The Con Artists Graveyard

They released Vicky first. They helped her stand, roughly stripping the rubber suit from her body before tossing it aside. She stood shivering, naked and exposed, the sweat on her body cooling quickly in the air-conditioned room. They replaced her heavy boots with delicate-looking ballet shoes, but these were deceptive; the heels were impossibly high. They had to force her feet into the tight leather casing, the shoes being a full size too small.

Nicola kept Vicky steady as Geraldine attached a heavy hook to the straps, binding her arms tightly behind her back. Geraldine walked over to the keypad on the wall and pressed a button. Vicky heard the whir of a motor and the groaning of chains. Her arms were painfully pulled upward, her shoulder joints protesting, until the tips of her shoes were barely touching the ground. She was suspended in an uncomfortable, strained pose, her weight pulling relentlessly on her shoulders.

Then they released Stephen from the stocks with a loud clatter. He lurched upright, his knees buckling as he tried to stand; his back was covered in angry, swollen welts that jerked in protest with every movement. They pulled off the hood from his head. Next, the ridiculous maid's uniform was torn away, leaving him exposed only in his rubber suspenders, stockings, and tall high heels, which made him wobble unsteadily. His hands were cuffed in front, the metal pressing into his wrists.

A spreader bar was clamped between his ankles, forcing his legs wide apart. A heavy hook descended from the winch above, attaching to his cuffs. The motor whined as it hoisted him into the air until his toes barely touched the floor, his weight hanging solely from his shoulders. He was spun around, his gaze locking onto Vicky. She was suspended just four feet away, a vision of agony.

They tied a rope from Stephen's spreader bar to a ring embedded in the concrete floor. As he tried to find his footing, the rope pulled, causing him to swing around to face Vicky. To complete the scene, a short bar was strapped to Vicky's ankles, keeping her legs apart and secured to the floor. She faced Stephen, helpless and unable to look away.

They swayed together, a grotesque pair of broken dolls hanging in the stale air, their naked flesh pale and trembling. Their faces were smeared with makeup,  mascara, thick black rivers running down their cheeks, highlighting the grimaces of pain etched into their features. Stephen’s body was a roadmap of punishment, the angry welts from the birch switch used on him earlier. Vicky’s nipples were swollen and red, the metal hoops digging into her tender, pierced flesh, a testament to the agony they had just endured.

Nicola and Geraldine stood in arrogant comfort, leaning against a piece of furniture designed for torment, the very antithesis of their prisoners. They held crystal glasses of red wine, the liquid sloshing slightly as they leaned.

"Look at you two love birds, hanging there, gazing into each other's eyes like star-crossed lovers," Nicola sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "It’s just a damn shame that this is as close as you’ll ever get.”

"Really?" Geraldine drawled, looking at Stephen with feigned interest. "Why is that, my love?"

Stephen’s voice broke, desperate. "Please, let us go."

Nicola put her glass down. She walked between the dangling captives, looking at Stephen. "Did you say something?" she whispered, her voice dangerously soft.

Stephen opened his mouth to speak, and Nicola’s fist hit his jaw with a brutal, shattering blow that split his lip and made his head snap back. "Do not speak again, or I will rip your fucking tongue out." She watched as his tongue darted up to touch the split flesh, a bead of blood forming in the corner of his mouth.

Nicola turned to Vicky, who let out a pained groan. Without hesitation, Nicola backhanded her across the face. The sound was sharp and loud in the room. "And that goes for you, too," she spat.

She turned back to Geraldine, the cruelty fading into a momentary intimacy. They leaned in, sharing a deep, passionate kiss.

"I was just about to say that we have drained their accounts," Nicola continued, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she swirled the red wine in her glass. "All refunds are being processed as we speak, and the businesses have been transferred. They are broken, penniless, and have nothing left to give.

"I see," Geraldine mused, leaning back against the rack, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Then what are we supposed to do with them?"

"The Sisterhood has offered to take them off our hands."

"And how much are they paying?"

"A penny each."

Geraldine let out a sharp, barking laugh, the sound mocking and cruel.

"That wasn't exactly the truth," Nicola admitted quietly to Geraldine, a dark smile curling her lips as she swirled the red wine in her glass. "It was just a little embellishment to drive the point home."

She set the glass down and turned back to look at the two miserable figures swinging in the air. "The real deal was brokered with the Sisterhood of Nyx. They have a particular appetite for... new acquisitions. Stephen and Vicky aren't just being discarded; they're being repurposed."

She gestured vaguely toward their captives. "In exchange for the two fresh specimens, the Sisterhood has granted a two-week stay at one of their private, exclusive retreats. For my aunt and uncle, who have worked themselves to the bone catering to my whims and those of the house. They certainly deserve a well-earned vacation to somewhere they can just relax."

She laughed, a sharp, dismissive sound. "It’s a fair trade. They get a break, and we get to hand these off to people who will likely put them to much better... use.”

Nicola aimed to make a memorable impression. She grabbed a riding crop from the rack, the leather handle slick in her grip, and chose a thin, flexible cane from the pile of tools. She stood between the two dangling prisoners, a cruel smile tugging at her lips.

Let's see how much you can handle before you beg," she murmured.

She started with Stephen. The crop flashed through the air and struck his already bruised back, the leather biting into the welts. He jerked violently against his restraints, his eyes bulging. Nicola didn't stop; she rained down blow after blow, the crop hitting every sensitive spot, adding fresh pain over the old. Finally, she moved to the cane. She aimed for the same spot on his thigh, the cane cracking through the air with a sharp ‘thwack’. It struck with more force, leaving a deep, red line that quickly began to swell into a bruise. Stephen sobbed uncontrollably, his body shuddering as the pain overwhelmed him.

She turned her focus to Vicky. She struck her chest with the crop, the leather hitting the sensitive metal hoops and sending a jolt of electric pain through her pierced nipples. Vicky arched her back, silently screaming. Then the cane struck her thighs, the pain sharp and immediate. She collapsed inward, her head drooping as she wailed into the silence, her mascara running down her face in black rivers.

Nicola tossed the tools onto the floor with a clatter. She looked at the two sobbing, broken figures, their chests heaving in unison, and nodded in approval. "Good," she whispered.

She hurried over to Geraldine, adrenaline still surging through her veins. She took Geraldine’s hand and pulled her out of the playroom, the door clicking shut behind them, burying the sounds of their pain.

They didn't speak a word in the hallway. The air was thick with the electric charge of dominance and raw adrenaline from the playroom. Nicola pressed Geraldine against the doorframe, her eyes dark and hungry, and the mask of the cruel mistress instantly dissolved, replaced by raw, predatory desire. They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and discarded clothes, the adrenaline from the evening fueling a desperate, passionate connection that bordered on violence.

Nicola didn't delay with foreplay. She pushed Geraldine to the bed, spread her legs wide, and pressed her face between her thighs, her tongue hungry and aggressive, tasting the salt of sweat and the musk of arousal. Geraldine arched her back, her fingers clinging tightly to Nicola’s hair, pulling her closer, fully surrendering to the pleasure-pain of the moment. She moaned loudly, a sound of complete submission.

Satiated but not finished, Nicola pulled back and grabbed the harness they kept in the bedside cabinet. This one was theirs, used only between them. She fastened the leather around her hips, the rubber phallus stiff and ready. Geraldine reached for it, her hands trembling with anticipation, and helped her mistress adjust the straps.

"Please," Geraldine whispered, lifting her eyes with admiration. “fuck me."

Nicola positioned herself between Geraldine's spread legs and pressed the head of the dildo against her slick opening. She didn't tease. She thrust deep in one go, forcing the length inside with a brutal efficiency that made Geraldine cry out, her back bowing off the mattress. Geraldine wrapped her legs around Nicola’s waist, pulling her in deeper, welcoming the invasion. She gave herself over completely, her body a willing vessel for her mistress’s pleasure, the sensation of being stretched and filled overwhelming.

Nicola began to establish a rhythm, fast and intense, the leather of the harness slapping against Geraldine's thighs. But Nicola wasn't finished. She pulled out, leaving Geraldine gasping in the sudden emptiness. She lubricated the toy with saliva and pressed the broad head against Geraldine's tightly clenched entrance.

"Turn over," Nicola commanded.

Geraldine rolled onto her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow as her body trembled. Nicola held her hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, and pushed forward. The resistance was strong, but Nicola didn't hesitate. She forced the toy into Geraldine's rear despite the pain. Geraldine screamed into the pillow, nails digging into the sheets—the pain sharp and intense. But as Nicola continued thrusting, the pain turned into a burning heat, and Geraldine found herself pushing back, matching every stroke.

"You're mine," Nicola growled, her hands gripping Geraldine's hips hard enough to bruise.

“Yours, mistress,” Geraldine sobbed, surrendering to the fullness in every hole. "Take me."

They rode each other through the night, the sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the house, loud and unrestrained. The thought of their captives hanging so close to each other, but would never touch, and the pain and discomfort they were in helped fuel Nicola and Geraldine’s passion.