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Prisoner Of The Hedonist Club (Anonymous)

Prisoner Of The Hedonist Club by Anonymous

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Linda Marshall, on the run from the local Reformatory, is picked up by a couple who take her to their Apartment, an underground playroom, where the hapless runaway finds out the true meaning of pain and just how much nettles can sting when used as a birch or tacked to a tunic.

The Master of this household subjects both women to severe punishments and sexual abuse. Linda is also introduced to the love of a woman and before the first week is out, is begging to be a permanent part of their household.

Whilst the women are willing, the suffering they endure is cruel in the extreme as, with an endless supply of fresh nettles and a cupboard full of equipment, the Master makes sure everyone experiences everything all the time!

Linda tastes all the pleasures and suffers all the pains, becoming such an integral part of the household that, at the end, her captors decide to keep her with them forever – but not before she has one more test …

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 9 / 2016

No. words: 45552

Style: Fem Dom - F/F, Male Dom - M/F

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle



It was just before 6 p.m. when Adrian swung the big grey station-wagon north from Highway 7, and let the speed drop down to 30 as they entered the dusty concession road running north-west through Ebenezer. The July heat of Toronto lay behind them; in another quarter of an hour they would reach Sans Souci, the isolated little farmhouse that Adrian had bought two years ago and completely modernised, regardless of cost. This was his private retreat from the cares and conventions of the Big City; for the next sixteen days, he and Jennifer would be cut off from the world ... rising when it pleased them, idling in the sun, swimming in the pool, fishing in the stream that ran through the 5-acre property. The prospect pleased him greatly; two weeks of peace, in pleasant company - he shot a glance at the pretty face of his little Irish mistress sitting close beside him ... complete privacy, if they wished it; yet contact with the world was easy should they so desire. It was just five minutes into Wildfield’s little general store and the basic necessities of life were at their disposal - bread and groceries and fruit and milk, or last night’s ‘Telegram’, and - in the evening - the morning’s ‘Globe & Mail’. Perhaps they would feel like a wild, gay party, if so, the telephone could summon half a dozen couples from Toronto almost within the hour. Perhaps there might be a chance to use The Apartment…
Adrian’s loins stirred as he thought of the cunningly converted basement, windowless and air-conditioned, with its concealed entrance - so that the casual visitor would never suspect that below his feet lay a complete suite of comfortable bedroom, modern bathroom and ‘gymnasium’ with its complement of odd appliances and locked cupboards, of which only the initiated knew the secret. Jennifer was fascinated by The Apartment; and he knew she was dying to try her hand out at the perverse pleasures for which the secret basement was designed. Ralph Herbert was back from Mexico sometime soon, with Wendy - Wendy who literally worshipped the whip, and begged so prettily for further degradation. He pictured the statuesque body of the glamorous redhead held immobile in some obscene position on one of the appliances, being worked over by Jennifer, slim, naked and panting with excitement as she brought the little whip down and down again, each stroke dragging a strangled cry of “More!” from Wendy’s pain-racked mouth. Yes, he would ring the Herbert apartment in Toronto every day; if luck was with them, Ralph and Wendy might be back within the week.
He hummed gently to himself in time with the catchy tune from Radio CHUM spilling out from the dashboard speaker, as the big station wagon jolted slowly on towards Ebenezer.
His reveries were brought to a sudden halt as Jennifer exclaimed, “Look! There’s a girl, flagging us down! Shall we give her a lift?” He stopped the car and reversed a few yards to where the girl was standing in the shadow of a roadside tree. He scarcely had time to note the short cut mop of blonde hair and the startlingly beautiful face with its wide set grey eyes above a deliciously retroussé nose, before the girl had wrenched open the rear door of the car and scrambled in.
“Oh, please help me, please” the words came out in a rush. “I must get away - and I know they’re after me!”
Adrian turned round in surprise to take a look at this unusual hitch-hiker. He noted the plain brown dress and the absence of makeup on the lovely face, some simple country wench, he thought to himself. Probably about 19 or 20 and obviously in trouble.
“Now, wait a minute, sweetie!” he said with a smile. “Who are you and who are ‘they’ and why are they after you?”
“My name’s - er - Jane Brown,” she replied with a clearly perceptive pause that made it quite clear to both Adrian and Jennifer that whatever her name was, it was not ‘Jane Brown.” “It’s my parents who are after me! They want me to marry someone and I’m not going to - I’m in love with somebody else and I’ve just got to get away!”
Before Adrian could reply, the CHUM radio announcer said cheerfully “Time out for the six o’clock news! Don’t go away, folks - CHUM’s ‘top-o’-the-Pops’ programme will continue right after the news, so stay tuned to C-H-U-M! Chief MacKay of the Metropolitan Police has just announced that four of the seven girls who broke out of the Mercer Reformatory earlier this afternoon have been recaptured; the search for the other three is being intensified, with the co-operation of the Ontario Provincial Police. Still missing are Carol Stoneham, 19, 5’2", brown haired with glasses, serving a sentence of six months for assault: Linda Marshall, 20, 5’4", blonde, good looking, 2 years for armed robbery; and Evelyn Welch, 28, 5’9", brown haired and stoutly built, 9 months for theft. If you’ve any information on these escapees, phone the Metro Police at EMI-1111 and ask for the Sergeant of the Detectives.
“University of Toronto students again demonstrated outside the American Consulate today, protesting the continuation of the Viet …” The cheerful voice vanished as Adrian leaned forward and switched the radio off. He turned to face the girl, now crouched defensively on the back seat with a sullen look on her face.
“You’re Linda Marshall, aren’t you?” he asked gently.
“No! No! ... I’m not. Oh, what’s the hell,” she said bitterly. “Yes, I am and I suppose you’re going to turn me in?”
“Well now, I wouldn’t be so sure ...” said Adrian softly. He turned to Jennifer “Perhaps we could - er put her in The Apartment for a while, till the heat’s off? She looks a nice girl, wouldn’t you say?”
Jennifer’s lips parted in a delighted smile as she realised the implication of Adrian’s suggestion; she nodded briefly, and turned to look at the blonde escapee with the greatest of interest.
Linda started babbling thanks to her new hosts, whom she took to be swinging cats and fuzz, why else were they going to let her hole up in their apartment? She was cut short by Adrian, who informed her sharply that there was no time for chat.
“Look! We’re going out on a limb for you and you’re going to do exactly as you’re told. First off, get down on the floor and cover yourself with that rug. Jennifer - pull a couple of suitcases down over her. We might run into an OPP patrol round the next corner; there’s probably someone already watching in Ebenezer; and they may put choppers up too, so I’m not taking any chances!”
Hastily, Linda obeyed his instructions; and within the minute the grey station-wagon with its unexpected cargo was under way again.
As they went through the little village of Ebenezer, Adrian’s precautions were justified. An OPP motor-cycle cop was parked at the cross-roads. As they neared him, Adrian said urgently - “OPP! Don’t move, Linda! If he finds you, say you saw this car standing empty on Marion St. and hid yourself without our knowing, and we two will act surprised ... Jennifer, you and I just popped into the Hospital there to have a free pee before we started off north - OK? That’s why the car was empty for a couple of minutes.”
Fortunately, no subterfuge was necessary; as Adrian drew to a halt at the Stop sign, the officer glanced briefly at Jennifer’s chestnut hair, then waved them across with a friendly nod. As Jennifer heaved a sigh of relief, Adrian said incisively - “We’re not out of it yet! I don’t want you seen by anyone, Linda, that blonde hair’s a dead give-away. So when we get to our place, just stay wrapped up in that rug, and we’ll carry you in like a bedding-roll - OK?”
A muffled “Sure!” came in reply.
Five minutes later, Adrian turned off into the lane that led to Sans Souci, and ran the car round behind the farmhouse. Ordering Linda to lie still while they opened up, he beckoned urgently to Jennifer to follow him. Once inside, he spoke rapidly - “I don’t want her to see anything till we’ve got her downstairs. I don’t think she got our licence number and if we can get her stashed away with the rug still over her head. She’ll have nothing to remember, and won’t know where she is, so she’ll not be able to trace us later on, understand?”
Jennifer nodded in agreement, as Adrian ran down to the tiny furnace-room-cum-laundry that was - apparently - all the basement that the house contained. He went quickly to a 3-ft. cupboard standing against the inner wall of rough-hewn quartz blocks set with deep mortar joints; the open door revealed a couple of brooms and a dust-pan which he hastily removed, to give access to the back of the cupboard, which appeared to be made of some half-dozen Masonite panels set in a framework of wooden battens. Thrusting a finger into a small jagged hole in one of these panels - apparently the result of a knock from a broom-handle - he pushed upwards. The whole panel slid up, to reveal an innocent-looking surface of quartz blocks, similar to the rest of the wall. Adrian put his fingers in the recessed joints round one of the smaller blocks, and pulled, it slid out easily; behind it could be seen a curious dial-lock with ten numbered holes very similar to a telephone dial. He dialled a five-figure number, then pressed a button set in the centre of the dial. An electric motor broke into a low whirr, and the whole wall and cupboard-back swung back, to reveal a short passage. Adrian switched on a ceiling-light, and moved forward two paces to the end of the passage, which was blocked by a steel-covered door, also fitted with a dial-lock. Another five-figure number activated a second motor, and the door swung open. Pausing only to throw a couple of switches in the passage, controlling the lighting and air-conditioning within, Adrian stepped into The Apartment.
A hasty glance satisfied him that everything was in order. Leaving both doors open, he ran upstairs and motioned urgently to Jennifer to join him at the car. He opened the rear door, and spoke insistently to the invisible Linda. “We’re taking you in now. Don’t make a sound; don’t wriggle; act like a bedroll!” Then he leaned into the car and humped the girl’s inert body, still covered by the rug, out across the door sill, till he and Jennifer could get a proper grip.
Thirty seconds later, Linda had been carried into The Apartment, and set down on the bed.

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