He had gone about it all wrong.
The tall man stood in the exact center of his basement after having just locked shut a final series of soundproofed doors. He chastised himself for his impetuous behavior on this day. And not for the first time. Stupid! So many things could have gone wrong. Too many essential details could have been overlooked. Christ! What the devil was he thinking?
And yet…
(For weeks and weeks into the future the Controller would always refer to his prisoner as ‘Candy’. That was what she’d been…eye candy. Back on that day when he’d eschewed all caution - ignored all his training - and spontaneously collected up twenty-six year old Katrina Powers for sex slavery. The brown haired girl despised being called by the Controller’s pet name for her. Which was truly just an appellation the sadist had fixed to Katrina’s fine, tanned body. Candy. Here inside the dungeon. For weeks and weeks and weeks…)
…and yet she DID look lovely strung up by her wrists. In only that blue lace bra she’d foolishly been showcasing under a sheer top. Just hours ago. When the tall man had espied the now doomed female outside the bistro. What whore dances around in public wearing THAT bra underneath THAT half-shirt atop THOSE stiletto heels?
So when the adrenaline and the caffeine and the dopamine and the testosterone all kicked in he’d panicked. He panicked thinking this whore in the blue lace bra underneath the sheer top might get away. So he acted. And he got lucky. Again.
This particular man was habitually the recipient of good fortune in the procurement of pretty girls for sex punishment.
And so…
(For months into the future the Controller would always introduce Candy to his equally insane friends as a prisoner. That was what she’d been born and bred to be…a sex slave. Since that day he’d gambled on fate. And added the leggy Katrina Powers to his collection. The brown eyed girl hated thinking of herself as any man’s hostage. But her fine tanned body had betrayed her. In all of a moment. Now she was here. Inside this dungeon. For months and months and months…)
…and so she was whipped about her legs with a rattan cane. Candy was. To ‘quiet’ her down. Belowstairs. To hamper her will to resist. Once the tall man - the impetuous man - had the bitch strung up he trotted out a previously kidnapped blonde he’d been planning on torturing for quite some time. Then the man savagely raped that blonde twice in such proximity to Candy that she wouldn’t (couldn’t!) miss a single audible or visual detail.
Risk has its rewards. The man was adept at making the right choices.
He informed Candy - as she dangled helplessly (ashamed and afraid) in his cellar that SHE was going to be raped next. And that she - she being Candy - ‘owed him a lot’. Given the chances he’d taken in bringing her and her worthless body to this special place. Where FINALLY she might attain a bit of value in the greedy eyes of Men. Then the tall man who’d outsmarted and outfought yet another victim turned his mind and his tools to the nude body of the pleading blonde who he’d been planning on hurting for several weeks now.
That’s when Candy, urm…I’m sorry…that’s when Katrina Powers first heard what screams of agony sound like. Bouncing off the cinderblock walls of a torture chamber.
She hadn’t even been raped yet. But the pretty girl who just today happened upon the very worst luck in the history of the world sensed that soon it would be her own turn to writhe and beg and scream. Here in this place. The tall man administering blazing hot lancets to the nipples of his wretched blonde victim had similar thoughts. He’d make a final decision on Candy’s excellent breasts once he’d shorn off that fancy blue bra.
