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.
