a massive slavery ring.
“Who does this guy think he is, Cher? No fucking last name?” Ellie asked.
“I know, right?” Grace giggled. “My Wesley will come for me,” she said seriously.
“What?”
“Princess Bride,” Grace explained.
“I’ve never seen it,” Ellie said.
“Seriously?”
Ellie shrugged.
“We have to fix that. I mean, I’m already souring on the name Wesley, but that’s minor.”
“Alright we can do that. And we’ll find this Wesley guy. ‘Wesley, I’m coming for you,’” she said, taking the same very serious tone. “Is that the line?”
Grace burst into laughter. “No. Just no.”
Ellie chuckled. “Well, we’ll find him. And hey, we’re gonna find out what happened to your sister too, okay?”
Grace nodded. She was feeling, good, for the first time since Ellie had told her she wanted to talk to Culpepper. “Thank you.”
“Any time, partner.”
Grace smiled, watching the windshield wipers.
***
The doctor leaned back, peeling off his gloves and tossing them aside. “Everything looks good,” he said, patting her still very sensitive pussy. “Now for the fun part.” He looked up at the nurse. “Go heat up some wax.”
Grace’s eyes widened. The nurse nodded, taking her hands from the helpless agent’s mouth.
The doctor ducked under her spread leg and wheeled in his chair up next to her, pushing the sodden gauze pad deeper into Grace’s mouth as she opened it, desperate for some relief from the stringy material drying out her mouth. “No, you can’t spit that out just yet.”
His bare fingers and palm on her face and lips was worse than the nurse’s latex glove covered ones somehow. His fingers plunged into her mouth, forcing the stuffing deeper. She gagged and retched as the gauze hit the back of her throat, but he didn’t stop.
“It’s alright, you can take more.” He grabbed another gauze pad off of the counter. Grace tried to shake her head but he squeezed her jaw between his strong fingers, holding her mouth open for him to start cramming it in. “She’s pretty easy on the eyes,” he said, glancing at the door where the nurse had disappeared, “but she doesn’t always have the same attention to detail I do,” he lamented.
Grace was just trying to keep from choking as he packed her cheeks.
“It’s hard to believe she was my boss once,” he said, grabbing another gauze pad. “She was such a stuck up bitch,” he mused as he started packing Grace’s overstuffed mouth further.
Behind him the nurse walked back in carrying a tray, steam wafting up in front of her face from a bowl of hot wax. She stood patiently behind the doctor, waiting while he continued.
“She fired me,” he told his captive audience. “She couldn’t hide her excitement when she did. But it all worked out in the end.” He worked the last corner of the gauze under Grace’s stretched lips. He looked over his shoulder at his personal slave. “Isn’t that right?”
The woman didn’t respond. Grace could only assume that she couldn’t, and under the surgical mask she was presumably gagged as well.
The doctor beckoned her closer with a finger. She stepped in, leaning into his hand, allowing him to hook his finger under the strap of her mask and slowly pull it down under her chin. “Where’s all your attitude now?”
Grace couldn’t keep the scream from escaping, the noise muffled through the tightly packed layers of gauze plugging her mouth. The nurse’s lips were sewn shut, thick black string disappearing into her flesh above and below her full, red lips. A grizzly, permanent gag keeping her mouth forever sealed.
“I bet you can’t wait for your punishment to end,” the doctor said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. “As soon as you can use your mouth again, you’re going to put it work thanking me, aren’t you.”
She nodded, the corners of her sewn lips trembling.
“And if you do a good job showing your appreciation, maybe I’ll unlock your cunt and give you what you really want.”
Grace looked on, her eyes riveted to the scene as he lifted front of his nurse’s skirt, once more exposing her pierced and padlocked pussy. The realization slowly dawned on the captured agent that it wasn’t just being raped she had to look forward to. Their captors had complete control over their bodies, and they both could and would do anything they wanted to do with them. And there was nothing she could do about it.
The doctor walked his fingers down the locks sealing her away. “You’re going to be a good nurse for me, aren’t you?”
She nodded. Whether she was actually looking forward to her master unlocking her pussy to rape her or she was just humoring him to avoid further punishment, Grace realized it didn’t really matter, not to him anyways. At what point did it not matter at all?
“The wax is getting cold,” he whispered, tugging at one of the locks before letting go.
The nurse nodded, setting the tray on the counter. She made no effort to cover either her mouth or crotch again, letting Grace have a constant view of the doctor’s handiwork while she stirred the hot wax.
Grace had the displeasure of having her eyebrows waxed for Prom back in high school, and couldn’t imagine why anyone would want that painful experience near there nether region, but she had been assured it wasn’t THAT bad. She imagined the doctor and his tortured nurse would take no precautions to make sure her suffering was lessened.
The nurse resumed her position handgagging Grace, standing over her and watching. Grace was able to tear her eyes off the thick black stitches sealing her mouth only because the doctor between her spread legs lifting the hot, gooey wax on a wooden stick made her slightly more nervous.
“Let’s get rid off all this hair, shall we?”
If she wasn’t so well gagged, she would have happily declined, but he wouldn’t have cared. She shook her head as much as the nurse would let her, whimpering softly. The muffled noise reverberated into a muted scream as he slathered the hot wax over her bush, the scalding concoction making contact with her most sensitive flesh.
“I know it hurts,” he said without an ounce of sympathy as he gathered up a fresh batch of wax and slowly applied it to the screaming girl on his exam table. “But it’ll all be worth it.”
Grace thrashed, but the restraints held. She screamed, but the nurse tightened her grip over her packed mouth.
“You’re going to have to suffer some, but it’s all to make you better,” he said, finishing coating her nether region. He blew on the wax gently before pressing a strip of cloth to the area.
Grace looked up at the nurse, looking again for some kind of sympathy from her fellow captive, but if the nurse cared at all about her plight, her face didn’t reveal it. The wax was cooling and she’d adjusted to the initial shock of the heat, but she knew the worst was yet to come. Her breath came in rapid snorts through her nose, her fingers digging into the padded surface of the table.
“It’s all to make you perfect,” he said before ripping the hair from her body.
Grace screamed.