Chapter 16

The next morning, Lola awoke earlier but hugged Pembroke’s chest to avoid having to get up and face her mother in the cage. She knew a day of disgusting degeneracy and pain lay ahead as soon as the giant ogre on whom she was resting opened his eyes.

“Morning, Lola,” he rumbled, his voice thick as it rolled his cavernous mouth. His double chin wobbled slightly with each syllable, folding into itself like layers of damp dough. “Now, darling, let’s not forget your morning routine. Surely, you’d like to make your mother proud ... show her just how disciplined you can be ... this morning.”

Lola waited for the noose to be untied from her neck before moving down to between his legs. Lisa was awake, she had barely slept, and had to watch her darling daughter move her small sweet little body down the bed and dip her innocent face to between the thighs of the monster who had imprisoned both of them. She could not look as her daughter did ... things ... with her mouth, things that no one her age should do with anyone least of all a man like Edward Pembroke. The thought that Lola must have been doing these things all while Lisa had been running around like a headless chicken made her ill.

Lola ran her tongue from asshole to balls repeatedly while tweaking his cock with her hand. When his cock was huge and twitching in her hand, she moved her mouth up and sucked down on him hard, until he came in her mouth.

“Good girl Lola! You really are the best little cocksucker I have ever met! Pembroke leapt up out of bed. “But don’t you dare swallow my cum just yet, hold it in your mouth!”

Lisa felt the heavy footsteps of the evil bastard approaching. She looked up again and saw his naked, flabby body advancing—layers of fat wobbling in excitement, his mouth twisted into a stupid grin.

“Good morning, Lisa. How are you feeling this morning?”

“I feel ... sick,” she said simply.

“Well, let’s give you some medicine then, eh?” he laughed. “Lola, come here.” He opened Lisa’s cage. “Lola has a lovely surprise for you in her mouth; she wants to share it with you. Come out, don’t be shy.”

Lisa stepped out and stood, her hands pressed tightly against her crotch, her arms angled downward to cover her nipples—shielding all her vital areas.

“Kiss your daughter,” he said to her, while pushing Lola gently but firmly toward her. “Go on, Lola—while you kiss her, pass it into her mouth. Share it with her.”

Lisa looked at Lola, wincing and disgusted, at her, and herself. She couldn’t just give in. After feeling so dirty, she couldn’t simply go straight back into taking his disgusting seed from her daughter’s mouth. She couldn’t let herself end up like Lola seemed to have—broken, obedient. She had to set an example, as a mother.

“Edward, there are people who can help you,” she said to Pembroke calmly. “I think if you let us go, Lola and I can move on with our lives, and you can get therapy to heal from whatever it is that was done to you.”

Pembroke was stuck for words. He had been so focused on the next depravity that he had forgotten Lisa was an adult—and that this was only her third day in captivity. His grin vanished, replaced by a deep furrow in his brow as his face contorted with fury, slipping back into his default mode.

“Sorry, what was that?” he said, his voice flat.

“Lisa swallowed, she falteringly tried to speak... “I think you are ... sick...”

“Sorry, what was that?” he said, his voice flat.

Lisa swallowed and faltered as she tried to speak. “I think you are ... sick...”

Like a flash of lightning, Pembroke’s massive arm shot up and struck Lisa hard on the side of the head.

“Fucking whore. You do not EVER speak to your master like that,” he shouted down at Lisa, who had fallen hard on the floor, now holding her head. He turned his glare to Lola. “What are you looking at? Go to the corner,” he pointed, “and stay standing in the corner. And don’t swallow—I want that kept in your mouth. If it’s gone, you will get the same treatment as your cunt of a mother!”

Pembroke gripped Lisa by her hair, nearly tearing her scalp as he yanked her forward. Dazed, her vision blurred, Lisa stumbled across the basement floor. Her feet dragged limply behind her, arms flailing as she struggled to break free.

“Do you see all of this? My house, this basement, all this equipment—an idiot like you could never dream of having what I have!” His voice thundered, each word dripping with venom. “Sluts like you are only fit to be used for your holes, and you’re going to be tortured and used with every single piece of equipment you see here. But first ... take a look at this!”

He wrenched open the lower drawer of a heavy chest, holding Lisa upright as he forced her to look inside. Blood trickled from her mouth as her head drooped, her eyes locking onto the writhing, skittering forms within.

Spiders. A dozen of them.

Time stood still for her and even her pain went away while her body froze, and then she screamed.

“Nooooooooooo, please!” she wailed. “Please—I’ll do anything! Don’t ... don’t ... I don’t want to ... no ... please...”

Pembroke forced her head into the drawer. The spiders flinched back at the sudden movement, but then some began to slowly crawl toward her face. Lisa’s body convulsed, trembling violently as if she were being electrocuted.

“All right,” Pembroke said, yanking her head back up with a brutal tug and slamming the drawer shut. “Maybe you’d prefer being whipped.”

He dragged her to a space with D-rings bolted into the floor and a rope dangling from the ceiling. Shoving her down, he turned his attention to an array of whips, canes, floggers, paddles, and feathers, his fingers gliding over them as though he were selecting a fine suit to wear.

“Lola, get your ass over here!”

Lola ran as fast as her trembling legs could carry her, her eyes glistening with fear. She stumbled slightly, her bare feet skipping across the floor as she came to a halt. Her lips were pressed tightly together, her mouth sealed shut as she desperately tried to hold the salty cum inside.

“Tie your mother’s ankles to the D-rings with the belts and ties there, and put her wrists into those cuffs hanging from the rope,” he barked.

He slapped Lola’s bottom sharply, urging her to move faster as the frightened teenager scrambled to obey. Lisa, too exhausted to resist, allowed Lola to guide her legs apart and secure her ankles. She lay back on the floor, her body sagging with exhaustion as her feet were spread wide and restrained.

Lola crouched down by her mother’s head. “Mommy, you have to get up. I need to cuff your hands,” she whispered.

As she spoke, a thin sliver of cum slipped from her mouth and landed on her mother’s breasts. Instinctively, she swallowed in fear—and then froze in horror as she realized all the cum had gone down her throat.

She cursed herself silently, her stomach knotting with dread as she helped her mother sit up, already imagining the punishment she might now face, while she pulled her mother up and cuffed her wrists.

“Now, Lola, pick one,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, gesturing to the array of whips, floggers, canes, and wires. “I trust you to make the right choice. I trust you to decide how many strikes are deserved. And most importantly...” He leaned closer, his grin stretching wide. “I trust you to deliver every single one of them ... to your dear mother.”

Lola ran her trembling fingers along the array of instruments laid out before her. Each one was crafted for a single purpose: to cause pain. To hurt.

Which would hurt the most? The thick, rigid bamboo cane. The thin, biting lash of a leather whip? The flogger with its many stinging tails? Or the thin, cruel wire that promised sharp, slicing agony with every strike? And then ... how many? How many strikes would be enough? How many would satisfy him?

Her hand hovered uncertainly, while she ran her tongue around her gums, hoping there was still enough cum in her mouth to avoid a punishment from him herself. She chose the whip.

“I think ... five, master. I think these might hurt my mother very badly, more than just your hand on her ... ass.”

“I like your thinking, young Lola” smiled Pembroke. “OK five it is, although I will chose where. I do not want to ruin your mother’s lovely pert ass, not until I have feasted on it enough. I want you to leave five separate strips across her upper back, horizontally. Try to have them parallel, in a pretty pattern like you are designing a doll.”

Lola wondered what kind of imagination this man had to think that little girls had toy whips for their dolls and drew on whip marks on them. She walked behind he mother, who was now almost spread eagled, her legs spread wide, taut, connected to the rings on the floor, and her arms pulled together vertically above her head. Blood still trickled from her mouth, and her eyes were closed either in prayer or unconscious.

‘I have no choice,’ Lola told herself.

She tried to stretch out the whip, her movements clumsy and uncertain. Awkwardly, she waved it through the air, testing its weight and feel with shaky hands before preparing to strike. She glanced at her mothers taut back, her shoulder blades pulled tightly together, for only a moment. Then, with a deep breath, Lola raised her right arm, pulling it out to the side before swinging it across her body in a sharp arc.

The moment the whip struck her flesh, a sharp crack echoed through the room, followed instantly by a jagged, piercing scream that tore from Lisa’s throat. Her body convulsed violently, her back arching as if an electric current had surged through her spine. The line where the whip had landed bloomed an angry red, the skin already beginning to swell. Her fingers clawed at the air, as her head snapped back and her teeth clenched around another rising wail.

The only sound now was Lisa’s ragged breathing. Lola sneaked a glance at Pembroke.

“Can’t you count, girl?” he said dismissively.

Lola hesitated, then, with resigned resolve, she raised her right arm again and swung the whip down across Lisa’s upper back.

Another sharp crack! filled the air, followed by another raw, anguished scream. A second angry red line bloomed across Lisa’s skin, slightly overlapping the first at her right shoulder blade. Her body flinched violently, muscles seizing from the fresh surge of pain.

Lola’s arm hung limply at her side for a moment, the whip dangling from her fingers. How could she do this three more times?

“Lisa, you can stop it, if you beg your daughter to drink my cum from her mouth.” Pembroke said to her, daring her to argue back. Lisa had been about to beg for it to stop, but the humiliating condition she was under made her hesitate, and she stopped herself. A desperate voice instead screamed: ‘Resist. Fight. Tell him to go fuck himself.’

The third strike came—clumsy, unsteady, but no less cruel. The whip cracked down, landing precisely where the two previous marks crossed over each other at Lisa’s right shoulder blade. This intersection, -a raw, swollen point where three angry red welts now collided—exploded with pain so sharp it felt like molten metal had been poured onto her skin. Lisa’s body jerked violently, her scream tearing through the air, raw and guttural. Her knees wobbled, and Pembroke even thought she might succeed in ripping her ankles free of the rings holding them such was her frenzy.

“Give me Lola’s mouth! Give me Lola’s mouth! Let me have it! I want to have it! Please ... please, just please stop!” Lisa screamed up at the ceiling, her neck bulging, her face flushed red as she thrashed her body violently from side to side within her restraints.

“Well done, Lola! You got your mother to see sense after just three strikes! You’re the cutest little torturer I’ve ever met,” he giggled. “Now, share it.”

Lola skipped in front of her mother, her movements hurried and tense. She wanted to get this over with quickly. Grasping her mother’s tear-streaked, crimson face, she stood on tiptoes and puckered her lips to meet her mother’s.

“Stop!”

Pembroke’s voice cut through the air, sharp and suspicious. His eyes narrowed as he studied Lola’s hurried actions.

“Lola, let me check your mouth first.”

Lola smiled—a fragile, guilty smile, like a child caught red-handed. Her expression wavered between sheepishness and sheer terror as she slowly opened her mouth.

Pembroke leaned closer, his thick finger running along the insides of her cheeks, under her tongue, across her gums, and over her teeth. His eyes scanned every corner of her mouth, and as he sucked his finger he looked into her eyes looking for any deception on her part.

“Is there something you should tell me, child?” he said, his voice heavy with judgment.

“Master, please ... please don’t punish me. I’m sorry,” she pleaded, her hands clasped together in prayer in front of her chest. “I ... I was only supposed to hold it in my mouth for a few moments, but ... it took so long, and I had to do things, and it was difficult ... and...”

Her voice cracked, and she lowered her head. “Master, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me ... but I swallowed it. I swallowed it...”

She closed her eyes tightly, hoping—begging—that her master might show even a flicker of mercy.

“So, who is to blame for your mistake, Lola?” Pembroke asked.

“No one, we...”

“You said it took much longer, and you had to do things. Surely, that means your mother is to blame?”

“I ... Yes ... But please, Master ... Please, she’s already been punished.”

“Yes. Yes...” He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Lola, I am angry at your failure to hold it in your mouth. I have a very low tolerance for disobedience and for falling below my standards of sexual performance. But you also tried to hide your error from me, didn’t you? Hmm?”

His eyes bored into her, unblinking, as he awaited her response.

Lola had no response, she just sobbed, hoping the punishment would not be too brutal.

“Release your mother, Lola,” he said with finality.

Lola moved quickly, unbuckling the ankle cuffs, freeing her mother’s legs. With one arm, she supported her mother’s torso while unlocking the wrist cuffs.

Lisa collapsed into her daughter’s embrace, her body shaking. She brought her arms behind her back, trying to massage the raw, stinging welts between her shoulder blades, her face contorted in pain.

“How do you feel, Lisa?” Pembroke asked.

“My back ... it’s on fire ... I need help, medical help,” Lisa said weakly, glancing at her trembling hands now stained with blood...

“Don’t worry, I can treat you,” Pembroke replied with an unsettling smile. “But tell me, how do you feel about your disobedience? Was it worth it? And tell me, Lisa ... would another round of disobedience be worth it too?”

“No” she gasped. She just wanted this psycho to stop hurting her, she could not get him to leave her alone, her priority would be to stop the pain, stop the torture.

“Good. Now, it’s time to prove your obedience. I have a question for you—as a mother, when was the last time you physically disciplined your daughter?”

Lola and Lisa froze and looked at each other then Pembroke, both thrown completely off guard by the question.

“I ... I don’t hit my child,” said Lisa softly. “I never did.”

“Not even a little spank on her bottom when she stole a cookie?” Pembroke asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

“No!” Lisa almost shouted, her voice sharp and defensive. Realizing her mistake, she bit her lip, forcing herself to stay calm. She had to stay composed, had to resist his relentless attempts to antagonize and break her.

“Well, I have been spanking Lola’s bottom quite a bit down here and I think it is safe to say it really improve her performance. Lola what would you say? You were an innocent virgin, and now you are regular little fuck kitten, I think corporal punishment has played an important point?” he asked her.

“Master, I accept that I need to be punished,” was all Lola could say, her eyes downcast.

“Lisa, I want you take the paddle and use it on your daughter’s bare bottom. It is not as harsh as the other instruments, otherwise I would not have it used. I cherish Lola’s little bottom and would wait to see it turned red and black with whipping scars.” He placed it in Lisa’s hands. “I trust you, as a mother, to use appropriate force to punish her. Have her bend over that bench, and make her count out the strokes.”

“How many stokes” Lisa asked, running her hands over the paddle, which felt like a table tennis racquet. She was trying to think: just to get back to normality, a normality where she and her daughter were not being hurt, to get through this punishment and satisfy this bastard.

“Strike her once, and then tell me how many she should take. Like I said, I expect you to use your motherly knowledge to know how many times to strike her own child to keep her in line.”

“Lola,” Lisa whispered with quiet authority. “Just bend over the bench, honey. Please. It’s okay. It won’t last long.”

She wished she could believe her own words. Gently, she smoothed Lola’s hair, her touch tender despite the forthcoming violence she would have to perform. With a choked sob, Lola obeyed, bending over the bench. Her body shook as she rested her face against the cold surface, her shoulders trembling while she arched her back and lifted her trembling rump, bracing herself for what was to come.

Lisa raised her right arm, her hand gripping the paddle tightly as she aimed at one of her daughter’s small, pale buttocks. With a sharp breath, she brought it down, the impact jolting through her wrist. Despite the ache in her hand, a grim satisfaction flickered inside her—she had hit her target precisely, leaving a perfect red circle blooming across the pale globe.

Lola let out a sharp gasp, hopping from one foot to the next as her face contorted in pain. Instinctively, she reached back with one hand to clutch her stinging buttock, her eyes squeezed shut as she scowled through the burning sensation.

“How did that feel?” Pembroke asked casually, as though he were asking about the taste of a fine wine or the texture of silk.

Lisa tried to calm herself and think logically. Rescue might come. Escape might be possible. But she also might die here. The sharp sting in her back, combined with the warm trickle of blood trailing down her spine and pooling between her buttocks, told her she needed medical attention—urgently.

Survival came first. She had to humor him, to sexually satisfy him and allow just enough humiliation to keep his violence at bay—to keep him from hurting her and Lola any further.

“Master, I think Lola has performed very well down here for you. Sexually, she is now very advanced, serves you well, and is very obedient. She failed her task because it was very difficult and because she had to deal with my punishment. She was nervous and stupidly lied about it. As her mother, I have told Lola she should not lie, and so she deserves punishment.”

Lola was shocked at her mother’s robotic capitulation to Pembroke now.

“I think Lola could take six strokes with a paddle, Master, to teach her not to lie and to encourage her to maintain the very highest standards of performance for you, her master,” Lisa said to Pembroke, her expression calm and cool.