A Hand Overplayed

Blurred shapes and lines clouded Brittany's vision along with a piercing light, her frazzled brain doing the best it could to regain clarity and analyze her current situation. She found herself sitting upright in what felt like a wooden chair, whatever it was it had a hard surface and was quite uncomfortable especially with only a paper thin dress as padding. In addition, her hands were locked into place along with her head from a thick piece of wood positioned across her shoulders. The boards were bolted to whatever it was she was sitting on and placed around her limbs in a tellingly sadistic fashion, any way Brittany moved would cause her wrists or neck to pinch against the edge of the holes they had been fastened into, the only way to avoid this was to sit perfectly upright facing forward. When she tried to move her legs she was greeted with equal levels of torment.

A cold piece of metal was wedged between them, secured at her ankles and also bolted into the seat underneath her, regardless of how she positioned herself a slight bit of pressure still constantly radiated through them. Not enough to cause any sort of physical injury, but more than enough to agitate her soft skin, which was accustomed to designer lotions and near thousand dollar spa treatments. The setup had a secondary side effect of leaving her exposed, with the bar pushing her ankles apart and the tiny nature of her dress, the only way she could keep up her skirt safe from view was pushing her thighs together and ignore the bar's shackles digging into her legs. Heartbeat racing and beads of sweat forming on her head, the young woman quickly succumb to terror as the contents of the room around provided more cause for panic.

Sprawled out around her was what could only be described as an exhibit on depravity, the makings of the most comprehensive sex dungeon one could imagine. Multiple cages of various sizes peppered the room, some tall and thin, others short and wide. Specifically one toward the top of the room seemed to house a similar stockade on its roof to the one Brittany now found herself in, while being no larger than a big dog crate. Several different leather clad wooden benches of various shapes sat between the cages, one such nestled in front of a large mirror positioned in the opposite corner from where Brittany currently found herself. Where she sat now seemed to be a hub of large restraints as evident from the towering contraption that stood next to her, which was constructed of a massive mahogany piece in the shape of an X, turning her head as far as she could allowed her to make out the leather shackles adorning the top of the device. A blind spot loomed behind her making it impossible to make out the entirety of this section, or to notice the shadowy figure watching her from within it.

In the center of the room stood a large metal cabinet of which she could only guess the contents, on top of it though sat a copper colored rack, which contained no mystery as to what it held. A collection of whips, paddles, and riding crops neatly arranged by what appeared to be type and size. Brittany's eyes bulged at the sight of them, especially one particular paddle that contained thick metal studs along its surface. In the vast sea of depravity laid out before her the one thing Brittany couldn't seem to find was a door. Was all of this stuff Lance's?

What the hell had he done with her? Was she even still at his house? If not where was she? Last she remembered he had came down the steps to present her with a horror show, how in the fuck did he find all that out? She was as careful about erasing those second identities as one could be, unless he was some kind of super spy investigator there was no way. She could feel carpet beneath her feet but the fact all of her other clothing seemed to still be on was about the only good sign she could find in all this.

"L...L...Lance" her voice quivered out, "are you there? Can you please tell me what's going on?". Her plea brought no response.

"Lance?" she again stated, mustering the will to project her voice a little more despite her state of mind, "Please baby, we need to talk, I...I don't know what you saw on the internet but I can explain. It's not what you think it is!" now projecting as loud as she could hoping anyone would hear her.

"Oh, we both know it's exactly what I think it is, whore." bellowed a voice from behind that sent a chill across her back. Lance appeared from her left field of view holding a folding chair, slowly encircling Brittany he unfolded the seat and placed it just about two feet in front of her. Never had she heard Lance, or any man for that matter, speak to her in such a way. Although the words prompted less anger and more panic as the peril of her current situation started to truly reveal itself. She hadn't known Lance as well as she thought, in fact it was becoming increasingly clear she hadn't known him at all.

"Wh..." she gasped as words evaded her, her face flushed red with anxiety while her breaths became so heavy it bordered on panting. "What's going on Lance?" she pleaded on the verge of tears, "Why did you bring me here?"

For his part Lance didn't seem particularly interested in what Brittany had to say, he wandered over to the center metal cabinet after placing his seat. Kneeling down he opened the door, leaving the creaking of its hinges as the only response to Brittany's desperate inquires. From within it he extracted a long wand shaped tool made of red plastic with a black handle, Brittany had no idea what such a thing could be. Despite his apparent disinterest for her comment he turned back around with a response, "well, that's a complicated question you see, I have several reasons to have brought you here, some of which you already know." Lance leaned up against the now closed cabinet holding his recently acquired device in his left hand. "Others are my own personal reasons, and in fact many of them benefit you believe it or not"

Brittany rocked back and forth, her lower lip quivering as a combination of sweat and tears streamed across her now smeared mascara, what kind of nightmare was she trapped in? She had never been so scared, although if she were to be truly honest, she'd have to admit there was a moment during all this where a different set of lips slightly quivered as well.

"Let's start with the basic facts we both already know, one, you were planning to steal from me. Just like you've stolen from any man whose been stupid enough to wander into a relationship with you" Lance said, his commanding voice leaving no room for compromise. Brittany gulped hard and took a deep breath before simply nodding in response, "say it whore" Lance barked, "I want to hear you admit it"

Brittany looked away in frustration, her eyes wandered around the room doing anything to avoid Lance's icy stare, her lower jaw rocked side to side as shame washed over her. Realising there was no point in maintaining her facade any longer she meekly looked back up toward him, "I was planning to steal from you." she conceded with a soft, cracking voice.

Lance smiled in satisfaction at finally hearing her confession and gazing upon the now unmasked con artist. "You know, I think this is the first time I've seen what you really look like, it's funny the things desperation can bring out in a person." he teased. Brittany declined a response and just weakly stared down at the floor, processing her defeat. The smug smile on Lance's face widened even more as he began stalking toward the bound woman.

"Two, your name isnt Trinity, Megan, Steph, Beth, or whatever the fuck you go around calling yourself. It's Brittany Maston, you were born in Boston, Massachusetts on February 16th 1992." Brittany closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in grief, it was bad enough making her admit she was a thief and a fraud, but to flaunt her true identity in her face was clearly meant to be salt in the wound. A message that she had made a terrible mistake the night she picked Lance out of that busy Vegas crowd. Again, finding no point in resisting with the now unveiled information, she simply nodded in agreement. "Say it whore!" he exclaimed, louder than before and now only a few feet from Brittany as he leaned on the back of the chair

"My...my name is..." Brittany had hidden behind her masks for so long, it had been quite sometime since she said her real name aloud to someone, she couldn't believe she had been so severely exposed. Gritting her teeth and taking a deep breath she finished her sentence just before another reprimand from Lance was incoming, "My name is Brittany Maston, I was born in Boston, Massachusetts on February 16th 1992". Lance relished in how thoroughly she had obeyed.

"Three, points one and two mean you are nothing but a lying whore, and don't you dare just nod your head at me you better fucking say it back" he stated leaning in closer from beyond the seat. Brittany's eyes closed again, even more tightly than before, her flushed face smashed together. Stripes of running makeup now reached down to her trademark dimples which had always given her such an oh so irresistible smile, although no smiles were to be had at this moment. Feeling utterly humiliated at what she had to do she gave him the response he seeked through closed eyes, "Because of the things i've done" she gasped, a ball of tension in her chest trying to suppress the words that followed "I'm nothing but a lying whore" her voice cracking on the final word while her eyes opened in relief the statement was finished.

Lance, walking from behind the chair reached out and touched her chin, tilting her head at an angle so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Don't worry, I promise your new life will be much more fulfilling than any of those prior charades" sitting down across from Brittany after his statement had finished, leaving a confused and fearful girl pondering.

Reaching into his pocket Lance produced a switchblade then immediately snapped it open, the sight of which filled Brittany with overt horror as she began to struggle in her bonds. Lance calmly held his palm up toward her, "I would hate to accidentally injure you, so for both our sakes I suggest you sit still and let me do what I need to". Brittany got the message and stopped moving as much as possible, though her legs still quivered while every muscle in her body was wrought with tension.

Lance took the blade and placed it against the small strap across Brittany's right shoulder, with a quick pull he had sliced it, the strap seperated in two as both fell in opposite directions leaving her shoulder bare and her right breast semi exposed. "Wait wait" she pleaded "Look I know you're angry, b...but I can give you money." Lance sat back amused and allowed her to continue, "between jewelry and cash I'm sure I've got like two hundred grand at my loft, I'll...I'll give it all to you if you just want to forget about all this." she said with a hopeful smile, nodding at the end of her statement as if to prove her sincerity. Lance responded by lowering the red wand in his hand and placing the end, which contained two tiny metal prods, along the flesh of her vulnerable chest. With the push of a button an electrical charge shot out and burned across her skin.

"AHHHHHHH" she screamed loudly as her face winced in pain, her toes curled up while sweat covered hands balled themselves into fists as her whole body shifted left far as her restraints allowed, "that fucking hur..." ,before she could finish a second zap against the inside of her leg caused wincing in the opposite direction. This time producing a high pitched "EEEP" as she struggled in her restraints. Allowing a second or two for the electrical charges to process, Lance looked back into her eyes, "Two basic rules of your new life, whore. One, you answer everything with 'Yes Sir'. Two, you speak only when spoken too or given permission. Goodness knows the world has heard enough of that slutty mouth's lies anyway." Brittany stared into his eyes breathing heavily, her skin still searing from the charges it had received, Lance continued unabated "Does the whore understand?" he growled, making it clear he was not in the mood for any disobedience.

"Yes sir, I understand" the once cocky girl answered.

Satisfied his message had been received Lance took the blade to the other shoulder strap, cutting the thin cloth away, with the falling of its tatters a wave of goosebumps flew across Brittany's body from the cool air colliding with the fresh perspiration layered across her now exposed bosom. The front part of the dress flapped down to her stomach as her heart rate now shot through the ceiling. Lance took his finger and began to toy with one of her helpless nipples, flicking it left to right several times before ending with a sharp pinch that produced a gasp from his captive.

Brittany's mind was racing with thoughts, circulating in a wave of "how?" and "why?" was the search for a way out. There had to be a way to free herself from this situation, be it through bargaining or simply escaping, she couldn't let herself be kept for whatever it was Lance had in mind. For now though the reality was she was best off listening to him, dreary as the prospect was.

Lance reached down to her legs and grabbed the opening of her skirt, Brittany squeezed her eyes shut as a tear ran down her cheek, knowing full well what was about to come. Lance proceed to thrust the knife upward and began a vertical cut along the bottom front of her dress. By the time he was done the fabric had been cut all the way up passed Brittany's navel, with only a tiny shred of material keeping the garment together now. Reaching up to this shard of cloth, Lance took it with both hands and ripped it apart, as the dress fell open Lance yanked the remains from underneath and behind her. Tossing what was left of the dress aside, Brittany now sat before him with nothing but a thin pair of panties covering her, the panties she had so carefully selected the night before.

"I needed to make sure you were awake for this, seemed poetic for you to experience the removal of the last outfit you'll choose for yourself ." Lance tugged on the delicate fabric of Brittany's underwear while watching her breasts fall up and down from her panting. Smiling he brought the shock wand up toward her chest, pressing the metal prods against her left nipple, "Please...Please...Please no" she moaned desperately, the predatorial look in Lance's eyes revealing what was clearly about to happen. With the press of a button a sharp charged cracked into supple pink flesh.

"FFFFUUUUCCCKKKKKKK" she desperately exclaimed as her whole body jerked from the device; her ankles, hands, and neck raking against the inside of their bonds. "You were so excited for me to see them only last night." Lance mocked, "What changed?". Brittany closed her eyes and wondered how she could have just served herself up on a silver platter to this monster. Had her lust for money really been so strong?

Lance grabbed the lace of her panties and held the knife against them, with the cut of one strap they fell open, with the cut of a second they fell apart. Lance reached down and removed the remains, tossing them to the side with Brittany's dress before folding the knife back up and putting it away. The bound girl shivered realizing her now fully naked body was at the mercy of this pervert. Scooting his chair slightly forward, Lance placed his hands on the bottom of her captive neck and began to speak.

"Such beautiful eyes, such dainty golden skin.", Lance's hands moved downward and began massaging her breasts as he continued with his descriptions, "One of the most well crafted physiques i've had the pleasure to get my hands on" one hand leaving her exposed tits to trace a finger around her toned stomach. The compliments stated in a way one would describe the new car they had just purchased, leaving Brittany feeling more objectified than flattered. Removing his hands from her torso, he reached down and began to toy with her inner labia, Brittany immediately attempted to thrust herself away from the molesting hands, only to realize the device she was bound to didn't offer much leeway. The sudden movement also prompted a burning stare from Lance which was accompanied by the lowering of the shock wand to her exposed flower, the implication clear, stop struggling unless she wanted to feel another shock against her sensitive little hole. Brittany readjusted back to her original position, no longer attempting to restrict Lance's access to her body, satisfied Lance smirked and placed the electrical prod back across his lap before continuing to fondle her captive pussy.

"I had always imagined you were tight, but this is unbelievable, no wonder men spend so much money to try and get inside of this. You're practically a virgin!" Lance gushed, his tone dripping with devious intent. Reaching his hand from around her crouch he took a large handful of Brittany's plump bottom, "I can only imagine how tight that little asshole must be" he hissed through a malefic smile, leaned in so close now Brittany could feel his warm breath against her cold naked form.

This situation was becoming near unbearable; Brittany's face was twitching in spots from having been tensed up for so long, her arms were sore from being propped upward for what she could only guess had been hours, her heart rate so fast it felt like the organ would burst through her chest and shoot off into the atmosphere. Somewhere deep down in her soul however a part of her was enjoying this, a part she not dare admit to herself, but a part that boiled nonetheless.

Lance abruptly stood up and walked back over toward the cabinet behind him, a metal creek echoed throughout the room sandwiched between the distinguishable sound of Brittany's panting. From within the storage center Lance produced a black duffel bag, "I wish I had more time for you this morning, whore. Sadly I have a meeting for today planned months ago, with no way to reschedule. Meaning your lessons won't begin until this evening." Lessons? Brittany pondered, was that what he called this perversion? What was he saying?

Walking back over he pulled the chair back toward the center of the room, pushing it to the side, with a quick stride over to Brittany he plopped the duffel down next to him. Looking down upon the anxious girl he reached into his pocket and produced a copper keyring before taking a knee and leaning in toward her legs. "We can however do one thing before I go.." as the word exited his lips the clamp he was fondling came open, freeing her ankle, Lance traced his finger along the intricate autumn leaves tattooed on her skin. Looking up at her with his now familiar smirk, "..we can introduce you to your new home" he finished, reaching his arm out he dragged the duffel bag toward him, relieved at the thought of being unbound Brittany offered no resistance as Lance unlocked the opposite leg as well. It was the first time she was free to move her lower body it what seemed like forever, the relieved girl stretched her legs out and rotated her ankles while flexing her toes. Attempting to soothe her aching muscles and joints, but also taking great care to not hit Lance with them as to not provoke him further, understanding her best bet right now was to do as she was told and allow his perversions to be rained down on her.

Reaching down next to him Lance grasped the bag's zipper and pulled, the sound of it opening chiseling through Brittany's dramatic breaths. From inside the bag Lance produced a raven black leather collar with a thick metal loop protruding from it's center, Lance placed the restraint around the exposed part of Brittany's neck before looping the parts into each other and fastening it to her. Anxiety filling Brittany's thoughts as she pondered what he was scheming, Lance hovered so close to her the smell of his cologne began dancing inside of her nostrils.