Chapter 17

Pembroke decided to spend a night above ground in his actual house—partly to prevent burglary, but mostly to enjoy his own bed. At fifty-five, Pembroke had spent most of his life sleeping solo, except for occasional escorts who had despised his company. While he had enjoyed Lola’s warmth beside him, he still craved the quiet solitude of his own empty bed now and then.

Yawning, he flicked on the widescreen TV opposite him and sank into the familiar comfort of his mattress.

The screen revealed the two Chapmans in the basement, confined in a bell-shaped cage suspended high above the ground by a thick rope. The cage’s cold metal bars pressed painfully into their bare skin, running along its curved sides and bottom. Its narrow, unforgiving shape forced them into an awkward embrace, their chests and faces pressed tightly together.

With no room to move, their arms wrapped rigidly around each other, their thighs tangled, and their knees pushed up against their elbows. Their legs overlapped in the cramped space, locking them tightly together, much of their skin pressed against each others’ bodies.

At the top of the cage, a small microphone was discreetly attached, capturing every word spoken within. The audio feed was transmitted to a transcription device, which, in turn, was processed by an AI text summarizer. This system efficiently distilled their conversations, highlighting anything of significance—escape plans, confessions, or critical details—so Pembroke could stay informed without the tedious task of sifting through hours of dialogue.

In any case, he had warned them again that they should keep their conversations to a minimum, as even when alone, they should be seen and not heard.

“Mommy, I liked what we did, but,” Lola whispered, “but I still want out of here, and we can forget all this.”

“Yes, darling, we are doing what we have to do ... This is not our fault. It’s not my fault, it’s not your fault. It’s his fault. We will get out of here, I promise.”

“How ... how are the police not looking for me?” said Lola.

“They are. We have to trust in them,” Lisa said sadly, thinking that surely the police must have picked up on something by now. “For now, let us just earn his trust. We obey him, okay? We do whatever he wants.”

“Mommy, I hate it when I have to play with him. I ... I don’t mind doing it with you, though ... but I know ... it’s wrong...”

“You’re innocent, darling. It’s not your fault. Don’t think this way. Just think of it like ... we are in a dark place, and we are doing dark things to survive. We are not hurting anyone, anyway.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Lola’s eyes lit up. “We aren’t—he is. But we are just slaves, and we are not ... responsible...” Lola ran her hands over her mother’s large breasts again and smiled at Lisa. “The master forces us to have fun, right?” she giggled.

“Lola ... Behave yourself!” Lisa could not deny their chemistry, the passion from earlier, and the air was full of sex and wet vaginas. But without being forced, she could not bring herself to have ‘fun’ with her daughter.

“Please, Mommy ... can you ... kiss me?” Lola’s eyes shimmered with pleading as she smiled—the same smile she gave her mother when she was just a few years younger, begging for a new toy at Christmas, sweet and innocent.

“Lola, we have to keep our dignity. We have to look forward to getting out of here...”

Lola kept smiling, and looked into her mother’s eyes as her fingers slipped between Lisa’s open thighs.

“Lola! What are you doing?” Lisa exclaimed as the two girls began struggling within the tight confines of the bell-shaped cage. They moved their arms in a flurry as Lisa tried to pull Lola’s hand away from between her thighs. Lola giggled, tickling her mother under the arms playfully. Lisa couldn’t help but giggle too, and as Lola’s hands moved toward her pussy again, Lisa’s attempts to stop her grew weaker, her strength fading as she surrendered to Lola’s touch.

Soon both mother and daughter were fingering each other, moaning and kissing each other on the mouth, their free hands rubbing their respective breasts. Lola loved the feel of her mother’s breasts now, while Lisa delighted in the growing swelling of her little’s girl’s chest.

Pembroke smiled and drifted off to sleep, congratulating himself on the corruption of the Chapmans. Whatever happened next, their relationship was surely tainted beyond repair.

“Morning, rise and shine, lazy bones!” Pembroke shouted cheerfully as he entered the basement in his dressing gown, finding the two Chapmans sleeping with their foreheads pressed together inside the cramped cage.

He lowered the cage and released them. Both girls could barely move, their bodies stiff from being confined in such a twisted position for so many hours. They had only just begun to shake out their limbs when they were ordered to get down on their hands and knees and crawl to their breakfast, eating it directly from the trays on the ground.

Pembroke brushed the teeth of both Chapmans before they administered enemas to each other and later shaved one another. As these tasks unfolded, Pembroke continued to explain more details.

“I want you ladies to stop any foolish thoughts of escape and accept your lives here. The door is the only way out, and it’s made of seven-inch thick steel. It’s locked with my eyeball data scan, my fingerprint, and a code I change every now and then. That’s on top of the door handle, which requires a man of my strength to open. All four of your puny arms together won’t move it. In fact, you can try any time you like. I invite you.

And there are also further doors and security systems above, though you’ll never see them, as you won’t get out through this door.

I live alone. If for any reason I don’t make it out of this basement alive, this place will be the tomb of all of us. I don’t have relatives or friends—no one will stop by to check. Anyway, you puny little girls can’t take on a man like me.”

The Chapmans tried to absorb this, pretending they weren’t interested and that escape was not a concern, but inwardly, they despaired.

“Are you finished?” Pembroke asked. The girls had spent the last few minutes drying off from the shower and checking each other’s legs for stray hairs.

“Yes, master,” they both said somberly.

“Good. Now both of you, turn around, hands against the cage bars, legs spread, push your bottoms out, and let me inspect you.”

Lola licked her lips as Pembroke ran his rough hands all over her body, over her back, under her arms her forearms and along her legs up to her crack. His finger rubbed around her asshole then playfully slipped inside. He pulled it out, and brought it into his mouth. “What a sweet ass you have, my dear Lola” he giggled.

Next was Lisa. Pembroke used both hands along her calves, shins and thighs, half admiring her athletic figure, half searching for a reason for punishment. Her underarms were smooth, as were her forearms. He ran his fingertips along her mons, it was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. He then ran his finger from the small of her back, along he crack, and around her asshole, and down her labia. He tutted as he came across a little strip of stubble, barely noticeable, on the side of her pussy lips, which she and Lola had missed.

“Oh dear,” he said. “Careless girls, I feel some stubble here. I’m afraid there will be punishment. The question is, who is more at fault?”

Lisa sighed as she felt his finger rub her inside leg over the hairs. “Sorry master, I am at fault, I shaved my pussy and I checked it. I must have missed it.”

“That is why it is important that you both check each other. In fact, I recommend you each shave the other’s intimate areas; it might be more accurate,” Pembroke explained, sounding almost like a doctor. “Lisa how many strokes do you think you should get?” He asked, his hand now running over her ass, thoughtfully.

“Master, if it is just a few hairs, perhaps ... five?” She prayed that it would be the paddle or a hand, not the other, harsher punishments. He seemed in a good mood—surely not the others, just for this? Her wounds on her back were still raw and open.

“I agree. Lola, use the razor and shave your mother’s pussy completely, and then take the paddle and administer five strokes. You can think of it as revenge for yesterday! Haha!”

Lola took the razor, and ran her fingers between Lisa’s legs and soon disposed of the troublemaking stubble. She grabbed the paddle, and patted her mother’s still outturned ass with it.

“Hmmm, on her bottom, master?”

“Quite a nice target, isn’t it?” smiled Pembroke. “Yes, on her butt, at your own pace, darling.”

Lola aimed each shot carefully capturing a whole cheek with each one. Her mother screamed with each one, but resisted the urge to hop or grab her ass, instead, shaking her ass and cursing.’

“Most unladylike language there! Lola, for that, just give her one more!”

Lola planted a whack directly across both cheeks at the crack and hoped that the red marks on her mother’s bottom would calm down and not cause too much pain. She had checked her own bottom; it was slightly discolored, with possible bruising, and had hurt when pressed against the bars last night.

“Good, now let’s have some exercise, ladies, and a test!” he grinned. “Another game of Simon says!”

The girls groaned; it was so demeaning and awful.

“Now, stand next to each other. To make it more interesting, for each mistake you make, I want the other to slap you across the face. I want to hear a sharp crack when you do, the sound of flesh meeting flesh.”

Pembroke sank down onto the bean bag, his gown falling open, exposing his nakedness. “Now, let’s begin. Simon says, do ten star jumps!” The girls followed the command, their bodies moving in sync, Lisa’s breasts bobbing up and down with each jump.

“Simon says, ruffle each other’s hair.”

They did so, hands running through each other’s hair.

“Simon says, Lola, touch Lisa’s right knee with both hands.”

Lola complied, her hands pressing gently against Lisa’s knee.

“Now, Lisa, put both hands over Lola’s ears!”

Lisa froze, her hands remaining by her sides as she did not follow the order.

“Good girl, Lisa. Simon says dance around like monkeys!”

Lola started, and Lisa followed, after much hesitation. They squatted low, shoved their hands under their armpits, puffed out their chests, and flapped their elbows, letting out awkward monkey noises: “Ooh-ooh! Ah-ah!”

Pembroke laughed uproariously, his sharp cackle slicing through the air. But the girls knew better than to let shame conquer them—they just knew to comply. Keep moving, keep flapping, keep grunting.

“Simon says crawl around like dogs, barking and trying to sniff each other’s butt!”

Lisa tried to blot out the memories of being a free human being above ground who would have been incredulous then furious at him. Slowly she dropped to her hands and knees, her daughter copying her.

“Woof ... woof...” Lisa’s voice came out small, almost fragile. Her daughter followed suit, their barks weak and hollow. They crawled forward hesitantly, until Lisa took the initiative and went behind Lola, pushing her nose between her cheeks and giving an exaggerated sniff.

Pembroke’s face was turning red. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks as he gasped for air between fits of laughter. His whole body wobbled with every wheezing chuckle, his belly shaking. He could barely stop to issue a different command and so the girls spent minutes crawling around barking, chasing each other’s asses.

“Oh ... okay ... Simon says, stand up and dance like you’re in a nightclub,” he wheezed. He took in the sight of the two beautiful girls, naked, dancing in front of each other as if grooving to music on a nightclub floor. His laughter began to fade.

“Simon says ... spit on each other’s faces.” he said, his mind now turning devious.

Lisa’s face tightened with distaste at the command. A knot of unease grew in her stomach at where this was going. Her mouth went dry, but she forced herself to gather saliva, her jaw tightening as she built it up. With a sudden flick of her head, she spat directly at Lola’s face. Then, in one swift motion, Lola spat back at Lisa, the glob over her eye.

“Lick it off each others’ faces!”

Lisa froze, recognizing the ruse. But Lola stuck out her tongue out and brushed it over Lisa’s eye, before she realized her mistake. She recoiled immediately, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Pembroke chuckled, wagging a finger. “Silly Lola! Lisa, slap her!”

Lisa hesitated, then gave Lola a firm slap across the face.

“Harder, Lisa!”

Lisa hit Lola again, this time knocking her face to the side.

“Good, now let’s continue our game!”

The girls continued the ridiculous game, each dreading another slap. A few more mistakes were made, and with each one, their reddened cheeks stung sharper, and the eyes went from glistening to overflowing with tears.

“Simon says, turn and face the X cross, and touch your toes!”

They did so, and Pembroke admired the sight.

“Now, Simon says stay touching your toes, but nudge up against each other and insert a finger into each other’s assholes.”

The girls each struggled to move toward each other while bent over and touching their toes, comically swaying their hips side to side in an effort to stay balanced and not topple over. Eventually, they managed to be side by side, their hips pressing together. With one arm each, they reached around blindly, their fingers fumbling and searching until they finally found each other’s assholes and slipped a finger inside.

“Now, Simon says stand up and turn around with your fingers still inside each other’s assholes.”

They did so awkwardly, their movements stiff and uncoordinated.

“Now, take the finger out and put it up each other’s noses.”

Lisa stayed still, keeping her finger where it was. Lola hesitantly removed hers, bringing it to her mother’s nose before sighing. She had been tricked again.

“Another slap. Come on, Lisa, administer it.”

Lisa, almost in exasperation at this stupid exhausting game, slapped her daughter across her cheek, sparking more silent tears from Lola. Lisa turned, granite face, to Pembroke.

“Just one more. Simon says Lisa, lie down on your back.”

Lisa lay down reluctantly. Her eyes stared upward, her stomach knotting with unease as she wondered what might come next.

“Simon says that Lola squat over Lisa’s face.”

“Simon says that Lola squat over Lisa’s face.” Pembroke said expectantly.

Lola gingerly stepped her feet on either side of her mother’s face. She squatted down slowly, her knees bending deeply as her body lowered inch by inch. She hovered just above Lisa’s face not quite touching it, but feeling the hot breath on her crack.

“Now, Simon says, Lola to piss on her mother’s face.” Pembroke said with finality.

Lisa watched with resignation as her daughter’s asshole and pussy hovered over her eyes. She anticipated having to eat her out. Oh well, she had done that before. She hated doing it for Pembroke, but it was the last Simon Says. But urine? She had never so much as tasted it.

Lola tensed her abdomen, clenched her insides, and tried to make herself pee. She felt a rush, followed by a warm trickle escaping. Lisa watched her daughter’s vagina with fascination as the small pink slit contracted and retracted and finally opened to spray out the dark golden spray over her face. The hot stinking liquid was a shock, and she got some up her nose.