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The Queen of Sorrow’s Falls
Chapter Ten
The Brides to Never Be
By Razor7826 (Copyright 2008)
“You sure they’re heading this way?” Michelle nodded to Toby as she listened intently to the cellphone. “Twenty minutes? We’ll be waiting.” She hung up the phone.
“So?”
“Exactly as we predicted. The aunt is with them to, so this might get a little bit more complicated.
“No, don’t worry. They’ll be too scared to suspect a thing, even with all of them crammed into the backseat of the squad car.”
“Think they’ll fit?”
Toby laughed. “Does it matter?”
Michelle chuckled at the mental image of the four skinny white women piling in to back seat. “Well, let’s do this.”
“Yup.” Toby turned the key in the ignition and pulled a U-turn on the country road. Just as any weekday night, there was not a car in sight. That is, until they came across the dark green SUV filled with the four unsuspecting women. Just as planned, Michelle and Toby drove for another minute to make sure the coast was clear. No cars, and none on the horizon. With another quick U-turn and a flip of a switch, they were roaring down the highway after their prey.
The women did not begin to slow until Toby pulled up behind them and blared his siren a few times. Their car waivered back and forth, as if startled, before slowing down along the shoulder.
“Get ready,” commanded Toby as he slowed his car to a halt thirty feet behind the SUV.
“I already am.” There wasn’t much for her to do, except shock any of the women that dare resist arrest. She didn’t foresee any problems, as there was no sign that the traffic stop was anything more than routine.
But it was.
Months ago they were marked for collection and investigated endlessly until the perfect plan could be devised. And perfect it was; unless they ended up with eye witnesses. Even then, they had fall back plans. The squad car, was improperly marked and effectively untraceable. If any witnesses came forward after hearing news of the missing brides, the investigation would lead nowhere.
It was all moot, anyhow. The trap had been sprung and the coast was clear. Michelle stared through the windshield from the safety of the passenger’s seat and watched a master at work. Though she could hear nothing, she knew Toby’s performance was perfect: the arch of his brow, the firm poise of his hand, the gesture and back step to lead them out of the car. Michelle could tell his actions were all rehearsed. The women had no idea what was coming.
They lined up behind the SUV and placed their hands against the trunk. Even through the darkness, Michelle could identify the two sets of twins by their shapes alone. All black haired and fair skinned, their heights and figures told all.
The brides-to-never-be, five-foot-nine, black-haired and not an ounce over 120, their asses perfectly shaped by tight denim with no belt. The older generation dressed more conservatively, both undoubtedly heavier but still in shape. Michelle couldn’t tell which was which, but did it matter? They’d be gagged at the convention, so any mistake would remain hidden until the deal was sealed.
One of the older women turned to yell at Toby, though her words were unclear. The sheriff quickly responded by pulling his night stick and brandishing it at her face. She spoke a few words and turned back towards the trunk.
One-by-one, Toby handcuffed their wrists together. Once all were bound, Michelle opened the passenger door and stood up “Are they ready?”
“Ready for what?” asked one of the twins, her voice strained with worry.
“Nothing. Just going to have to take you down to the station.”
The other daughter looked to her mother in confusion. “All of this over a problem with our license plate?”
Toby reared back his nightstick and smacked the girl on her ass. She yelped in pain, but continued walking forward towards the waiting squad car. They filed in, one by one, not-quite fitting but forced in by the locked door.
“The keys are still in the ignition,” said Toby, “and from the looks of it, they all left their purses and crap inside. The gifts looked pretty nice, too, though I don’t think we should sell those.”
“Nice. I’ll meet you back at the mansion.”
They nodded to each other with grins on their face before parting ways. Toby pulled ahead while Michelle dug through the women’s purses, finding each of their cellphones and removing their batteries. Once she knew they were untraceable, Michelle turned the ignition and followed. Never closer than one-hundred feet, they drove the fifteen miles through the nighttime field and forest until they reached the outskirts of Serenity Falls and the secluded mansion of Michelle Von Houten. Toby entered the pass code besides the front gate and entered the estate, Michelle following shortly behind.
At the end of the driveway, just outside the garage, was the pride and joy of Michelle’s ambition—a charter bus she had bought two months earlier. However, like the modifications she had made to her parents’ basement, so too had she gutted the interior of the bus and replaced it with tools of her own perverse dreams.
The front half of the bus remained unchanged except for several a thick, soundproof security door separating the driver’s compartment and door from the rest of the bus. Four rows of four comfortable grey upholstered chairs with an aisle down the middle. Luggage bins lined the roof, though their cargo was from standard touring luggage.
The back half, however, was heavily customized. It was a prison on wheels, thoroughly sound proofed and impeccably tinted. Curtains further subdivided the interior, to ensure that nobody could catch a glimpse of its illicit cargo through an open door. Small bolts and chains littered the floor and ceilings, to assist in the bindings of her prey. The seats and luggage bins were stripped, to allow more room for activities. Behind the play pen, beside the restroom, was a tiny bed. Though it would be years before she would conceivably need the copious space afforded by the heavy modifications, she knew it would eventually be useful.
She had big plans for her empire, and this family was just the beginning.
“Chain them up,” commanded Michelle as Toby led the line of slaves into the bus.
“Where are you taking us?” asked one of the daughters, her voice distorted in fear.
“We don’t have enough room at the station, so you’re going to have to stay here overnight,” he responded, his stern and humorless delivery almost convincing Michelle.
The women verbally protested, but did not resist as Toby and Michelle replaced their handcuffs with more permanent leather bondage cuffs and chained them to the ceiling’s eyebolts.
“Are they secure?” asked Michelle. She stood at the front of the bus, in the doorway separating the driver’s compartment from the portable dungeon.
“Yup.”
“Good, that should be enough for the evening.”
“You’re going to leave us here all night?” asked the mother.
“Of course.”
“All of this over a parking ticket?”
“Oh my Lord,” laughed Michelle. “You still think it is over that?”
“Well then what did we do wrong?” asked the aunt.
Michelle merely smirked and led Toby from the bus. The door closed and the screams of the women muffled, quieting to be barely audible over the slight breeze in the summer wind. Michelle was certain their protests would be inaudible above the roar of the diesel engine, and with nearly a mile between them and the full perimeter fence around the estate, nobody would come to their rescue.
When Michelle and Suri boarded the bus ten hours later with luggage in tow, they found the women already on the edge of breaking. Michelle was glad she was selling them; all four were pampered and pompous and unable to deal with the hardships of their new lives. Their makeup streaked the path of tears and their arms and wrists were red from putting too much strain on the overhead shackles. She tried to decide who was in worst shape, but it was too close to tell. Both generations were completely unable to cope with the slightest torment.
“Look at them, Suri. I’ve never seen anything so worthless and weak as they are.”
“No, probably not, though the lawyer sometimes seems catatonic.”
“Well, yeah, but that at least took a few days of… you know. Who is going to…” She was interrupted by the hoarse whisper of one of the older women.
Michelle walked closer, unable to discern the new slave’s words.
“Let my nieces go…” she plead. “Let my nieces go.”
Michelle leaned in closer to the forty year old woman and grinned. She moved her hand closer and shook the woman’s cheek vigorously. “Now why would I do that?”
“I’ll do anything, please…”
“Anything?”
“Yes!” yelled the woman as her attention perked.
“Hmmm, we shall see.” Michelle turned to the driver’s compartment of the bus and asked, “Mind giving me a hand with the collars?”
Suri bent down, unlatched her luggage, and pulled four one-inch thick collars, alongside a set of two tiny control boxes. The collars, though unusually wide and rigid, had an elastic inner rim to ensure constant contact.
Together, the two mistresses encircled the collars around the slaves’ necks and fastened them shut with tiny key locks.
“Perfect. Why don’t we hit the road, Suri?”
The Indian woman nodded and returned to the front part of the bus, closing the security door behind her.
Now alone with four women, Michelle unfastened the chain that kept the aunt dangling from the ceiling. For the first time, she saw the woman’s face; though her makeup had run with tears throughout the night spent imprisoned in the bus, Michelle could tell that she took good care of her skin.
“Now, come with me,” commanded Michelle as she grabbed the woman’s leash and led her to one of the seats, which was turned to face the rear of the bus She sat down and spread her legs, allowing the cold morning air to cool her unclothed snatch. “Now, lick it.”
“Excuse me?” asked the aunt.
Michelle tugged harder on the least. “You heard me.”
“No… I can’t.”
Michelle returned a brief smirk, then reached to her side and fiddled with the remote control. All four of the prisoners screamed in pain as random jolts of electricity burned their necks. “Are you going to do what I ask, or not?” taunted Michelle.
The aunt complied. She stuck her head up Michelle’s long red dress and gently tapped the cunt with her tongue, first lightly then fiercer as she buried herself deeper inside.
“Wow, you’re good at this. You have experience, don’t you?”
The aunt continued to lick, suck, and explore Michelle’s cunt.
The queen grabbed a handful of the slave’s hair and pulled. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes!” she yelled. Gasps escaped from her sister and nieces.
“So you never even told your family you were a lesbian?”
“No…” Tears flowed down her cheeks.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Why don’t you show your family what it is like?”
“What?”
Michelle pushed the slave away from her, stood, and tugged on the leash, leading the aunt on all four towards her waiting family. “Here. Show your sister what you’ve been keeping from her all these years.
“I… I don’t know what you mean.”
Michelle tugged harder on the leash. “Her pussy, you dumb cunt. Lick it like you did mine.” She let go of the leash to free her hands.
Moments later, the mother’s pants and panties rested around her ankles. “Do it.”
The aunt squirmed, a look of disgust and shame contorting her tear flushed face. “I, I can’t!” she cried.
Michelle returned to her seat and received the remote. She pressed buttons one, two, and three, at the same time. The aunt’s relatives screamed in pain as electric shocks tore through their body.
“Stop!”
Michelle did not, and instead spoke over the brides’ and mothers’ anguished yelps. “Not until you start licking your sister.”
The aunt continued to cry, but crawled closer and buried her face inside her sister’s cunt.
“That’s better,” cheered Michelle.
She watched the show with sadistic glee until the aunt could continue no longer.
“Tired, already? Well, then, who’s next?”
---
They reached the isolated notel the following morning. Though Michelle and Suri rented a motel room for themselves, they left the cargo inside the bus.
All four of the new slaves were exhausted after a full day of abuse at the hands of their owners. No orifice was spared except for the virgin pussies of the younger twins. Michelle understood the increased market value of chaste twin brides, and it was enough for her to quell her own lust.
Suri and Michelle slept in each others naked embrace until late afternoon. There was no need to flaunt their goods for long before the show; the upcoming spectacle would be enough to garner all the attention necessary.
One-by-one, Michelle and Suri took the slaves from the bus. They put them through a shower and deep cleaning and forced them into specially made bridal wear.
The daughters wore matching white wedding dresses that were more push-up corset and gartered stockings than anything else. Both wore matching white panties that barely covered their nether regions and allowed for a fantastic view of their upper thighs. Atop their heads they wore opaque veils to hide their faces. Despite their beauty, an air mystery would better serve their marketing.
The older generation required a different approach. While the twin brides presented an obvious choice of attire, Michelle had been faced with the far more difficult task of dressing two middle-aged women in a way that portrayed their motherly and guiding nature, but also accentuated their attractive bodies.
After planning many days on the project, Michelle chose professional black business coats, paired with long-black skirts many sizes too small. It looked better on the mother and aunt than Michelle had imagined. Together with the young brides, the complete set would draw a small fortune.
With all four slaves dressed, Michelle and Suri led them by their leashes into the basement convention hall.
It was every bit as busy and bizarre as the previous year’s convention. Cruel acts of eroticism and sadism surrounded them on every side. Every possible combination of men and women performed in live sex shows, either for rote pleasure or as a more blatant form of advertising. The decadence brought new meaning to the phrase ‘Sex Sells’.
Immediately, the bridal party drew attention from the crowd. Men and women alike offered vast quantities of cash, either for purchase or for a test drive, but Michelle held her resolve, answering each offer with a confident “If you want them, place a bid.”
All seemed to be going perfectly, thought something slight bothered Michelle. More than once, she noted the presence of a twenty-something Asian woman staring at her through the crowd. She pretended to be oblivious to the glares but continued her business with caution.
---
They had made two laps around the hall when Suri froze in her spot.
“Oh my god.”
“What is it, Suri?”
“It’s her.” She answered, her voice trailing off as she spring through the crowd.
Michelle hesitated for a moment before sprinting after her friend. Three blocks away she caught up to find Suri hugging a gagged and naked slave girl.
“Milly! Milly, I thought I’d never see you again. Oh my god I’m so glad you’re safe.” Suri embraced the meaty red-head in a fierce bear hug, but the woman did not respond, only continuing to stare forward with a blank look on her face. “Milly…”
“What is the meaning of this?” yelled the man at the other end of Milly’s leash. “Who do you think you are to touch what does not belong to you?”
Michelle grabbed Suri’s upper-arm and pulled, struggling at first but eventually breaking her hold on the slave girl. “Suri, what’s gotten in to you?”
”That’s her, Michelle. That’s my Milly.”
In an instant, Michelle remembered the many tales Suri had told; of her first true love, of their fetish play, of the interdiction by the former sheriff, and of Mildred’s sale on the black market. It had been two years since her sale, and Michelle could tell that time (and her owner) had taken their toll on her body. Her pale and lush white skin showed marks of torture; indentations from clips left in place too long, burns on her nipples and clit where electric play had been used, and small scars along her thighs, from either a grip too hard or outright cutting. Her expression, too, bore the signs of abuse. Drool dribbled down her cheek and her eyes betrayed no signs of thought, as if what little remained of her mind sat hidden in the depths of her subconscious.
Michelle felt pity for the girl and for Suri’s distress, but she also found the scene to be hot. Her thoughts turned back towards her own redheaded slave, the formerly perky Jodie Klint, and imagined the tortures that could eventually lead her to such a destroyed and submissive state. Michelle rubbed her thighs together as she began to wet.
“So this is the desirable Suri, is it?” asked the owner. He was a middle-aged black man in a well-tailored suit.
“How do you know my name?”
“She cries out for you all the time, you know. Granted, she doesn’t talk much anymore, but ‘Suri’ is one of the few words she speaks in my presence.”
Suri snapped towards her love’s owner and grabbed his collar. Vigorously shaking him, she pled, “How much do you want for her? We’ll pay anything, right Michelle?”
Michelle stood silently, confused at the offer. However, Milly’s owner countered.
“How much do I want? You have it backwards. You’re the one whose price needs to be negotiated.” He grabbed Suri in a hug and grabbed her ass. “Ah, pretty nice. I’ll give you two million dollars for her.”
“What?” asked Michelle.
“Two million dollars. I’ll pay you two million dollars for your Indian friend her.”
Suri pushed against the man’s chest and escaped his grasp. “I am nobody’s property!”
The man laughed. “Not yet, but you will be. I’d love to complete the set, even though I normally don’t go for your kind.”
“She’s not mine to sell.”
“Oh, so do you mind if I take her?”
Something about his offer struck Michelle off guard and she snapped. She raised her right hand above her head and slashed downwards, slicing his right cheek with her crimson nails. “No!” she yelled. “Nobody else can have her.”
“Gyah! You crazy bitch.” The man collapse to his knees and covered his cheek to stem the flow of blood.
Michelle grasped Suri’s hand firmly in her own and ran. Together, they hurried down the aisle, Michelle leading the way as she firmly pulled Suri’s wrist. Once they were well away, Michelle turned towards the black slave owner to see if he was giving chase.
He was not following. Instead being helped up to his feet by the unforgettable figure of a tiny blond woman in thick glasses.
It was Gertrude Reynolds, the only true rival to the Queen of Sorrow’s Falls.
----
“For our first lot, a pair of pairs. A set of twenty-one year old identical twins taken just weeks before their wedding. Five-foot-nine, one-hundred-and-fifteen pounds, raven-haired and lightly freckled. While these prime subjects would count as a collector’s item alone, we also have a bonus gift. Their mother, along with her own identical twin. Black-hair, blue eyes, five-foot-seven, and one hundred and forty pounds, these 40-year old women can count as reassurance that their young will stay pretty as they age.”
Michelle smiled with pride from her sixth row seat. Suri, too, smiled in triumph, but Michelle knew that their joys were different. Something deep and fundamental differed between the two women, but neither could tell exactly what it was.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye. The Asian woman still stared back.
For the rest of the auction, Michelle pretended to pay no attention to her stalker. However, she kept the girl in the corner of her eye, waiting for the moment to strike.
-----
After the auction, Michelle sprinted ahead and caught up with the stalker. “Why have you been staring at me?” she demanded.
The short Asian girl took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I recognize you, I think.”
“Oh?” asked Michelle, eager to hear what made the girl so interested.
“We went to high school together, to Serenity’s. Your name is Michelle, right?”
“I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t recall any Asian women in my classes…”
“No, no, I was only a freshman when you were a senior, but you were pretty famous back then. Well, everybody knows who the rich girl is, right?”
“I guess,” answered Michelle. It had been years since Michelle thought of her life during high school. None of her friends or family remained, leaving little reason to even acknowledge the existence of the chaste and arrogant cheerleader that once was.
“We should exchange phone numbers.”
“What?” asked Michelle, shocked by the girl’s brazen attitude.
“You know, always good to have contacts in the industry, right? That’s what Frank says.”
“It’s a good idea,” spoke Suri, startling Michelle. “Like I’ve always said, it’s a good idea to have contacts, in case you need things done.”
“Is it really necessary, though?”
Michelle turned and stared at Suri. “I really don’t think…”
“Trust me, Michelle. The more the merrier.”
Michelle smirked. She remembered the associates they had murdered over a year and a half ago and imagined the same fate befalling the next group of friends that should cross her.
The queen sighed and Suri enthusiastically began chatting it up with the new friend. Though she disliked the endless web of necessitated relationships, she understood their purpose.
At the best, they would be aides for the queens’ ascension. At the worst, they would become her subjects.
Michelle glanced over the tight body of the twenty-something Asian and smiled. She sincerely hoped it would be the latter.
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