The Con Artists Graveyard

Down in the cellar, Stephen screamed into the still air, his voice cracking from the sheer force of his panic. "Don't listen to her! She's lying! Vicky, don't listen!"

In the warmth of the second-floor study, Nicola gave Vicky a look of practiced sympathy. "I just need you to be honest with me, Vicky," she murmured, her voice low and persuasive. "It’s the only way you have a chance of walking away from this thing whole. Otherwise, you will be joining Stephen back in the cellar. And believe me, you won’t want that."

Stephen watched on the screen, his heart pounding, as Nicola took Vicky’s face in her hands. She didn't speak again; instead, she leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. It was a gentle, lingering touch, the kind of intimacy meant to ease tension.

"Things up here can be very rewarding," Nicola whispered against Vicky's mouth.

Vicky's eyes fluttered shut, and she parted her lips to accept Nicola's tongue. The kiss intensified, becoming fiery and desperate, as they exchanged tongues and breaths. Vicky didn't pull back; she pressed into Nicola, surrendering to the control, while Stephen watched his sister choose betrayal over loyalty.

The screen in the cellar went black, plunging Stephen back into the suffocating void of the cold, damp room. He yelled into the empty silence, his voice raw with anger and desperation. "Don't listen to her! She's lying! Vicky, don't listen!"

But there was no answer, only the echo of his own despair. His mind raced, turning over the impossible impossibility of the recording. The voice on the screen had been his, but he had never said any of that. And then his mind drifted to the soup and coffee, now cold and sitting on the floor just inches out of his reach, even if he could see them through the gloom.

You lose all sense of time in the silent dark. The only anchor points are the creak of floorboards above and the rhythmic drip of water that echoes every now and then. Your mind becomes hyperactive, focusing on the worst things—the cold adds another dimension, and the shivers are the only things that give you any warmth.

He came to attention as the music started, gentle and soothing, a stark contrast to the harsh metal noise from earlier. The screen flickered to life. There was Vicky, in Nicola's arms, and they were kissing, naked. Nicola was stroking Vicky, her hands roaming over her skin, then kissed her on the forehead. Stephen noticed immediately that there was no collar, no manacles. Vicky lay willingly in Nicola's arms, smiling up at her.

Nicola stepped from the bed and went out of view for a second, then jumped back on the bed with a tray in her hand. Stephen's mind jumped to attention as he saw what was on the tray. Three chastity cock cages.

"So," asked Nicola, her voice clear and warm on the audio. "Which one do you think will suit Stephen the most?"

Vicky laughed, a sound Stephen loved. She picked them up one by one. First, a see-through plastic one. Then, a metallic one made of shiny metal that consisted of a cage and a metal ring that went around your balls. Then, finally, a matte black tube connected to what looked like the wrist piece of a handcuff. It had no end, and it opened on a hinge. Along the insides were small pointed nubs.

"I like the look of this one," said Vicky. "How does it work?"

Nicola took it from her. "You lock this around his balls, then you lay his soft cock in here, then you close these two halves, and it automatically locks. And when he tries to get hard, his head expands out of here. The rest of him is painfully squashed into the tube as it starts to grow, and the spikes make it even worse."

Nicola explained. "And he can't come."

"No," Nicola confirmed. "All blood flow is cut off as he grows, so the head might stay enlarged, but the rest of it is useless."

"I like this one," Vicky said. "Can I be there when you put it on?"

"Yes, my love," said Nicola. "Of course you can.”

Another AI masterpiece had been accomplished. While that supposedly intimate interaction was taking place, Vicky was actually kneeling on the wooden floor in the corner of the room, her hands secured uncomfortably behind her back and then chained to a heavy hook in the wall. A large cock gag filled her mouth, restricting any speech, and drool pooled at the corner of her lips.

The chain from the collar around her neck was pulled tightly under her bare hips, forcing her labia apart and then back up to the hook in the wall. This unnatural positioning caused her head and back to bend forward at an awkward angle. Every time she shifted her weight, the chain dug into her flesh, causing sharp pain between her legs.

Meanwhile, Geraldine was the one on the bed, perfectly mimicking Vicky. The technicians upstairs had assured Nicola that the simulation could be done to a high standard, and she was properly impressed with the final result. Not even she could tell the difference. Stephen, watching the screen in the dark, had no idea that the woman on the bed was Geraldine; the image he saw was Vicky, even down to the birthmark on her Shoulder, while in reality, she was kneeling in the corner of the room, suffering silently.

The cellar darkened again, plunging Stephen back into the suffocating void of the cold, damp room. He let out a ragged cry, the despair of it echoing in the silence. His greatest love, Vicky, was turning against him, and in the absence of light, his normally sharp, logical mind was muddled. He couldn't connect the bogus recording to her betrayal; his thoughts were confused and scattered. He was cold, aching, and starving, feeling the emptiness of his stomach gnawing at him. He lay on his side in the fetal position, trying to conserve body heat and force himself to sleep.

The bright light woke him, harsh and sterile. He rolled over quietly and knelt up with his head bowed, shielding his eyes from the glare. The big man pushed the screen to one side. Geraldine pulled one of the chairs forward and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward.

"Are you hungry, Stephen?" she asked him, her voice cold and unemotional.

"Yes, Miss," he said, his voice raspy.

She glanced at the big man and nodded. He approached Stephen, who tried to make himself as small as possible, pressing his shoulders against the cold stone wall. The man took Stephen's wrists, unlocked one, and pulled it behind his back. "Put your other hand behind your back," he shouted at Stephen, who immediately obeyed. The man locked the cuffs together, securing Stephen's hands tightly behind him.

The man moved behind Geraldine. Geraldine reached around her and caressed the man's semi-erect penis through the tight leather shorts to show she was pleased with him. Then she gently pushed the bowl of cold soup toward Stephen until he could nearly reach it.

Now, do you have something to ask me, Stephen?" she asked, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

He looked up from his kneeling position and said, “Please, Miss, can I have some soup?”

You see, Stephen, how easy that was. Unfortunately, your soup is cold now, and we don’t like to waste food here, so you’ll finish this bowl.

She nudged it a little further within reach if he leaned forward and bent his head. He looked up at her, but saw no sympathy, only cold satisfaction. He pushed forward, bent his neck to the bowl, and stuck his tongue out, licking the cold, congealed soup on the floor.

"How long do you think it will take?" Nicola asked, her gaze fixed on the screen where Stephen was desperately trying to lap up the cold soup. Geraldine shrugged, her expression unreadable. "I'm not sure," she replied. "I just know he's going to be in for one horrible night. He should be very pliable by tomorrow."

Nicola smiled with a predatory gleam in her eyes. She reached out and kissed Geraldine on the cheek. "I want to go out to eat tonight. What do you think?"

That sounds good," Geraldine replied. Her eyes then lowered to the corner of the room. "What do you want to do with her?" she asked, pointing a finger at the kneeling figure of Vicky.

Nicola looked down, her mind already drifting to where they were going to eat. "How about the well?" she mused.

Really?” Geraldine asked, her interest piqued. "We haven't used that for a while. Robert, wasn't it? He spent a weekend down there."

Yes, it was," Nicola replied, a shadow of a smile touching her lips. "That was a fun weekend, I remember.

Geraldine smiled, the thought clearly appealing to her sadistic streak. "Yes, let's do it."

Nicola picked up her phone, dialed a preset number, and waited a moment before speaking. "Come up here, please."

She put the phone back in her pocket and turned to Geraldine. "So, where would you like to eat?"

Vicky, kneeling on the wooden floor, was listening to the conversation that sealed her fate.

There was a sharp knock at the door. Nicola looked at her watch. "Take her down to the well. We'll join you in a little while."

The big man nodded and walked over to Vicky, grabbing her by the chain attached to her collar. He unhooked it from the wall, brought it back through her legs, then dragged her up and toward the door. 

Nicola and Geraldine were getting ready for their night out, the air in the bedroom thick with perfume and excitement as they scrolled through glowing screens to find the perfect spot. "I think we should go to Melad Tandoori," Nicola suggested, tapping a glowing review. "The feedback is glowing; one customer claimed it was the 'best in the Maidstone/Aylesford area' and praised the service and options." Geraldine nodded, agreeing that a nice curry was exactly what they needed after a long day. "I'll book a table," she said.

As they finalized their plans, Stephen was already feeling the effects of the strong laxative powder Geraldine had mixed into the soup, feeling his first sharp cramps. The cold soup was long gone, but the pain in his gut was just beginning. He curled up into the fetal position, as the cramps twisted his insides, while upstairs, the mistresses of the house prepared for a night out.

As they walked down the stone steps from the old house, they deliberately ignored the thick wooden door to the cellar. Stepping out underneath the veranda, they walked arm in arm, the cool evening air filling their lungs with the sweet scent of the night.

Nicola paused and turned her head, and Geraldine followed suit. Together, they paused to enjoy the sweeping view over the North Downs. Below, the twinkling lights of Maidstone and the surrounding countryside shimmered like scattered diamonds in the dark.

Nicola hugged Geraldine tightly, pulling her close. Then, turning fully, she pressed a deep, passionate kiss on her lips. It was a moment of pure affection, completely separate from the cruelty waiting just yards away.