Chapter 18

Lisa and Lola kept telling each other they had to survive. They could find no way out—they couldn’t open the door handle, guess the code, or figure out how to escape. Pembroke’s sheer bulk and simmering anger terrified them, and they were too scared to confront him physically

Lisa felt wretched as Lola’s mother. She was telling her daughter to submit to this awful man for her own good, but a voice in her head kept screaming: ‘This is the easy way out.’ As her mother, she should sacrifice herself—do something, anything—to show Lola that being a slave was not an option, that they should fight for their freedom, even if it meant death.

She couldn’t let her baby girl continue to be defiled, to become his plaything. Lisa could sense Lola slipping away, day by day, turning into a timid, hollow doll. The light in her eyes was fading, replaced by a sex crazed nymph—a girl with no more will, and no more fight, other than to giggle and play with herself.

But what would the right moment be? Lisa tried to stay alert and await her chance. During a threesome, Lola was riding on top of Pembroke, her bottom rising and falling on his cock, sighing and smiling at her captor. Lisa had been behind them between Pembroke’s legs, dutifully licking up and down between Pembroke’s balls, his cock as it moved in and out, and her daughter’s asshole.

She was ordered around to sit on Pembroke’s face. She moved over, spread her legs and lowered herself so that her crack was over his nose and mouth. She gasped as his aggressive tongue plundered her pussy, holding on to her daughter for balance, who giggled and squeezed her mother’s tits.

Pembroke was lost in a frenzy of feeding and fucking, his view completely obscured by Lisa’s ass. She thought to herself, What could she do? She looked around, over Lola’s shoulder, behind her own back, for anything. There were ropes, vibrators, but nothing sharp. He was so ridiculously unhealthy-looking despite his strength—perhaps she could give him a heart attack?

Biting her lip, she sat down harder, pressing her buttocks deeper. But Pembroke didn’t mind; in fact, he responded by nibbling at her buttocks some more, and his tongue pushed even higher into Lisa’s insides. His nose had just enough air around her asshole that he could breathe. Lisa’s attempted murder went unnoticed, but the grinding resulted in her cumming over his face and down his throat.

Pembroke gave no sign that he suspected Lisa had tried to suffocate him with her ass. Instead, he smiled and laughed with both Chapmans afterward, securing pink nooses around their necks and tying them to the bedstand. With a satisfied sigh, he pulled them both against his broad chest, wrapping his heavy arms around them as he drifted off to sleep, content and oblivious.

The following day, Pembroke was eager to try out his new toy: a pony girl outfit. There was only one, and it was adult-sized, so only Lisa could wear it. Lola was given the task of dressing her mother in the elaborate gear. Meanwhile, Pembroke went upstairs to run some errands, sip his coffee, and enjoy the sight on the monitor of the hapless Chapmans bickering and fumbling over how to fasten various straps and pieces onto Lisa’s body.

Lisa’s cheeks flushed as her daughter adjusted the strap again, this time pulling it snug between her legs. “It feels like it’s ... splitting me in half!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled as she craned her neck to see where the leather was supposed to go next.

Lola giggled again. The Chapmans continued it felt like a daughter helping her mother get ready for a glamorous dinner, but while Lola was in sensible pink panties and vest and pink socks, her mother was being fitted into the leather pony girl outfit.

Lisa let Lola feed each strap into place—over her shoulders, looping under her arms, cinching tight around her waist, around her breasts, and finally threading the strap delicately between her buttocks. With practiced care, Lola eased the tail dildo into her mother’s anus, its smooth surface pressing insistently as it nestled within her ass—a plug crowned with an elegant plume of feathers that swayed gently with every slight movement Lisa made.

Lisa’s back was forced painfully straight, the leather biting into her flesh with sharp insistence whenever she dared to bend or shift even slightly. But then Lola had to slip her into the boots—towering six-inch heels that forced her feet almost vertically downward, stretching her calves taut and locking her posture into one of rigid, but painful elegance.

“Mommy, you look so hot like this,” Lola said, running her hands over her mother’s body, admiring her tall figure and taut, muscular physique, accentuated by the bondage and the strain it placed on her body.

“Stop that Lola, remember this is just ... us getting by and surviving. Now, what else is there?”

“The harness and the arm gloves,” said Lola as she gripped her mother’s arms a little too harshly for Lisa’s liking, pulling them behind her back and wrapping them in a single, long-sleeved bondage sleeve. She zipped it up tightly, forcing Lisa’s arms painfully together behind her back in the sleek, black leather restraint.

“Careful, Lola, you’re not trying to impress that beast now ... I—” Lisa was interrupted as Lola pulled a tight latex mask over her head, smoothing it down to her neck until it covered her entirely, leaving only precise openings for her mouth, her eyes, and a small hole at the top. From this opening, Lola carefully pulled a plume of Lisa’s blonde hair through and secured it into a high ponytail.

Next, Lola pushed a firm bit between Lisa’s teeth, securing it tightly to a harness that she bundled and buckled firmly behind Lisa’s head. The bit forced Lisa’s mouth into an obscene ‘O’ shape, leaving her unable to speak or fully close her mouth. With only her wide eyes and gaping mouth visible beneath the glossy black mask—and paired with the rest of the intricate leather bondage gear—Lisa appeared less than human.

“Now, Lisa, no more complaining,” Lola laughed as she slapped her ass, once again admiring her form and running her hands over the firm, toned flesh, exploring it with the appreciation one might have for a prized horse.

“Lisa flashed her eyes at her daughter, but was helpless as Lola explored her body, massaging her breasts, with unedifying curiosity. She enjoyed making love to her daughter down here, and found her beautiful, but did not like how Lola seemed to follow Pembroke in regarding Lisa’s voluptuous body like a piece of meat.

Lola licked and chewed on her mother’s breasts, satisfied that she could not chide her or correct her. She sometimes envied the master and wished that she too could use her mother in whatever degrading way she could imagine...

“Now, mommy, I didn’t pick the roles—the Master did. I have to get you to perform today, or we’re both in trouble!” she said sternly to Lisa before swatting her bottom, a gesture she had copied from Pembroke.

Lisa was helpless to prevent her daughter molesting despite now towering over her by nine inches now.

“Come on mommy, let’s practice the trots, I am going to put you your through your paces today with the horse whip! You need to get used to its sting before you perform for the master!”

Lola was as good as her word. She attached a slender leather tether to a collar around Lisa’s neck, and then guided Lisa to a corner of the basement while she retreated to the center, ensuring there was nothing in the way of the tether. All cages, cells, and toys had been pushed to the sides, save for one immovable cell in the center.

Lisa was to trot around the basement in wide circles, her steps precise, deliberate, and rhythmic, mimicking the proud elegance of a show pony. Lola, meanwhile, moved around the central cell in smaller circles, holding the tether taut in one gloved hand. The tether stretched between mother and daughter, a slender line of control, keeping Lisa at the perfect distance.

Lola held a switch with a whip at the end, its length reaching easily from where she stood to Lisa’s position. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she sent the switch snapping lightly through the air, the tip landing against Lisa’s rump. Lola cheered when she was the tip land right on target, and the slight ripple on her mother’s buttocks.

“Trot, mommy!”

Lisa’s heels clicked in staccato beats against the hard floor, her breasts lifted, chin tilted slightly upward despite the gentle pull of the tether. Each breath came in sharp huffs through her nose, but she remained graceful, her steps tracing a wide circular path around the immovable cell.

Lola rotated slowly in place, her sharp gaze never leaving Lisa, her grip adjusting minutely to maintain the perfect distance. If Lisa slowed or faltered, the tension would change, and Lola would give the faintest tug—and if that didn’t work, another whooshing flick from her switch would land on Lisa’s rump to correct her.

Lola’s eyes stayed on Lisa. “Knees up, mommy!” she commanded, her voice carrying a sharper edge. Another gentle little whoosh and crack from her switch landed on Lisa’s butt. Lisa obeyed instantly, raising her knees to a perfect 90-degree angle with each step, her movements sharp.

Lisa’s heels forced her strides into an exaggerated precision, her calves burning with each circuit around the basement. The muscles in her arms, trapped behind her back, ached faintly, but the sensation blurred into the deeper rhythm of her movements.

She grunted past her bit, and her eyes went to Lola in the middle, moving her head as if to plead to stop. Lola’s expression remained cool and focused.

“Don’t look at me, mommy. Eyes ahead at all times!” Lola snapped, her voice suddenly sharp with authority. She snapped her wrist again, and the whip fell lightly on Lisa’s thighs this time. “Eyes ahead, not on the ground—straight ahead!”

Lisa flinched but obeyed, shocked at her daughter’s attitude. After another circle, she stopped and refused to move, her breasts heaving up and down and her blue eyes flashing through the holes in the latex at Lola, though it was difficult to read the expression.

“Mommy, we have not finished yet!” Lola’s voice cracked with anger, her tone sharp and childish, like a petulant child. Her eyes flashed, and with an angry snap of her wrist, she flicked the whip at her mother’s breasts causing Lisa’s tits to shake, her eyes to grow huge and a muffled scream to escape her mouth.

It wasn’t just the pain in her breasts—something else about Lola struck her. It reminded her of when she had refused to buy her daughter sugary breakfast cereal. The same petulant anger from a spoiled child.

She tried to communicate through her gaze, her head tilting slightly, her eyes softening—pleading, coaxing. But the bit in her mouth kept her silent, and her wide, blue eyes were expressionless in the sea of black latex.

“You will need to perform better for master or we will both be in trouble! That won’t hurt anywhere near as much as what sir will do to us if you don’t complete the show for him! I will not be punished for your laziness” Lola’s face was red, the picture of a teenage tantrum.

Sighing, without needing to be prompted, Lisa raised her knee, and slowly started trotting again, staring forwards. Lola did not thank her, just glowered at her, still at the ready with the whip in case she slacked off again.

Edward Pembroke paused on the trail, leaning on his walking stick as he caught his breath. The crisp air filled his lungs, but it did little to ease the burning in his legs. The group had moved ahead, their chatter fading into the distance.

He had decided that he had to do some socialising in his retirement. And to be active more outside and stay fit, because staying in his basement all the time might be fun, playing with his “toys” but it might be the death of him with a heart attack.

The hiking group had seemed like a good idea, but now, wheezing on the trail, he felt every bit of his 55 years. At 6 feet 3 and weighing 300 pounds, every step up now felt like hell.

“You okay back there, Edward?” called Sarah, a cheerful hiker in her early thirties.

“Oh, just admiring the view,” Pembroke rasped, managing a weak smile. He had been, Sarah was wearing tight athletic pants showcasing her perfect ass as she climbed above him.

Sarah jogged back to him. “You’re doing great. No shame in taking it slow.”

Pembroke chuckled dryly. “Slow might be generous.”

Sarah smiled. “Everyone hikes for their own reasons. You’re out here, Edward. That’s what matters.”

Pembroke nodded. His heartbeat steadied, and the ache in his legs lessened. Sarah helped him up the rocky bit of the path, smiling warmly at him.

“Do many hikers go missing around here, Sarah?” he asked with a playful grin. “Are their bodies ever found?”

Sarah laughed, flashing a smile of pearly white teeth. “Don’t worry, Edward—we’ll keep an eye on you! The rangers here are fantastic. If anyone goes missing, they’re usually found pretty quickly. Everyone pitches in; we take care of each other out here.” She paused, her tone turning a bit more serious. “And honestly, even bears would leave traces behind if they did attack someone—not that it’s likely to happen.” She grinned and tugged Pembroke along.

In the earlier part of the hike, he had marveled at how many attractive young women were there, particularly Sarah, the brunette with a cheery smile, dimples, and bright brown eyes and a figure sculpted from hours at the gym.

While others had admired the mountain view, Pembroke had been admiring the asses of many of the girls and had pondered how easy it might be for someone to go missing on one of these trails, perhaps a girl like Sarah. As Sarah helped him, he had wondered how she might look, naked, strapped to a table, shaking and screaming, while he taunted her.

He shook his head, it seemed like he would be a terrible predator out here, and apparently it would be too hard for a girl to disappear without trace. Oh well ... he smiled as Lisa walked ahead ... he could always just fantasise.

When Pembroke got home, he was exhausted. Enough exercise, he thought. He showered, changed to his thong and dressing gown and brought down pizzas and beer, for him only, to the basement.

“Hello ladies” he smiled at the two blondes sitting on the bench. Lisa was naked apart from the pony harness, but without the shoes and mask and harness bit. Lola was in her pink panties and vest. “I have just been exploring a beautiful view of the Bay area, outside in the fresh air. But it’s good to be down here again, with my naughty, dirty little toys in the dark” he chuckled, as he sat on the beanie bag, letting his gown fall open exposing him in just his thong, and opened his pizza.

The aroma of the pizza tortured the girls. They had eaten nothing but plain, healthy food and water for months now. It was reflected in their smooth, hard stomachs, particularly Lisa’s. But as they looked at the huge, flabby, hairy body of their master reclining and scoffing pizza, they just wished for one morsel of it.

“Now, Lola, you are in charge. I expect the show to start shortly!” he said.

Lola got up, and quickly stripped off her clothes and changed into the outfit Pembroke had planned for her. It had been difficult to source a pair of PVC hotpants and a matching top for a girl her size, but fortunately, there seemed to be a market catering to very petite Asian women for such clothing in smaller sizes. Lola pushed her legs into the hotpants and pulled on the bra. The PVC material clung tightly to her skin, feeling sticky and especially snug between her legs.