Cruciatu

Inside and outside the apartment complex, the collection team had positioned themselves as silently as snakes. Every entry and exit was covered, and every floor had a lookout ready to deal with any civilians who might stray into the vicinity. Any heavily suited, tactical-looking team member who encountered an unexpected onlooker would simply inform them they were dealing with a terrorist tip-off and keep them clear during the collection.

Five men waited outside Penny’s apartment: two for each girl, with a fifth to sweep the apartment and collect phones, laptops, and anything else crucial to fabricating their disappearance. A secondary cleanup crew would attend the apartment tomorrow for a final review.

The squad worked like a well-oiled machine—far too many people for just two girls, but the company could afford to overextend itself to make jobs like this go smoothly. Like Claire, these men loved their work. Many were ex-military and preferred the ridiculously easy task of snatching defenceless women to risking their lives in war zones. They enjoyed plenty of perks working for an organisation like Cruciatu as well.

Clark always thought of the fun times he’d had at the Christmas parties whenever he scoped out a new acquisition, imagining what their futures would be like. The tactical arm of London Crucio threw the best Christmas parties. The head of their department would temporarily ship in slaves from Cruciatu as entertainment—some fully broken and trained in the art of sexual servitude, others unwilling pain toys for the more sadistic members.

God, that twenty-three-year-old slut who’d been loaned to him last year had been truly wild. From what he’d discovered in her file afterwards, she’d been captured and intensively trained in the arts of male and female pleasure for three years. It had been her first time allowed off the island. She did absolutely everything with barely any hesitation at the merest hint of a command from Clark, as though she existed solely for his every desire.

She made him feel as though she were crazy with lust for him (exactly as she had been trained), yet there was always a hint of something else beneath it… fear. Fear of failing to give the best possible fuck and risking punishment, and maybe a tiny glimmer of hope that they might not send her back to that god-awful place.

As soon as they had got back to the hotel room at the Christmas party she had yanked his trousers down in one slick movement and expertly begun to deep-throat his cock with long, slow strokes. She looked up at him the entire time she bobbed her head, eyes glazed, mentally invoking every lesson from her oral training, massaging his balls and never breaking eye contact unless told otherwise.

Clark’s cock was getting hard just thinking about it. In his mind’s eye he saw what had happened next: the moment he grabbed her by the hair and threw her onto the bed. She recovered at once and assumed the position she thought would please him most—face down, arse up, pulling her cheeks wide open to invite him into her willowy, tight anus…

No. No. Clark shook his head and banished the memory. Focus on the mission. He had to think clearly. There would be plenty of time to fuck later.

Several team members grinned and smirked to themselves as they listened to Claire having her fun over the comms channel. They all understood; this work was exciting in more ways than one. Each of them made a mental note to make the footage from this capture extra impressive and theatrical, capturing every special moment in high detail.

The team at the door finished picking the lock. They could grab the girls and gag them before much sound escaped, but the member responsible for the apartment sweep kept one eye on Clark’s rooftop feed on a small tablet. The girls were at the far end of the hall on the other side of the door, drinking wine and laughing. Clark’s reconnaissance indicated they were about two bottles in, so their reaction times would be diminished. The door swung open slowly and the team crept down the hallway, almost ready to strike.

Clark was ready. He rang the home phone and watched. Penny, confused about who could be calling so late, left the couch and went into the kitchen. “H-Hello?” Her drunken voice cracked a little. What happened next was a blur—it had to be, just in case any other onlookers were watching from the windows.

The two members assigned to Katy burst out of the hall while the next two assigned to Penny sprinted past them straight into the kitchen.

The fifth member ignored both women and went straight to the apartment windows, pulling the blinds shut.

Clark’s feed was now useless, so he began packing up.

Claire, watching everything from her laptop, switched over to the head-cams mounted on each tactical member’s helmet. She watched both feeds at once but was particularly interested in Penny’s. The lead member rounded the corner of the kitchen at a confused, then horrified Penny, seizing her by the throat while the second man stepped behind her, grabbed both wrists, and bound them with cable ties. Squeezing hard with one hand to prevent any scream, he nimbly inserted an already prepared black rubber bulb into her gaping mouth with the other.

“HRRRRRRUUU-mmmppppfffh!!!”

As awareness kicked in, Penny instinctively tried to bring her hands up to protect herself and tear the intruder from her mouth, only to find them already bound uselessly behind her back. She tried to kick, but both men sandwiched her from either side. The man behind her seized the straps of the rubber mouth-plug and cinched it extra tight behind her head. The man in front dropped to one knee and fastened two ankle cuffs linked by a metre of tight nylon so she could only hobble and would be unable to land any effective kicks (chains would have made too much noise in the hallway). The entire encounter took less than thirty seconds. In the living room, Katy had undergone an almost identical procedure. She had managed only to half-rise from the couch before she was manhandled and tightly bound.

“Ladies secured. Good job, Scythe squad! That capture time would be one for the books!”

“Haha, yeah maybe! But it’s a bit unfair, right? They were half drunk.”

The mood relaxed; the men grew jovial.

“OK, let’s get you ready to go, shall we?”

The man in front of Penny kept his head-cam locked on her face the entire time. It made excellent footage that could be attached to her file—you only got to capture an asset once, and their reactions to being ripped out of their lives were enjoyed by sadists throughout the organisation. You could almost read the thoughts in those wide eyes: utter terror, disbelief that this was happening to them, and confusion at why they were being treated this way by what they still thought were the police. It would make great viewing for their sponsor, Claire.

The next piece of equipment came off the man’s belt: a high leather posture collar. One of the hundreds of specially made items at Cruciatu, the stiff leather interior contained dozens of tiny metal spikes that would dig into the wearer’s neck—not quite drawing blood, but creating the sensation of endless painful pin-pricks. The collar was attached to another length of nylon rope, and the man began to pull on it slowly. Even a slight tug tightened the collar significantly, starting to choke the wearer and driving the spikes in deeper. The captive was forced to follow or risk very painful asphyxiation.

Penny was dragged forward toward the living room, where Katy’s collar had already been fitted. Her sister stood there, dumbfounded.

The entire operation was wonderful—textbook, if Claire had any say in it. True, both Penny and Katy were drunk, their reactions numbed, surging adrenaline smothered by the wine… but that was simply proof of how important it was to pick your moment and let the target make your job as easy as possible.

The realisation that Claire could use this precise operation to train future operatives made her moan again. Her cold blue eyes lit up with delight as she watched Penny’s face twist in horror, her friend’s dark brown eyes welling with tears and terror as the devilish collar was wrapped tight, the myriad tiny spikes scraping against the tender olive skin of her throat and forcing her chin up into a formal, almost imperious posture.

Yet despite the regal bearing, she looked more cowed than Claire had ever seen her, hobbling along the hallway of her own flat back toward the living room, led on a leash and stumbling as the short nylon tethering her ankles savagely halved every stride.

In the lounge, poor Katy was faring no better. The rubber plug rammed into her mouth did nothing to soothe her hyperventilating terror. Her frantic struggles—including a shockingly sharp blow with the wine bottle against the man to her left—achieved absolutely nothing. The brute took the impact without flinching, letting his tactical vest absorb the force, and simply shook his head with an admonishing, mocking “Naughty…” before jerking the zip-tie brutally tighter around her wrists.

The women’s terror and confusion stood in utter contrast to the cold, calm professionalism of Scythe team. Claire made a mental note to thank them for their silence—not because the operation had been conducted so quietly that the neighbours could not have heard a thing even if they had been listening, but because that silence ensured Penny’s muffled wail of horror when she was dragged into the living room and saw her younger sister just as helpless as she was.

Claire leaned closer, heart racing, fingers furiously curling inside her cunt as she kept herself balanced on the brink of orgasm, hardly daring to breathe as she watched the beautiful sight.

“Go ahead, Scythe team,” she moaned. “Inform them who their patron is.”

The man who had been hit by the bottle nodded.

“Welcome to your new lives,” he said, his voice still mocking. “I am Sergeant McCloud, and you won’t see me again, but I’m sure you will soon discover things about yourselves you never imagined. You will now be transported to our special facility where you will stay in the sort of luxurious surroundings favoured by the most powerful people in the world. Or at least… favoured for the enemies of the most powerful people in the world.”

He smirked at the obvious confusion on their faces, pausing so that each squad member could train their head-cam on the sisters and capture the moment from multiple angles.

“In this case, the powerful person in question is… let me see, I have it somewhere…”

He paused, pretending to pat his pockets for a note, drawing the moment out as long as he could while the girls stood shaking in confusion and terror. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed to a photo hanging on the wall: Penny, wearing a beautiful formal gown, laughing in a grand ballroom with her arms around a beaming, beautiful red-headed bride.

“…oh, that was it! Miss Claire Buckley. Be sure to thank her!”

He reached up, seized Penny’s chin as horror and confusion raced across her face, and forced the poor, sobbing woman to nod, letting the pins of the posture collar dig viciously into her throat.

Claire actually had to fumble for the mute button. She was not a screamer by any means. She adored sex, of course, but she normally kept her pleasure as tightly compartmentalised as her professional life. But this… this rush was like nothing else.

The misery, the guilt, the way Penny’s lower lip quivered even with the fat plug cinched into her mouth. The shock as Katy’s eyes darted from the photograph to her sister, the wide-eyed horror and betrayal as the younger woman realised that her own sister’s filthy cheating behaviour was what had left her bound and helpless.

The huge fat tear that rolled down Penny’s cheek as Sergeant McCloud shoved her roughly onto her knees and began cutting away her dress for transport was something Claire wanted to bottle and keep as her own private treasure.

She rode out the waves of orgasm, still shuddering with aftershocks of impossible pleasure, and regained enough steadiness in her voice to re-open her channel and send a brief, terse message. And so perfectly did Crucio Corporation select and equip their people that within seconds one of the squad was carefully scooping Penny’s bitter tears into a tiny sample bottle. The mere visual sight of it was almost enough to make Claire come all over again.

Instead she mentally assessed how long shipping was likely to take, then sent a terse text to her wayward husband: “I need to get my head straight. Come back in two hours. I want to talk this over tonight.”

She wanted to savour every moment of the capture. But afterwards, once Penny and Katy were doomed beyond salvation… later, Claire wanted to give James the fuck of his life, to revel in her husband’s cock while her friends were flown silently to Hell.

Big hunting knives made quick work of both girls’ clothes and panties until they were nothing but scraps of rag on the floor, scooped up by the team member sweeping the apartment and shoved into a black bag for disposal. The two black-haired beauties were held by their hair so they would not topple over completely.

The men stood over their charges, looking down at their quivering flesh as they snivelled and trembled and made pathetic pleading noises around their gags.

“Shut them up a bit more before we get them downstairs.”

The rubber plugs were connected to inflatable hand-pumps—smaller than the ones usually found in fetish stores, and rather more functional. Each man overseeing the girls’ preparation bent down and began pumping the gags with long, firm strokes. These gags, again, were more specialised than consumer brands and had no safety limits. They expanded in both width and length as they grew, first tickling and then invading the back of the throat, stimulating the gag reflex and making the wearer feel as though she were choking. It was not uncommon for girls to vomit into the gag, but the team were medically prepared to intervene if it looked as though anyone were in genuine danger of choking to death. The sweet release of death would never find these girls.

The girls flinched, tried to pull away, shake their heads. Firm hands tangled in their hair prevented any real movement. Gradually the sounds grew more muffled and more distressing as the gags expanded.

“mmmmmpphhhh-MMMMHHPPPPPP!

MMMHHPPPPTHHH-HHHRRRKKKKK-GGHUURKK-KKKKKK”

The agonising choking noises grew worse and worse.

Lastly, leather hoods were brought toward each captive. They could be fitted so that they slipped over the head, with a hole at the front to allow the gag and its inflatable tube to pass through. They were slightly different: Katy’s was fitted with a heavy padded blindfold; Penny’s was not. Otherwise they were identical. As the men dragged the tight leather over Katy’s head this way and that, she got one final look into Penny’s eyes before her head was fully encased. A desperate hissing could still be heard through the nose holes, but Katy was gone—just a naked, hooded girl. Little did she know it would be days before she was allowed out of it and could see again.

Penny soon had the tight hood fitted as well, though without a blindfold to cover her eyes. The conversations of the men around her became muffled, and the padding over her ears compacted tightly around her head. She had been inside it for only half a minute and already it felt like an unbearable vice crushing her skull; she instantly began to feel hot and to sweat.

All of a sudden everything went quiet. Silence. Something with the ear-pads? She could still hear her own ragged breathing inside her head, but it seemed a noise-cancelling function had activated.

There were electronics built into the hood that could provide noise-cancellation to further deprive the wearer of her senses, or that could be used to play sounds. Judging by the way Katy was now turning her head this way and that, she too was now completely deaf to the world around her—and robbed of her sight as well.

“Hello, Penny. How is your night?”

A husky, sarcastic voice spoke inside her head, dripping with venom and clear as day. Penny froze. She knew that voice almost as well as her own or her sister’s. Her eyes slowly trailed up to the photograph on the wall—to the beautiful redhead in the ballgown.

Bile rose in Penny’s throat as she fought down terror. She had not believed McCloud—could not believe McCloud. She loved Claire almost like a sister, despite her terrible, stupid infatuation with James, and the two women shared everything. Claire was well off, certainly; she could afford luxuries without a moment’s pang for her budget. But surely not rich enough to own a… a private army. As far as Penny knew, Claire had gone into pharmaceutical management, and while that paid well it could not place her among the most powerful people in the world either.

But… that voice. It was Claire’s. Huskier than normal. Throatier. If Penny did not know better she would have assumed her friend had been crying, but… no. That did not sound right. This was not Claire’s “I’ve been sobbing my heart out” voice—hoarse but fragile. This was…

…this was a tone Penny had heard from Claire only once before. When she had called from her honeymoon. Her “I-just-had-the-best-orgasm-of-my-life-and-thank-you-for-letting-me-take-James-when-I-knew-you-were-crushing-on-him” voice.

Penny gagged, shook her head, and tried to struggle up, as if addressing the photograph would somehow help.

“Gllmmmmppphhh!!! Clllrrrhhhh!! Pllllleeefff nuuuuhhnnnn!!”

Laughter—high, delighted, lustful laughter—almost deafened poor Penny. She was rammed viciously down onto her knees and forced to stare at her sister’s anonymously wrapped, blinded face as Katy continued to turn her head from side to side, apparently oblivious to the audio torture Penny was enduring.

“Good girl. Kneel for me.” Claire chuckled. “Oh yes. I can see this. I’m going to watch it over and over. It will give me something to look forward to while I’m making my tearful pleas at the police press conference. ‘Please, Penny, if you can hear this, please just write. You don’t have to come back or anything, but at least let your friends know you’re safe!!’”

Claire giggled again, the sound utterly chilling as Penny felt her growing terror turn to ice in her belly.

“You will be safe, of course. I would never kill my best friend. Not even after you tried to fuck my husband. But oh, Penny. Oh my poor, stupid, slutty, cheating Penny… it’s time you learned what I really do for a living. What happens to girls I dislike.”

A pause, the faintest creak of an office chair, and for a moment Penny could visualise Claire sitting at her little desk in the corner home office, shifting position and glancing across to the empty couch where she had caught Penny grinding her cunt against James’s crotch. She shuddered, and someone gave Katy a brutal kick to the ribs.

“Stay still! Or I’ll have her kicked again!” Claire snapped, her voice icy with venom. Then her tone shifted back into that husky, loving register as she continued. “Girls I dislike are captured just like this and whisked away. Vanished from the living world and taken to a facility… We have several. We have the expertise, the power, the facilities to vanish these women and to train them. To remake them into something better. Something… more than women. Less than human. And there they live and learn and practise until they are released, or sold. Or… ended, if that’s what their patron wants. All neat and tidy.”

“Plleeeefffgh. Chllrrrr… Ddnnnnggg!!” Penny screamed, her throat spasming around the inflated rubber cock thrusting between her tonsils.

Another boot slammed into her sister’s thigh. Penny fell silent as Claire gave a muted “tsk” and continued.

“It’s your turn now, Penny. Not because I’m getting paid, but because you made this personal. You dared try to steal my husband?! Oh Penny. Poor Penny, what have you done? What have you done to Katy?! Because… ohhh, I’m pulling out all the stops for you. Even the way you’re getting shipped to Cruciatu Prime is special. Severity Five is the kind of treatment reserved for… well. Let’s just say you could spit in Vladimir Putin’s face and he still might pause before telling us to ship you at Severity Four…”

This time the moan was unmistakable. Penny shuddered again as she heard a soft, wet shlicking sound broadcast clearly into her muffled, deadened ear.

“Remember, Penny,” Claire moaned, “you deserve this. Katy doesn’t, but that’s your fault. You chose this when you betrayed me, and I will always be here to see you regret it. Starting with your transport… ohhh, Penny, I’m going to revel in that most of all. Because, Penny… my poor stupid Penny, as bad as Severity Five transport may be, oh my love, it’s only going to get worse from here!”

The laugh Claire gave was almost deafening.

“Process them,” she giggled as she recovered. Before Penny had even properly processed the words, she saw her sister hefted up and carried towards the door by McCloud. Claire waited until Penny was also lifted before she spoke again.

“Goodbye, Penny. Thank you for being my friend—I really, truly mean that sincerely. Your friendship has been an absolute wonderful joy, and I owe you some of the very best days of my life. I need you to remember that, Penny. You truly were my very best friend. Remember that. Because in the days and months and years to come, you are going to wish you were dead. You will. And because we are friends, because I owe you so much, I will be there to watch you in those moments. And I am going to love reminding you that no matter how terrible things become or how badly you are suffering, I. Won’t. Let. You. Die.”

The hood returned to silence. And Penny had one last glimpse of the inverted photograph on her wall before she was carried out of her flat. Forever.