Bound by Control 2: A worm turned

The following day, changes started to happen. Sheila asked Lance to come around to go over some business ideas. Roy opened the door, dressed only in tight Lycra shorts and a collar padlocked around his neck. He showed his big brother in and asked if he'd like a drink. Lance looked at him and called him pathetic in front of Sheila. Sheila ordered Roy get drinks while she and Lance talked business.

When Roy returned with the drinks, he handed Sheila a tea and Lance a coffee. Then Sheila ordered him to kneel at her feet. She and Lance chatted about business for a while, but soon, Lance started rubbing his throat as the sedative that Roy had put into his coffee began to take effect. Lance noticed his hands shaking a little and put his coffee down. Sheila patted Roy on the head.

At his mistress's signal, Roy stood, walked over to Lance, grabbed him by the collar, and hit him as hard as he could. Lance's head snapped back, and blood spewed from his cut lip. Roy continued to pummel him, all the pent-up rage of what Lance had made him do and what he had done to him came pouring out through his powerful fists.

Sheila shouted, "Enough!" Roy took one more swing, his fist connecting with Lance's jaw with a sickening crunch, before pushing the beaten, unconscious Lance to the floor. Sheila was hot, her body thrumming with excitement. It had been a while since she'd allowed her husband to show his real strength, and she was definitely going to release his cock later and feel it inside of her.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with anticipation, and sent a one-word text. "Ready."

Five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Roy let in two men dressed in black suits, followed by a woman in a business suit. Roy noticed that both men had strange collars around their necks, each with a small blinking blue light. The lady and Sheila chatted for a while, their voices low and conspiratorial, as the men loaded Lance onto a state-of-the-art electronic stretcher. The stretcher had been retrofitted with car-type straps, which they used to tightly strap Lance down with, ensuring he couldn't move a muscle.

They loaded him into a white van with "Private Ambulance" written on the side, the type of van used by funeral homes to pick up dead bodies from hospitals and such. One of the men came back in with a small medical holdall and asked to look at Roy's hand. He applied an antiseptic lotion and lightly wrapped his bruised knuckles. Roy nodded his thanks.

Sheila and the lady hugged, then the lady left. Sheila was impressed by their efficiency. Sheila looked at Roy and told him to get dressed; they had meetings to attend to.

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The service bell at the club rang, its chime echoing through the quiet halls. Anne answered the door to find Sharon and a man who, Anne found out later, was Sharon’s brother. Anne welcomed them in.

Both women eyed each other up, their gazes sharp and assessing, like cats in an alley deciding whether to fight or not..

Anne smiled first. "Would you both like a drink?" she offered.

Sharon said coffee would be good, then asked where Olivia and her husband were

 "I released them as soon as I got the call from Sheila," Anne replied, "They are still secured but comfortable, and dressed, ready to go."

"No hurry then, ”She put her hand on Anne's thigh and squeezed.

Anne leaned forward and kissed Sharon gently on the lips. The touch was soft. She then whispered in Sharon's ear, "I'd love to, but Aunty Flo is visiting."

Sharon smiled an understanding smile. "Maybe another time then,” she said.

They chatted for a while. Sharon asked a lot about the clubs that Anne owned, four fetish clubs in all. Anne, in turn, asked Sharon about her work with the Sisterhood.

Sharon's brother was ordered to get them drinks as the two ladies chatted. Eventually, Sharon said she'd have to leave, and Anne took her to the VIP room where Olivia and her husband were cuffed to soft, comfortable chairs.

Anne released them. Olivia shot daggers out of her eyes at Anne. Anne ignored her and handed the cuffs to Sharon, who cuffed Oliver and her husband’s hands behind their backs.

Olivier gave a ‘what the fuck’ look to Sharon.  Who  just shrugged and said,” Order from above.”  She nodded at Anne, and they led Olivier and Michael out to their waiting car. 

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Dennis walked along the hallway of his and Christine’s Cuxton home, a smirk playing on his lips. He had just locked Christine up in the cage in their playroom, ensuring she was as uncomfortable as possible. The thought of her squirming and struggling filled him with a perverse sense of satisfaction.

Christine’s partner in crime and one-time personal assistant, Sally, was curled up on the sofa, free of any bonds. She had changed loyalties almost immediately and seemed to enjoy torturing her old boss as much as Dennis did. The dynamic between them was a twisted dance of power and submission.

The bell rang again, its chime echoing through the quiet house. "Okay, I'm coming," Dennis mumbled, his voice carrying a note of annoyance as he made his way to the door. He opened it to find a man and a woman, both dressed in smart business attire. The lady spoke first, her voice firm and authoritative. "Dennis Smythe ?"

"Yes," Dennis replied, his brow furrowing as he assumed they were some kind of salespeople. "But I'm not interested." He started to close the door, but the man's foot stopped it, wedging itself firmly in the gap.

"What the fuc—" was all Dennis got out before he received 50,000 volts in the neck from a handheld taser. The electric shock sent a jolt of pure agony through his body, and he fell, hitting the hallway floor with a thud, disoriented and struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

Swiftly, he was turned onto his stomach, his arms roughly pulled behind his back. The cuffs clicked into place, securing his wrists together. He was dragged through the open door and dropped again so that the door could be closed, his body a limp, helpless mass at the mercy of his captors.

The man and woman walked through to the lounge to find Sally sitting on the sofa, her face a mask of shock. The lady spoke, her voice cutting through the tension. "Christine Smythe?"

"Downstairs," Sally replied, pointing to the kitchen. Dennis had left the trap door open after his last session with Christine.

As soon as the man and woman disappeared down into the crypt, Sally jumped up, her movements quick and efficient. She pulled on her trainers and ran to the hallway. Dennis looked up from his prone position on the floor, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and desperation.

"Help me," he cried, his voice a ragged plea. Sally bent down, and for a moment, Dennis's sigh of relief hung heavy in the air, a promise of rescue.

But his relief quickly turned to disbelief as Sally rifled through his pockets, her fingers deftly retrieving his wallet. She stood, looking around the hallway with a calculating gaze, her eyes landing on the keys to his Kia hanging on the key hook. Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed them.

"Sally!" Dennis shouted, his voice a desperate, pleading cry.

She looked down at him, a cold, mocking smile playing on her lips, and delivered a swift, brutal kick to his stomach that sent him doubling over in pain.

Sally ran out the door; Dennis heard his car start, the engine roaring to life, and then the screech of tires as it sped out of its parking space, leaving him alone and helpless.

In the crypt, they found Christine hanging in a cage, her arms strapped behind her back, bent up between her shoulders. A thick, posture collar was secured around her neck, and a featureless leather hood covered her face, obscuring her features and adding to her discomfort. A bright red ball gag was shoved into her drooling mouth, muffling any sounds she might make. Her legs were parted and tied to the corners of the cage, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.

Clips with weights attached hung from her pussy lips and nipples, each movement she made causing the weights to shift and pull, sending jolts of pain through her body. Every sob she uttered only served to move the weights, intensifying her agony and trapping her in a cycle of helpless suffering.

They removed her from the cage as gently as they could, their movements efficient and practiced. First, they took off the gag, allowing her to breathe freely for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Next, they removed the collar, then hood, revealing her tear-streaked face and red-rimmed eyes. Christine cried out as they carefully removed the clips, the sudden release of tension bringing a mix of relief and renewed pain.

Throughout the process, they moved silently, without a word, their actions speaking louder than any words could. The lady took her phone from her pocket and spoke the only word Christine would hear her say. "Pull the van up."

They guided Christine out of the crypt, through the lounge, and out of the house. If they noticed that Sally was gone, they didn't acknowledge the fact; their focus was solely on their task. As they passed by her husband, Dennis, lying on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back, Christine spat at him.

After securing Christine in the van, her hands cuffed to a ring welded into the side, they went back and grabbed Dennis. He cried out in pain as they threw him into the back of the van, landing awkwardly on his shoulder. The van door shut behind him with a final thud.

The lady and the man went back into the house, locking everything up securely before jumping into the front of the van and driving away, leaving Cuxton behind.

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Anne entered the house in Borstal where her stepbrother, Marcus, resided. He had taken over as head of the household a few months ago after Anne had captured Jennifer Warren as a "coming home" gift for Lance Adams. Jennifer had manipulated the facts to have Lance arrested and imprisoned, but Anne had set things right. Jennifer had then been gifted to Marcus, along with her house, for all his hard work in proving Jennifer's wrongdoings.

She found Marcus in the front room, sitting at his computer, engrossed in a game of Fallout 4. Jennifer was kneeling beside him, her hands gently massaging his cock through his jeans. The red light on her electronic collar blinked, indicating that it was live and ready to shock her if she ever tried to escape through the door or windows.

Anne made her presence known, and Marcus jumped in his seat. "Oh hey, sis," he said, patting Jennifer's hand away from his crotch. When Jennifer saw Anne, she crawled over to her and kissed her feet, just as they had trained her to do.

Anne told Marcus, her voice firm, "Meet me downstairs. I have an itch to scratch, and bring her with you."

"Er, yes, Miss," he replied.

Every now and then, Anne liked to dominate her half-brother, and he willingly submitted to her every whim. Downstairs, in the basement, lay the dungeon, originally installed by Jennifer as her playroom when she was the "queen of the domain."

Anne was standing in the middle of the dungeon when Marcus came in, with Jennifer walking behind him on a leash. The sight of them, her brother and his prized possession, sent a thrill of anticipation through Anne,.

"Strip," she ordered Marcus.

Marcus began to strip. Jennifer, seeing her cue, also started to undress behind him, but Anne's sharp command stopped her. "Not you," Anne said.

Once Marcus had stripped, Anne ordered him up onto the St. Andrew's Cross, facing out. He did as he was told, his body a picture of obedience and submission. Anne strapped his wrists and ankles tightly, ensuring he couldn't move a muscle.

She took a ball gag from a rack on the wall and strapped it firmly in place, muffling any sounds he might make. Then, she fished through his jeans pockets and pulled out a small key.

Anne looked at Jennifer and said, “Up.”

Anne walked behind her to find the small, hidden lock in the electronic collar. She inserted the key and removed the collar.

Then Anne took her phone out of her pocket and called the number Sheila had given her. "Katherine Dunstan," the voice at the other end said, her tone smooth and authoritative.

“Oh, hi," Anne said, her voice measured and respectful. "Sheila gave me this number and told me to call you once Jennifer was available."

"Could you put her on, please?" Katherine asked, her voice carrying authority.

Anne passed the phone to a surprised Jennifer. While Jennifer was on the phone, Anne went back to Marcus and wrapped the collar around his neck. He heard the 'bing' as the lock connected and the collar auto-adjusted to fit his neck.

He looked at Anne, puzzlement in his eyes. Anne smiled a sad smile, a mix of regret and resolution, "Sorry, bro," she said, her voice low. "There's been a regime change," and she kissed him on the forehead, a final, tender gesture before turning away.

She turned back to Jennifer, who was just finishing with the phone. Jennifer handed Anne the phone, and Anne asked, "Are we good?" realizing Jennifer might have some resentment toward her.

"Yes, we're good," Jennifer replied, her voice steady and sure. Anne handed her the key to the collar and said, "I'll give you two some time alone then."

And with that, Anne made her way back upstairs, leaving Marcus and Jennifer alone.

Marcus looked horrified as Jennifer stepped toward him, her hands balled into fists.

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A month later, Kay woke to find the space beside her empty, the sheets cold. She climbed out of bed, her movements slow and uncertain, and made her way to the restroom. After splashing water on her face, she looked around the small flat, her eyes scanning for any sign of Michael. There was none—no note, no hint of where he might have gone. The onset of panic crept into the back of her mind, and a gnawing uncertainty was beginning to take hold.

She knew he had been restless the last couple of weeks, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a quiet, almost pensive energy. He had attributed it to nerves about starting the new job and working with Sheila, but Kay hadn't quite believed that. Self-doubt started to creep in, whispering insidious thoughts that maybe, now that everything was resolved, he didn't need her anymore. The weight of these thoughts settled heavily on her shoulders.

Kay sat down and made a cup of tea, her hands trembling slightly as she poured the hot liquid into a mug. She hadn't realized that she sat there for an hour, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears, until the beep-beep of somebody turning off the alarm at the back door to the store broke through her reverie. Footsteps echoed through the house, growing louder as they approached the kitchen.

She looked up to see a sweaty and panting Michael walk into the kitchen, his chest heaving with exertion. "What are you doing up so early?” He asked between pants.

"I was wondering where the fuck you were," Kay replied, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation.  Michael sat down on the chair beside her.

"I needed a run," he told her. "I haven't been on one for over a month now, and I felt myself getting tetchy."

Kay's eyes narrowed slightly, "You could have left a note or something," she told him. Then, smiling, she added, "I should give you a good spanking," her voice a low, teasing whisper.

He smiled and asked if he should shower first. "Sure," Kay replied, her voice softening with a mix of amusement and affection. "I'll be here when you're done."

Later that day, they were both in the main shop, going through inventory. Eamon was upstairs, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he worked on the store's website and newest orders. The bell pinged, its cheerful chime welcoming a customer into the shop. This was only the third one today, not that unusual for a Wednesday.

A puzzled look made its way across Michael's face. Kay noticed the look, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she tried to place the woman who had just entered. It wasn't until Michael spoke that she recognized her: Carol, Michael's ex-mother-in-law.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asked, standing up straight and looking her directly in the eyes, his voice a low growl.

Carol cleared her throat, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "I've, er, come to see Eamon. I'd like to take him out to dinner," she said, her words hanging in the air.

"What? Are you serious?" asked Kay, her voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

Michael chimed in, his voice low and threatening. "You'd better get the fuck out of here before I lose my temper," he warned.

Carol turned to leave, her movements hesitant and unsure, but then she stopped. She stood up straight, her chin lifted in a show of defiance and determination. "Look, Michael," she began, her voice steady and sure, "you have every right to hate Valerie and me. I get that, I really do. But look at you—you've got everything you deserve. A lady who loves you, a home, and, from what I hear, a great job. And that's great; it really is."

She took a breath, her chest rising and falling with a mix of emotion and resolve. "That night, the one at your house, I met a young man who was like... well, he was like a ray of sunshine to me. He could have done anything he wanted to me, and I would have deserved it. But he showed me kindness and tenderness, and I felt that he could have used a little of the same."

Michael stepped forward, his intention clear as he moved to physically remove her from the shop, his body tense and ready for action.

But Kay stopped him, her hand gentle but firm on his arm. She picked up her phone and spoke. "Eamon, can you come down, please?"

Michael looked as if to say, "What the fuck are you doing?" but Kay just held up her hand.

Eamon came bounding down the stairs. "Yes, Miss?" he said, then stopped in his tracks as he saw Carol. His face lit up, a broad, boyish grin spreading across his features.

Kay said to Eamon, "Miss Carol has stopped by to see if you'd like to go out to eat with her. Would you like that?"

His smile broadened. "Yes, please, Miss," he replied.

Kay looked at Michael, who just smiled and shrugged.

Kay stepped up to Eamon. She put her hands up to his neck and removed his collar. "You won't be needing this.”

Then she stepped to Carol and held out her hand. Carol took it, her grip firm and sure.

Kay held her hand and looked into Carol's eyes; an unspoken understanding passed between them. Carol knew that if she hurt Eamon, there would be nowhere for her to hide.

They let go of each other's hands. Kay kissed Eamon on the cheek and said, "Have a good time.”

Carol held out her hand, and Eamon joined her as they left the store.

Carol looked down at the hand that Kay had shaken, and in the palm was a small key. The key to Eamon's chastity cage.