Marcus Makes A Mistake.

Jennifer had no idea how long she had been left alone, gagged and bound. The hood was suffocating, and twice she had to fight off panic and mentally calm herself down. She could hear nothing but her own breathing and the occasional rattling of chains as she tried to ease her stiffness.  A little while ago, she heard voices on the other side of the door. 

She had no way of knowing that it was Anne and Alan lowering the cages of Anne’s former partners and then leading them off to the cellar of the building that the club sat on. They had lived the last year of their lives in misery. They slept, chained to small single cots in the cold, but dry cellar. 

The door eventually creaked open, and Jenifer jolted awake, her senses heightening with a mix of dread and anticipation. The leash was brutally yanked from the St. Andrews cross, and the chain between her legs was ripped away, leaving her manacles clanking ominously. She was roughly dragged out of the room, with one person jerking her leash and another shoving her from behind. They shoved her into a toilet stall and commanded her to sit. Abandoned for thirty interminable minutes, she managed to relieve herself, her body shaking with a mix of relief and fear. When they returned, her legs had begun to numb, and she stumbled as they manhandled her.

They threw a heavy, hooded coat over her shoulders, ripped off her leash, and forced her out of the club, down the stairs, and into a waiting minivan. To any passerby, it might have looked like Anne and Alan were assisting a drunk patron, but the reality was far more sinister. Anne, now clad in jeans and a T-shirt, climbed into the back seat next to Jenifer. With cold, calculating efficiency, she buckled the seatbelt across Jenifer, tightening it. Then she reattached the leash, wrenching it forward and wrapping it around the headrest of the seat in front, forcing Jenifer to sit bent over at an excruciating angle, just to remind her who was in control.

Alan, now dressed in a tight black t-shirt that accentuated his muscular frame and smart black trousers, jumped into the front seat. They drove for about an hour, taking a circuitous route to confuse Jenifer and obscure their destination. Not a word was spoken during the journey, but the radio was set to Radio One, playing a mix of modern pop and soul music, in contrast to the heavy atmosphere inside the van.

On the drive, Anne reflected on the position of her old partners.

 The story Anne told about her takeover of the clubs wasn’t entirely true. When they first started out, and they had this club up and running, they had a visit from a local gangster and his wife. They had done business with the club's previous owners and suggested that continuing the partnership might be beneficial to Anne and her partners.  

It turned out that the building that housed the club sat on an entrance to a warren of smugglers' tunnels that eventually ran out to the River Thames. A facility the gangster still wanted to use. 

Anne’s partners didn’t want to, but Anne thought it was a great idea, a good earner and was disappointed when she was outvoted. So Anne set up secret meeting with the gangster couple on her own. A meeting that ended with the husband tied to the bed and Anne and the wife using him as a sex toy. An agreement was made to use the tunnels for free, provided the couple helped finance Anne’s future endeavors in exchange for a 5% share. A deal was struck, and Anne met with her partners. She told them that they would be signing over their share of the club to her. They went crazy at her, calling her all kinds of names, threatening legal action. As they tried to leave the club three of the gangsters' goons stopped them.

They were escorted back into the meeting, where Anne had laid out a bunch of legal papers for them to sign. With the threat of broken bones, they signed away their club shares. Black hoods were shoved over their heads, and they were manhandled to the playroom, where they were strung up by the wrists ,stripped, beaten, and fucked. Every hole had been invaded, and they were shivering wrecks by the time the goons were fished with them.

After that, it was an easy task for Anne to imprison them completely. Now they were kept naked, fed slops, His cock is caged, and she wears a chastity girdle; they were even refused the chance of escaping through masturbation for a few minutes. Occasionally, Anne tooke them to the club's playroom when she entertained her more sadistic clients. After which, a submissive veterinary doctor would come to tend their wounds for the promise of serving Anne for the night. .

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The mini van pulled into the Little Chef on Bluebell Hill, a dingy haven for truckers and insomniacs. Jenifer was left in the car, a silent, bound figure in the shadows. Anne and Alan sauntered inside, ordering an all-day full English breakfast for Alan and a burger with chips for Anne. They lingered over their meal, engaging in idle chatter and sipping on strong builders' tea, oblivious to the world outside. Unconcerned about Jenifer being seen, they knew the blacked-out windows, and her gagged, seatbelt-bound state ensured her invisibility. From their window seat, they kept a watchful eye on the car, their prisoner secure and forgotten.

Their meal finished, they strolled back to the car hand in hand, the picture of a loving couple out for a night on the town. Anne took the driver's seat, with Alan sitting next to Jenifer. The drive to their destination took only ten minutes. Jenifer moaned with every jolt and bump in the road, her cries of discomfort ignored. They turned down a short, secluded offshoot from the main road, then navigated a narrow lane before Anne stopped the car. Alan exited and pulled up a weathered wooden garage door. Anne drove in, and Alan secured the door behind them.

They roughly dragged Jenifer from the car and forced her to walk over wet grass, the rough gravel path digging into her bare feet. A door creaked open, and she was shoved inside. Her heavy coat was torn off, and she was pushed further into the house, through a doorway, and then halted. Her arms were unstrapped and released, and she sobbed into her gag as feeling and blood flow returned. They gave her a moment before forcing her against a small, rickety camp bed. She fell back with a thud. Her legs were yanked up, and her body twisted so she lay lengthwise on the cot.

Her arms were quickly chained to the head of the bed, and her legs shackled to the foot. Anne and Alan left her chained and helpless, hooded and gagged, retreating upstairs to retire for the night, leaving Jenifer alone with her pain and fear.