The Con Artists Graveyard

Nicola glanced at her phone, a small smile forming on her lips as she read the message from her aunt. She was currently seated in a boardroom, enduring a boring meeting with the company’s directors, which she had inherited after Robert’s passing. It was a venture John had started, and while she would have gladly stepped away from the corporate details, she stayed to preserve his legacy. Of course, the significant profits didn't hurt.

Beside her, Geraldine sat taking notes, her presence a bright spot in the otherwise dull room. Nicola’s thoughts often drifted to the playroom, imagining the two captives her aunt had prepared for the evening. They offered a perfect distraction from the corporate world. The meeting was wrapping up; the financial projections looked promising. However, a few directors voiced concerns about the amount of revenue allocated to charitable causes.

Nicola listened patiently to their grievances, her expression calm and composed. When they finished, she firmly reminded them that as long as the companies remained profitable, they would continue to fund charitable initiatives in Medway, in line with Robert's wishes, her late husband.

Finally, on the way home, they were seated in the back of the vintage Bentley. Nicola had her feet up on Geraldine’s lap, the younger woman giving a much-needed foot massage to ease the day’s tension. "How long do you think it will take for all the transfers of funds and deeds?" Nicola asked, her tone businesslike but cold. She was referring to the huge fortune Stephen and Vicky had swindled from innocent victims—a fortune Nicola now had access to and planned to seize.

"About a month for the money," Geraldine replied, her fingers deftly working the tension out of Nicola's arches. "We need to get all the 'NDA's' signed and witnessed, the taxes paid, and the profits split evenly between the recovery fund and the charity."

"And the businesses, are there going to be any problems there?" Nicola asked, her eyes closing in pleasure.

"Shouldn't be," Geraldine said. "Are you still sure you want to put all the profits into the trust funds?"

Yes, I'm sure, my love," Nicola said, her voice growing harsher. "These fuckers made their money by robbing innocent people. It's only fair that the profits go to help other victims."

"OK, just making sure.”

The rest of the trip home was pretty quiet, except for the steady hum of the engine. They said goodnight to the driver and went inside their house, ready for a night of fun.

Nicola and Geraldine decided to grab a quick bite before changing and playing with their new toys. They walked into the kitchen and found the gardener—Nicola’s uncle—c curled up naked and hooded in the corner. His hands were chained to a radiator pipe behind him, and the gag in his mouth kept him from speaking.

"Oh, oh," Nicola remarked, feigning shock. "Has somebody been a naughty boy?"

Nicola's aunt dried her hands on a towel, hugged Nicola, then Geraldine. "No, not really," she said with a shrug. "The mood just took me. You know how it is."

"Fair enough," Nicola said, with a smile. "Thanks for all your work today. You can come and join us later if you want."

"You're welcome," the aunt replied, her eyes glinting as she nodded toward her husband. "It was fun, but I have plans with him tonight."

"Ok," Nicola said. "Well, we're just going to get a bite to eat."

"You should have called," the aunt said, stepping past them. "I would have gotten you something ready. Let me fix you a quick salad."

“Thanks, love, that would be great," Nicola replied.

They all spent the next hour chatting about their days, completely ignoring the gardener in the corner. After they finished eating, Nicola grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack. They said their goodbyes and headed upstairs to shower, leaving the housekeeper and gardener to themselves in the quiet house.

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Time dissolved into a gray static of pain and anticipation. Stephen’s neck ached, the weight of his head pressing heavily against the cold wood of the stocks. He could feel the cold air circulating around his bare skin, mocking the heat rising from his flushed face. The drool had stopped dripping some time ago, stagnating in the corner of his mouth, thick and sticky.

Then the sound of the door. A beam of bright light cut through the darkness, blinding him for a moment. Heavy, rhythmic footsteps approached, clicking against the wooden floor—heels, sharper than the ones he was forced to wear.

Nicola and Geraldine entered the gloom. They were dressed in silks and satins, with perfectly styled hair, creating a stark, beautiful contrast to the rubber and heavy makeup he was forced into wearing. The smell of expensive perfume and wine washed over Stephen, making him gag involuntarily.

Nicola walked around the stocks, inspecting her aunt’s work. She reached out and poked a finger into Stephen’s cheek, feeling the heavy makeup. "Look at you," she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement. "A pretty little maid." She leaned in close, her breath warm against his face. "Did you behave while we were gone?"

She emitted a low, throaty chuckle that seemed to vibrate through the cold stone floor. "Well, it doesn't matter now. You're here, and you're all dressed up. Let's see what the other toy is doing.”

Vicky was strapped onto a short, agonizing whipping bench that forced her torso into a painful arch. Her arms were useless, crushed behind her and sealed inside the tight, suffocating rubber suit. A thick belt across her back, just below the shoulders, kept her immobile. Her legs were splayed wide and locked into swinging arms, exposing her hips and making her vulnerable. Her arms were numb, her back ached from the strain, and the inserted dildo and butt plug had gone from a burden to a source of burning agony. Trapped in the black rubber, she was a sweating, overheated mess, drowning in her own sweat

Nicola turned and walked toward the whipping bench, where Vicky lay trapped. Nicola crouched down, towering over her captive, and grabbed Vicky's face in her hand. “Hello, my little toy, how are you doing?"

Vicky could only grunt in response, her voice muffled and pathetic by the heavy ball gag. "Wow, look at these," Nicola exclaimed, her fingers digging cruelly into the pierced flesh. "They're pretty." Vicky cried out as Nicola twisted the hoops, her body arching against the restraints. Geraldine stood nearby, a predatory grin spreading across her face as she savored the cries. She stepped to a rack on the wall and picked up two items that looked like fishing weights. She handed them to Nicola, and Nicola smiled. She took the first weight and strapped it onto the right nipple, then another to the left. Then she dropped them together. Vicky screamed into the air, and tears formed in her eyes. 

Nicola snapped her fingers together, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence of the room. "Now then, where do you think we should start?" she asked, her eyes gleaming as she looked at Geraldine.

Geraldine hummed, tapping a manicured fingernail against her chin as she contemplated the possibilities. "Well, from what you told me, Stevie here likes a nice stretch on the back door," she said, lifting Stephen’s bent head by the hair to inspect the new stud. "And then maybe we can try out this new stud." She dropped his head back onto the stocks with a thud.

"Sounds good to me," Nicola said, her voice dripping with sadistic promise. "Any objections from you two?" She glared at the prisoners. No answer. "Great. Let's get dressed up for some fun."

Nicola and Geraldine walked to the shelving rack, the heavy silence only broken by the click of their heels. They exchanged glances, a sudden, fierce hunger burning in their eyes. They kissed—hard, hungry, possessive—before turning their attention to the harnesses. They took their time strapping the thick, vibrating rubber cocks into place, admiring the bulges formed against their bodies.

They stood facing each other, the two phalluses bobbing in the air. They engaged in a playful sword fight, the tips clashing and sliding against each other, a silent, erotic display of dominance.

They walked back over to the prisoners, stopping inches from their faces. They undid Stephen's gag and Vicky's gag, freeing their mouths.

Nicola moved behind Stephen. She hooked her fingers into the frilly panties her auntie had dressed him in and yanked them down his thighs, baring him completely. She undid the belt holding the butt plug and pulled it out with a wet, lewd squelch. Stephen let out a long, deep sigh of relief.

Nicola ignored him. She moved to his head, covered his nose with a large hand, and waited for him to gasp. When his mouth opened, she pushed the solid black butt plug deep into his throat, filling him. She secured the strap around his head, locking him in place. She laughed cruelly as his sigh turned into a gagging choke, as he tasted his own filth.

Geraldine repeated the process with Vicky, though it was a bit more challenging because Vicky was strapped down. However, Geraldine was up to the task, managing to remove the butt plug without taking off the belt and dildo. After shoving the filthy plug into Vicky's mouth, she used the ring gag against the flat end of the plug and strapped it around the back of her head, effectively stuffing her mouth and making sure she couldn't spit it out.

The two women positioned themselves behind their victims, both panicking and helpless in their restraints. Nicola nodded to Geraldine, a silent signal passed between dominatrices. Then, together, they burst in, dry and unready. They didn't care about the pain they were causing; their only aim was to inflict maximum suffering on their restrained targets.

Both Stephen and Vicky groaned as the rubber phalluses were shoved into them. The pain was intense, a violation that would have been unbearable if their openings hadn’t already been stretched by the butt plugs. Still, as they struggled and writhed, the friction produced a slick wetness; their own bodies lubricated the relentless assault.

Nicola and Geraldine moved with savage intensity, thrusting in the violent rhythm of jackhammers. They were building a thick sheen of sweat, treating this as a tough workout, though it was the prisoners who were breaking down. The contest turned into a silent, burning stare-down between the two women, with Nicola locking eyes with Geraldine in a challenge. The younger woman believed her youth would give her an edge, but she underestimated Nicola's iron will.

It went on endlessly, a war of attrition. Vicky and Stephen were reduced to sobbing wrecks, tears streaking through their heavy makeup and leaving dark, black marks on their faces. It was Geraldine who finally broke down, her hips suddenly stalling as her body collapsed forward onto Vicky's bent form. She gasped for air, exhausted. Nicola punched the air in victory, her sound echoing in the dungeon, then delivered a sharp, stinging slap to Stephen's bruised backside.

Nicola pulled out of Stephen with a wet, lewd sound. She turned her attention to Vicky, yanking the plug from her mouth with a sharp tug. She didn't give her a moment to breathe before shoving the strap-on back in, the ridged rubber pressing against the back of her throat. "Lick it, bitch," Nicola commanded, her voice dripping with disdain. "Clean your lover from it."

Vicky closed her eyes tightly, her body trembling as she stuck out her tongue to gently lick the rubber, tracing the ridges and cleaning off the fluid coating it.

Geraldine withdrew from Vicky with a gasp, leaving her stunned and vulnerable. She moved over to Stephen and pressed his head down. “Your turn," she murmured. She directed the strap-on that had just been inside Vicky toward Stephen's face, pressing it against his lips. "Clean your girlfriend," she ordered, and Stephen was compelled to wrap his tongue around the rubber, licking away Vicky's filth.