Chapter 32

The cell erupted into harsh, glaring light, and Pembroke’s voice boomed through the speakers like a thunderclap.

“Wakey wakey, my little girls! I’m ready to have some fun with you! You’ve got time to shower, shave those pretty little cunts, and clean yourselves out nice and proper ... then I’ll be down there with the real entertainment. Hehe.”

Leila jerked awake, her heart slamming against her ribs. The dream had been so vivid ... the barn, the monster’s hands on her, her own desperate sprint toward home, her mother calling her name ... almost there, almost safe ... before Pembroke’s voice ripped her back to reality.

Grace gasped, her body jolting upright as the last remnants of her dream dissipated. She had been at school, Pembroke had been the teacher, naked, the other girls laughing at him, and Leila sitting at the desk next to her, her hand in hers, turning to her, smiling.

Leila looked sideways at the figure of Grace, already peeling off her ripped white vest, head bowed in resignation. Leila could not believe how real it had seemed, he way her mother’s voice had sounded so close, the way the door to her house had been right in front of her, all gone.

Grace didn’t look at Leila, remembering how angry she had been at her, how violent, and instead reached for the soap and razor and turned on the cell shower. When she had finished shaving between her legs, she looked up at Leila. She was still sitting, facing away, still in her black panties and vest, her bruises visible on her face in the reflection in the cell wall.

Leila looked at her own reflection and that of the blonde in the shower. As she heard and saw the lewd sounds of Grace emptying her bowels after using the enema showerhead, she squeezed her eyes shut, but the embarrassing noises from Grace only grew louder, until she forced them open again.

Her reflection stared back at her. The swelling around her eye had darkened from where the monster had hit her, and the bump on her forehead throbbed from where she’d slammed her head against the wall. She thought of her family and the outside world and then of the pathetic slave girl and then the fat hairy monster.

“Leila...” whispered Grace, her naked body glistening and wet as she sat back on the bench, her blonde hair plastered to her skin, drying herself with a small hand towel. “The Master will be here soon.”

Leila didn’t look at her. “Fuck him.”

“Please—” Grace pleaded, her blue eyes wide with fear. “You’ll get in trouble. And I’ll get in trouble too.”

“I know.” Leila snapped. She turned around to Grace, displaying her marked face. “And I don’t care anymore.”

The basement door opened and Pembroke walked in, smiling in just a dressing gown and black briefs. He looked towards the glass walled cell and its two occupants. Oh, he’d seen everything. The fights. Leila’s defiance. Her boasts. The way she’d spat in the face of his control. And Grace’s obedience, her pathetic attempts to keep the peace.

“Well, well, well,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “What on earth have you two been up to? Most unladylike behaviour, I must say!”

Grace stood up, out of deference, and fear, her hands by her side, and Pembroke smiled back at her, admiring her slim young body, the water dripping down her body, the cleft of her vagina just visible between her legs.

Leila slowly raised her fierce black eyes to him, still seated, still clothed in her black vest and knickers, her face marked with bruises and her body unwashed and unshaven.

Pembroke tilted his head, tutting with an air of affected disappointment as he studied the brunette.

“I think, child,” he murmured, one eyebrow arching just slightly, “that you need a bit of a lesson, don’t you?” He sighed theatrically. “It was always to be expected, of course. But I’m afraid a simple spanking won’t do for this level of naughtiness.”

“Go to hell” retorted Leila. Grace visibly flinched at her defiance.

“My dear, for you this may be hell, I assure you that for me this is heaven” chuckled Pembroke. He entered the cell, threw a red vest and thong at Grace for he to put on, while he stood in front of Leila, hands behind his back. his dressing gown parting to reveal the obscene bulge in his briefs.

“Now, Leila,” he began, his tone dripping with false patience, “before we begin, I wish to remind you of something ... When you deface yourself, you are defacing my property. That nasty bruise near your eye?” He tsked, shaking his head. “Yes, my hand may have caused it ... but you are the reason I struck you in the first place.”

His gaze flicked to the angry bump on her forehead, his lips curling in disapproval. “And that, well, that was all you, wasn’t it? Smashing your pretty little head against the wall like a tantrum-throwing child.” He clucked his tongue, then turned his attention to Grace, tugging her thong up around her hips. “And then there’s the matter of my other property.” His voice hardened, just slightly. “You scratched her tits, didn’t you? Nothing too serious ... but still. You could have spoiled my enjoyment of her perfect little body.”

Leila looked down at the floor. Her eyes were starting to water. She knew that pain was coming.

“Anything to say? Any brave words left in that pretty little mouth of yours?”

Leila’s lips pressed into a thin line, her dark eyes starting to leak tears. A quiet, broken sob escaped her, her shoulders shaking as the reality of what was coming crashed over her. She wanted to apologize, but she knew it was too late.

Pembroke’s cock grew hard, his gaze drinking in every shudder, every hitch in her breath. He loved this part ... the moment when the defiance drained away, when the slave began to anticipate the suffering to come. Leila’s sobs grew louder, her small frame quaking beneath his shadow.

“Grace?” Pembroke looked up at the blonde. “Why don’t you take Leila by the hand, and follow me so that we can begin her correction.

Leila continued to look at the floor as she meekly allowed Grace to take her hand and pull her up, guiding her out of the cell and into the main basement floor behind Pembroke swaggering and eager to start.

Pembroke held Grace’s crumpled soiled white panties to his nose, inhaling deeply. He smirked as he examined the orange-stained gusset, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “Poor little Grace,” he crooned “Your panties taste like you pissed yourself, how embarrassing for you.”

His gaze flicked to Leila, his smirk twisting into something darker. “Another crime to add to your list, Leila.” He let the words hang in the air, heavy with threat. “You know your little friend here can’t control her bladder when she’s scared.” His fingers tightened around the soiled fabric, his eyes gleaming with sick delight. “Looks like you’ll be paying for this too.”

Leila tried to control her breathing, telling herself that he wouldn’t kill her, and that if he was angry about a black eye, he couldn’t hurt her too much. But when she thought of the horrors in the basement, her stomach started churning.

“Grace, first, why don’t you lock your little friend on the treatment table, the same one you were in yesterday hmm?”

Grace looked at Leila and pressed her lips together in sympathy, but guided her to the table. Leila couldn’t stop her body from shaking as she made her way towards then on top of the treatment table.

Grace locked both ankles in the stirrups and then one of her wrists. It was then that Leila began to resist.

“No ... please, stop! I’ll be good, I promise!”

Grace forced the second cuff shut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, stepping back as Pembroke’s shadow swallowed the room.

“You did so well licking Grace out yesterday,” he murmured, stroking Leila’s cheek with his thumb. “But I expect consistency, my dear. Your tongue belongs in Grace’s holes, and mine, every day ... for the rest of your life. Now ... Swallow.”

Leila’s muffled protests were smothered as Pembroke shoved Grace’s soiled panties between her lips, his fingers pressing cruelly against her jaw to force her mouth open wider. Grace blanched in embarrassment.

Pembroke pressed Grace’s dirty white vest into her hands. “Now, Grace,” Pembroke told her. “You remember how this works when I did it to you, now ... you get to do it to her.”

Grace swallowed hard, then leaned and draped the vest over Leila’s face. The brunette’s dark eyes widened in terror as she was encompassed in white cotton, her screams hushed by the knickers stuffed in her mouth.

Pembroke pointed to a jug of water. “Pour.”

Grace felt her blood run cold as she realised she would be the torturer. She had no choice. The first splash hit the vest, the water soaking through as Leila’s body jerked violently against the restraints, her choked gasps echoing beneath the dripping fabric. Grace’s hands shook as she tipped the jug again.

“Good girl,” Pembroke purred, watching Leila’s struggles with sick delight. “Keep going.”

Leila gagged as the vest and knickers soaked through, the sodden fabric slipping deeper into her throat, blocking her airway. Her body thrashed, her lungs burning, her mind screaming.

“Now, Grace, why not give your friend a little respite—and lick her pussy.” It wasn’t a request.

Grace tore her gaze away from Leila’s convulsing, choking form, her face barely visible beneath the wet fabric, her mouth gaping like a drowning girl’s. She moved down between the brunette’s thighs. Leila’s legs shook uncontrollably as Grace pressed her face against the black panties, the fabric damp with sweat and fear.

“Pull her knickers aside,” Pembroke instructed, “and lick.”

Leila hooked her finger under the gusset, pulling the damp fabric aside to reveal the dark pink folds nestled between her sweat-slicked thighs.

The taste was not as Grace had dreamed, sugary and light, but salty and coppery, piss and sweat flowing into her mouth as the poor girl’s body went into life or death mode.

Pembroke checked he was out of frame as the cameras caught Leila’s facial features being masked by the wet white cotton, her gaping mouth retching vainly for breath, while Grace ate her pussy. This would be gold online, he thought.

“Now Grace, enough cunt for now, take those wet clothes of yours out of her mouth.”

The brunette’s body jerked violently, a choked gasp tearing from her throat as Grace pulled the sodden vest and knickers free. A string of saliva and water dripped from Leila’s chin, her chest heaving as she gagged, her dark eyes wide and wild with the aftermath of suffocation. The wet fabric plopped to the floor with a sickening splat, leaving Leila’s body shuddering as she fought to fill her lungs.

“Now Grace, release her, let’s show Leila another attraction!” Grace uncuffed the poor girl’s ankles and wrists, now limp as her soaked form, black vest and knickers clinging to her, lay inert on the table. Leila’s hair was now wet like a drowned rat, her eyes red rimmed and watering as she coughed up fluid from her lungs.

Pembroke rubbed his hands together with glee. “Come on, Grace— chop chop! Next step ... the iron maiden!”

Leila’s legs buckled as the restraints released her, her body wracked with sobs. She clutched at Grace, her fingers digging into the blonde’s arms as if she were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. They followed Pembroke, their steps unsteady, their bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace.

Pembroke’s fingers tightened around Leila’s throat, his grip just firm enough to remind her who was in control. He gestured toward the interior of the iron maiden, its polished surfaces gleaming under the light. “Now, child,” he murmured, “step inside.”

He had spent a fortune on this antique toy, modifying the interior so the spikes were just close enough not to maim, but to terrify. A skinny girl like Leila would fit perfectly.