A redheaded woman tied to a St. Andrew's cross drew Hannah's attention first. Her bare arms and legs were splayed wide, strapped immobile. Her protruding artificial breasts made the perfect target for the bare-chested Dom who was in the process of cropping her nipples. Heavy weights swayed between her legs, held there by vicious clamps attached to her swollen labia. Only the oversized ring gag prying her painted lips wide kept her screams from overpowering the space. The strands of spittle dripping down her chin to her chest indicated she'd been restrained there for more than a few minutes.
The screech of another submissive jarred Hannah's attention away. She briefly recognized that the man holding her arm like a vice was allowing her to watch and wondered why. She suspected he wanted to scare the shit out of her by letting her take in the sight of the staged torture in progress directly in front of them.
It was working.
The second scene was in a replica of a medieval dungeon, the temporary walls covered in fake stones. A stained glass window at the back of the set was backlit, giving the space an unholy flare.
The focal point of the area was the severe punishment in progress. A naked woman was kneeling, center stage, on the uncomfortable stone floor. Her body was contorted, her knees spread and held wide by barbaric chains. Her arms were tucked behind her back. Thick ropes wrapped around her overlapping forearms ensured she wouldn't break free until her tormenter allowed it.
It was the vicious metal hook protruding from between her bottom cheeks that stole the scene. A too-short length of rope was tied to the end of the anal hook, connecting it to her bleached-blonde hair. Her head was yanked back, forcing her back to arch in an uncomfortable bend, serving up the entirety of her front for a palette of pain. It was clear she would topple over if it weren't for another rope looping up to the menacing irons hanging from the ceiling.
As if the position weren't bad enough, the Dom in the scene was dressed like a medieval guard borrowed from the set of Game of Thrones. The twin strips of the tawse in his hand struck the woman's striped breasts and dragged blood-curdling screams from the captive. The pain of each stroke was enhanced by the chaser of agony caused by each flinch, which yanked the anal hook deep in her bowels. Tears streaked mascara down her face as the leather marked lower, catching the undersides of her breasts and leaving raised welts.
Hannah shuddered in fear, unable to believe she was so close to the horror show in progress. What the hell had she got herself into? She pulled hard against the man at her side, trying to go back out the way they'd come in.
He leaned down to talk against her ear with menace. "Come on. We're late." They were the first words the tall, olive-skinned man had spoken to her. The accent supported her assumption he was from the Middle East.
She didn't have time to dwell on it as she was pulled through a door at the far end of the room, gratefully leaving the sounds of pain and torture behind.
"You're doing great, Hannah. Stay calm." Dylan's voice in her ear made her jump. She'd been so distracted by the nightmarish scenes that she'd almost forgotten the men were seeing the same visions through her small camera feed. She knew she couldn't answer, but his voice did help slow her pulse with relief.
They passed another security check, this time with an added keypad requiring a six-digit entry code. She wished she'd asked more questions about what the men had known she would be encountering. Maybe it would have been easier to have known what to expect.
Maybe not.
The décor in the foyer they passed through next was like the difference between riding in a Hyundai and a Cadillac. Her heels clicked along the upscale marble floor as goatee-guy pulled her past walls of expensive looking art. Her escort knocked briskly on a mahogany door, which was an obvious upgrade from the cheap paneling of the previous space. His fingers dug into her arm painfully just before he opened the door, shoving her inside ahead of him.
Jake Davenport stood in front of a mammoth desk, half sitting, half leaning against the surface. He looked smug, his ankles and arms were crossed leisurely.
She stopped dead in her tracks, hoping to keep as much distance as possible between them, but the clamp on her arm only got worse as she was pressed farther into the room.
Hannah's eyes dropped to the half-naked woman kneeling on the floor before Jake, her back to the door. Her arms were tied behind her back in an uncomfortable way, thick rope constricting just above the elbows, forcing her shoulders back uncomfortably. Even without seeing her face, Hannah knew it was Mia at his feet, and her anger flared hot. She lurched forward as if to run to her friend, but the brute next to her held her tight, she was unable to break free.
"Nice of you to join us, Hannah. I'm disappointed you chose to take the hard route. It didn't need to be like this," Jake said evenly.
Anger burst out. "Oh, really? And how was it supposed to be? You're a sicko, you know that? I only came here to give you back what I took and to get Mia and Lucy. Then we're leaving."
His menacing chuckle sounded like it belonged on the soundtrack of a horror movie. "Oh Hannah, my dear, you're in no position to negotiate with me. I'm the only one who calls the shots around here. You work for me. I believe I explained clearly my expectations regarding your employee
