The Pits of Depravity
Thank you for looking at my story. I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. It would be very helpful if, having read it, you give it a rating, and add any comments that occur to you.
This story is not part of a series, but it is the first volume in what I hope will be a tetralogy. In later volumes the science fiction element will be much more prominent. Obviously, it would be equally at home in the "BDSM" or the "Noncon" categories, but we have to choose one.
Chapter One - Admission
The Pits of Depravity were not called that officially. The discreet sign at the entrance to the car park said "Heilbron Laboratories," but some visitors called it "Sinners' Paradise," and others preferred "The Holes," which was less explicit. Admission was strictly by invitation only. Newcomers were recommended by one or more existing members, and were vetted with great care. Pretexts were found to test them for a infectious and contagious diseases, and their online accounts and devices were hacked and ransacked to discover anything illegal. Extensive debts were a disqualification, or anything that would cause unwelcome authorities to come searching for them.
Christobell was a candidate because she was a rich widow, left alone at only twenty-four as a result of her rich husband's passion for rock-climbing. She was twenty-five when she was "spotted" by a boyfriend who, although in most respects unsuitable, discovered her interest in BDSM, and knew that her efforts to find a like-minded partner had met with only sporadic success.
Her problem was that she craved both long-term bondage and ruthless sexual exploitation, preferably by multiple partners at once or in quick succession. She had no interest in role-playing games, but wanted an experience that was real, with no hope of escape or release before the designated date and time. The Pits were open to both dominants and submissives, and she was clearly the latter.
She was not told of the existence of the establishment until her vetting was complete. That was done by enrolling her in a programme that ostensibly monitored her health and provided a range of dietary supplements and immunizations. Unknown to her, she was treated to improve her libido and her tolerance for bondage, and to suppress her gag reflex and vulnerability to tickling and itches.
Then she was sent an invitation to visit over a bank holiday weekend- Friday to Tuesday- with access to an online brochure that disappeared after an hour. There was an assurance that she would suffer no "lasting" damage, but she had to accept that she would be put to sexual use by the membership, numbers unspecified. Discretion was guaranteed, and there would be no charge as she was a first-time submissive. If she decided to return, there would be a membership fee which she could easily afford.
She would, of course, be expected to sign a non-disclosure agreement, any breach of which would have very serious consequences. No photography or recording of any kind was permitted. She found it all very vague: all she knew was that she would agree to be tied up and ravished over several days. It seemed dangerous, but it was what she had wanted all her adult life, so she signalled her agreement, and in due course was sent her joining instructions.
It was made clear to her that only members of six months standing were told the location. She would be collected from her home by a Hymer motorhome with frosted windows, and the driver would remain in his place. She should come completely empty handed. She would need no money or cards, or her mobile phone, or even a watch. They knew she needed no prescription or proprietary medicines. She should wear a short, simple and inexpensive dress, a pair of sandals, and nothing else at all.
On the day, she dithered and dallied until the very last minute, for it was a huge and dangerous step to take. She knew, however, that she would not get many chances to live the kind of life that she wanted, and everything about the offer seemed genuine. The short-lived boyfriend who had nominated her had seemed reliable, honest and solicitous of her welfare. He would have lasted longer had he not insisted on untying her before they went to sleep. She spent some time choosing a suitable dress, but when the motorhome pulled up at her door she walked purposefully out of her house and into hit, hearing the lock click as she closed the door behind her.
The journey took no more than ninety minutes, and Christobell has no idea where they went. Nor did she see the outside of the establishment. It appeared to be a redundant and repurposed storage and distribution centre for frozen food, but the insulation and the masses of rock that had kept it cold now helped to keep it very warm and humid. Much of it was a network of old mines and natural caverns, some them enlarged or cleared of rubble.
There was a windowless and featureless building as well, covering the entrance, and it served as offices and a huge garage where members could leave their vehicles. In the old days trucks could load and leave without exposing their cargoes to the summer sun. Now newcomers like Christobell could come and go without a glimpse of the outside world.
They did not come and go with their hands free, however. As soon as the Hymer stopped, the door opened and a young white man entered, wearing nothing but a loincloth. He was holding a single piece of thin rope; the ends gathered to prevent fraying. "Good afternoon, Miss Christobell," he said politely. Would you please turn your back to me and give me your hands?"
She had expected to be bound, if not quite so soon, so it never occurred to her to refuse. She was surprised, however, to see that the man was collared, and that his ankles were hobbled with cuffs and a length of chain. "Aren't you a submissive?" she asked. "Why are you tying me up?"