Amazing Grace
Copyright© 2025 by Edward Pembroke
Chapter 30
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 30 - Cute young schoolgirl Grace Perkins feels that life cannot get any worse. She is bullied at school and hates her awkward young teenage body. But she reckons without the evil intentions of a vile pervert who decides to make her his target for his plan of abduction and enslavement.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Teenagers Blackmail NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Slavery Heterosexual Fiction Crime BDSM MaleDom Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Anal Sex Analingus Enema Facial Masturbation Pegging Sex Toys Spitting Squirting Voyeurism Water Sports Small Breasts Violence
Leila and Grace were back in the cell by themselves. The cell hummed, as always, with the bright footage from the screens, casting images of non stop abuse and pain interspersed with the girls’ own happy memories.
Grace was curled up on the bench in fresh white vest and panties, Pembroke’s semen still leaking out between her legs, a shower only cleaning so much. Leila was in purple vest and panties, her head in her hands between her knees, shoulders shaking as she silently prayed for mercy and rescue.
Grace finally plucked up the courage to say something. “Leila ... can we talk?”
Leila didn’t look at her. “What’s there to say?”
Grace took a deep breath. “The kiss. Earlier. I thought ... I thought it meant something.”
Leila’s fingers dug into her knees. “It didn’t.”
“You kissed me back.” Grace’s eyes burned. “You held me. You let me...”
“I had to!” Leila snapped. “You think I wanted that? Him watching? Forcing us? I hate this. I hate you for making me ... I fucking hate every second of this! I want out of this hell hole I wish you and him were fucking dead!”
Grace flinched like she’d been struck. “I didn’t make you...”
“You let him!” Leila’s hands fisted. “You licked his feet, his ass, you suck his cock...” She cut herself off, disgusted.
Grace’s head bowed in humiliation. “I had to. Just like you had to kiss me. We both do what we have to.”
“No.” Leila’s voice turned cold. “I’m getting out of here. My parents are coming. They’re decent, good ... they won’t let me rot here, that fucking animal, I just hope they come before he...”
“You shouldn’t,” Grace whispered, her eyes darting to the camera in the corner. “You shouldn’t say bad things about Master.”
Leila whirled on her, teeth bared. “I’ll never be like you. When I’m out of here I’ll never think of you again, you fucking bitch.” She spat the words out. “That fat old pig ... he’s going to regret this. They’ll find him. They’ll cut his dick off ... and I hope he gets raped every day of his life in prison!”
“No ... please...” Grace bit her hands and tapped her feet in consternation. “You’ll get us both in trouble!”
“What fucking trouble?” Leila’s laugh was high, hysterical. “You get raped every day! What worse can he do to you?”
Leila suddenly had a horrible vision. Herself, 21 years old, still here, aging, her life just passing by in this subterranean pit.
“I’m getting out. I HAVE TO GET OUT!!!” Leila screamed at the cameras, the walls, beating her fist, jumping up and down, while Grace cowered away from her.
---------- Edward Pembroke loved his life with his slaves but still had obligations in his retirement to keep up his pillar of the community persona.
On this particular evening he was helping to coach the U-12 girls’ hockey team. The parents adored him, feeling reassured that a retired policeman, a family man, was looking after their little girls while they trained and played, all skinny legs and short skirts, vest tops stretching over budding chests, knickers flashing when they bent for the puck.
Since graduating to kidnap, rape, enslavement and torture he had taken the precaution of taking down the hidden cameras in the girls’ dressing room but still enjoyed the feeling of authority over the petite small girls who looked up to him and were a bit intimidated by the hulking old man who even their parents deferred to.
Pembroke took in the willowy white legs racing over the pitch, wishing he had more scope to take advantage of the girls. Political correctness gone mad, he thought to himself, that he couldn’t even discipline some of the shyer girls in private without someone sticking their nose in. He would be glad to relieve his frustration on Leila and Grace later.
“Oh Edward, hello!”
Pembroke’s smile faltered. Jeff. Charlotte’s cousin’s husband—father of little Lucy, the goalie with the dark braid and wide, doe eyes. The one who flinched when he got too close.
“Hello, Jeff,” he said, affixing his sympathetic mask. “How are things?”
Jeff shuffled, unable to meet his eyes. “Not great, Edward. It’s Charlotte. She’s ... not well. It’s Grace ... You know.
Jeff shuffled his feet. He didn’t want to admit that he had not been able to avoid watching his cousin’s daughter online, getting raped and tortured, and performing for the camera in revolting ways, jacking off while his wife was out.
“Yes...” Pembroke tried to affect an air of sympathy. “I am so sorry, I wish I could have done more ... it’s just ... I don’t know Jeff. I don’t understand the sick minds who could do such things.”
“I’m so glad you’re looking after the girls here, Edward, my little Lucy, she’s so shy and innocent, the thought of her falling into such hands would ... honestly I don’t think I could live with myself...” Jeff visibly shuddered. Pembroke suddenly imagined what Lucy would look like in the cell next to Leila and Grace.
“Charlotte’s lost it completely,” Jeff muttered. “They’re talking about sectioning her. She started watching ... you know ... Grace’s videos. Said it made her feel close to her. It’s illegal, I know, and God knows it can’t be good for a mother to watch her daughter screaming and...” Jeff tried to forget that he had cum countless times to little Grace getting raped on film.
“Terrible,” Pembroke murmured, watching little Lucy, wondering about how she might disappear.
Jeff became animated. “There seems to be more girls disappearing all the time, This new girl ... Leila something? In Wales? Another one gone.” His voice rose, panicked. “It’s an epidemic, Edward! Girls vanishing left and right!”
“Yes, I saw that on the news...” Pembroke thought fondly of Leila’s beautiful mother breaking down on television crying over her missing daughter.
Jeff exclaimed. “Charlotte needs hope, Edward. She’s begging to see you again. Just ... tell her you’re still looking.”
Pembroke exhaled, theatrical. “What good will it do? I have no way of finding her,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s the police’s job.”
Jeff grabbed his arm, desperate. “You were a good policeman, Edward. We believe in you.”
Pembroke patted his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do.”
---------- The endless hours of silence, punctuated only by the grunts and moans of pornography blaring from the screens, tended to erode Leila’s defiance like acid. She glanced at Grace, curled up on the bench, and understood, she was being broken.
Then, a noise, booming through the speakers, jarring her nerves like a live wire: “Hello, slaves!” It was Pembroke, cheerful, as if he were addressing pets. “I’ll be down to play with you in half an hour. Before then, I want you both to be clean, inside and out, you know what that means Leila. And shaved. Then dry and back in your tops and panties. Be compliant, girls, or there will be consequences.”
Leila looked sideways at Grace, who was getting up, robotic, and slipping off her vest, getting ready. She had been through this a thousand times. Leila sighed. Would this be the time she disobeyed? No, she had to obey, she would obey, just for now ... Grace smarted as Leila wordlessly swatted away her attempt to shave her, and then the brunette’s snarl at her as she insisted she would stick the enema showerhead up her own ass by herself. Leila shat out the dirty water in the toilet, wondering with dread how Pembroke intended to check she had cleaned herself back there, or maybe he was satisfied with just watching her debase herself like this.
The monster entered. His dressing gown gaped open, revealing the obscene display of his genitals - soft but thick, nestled in his thatch of graying pubic hair, his belly sagging over it.
Leila watched with useless rage as Pembroke’s meaty paw wrenched open the cell door, the same one she’d thrown her entire body against without moving it an inch, his veins bulging beneath his liver-spotted skin, not even breathing hard.
His gaze locked onto the dark red stain blooming on Leila’s purple knickers. “On your period now, cunt?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Er ... yes...” Leila hoped this might put him off.
“You forgot to say sir” replied Pembroke, cooly. “Bend over onto the bench. Grace, administer five spanks. Hard.”
Grace stood up at the mention of her name and moved across. She looked at the pool of red between Leila’s legs. This would mean Leila would likely have her virginity intact a few more days, lucky girl.
“Bend over, please.” Grace whispered as she gently brought her hand to Leila’s back.
Leila avoided Grace’s eyes, her fingers splaying against the leather of the bench. She could feel her blood soaked crotch exposed to the air as Grace pushed the small of her back down to push her ass out.
“Personally,” Pembroke’s nostrils flared with genuine distaste, “I find menstruation disgusting. But you girls will learn to deal with each other’s ... messes. Now, proceed, Grace.”
Grace thought of how Leila would taste down there, lumpy, metallic. She guessed that very soon, she would find out. First, she brought her own puny right hand across the taut cotton of the brunette’s panties with a hollow ‘smack.’
“Harder, Grace. The bitch has to be punished not rewarded!”
She struck again, harder this time, the impact vibrating up her arm. Leila’s buttocks were narrow and tight beneath her palm, and she struggled to elicit more than a gasp from the brunette. Again and again, her wrist became sore with impact, the noise of impact still flat compared to the brutal beatings administered by the master.
“Enough. What do you say Leila?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Leila said, standing up and consoling her backside.
“Good, now, here, take these” Pembroke threw a tampon on the ground. “Having females requires certain ... accommodations.” His gaze flicked to the dark stain on Leila’s knickers. “Put it in. Now.”
Leila hesitated.
“Now,” Pembroke repeated. “Or would you prefer Grace do it for you?”
“S-sorry, sir!” Leila snatched up the tampon. She crouched, and pushed it inside. When she pulled her hand away, her fingertips were smeared with blood.
“Ughhh...” Pembroke’s lip curled back in exaggerated nausea. “Grace,” he drawled, “lick Leila’s bloody fingers clean.”
Leila looked away as she held her hands out in front of her. She couldn’t bear to watch as Grace’s small frame appeared behind her, one delicate hand resting on Leila’s shoulder. The other hand took Leila’s wrist with surprising strength, lifting it toward Grace’s mouth.
The first touch of Grace’s tongue against her fingers made Leila jolt her hand back but Grace held it firmly. She could feel the warm, wet strokes as Grace worked methodically, her mouth making soft, obscene sounds.
Grace remembered her first time having to lick her own menstrual blood from Pembroke’s fingers, how she had vomited afterwards, but she was used to the coppery tang now, and knew she would be tasting it even more, from Leila’s cunt every month.
“Good girls.” Pembroke massaged his still flaccid cock and balls as he circled the girls. “Leila, your introduction to slavery continues. I won’t touch you today, unless you force me to by being naughty. But remember: you’ve already been spanked. Next punishment, it’ll be worse.”
His gaze flicked to Grace. “You. Naked. Now.”
Grace peeled her panties down her thighs, stepping out of them before tugging off her vest top. She folded the clothes with mechanical precision, placing them neatly on the bench before taking Pembroke’s outstretched hand like a child being led to punishment.
“Follow us, Leila,” Pembroke ordered, his hold tightening around Grace’s wrist as he pulled her toward the examination chair.
Grace submitted as Pembroke positioned her on the cold vinyl chair, her bare skin sticking slightly to the surface. The leather straps bit into her wrists as he secured them above her head, the chair’s angle allowing her to stare down at her own exposed body. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the metal stirrups gripped her ankles, locking them into place with a final, ominous click. Her legs were spread obscenely wide and upward, feet pointing toward the ceiling, her most intimate parts fully displayed.
The position forced her labia to part slightly, her anus pulsing between the taut cheeks of her buttocks. Leila watched wide eyed at her clearest view yet of female genitalia.
“Now, Leila,” Pembroke said. “This is for your benefit.” He circled the examination chair like a professor before a specimen. “Consider it a biology lesson—the study of your fellow slave. The one whose body you’ll be playing with for the rest of your life.”
His grin turned predatory as he stopped beside Grace’s spread legs. “But first, we need to ensure Grace has followed the rules. No stray stubble. No hairs.” He plucked a razor from the tray and pressed it into Leila’s trembling hand. “Run your fingers over her—between her legs, her armpits. If you find any hairs, you’ll shave them off. And if you lie about finding none...” His voice dropped to a growl. “ ... and I discover any afterward? That will be a punishment for you. A severe one.”
Leila’s gaze locked onto the razor’s sharp edge, then flickered to Grace’s exposed crack, pale skin stretched taut, the delicate pink of her vaginal lips just visible above the puckered rosebud of her anus. The clinical light cast harsh shadows in every fold.
No blonde hairs, at least none she could see. But she had to be sure.
She reached out, brushing lightly over Grace’s mound, careful to avoid direct contact with the strange flesh of her vagina and anus. Then ... tiny prickles against her fingertips. Stubble. With a shaky exhale, she guided the razor carefully, the blade whispering against skin as she shaved the barely-there hairs. Her fingertip slid along Grace’s ass crack, pressing just enough to check for missed spots.
When she moved to Grace’s armpits, the blonde girl’s entire body jerked at the first touch. “S-sorry,” Leila whispered, as she repeated the motion, the razor scraping gently against sensitive skin.
“Don’t be sorry, child,” Pembroke murmured, his breath hot against the back of her neck. “You’ll be doing far more intimate things to Grace soon enough.”
When Leila finally stepped back, Pembroke’s massive hands descended on Grace’s body like a butcher assessing meat. His calloused ran over her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, each rough stroke making the blonde girl writhe against her restraints.
“Good,” he grunted, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Nice, tight, smooth teenage cunt.” His fingers traced the delicate skin of her labia, pulling slightly to expose her fully. “Nothing makes an old man happier than this.”
Grace had to submit to the rough handling of her bound body, she could only pray she would not be hurt too much this time. Leila imagined those hands soon running all over her own body, and her body shuddered involuntarily.
“First, Leila ... the feet.” Pembroke said. “I bet you never thought of feet as sexy, did you? Never imagined boys lusting after these...” His hands wrapped around Grace’s right foot, squeezing possessively. “Could you imagine it, hmm? The way they’d ache to touch these tiny, dainty things?”
Grace’s toes curled involuntarily as he traced the arch of her foot, his calloused thumbs pressing into the malleable sole. The skin there was impossibly soft, unmarked—except for the faint scars from previous sessions. “Take the other foot. Feel how perfect she is.”
Leila tentatively reached out at Grace’s left foot. To say she did not find it alluring at all was an understatement. Grace’s foot was warm in her palm, the bones delicate beneath the smooth skin. She could see the blonde girl’s toes twitch, could hear the sharp intake of breath as Pembroke’s fingers slipped between them, spreading them slightly. “Go on,” he murmured. “Stroke the sole. Play with the toes.”
Grace’s back arched as a broken moan tore from her throat—”Aoooowww!”—her body straining against the restraints, hips lifting slightly off the chair. “Please ... oohhhhhh—”
“Now, Grace,” he hissed. “You are to be touched and played with—but not listened to.” His fingers sank into her foot, eliciting a scream. “I don’t mind a little screaming. I don’t mind moaning. But if I hear one fully formed word...” He forced more of his fingernail into her foot. “Sorry sirrrr!”
“I said NO WORDS, bitch!” His nails sank deeper into her sole, close to drawing blood. “You can scream all you want. You can beg with sounds. But you do not speak. Do you understand me?”
Grace’s entire body shook, her breath coming in ragged sobs. She managed a choked “Mmm-hmm—” before another scream ripped through her as his thumb pressed into the sensitive pad beneath her toes.
Pembroke turned his head slowly toward Leila, his lips stretching into a smile so disarmingly warm it made her skin crawl. “There,” he said. “Now we can conduct our examination of the slave in peace.”
His smile faltered as his gaze flicked back to Grace’s left foot. “Come on, Leila,” he coaxed. “Really work that foot. Make those toes curl for me.” He pushed into the arch until Grace’s toes spasmed in response.
“Why don’t you run your tongue over her sole?” He demonstrated, dragging his own tongue in a slow, wet line from Grace’s heel to her toes. “Like this.”
Grace’s chest heaved as she dealt with the sensations of Pembroke’s large flat wet tongue running over her sensitive feet. Then, Leila’s smaller tongue running over her other foot and between her toes.
“Suck the toes hmmmmm” Loud sucking noises came from Pembroke’s mouth as he closed his eyes and played Leila’s toes like a harmonica player. Leila tried to follow suit. The first toe brushed against her mouth—warm, slightly salty, the nail ridged against her tongue. She tried to mimic Pembroke’s motions, but Grace’s toes flexed unpredictably, curling against her lips like desperate fingers.
Leila’s gag reflex threatened as she took more of the toes into her mouth, her saliva coating the delicate digits. The air was full of the sounds of slurping and sloshing and Grace’s desperate moans.
Grace’s vision swam as pleasure coursed through her body from the two tongues working her feet. She thought she might pass out. Little did she know, this was far from over.
Pembroke was now disrobed and naked, and his cock was rock hard, his saliva now pooling on the floor underneath Grace’s wriggling foot. Leila tried to keep up with his madman like slobbering and suffered some scrapes in her mouth from the swipes of Grace’s toenails and sure enough started to taste some of her own blood in her mouth.
After what felt like an eternity of wet, slurping sounds filling the cell, Pembroke finally straightened with a satisfied grunt. “Hmmm, so Leila...” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How was your first taste of feet?”
Leila’s lips were swollen and raw from the forced contact. She swallowed hard, her tongue probing at the sharp sting inside her mouth. “I ... I think ... I cut my mouth on her toenails.”
“Haha!” He laughed as he moved along Grace’s restrained body to her armpits. “Don’t worry, Leila,” he ran a thick finger along the delicate skin beneath Grace’s arm. “The rest of Grace’s body won’t be so sharp.”
His touch made Grace flinch, her breath hitching as his fingernail scraped lightly against her skin. ““Come, let’s play with her armpits.”
Grace’s body tensed as Leila’s fingers made contact, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps through her nose. The blonde girl’s armpit was warm and damp, the skin there almost translucent in the light. “That’s it,” Pembroke encouraged, “poor Grace is very ticklish, let’s see if we can make her giggle!”
Grace went into hysterics. Her body convulsed against the restraints, her heels drumming against the stirrups as she thrashed with what little movement the bonds allowed. A high-pitched, desperate giggle tore from her throat, the sound edged with panic rather than amusement. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes as her torso twisted violently, the leather straps biting into her wrists.
“Keep going, Leila. Make her dance for us.”
Grace’s hysterical giggles dissolved into choked sobs, her body still twitching in aftershocks against the restraints. Salty tears cut clean paths through her cheeks as her breath came in ragged, dry heaves.
“Hah.” Pembroke chuckled, straightening up with a satisfied grunt. “That’s enough. Goodness, she’s soaking with sweat.” He leaned in, pressing his face into Grace’s right armpit with a grotesque inhale.
“Now, bring your nose to her armpit,” he ordered, his voice muffled against Grace’s skin. “Like this.”
Leila’s stomach lurched as she watched Pembroke’s nostrils flare, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat on Grace’s skin. The blonde girl’s body tensed as Leila hesitantly mirrored the action, bringing her face to the soaking left armpit. The scent hit her immediately - musky and sharp.
“Deep breath now. Really take her in.”
Grace’s eyes bulged as two sets of nostrils flared against her most vulnerable places.
“What does she smell like, Leila?” asked Pembroke, his eyebrow arched.
“Er ... she smells ... salty, sir.”
“Delicious, wouldn’t you say?” Pembroke’s grin was wet with Grace’s sweat as he redoubled his efforts, his tongue pressing deeper into the hollow of her armpit. Grace thrashed about in the restraints. “Come on, Leila,” Pembroke growled, “lick her armpit. Drink up that hot sweat like a good girl.”
Leila pressed her face deeper into the blonde girl’s damp armpit, her tongue moving in slow, reluctant circles against the metallic-tasting skin.
Pembroke pulled back slightly, his breath hot against Grace’s skin as he spoke in a dreamy, reverent tone. “Hmmm ... you know, I knew exactly what Grace would taste like before I ever took her.” He smacked his lips appreciatively. “I was fortunate enough to steal her panties, her bras, her clothes ... spent weeks with my face buried in them, learning every scent, every flavor.” He bit into the top of Grace’s shoulder. “I knew she’d taste divine everywhere - between her legs, under her arms...”
A dark chuckle vibrated against Grace’s skin. “And her mummy...” His eyes flicked up to meet Leila’s, glinting with sick amusement. “Oh, her knickers were particularly sweet. Like mother, like daughter, it seems.”
“But with you, Leila ... you were a gamble. I knew you were beautiful, that you had this perfect little body ... But I hadn’t even sniffed your panties before I took you. A risk that paid off beautifully.”
Leila tried to control the nausea rising within her as he talked, her eyes focused on the glistening hollow under Grace’s shoulder that she was working with her tongue. “I’ve licked and sniffed your panties enough since you’ve been mine to know. you’ll taste just as exquisite as Grace. Maybe even better. Hmmm ... I’m going to eat you until you scream.”
Leila tried to shut out the implications. Something inside her, self-preservation, told her to obey until she was rescued, that there was nothing she could do. That to be “naughty” was exactly what the monster needed. But was she a coward?
“Now,” he panted, “let’s take a proper look at Grace’s pretty face, shall we?”
His massive hands clutched Grace’s jaw, forcing her head to turn toward them. The blonde girl’s face was a wreck - her blue eyes bloodshot and glassy, her cheeks streaked with tears and sweat, her lips parted in exhausted panting. A thin string of saliva connected her lower lip to the vinyl chair, glistening under the lights.
“Look at her,” Pembroke murmured, his thumbs pressing into Grace’s cheekbones, stretching her lips into an obscene parody of a smile. “Just perfect, isn’t she? Like a little doll.” He fondled her ear as he commanded Leila. “Now, I want you to lick those tears from her face...”
Leila looked at the glistening sweaty red face, and the visible tear tracks. This was beyond gross ... it was just ... Weird.
“Sir ... I don’t understand...”
Pembroke’s face darkened. In one swift motion, he grabbed a handful of Leila’s hair, yanking her head forward over Grace’s probe body. “Lick her face all over,” he snarled, flecks of spittle landing on Grace’s eyes. “Lick those fucking tears off her face! She’s gorgeous, and you’re going to worship every inch of her like the good little slut I know you can be!” His grip tightened, making Leila gasp. “Do I need to fucking demonstrate, you stupid bitch?”
“OK! OK, I’m sorry! Sorry, sir!” Leila’s voice cracked with terror.
Pembroke composed himself and let go of her hair. “Sorry child, you should know by now, I have a short temper for disobedience, especially when I know you’re a smart little girl. Now, do it.”
Leila’s tongue traced a trembling path up the side of the blonde girl’s face, following the glistening trail of tears from her jawline to her temple, the taste salty and bitter. Grace turned her face away and closed her eyes as she felt the wet tongue over her eye.
“Fuck yes, that looks so hot” sighed Pembroke, watching Leila’s hole body arch and bend over the blonde’s face as her pink tongue ran all over the pretty face.
Leila’s dark hair tickled against Grace’s cheeks, forehead, chin as the other’s girls tongue ran over her eyelids, and her face became sticky with saliva. She blinked as the saliva seeped into her eyeballs.
“Now, Leila, I want you to really explore her. When else do you get to examine another person like they’re nothing more than meat on display?” His grin widened. “For me, of course, it’s every day!” You must agree Grace is pretty, hmm? Just look at that perfect little face.”
Leila swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Pembroke’s expectant gaze and Grace’s trembling form. “Y-yes, sir. She is pretty.”
“Good girl Then enjoy touching that face like a nice toy. Come on, treat her like a doll.”
Leila ran her fingers gently along the poor girl’s eyebrows. She couldn’t deny Grace was beautiful, but she had no sexual interest in her, unlike Pembroke, and did not enjoy feeling her fear.
Pembroke pressed against Grace’s nostrils, forcing them to flare as he issued his next command. “Now her nose, slide your fingers inside. Feel how warm she is in there. How damp.” His own finger demonstrated, pressing into Grace’s nostril with obscene slowness. “Go on. Really explore her.”
Leila’s face twisted in disgust as she brought her finger toward Grace’s nostril, and poked inside, feeling Pembroke’s finger in the other nostril through the thin membrane in between. Grace coughed and bucked, trying to move her face as her nose filled up.
“All the way to the knuckle, let’s see who can get their finger furthest up her eh? Hehe” Pembroke giggled at the grotesque sight, two digits probing Grace’s nostrils while the blonde girl writhed in the restraints, her breath coming in panicked grunts as she tried to breathe.
“Haha, little piggy girl!” Pembroke cackled, yanking his finger from Grace’s nostril with a wet pop. Leila quickly withdrew hers, a trail of snot following it.
Pembroke wiped his finger on Grace’s cheek. “That was fun, wasn’t it? You see, when you have a slave ... you can do anything you want. No matter how ridiculous. No matter how degrading. Now do you understand why I kidnapped both of you?”
It wasn’t really a question, and he didn’t wait for an answer. His eyes flicked to Leila’s braces, the metallic glint catching the light. “You must be envious of those teeth,” he turned to Grace’s spluttering mouth. “So straight. So perfect. Touch them. Run your fingers along them. Let me know what they feel like.”
Leila’s tongue flicked against her own braces. Her mind flashed back to the dental office, to the arguments with her mother about how she didn’t want them. How she’d begged and cried, how she’d stomped her foot and screamed that she hated the way they looked, the way they cut her mouth. Now, in this basement, in her underwear with the naked monster and poor fellow prisoner, she would have given anything be back in that dental office, hugging her mother.
Grace’s mouth opened obediently, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange of shared misery. The blonde’s teeth were smooth as porcelain, so different from Leila’s jagged metal cage. She traced the lower row, and couldn’t help but feel some jealousy of how perfectly straight they were.
“Now, why don’t you play with that lovely tongue? Take it between your fingers and pull it out. Feel how it reacts.”
Leila avoided Grace’s eyes, focusing instead on the small pink muscle between the blonde’s teeth. She pinched it delicately between her thumb and forefinger—warm and slippery, like trying to hold an eel. Leila gave a gentle tug, the tongue resisting slightly before yielding.
“It might interest you to know,” he lectured, “that your tongue will become one of, if not your most important, muscle here. Your holes will be passive receptacles, but your tongue? That’s what will give your master the greatest pleasure.” His grin was sharp. “And each other, as you will learn.”