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Family Justice
Epilogue
Complete, total agony smothered Nicole. Harsh wire bindings already mercilessly tight bit deeper, as her muscles flexed when she walked, trying to follow the pull of the leash. With Dominic in the lead, the two goons on either side of her, she minced along able to use only her lower legs. The goons would allow her to tilt against them for balance, but never crumple to the ground.
The 38 year-old blonde never knew walking could be so exhausting. Just ten paces and she was gasping like a fish out of water. Or was it that it hurt so, just to draw a breath. The trek seemed to go on forever, the misery never seeming to reach its zenith. So lost in her despair, she never noticed that the strain on the leash had eased, until she bumped into Dominic. When her pain-hazed vision finally cleared, she saw that they stood by the door to the basement.
Without a word, Dominic knelt and draped Nicole over his shoulder. The blonde shrieked, as inflexible bonds administered while she’d been stretched out straight, refused to accommodate her body’s attempt to bend at the waist. The crotch wire cut into her privates like a dull laser, her arms screamed as they tried to rip from their sockets.
Accepting the painful futility of trying to break free, Nicole tried not to struggle. She could not, however, quiet the involuntary jouncing of her body as they descended the stairs. She had no doubt that her “lover”, was taking the steps with more spring than what was necessary.
The house, being spacious and almost 80 years old, had no need to convert this level into living space. Except for a small portion devoted to wine storage, the rest had remained unchanged. The poured concrete floor and rough stone walls seemed to absorb the inadequate overhead lighting.
Nicole was carried over to the farthest corner, near the seldom used workbench. Placed once more on her feet, she could do nothing but wait with dread, for what was to happen next. Her wait, as it turned out, wasn’t nearly as long as she wished it to be.
Dominic threw the free end of the leash over an exposed brace of the floor joyce overhead. After positioning the slipknot of the wire around her throat, behind her left ear, he drew out the slack. Panic swept through the blonde, as the goons stepped back and allowed only the tether to assist her balance.
Tying the free end off to a leg of the work table, her lover reached for a brown paper bag sitting on its surface. Nicole had not noticed it before, which was of no surprise, she found little excuse to come down to the basement.
Reaching inside, Dominic pulled out what had to be the ugliest pair of shoes the blonde had ever seen. The white vinyl, slip-on platform shoes shone garishly in the dim light. The wedge of the toe portion was more than three inches high, the slender, yet clunky heels, twice that. They would stay on a wearer’s feet by means of a simple, 2” wide strap across the base of her toes. The strap came complete with a three dimensional design supposed to resemble a flower.
Kneeling, Dominic “helped” Nicole out of her $200 sandals and slipped her feet into the new footwear. The never worn, vinyl soles were slippery, causing the blonde’s feet to slide down and wedge firmly into the straps. She was unable to see them, stretched as she was, but could definitely tell that they were at least two sizes too big. At least stability wasn’t a problem. As far as high heels went, although these were street-walker tall, they afforded a fairly wide base.
Dominic rose and walked over to a utility shelf. He removed a one gallon paint can who’s label had shriveled with age. Giving it a shake produced no sloshing within, the contents long ago hardened. He tossed it, spinning up in the air, catching it on the way down. Its motion suggested it was virtually empty. The smile on his face seemed to indicate it was just what he was looking for.
Handing the can to one of his “assistants”, he unfastened the long wire tether from the workbench. The third man took up position behind Nicole. With a nod not seen by the treacherous vixen, all three performed their assigned tasks.
Goon #1 grasped Nicole around her waist and lifted her up. Goon #2 slipped the paint can beneath her, while Dominic hauled in the slack on the wire. Clarity struck, as the blonde now realized that the leash, had been transformed into a hangman’s rope. When her feet plunked down on the tiny surface of the can, the blonde immediately wriggled her feet up on the sandals’ slippery soles in order to ease the strain. Dominic obligingly pulled the wire that much tighter.
Too late, Nicole realized her mistake. In her desperate effort to lessen the stiff bite on her windpipe, she’d placed herself in a position she could not maintain. Should the straining muscles of her feet weaken, or her soles begin to sweat, she’d be helpless to stop herself from sliding back down the glossy surface of the high heels. It wouldn’t be much, no more than an inch, but that distance was the difference between breathing, or not.
“hhhnnnn!” She wheezed out a strangled plea to stop what was taking place.
Dominic moved to face his murderous lover.
“End of the line, bitch.” He growled. “You should have known to never, ever, fuck with family.”
With that, he plugged in the two cords leading to the prods violating her.
“Those two beauties have state-of-the-art micro circuitry.” He explained. “They’re programmed to alternate current, duration and intervals. I’ve taken the liberty of disarming the safeties. Enjoy the ride.”
Then he and his men headed for the stairs. Dominic looked back over his shoulder and said, “Me and the boys will be back to check on you in a week.”
The three men climbed the steps, accompanied by the whistling wails of their restrained victim. Nicole’s pleas for mercy were cut off before they reached the doorway, when the first shocks struck. The current zapping her ass and pussy were so powerful, they almost physically knocked Nicole off her perch.
***
That had been hours ago. The blonde’s feet had long since wedged firmly back in to her footwear. Every inch of her skeleton seemed to try and elongate, in order to keep her airway free. Here body was coated in sweat, spa-toned muscles standing out as if posing on stage.
Nicole strained to hear any indication of footfalls overhead, signaling her lover’s return. But the house remained silent, save for her scratchy, labored breathing. Even the prods, when activated, remained silent. There was no telltale buzzing that gave away their presence.
Their assaults remained unfathomably random, impossible to anticipate. Sometimes, they would almost “purr”, causing her ass and sex to tingle. Other times, they would strike like a thousand bee stings, individually or in unison. Each time, Nicole would twist and writhe trying to escape their bite, often coming within a whisker of toppling off her perch.
By now, she’d reached a point where death would almost be a welcome release from this torture. But her instinctual self-preservation refused to allow her to kick over the paint can. And so, she endured. And suffered. And suffered some more. She’d learned her lesson, but was it too late?
Okay. You’ve read it this far, it seems only fitting that you choose your ending. Does Nicole get a second chance?
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