Do The Twist: Chapter Two
Candice sat in the chair and let the purple light envelop her for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“What is your name?” Stacker’s voice. It was always Stacker. Every-time. It was like the bastard didn’t have anything better to do.
“Go. To. Hell.” She grunted through clenched teeth.
The vibrator in her pussy kicked up a notch. She jerked in her bonds as she felt the heat tingle its way up her spine and into her brain. Her muscles twitched and throbbed and seized and jerked. She ground her teeth together and tried to think about something else. Anything else.
The light dimmed. An image appeared on the flat-screen that hovered in front of her perspiring face. An image of soft, sun-bronzed flesh. The small of a girl’s back. Something was written there. Tattooed in flowery, girlish letters.
‘My name is Suzie! I belong to Twisteez!’ it read.
The girl that had once been Susan moved to the side and Candice saw that the room she was in was filled with people. Men. They lined the wall, dressed only in tight pairs of Speedos.
“Hiya Candice!” Suzie’s painted face filled the screen. She blew a big, wet kiss at her trapped partner. “Mr. Stacker says you’re not being very friendly, so he asked me to show you just how good being friendly can feel!”
Candice tried, desperately, to look away. The metal bar around her neck kept her face locked onto the screen, however. She whimpered as Suzie dropped to her knees before the first man and freed his cock.
“What is your name?” Stacker’s voice asked again.
“Candice Tate!” She cried out, “It’s Candice fucking Tate!”
“Wrong.”
The vibrator intensified again. The image of Suzie enveloping a cock with her hot, wet mouth disappeared and the purple light returned. Candice could do nothing but groan as the pulsing, throbbing colour filled her vision.
The first thing Roxanne did when she landed was throw up.
The second thing she did was take the combat knife Alexis had strapped to her chest and cut her way through the harness that secured them together.
“Everyone here?” Alexis whispered.
“I’m here!” Nicole chirped from somewhere off to Roxanne’s right.
“Where’s Diane?” Alexis asked aloud, glancing around. They were surrounded by trees. They must have missed the drop zone, but only by a little. She knew there were trees separating the beach from the eastern side of the island, and she knew the beacon had been close to the trees.
“Diane?” Nicole called out softly. “I don’t think she’s here, boss.”
Roxanne groaned and rolled onto her back, “Fuck that.”
Alexis hand patted her stomach reassuringly, “You okay?”
“Ugh,” Roxanne grunted and slowly clambered to her feet. “Did I tell you I was afraid of heights?”
“No,” Alexis said evenly, “Did I ever tell you I don’t care?”
“Thanks,” Roxanne groaned, then threw up again.
“We good to go, Nicole?” Alexis asked, stripping off her harness and equipment and chucking them aside.
Nicole was busy unpacking a slim, silver lap-top. “We’re good, boss.”
“Alright,” Alexis eased down the zipper on her jump-suit and stepped out of it. Her sky-blue bikini made her look like just any other holidaying trophy wife. “Set up an OP here, hide our gear. We’ll be back soon. See if you can find anything out about this place from their computers.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Where are we going?” Roxanne asked, getting unsteadily to her feet. She tore off her own jump-suit and adjusted the black bikini Alexis had loaned her on the plane.
“First things first; see if we can find Diane,” Alexis nodded and glanced through the trees, in the direction of the resort, “She can’t have gotten far. Then we find Susan and Candice. Let’s move.”
She started off through the trees, jogging at a quick pace. Roxanne stumbled after her.
Diane remembered falling.
She remembered the air pocket that had hit the plane at the last second, just before her jump.
She remembered the sense of realization as she understood just how far it had thrown her of course.
She remembered sailing across the rooftops of the resort; a crowd of stunned onlookers staring up at her as she crashed down into the thicket of bushes behind the pool.
Then she remembered soft hands grasping her body.
She remembered nothing else.
She stirred, slowly.
Her hands were bound behind her back. She was naked. She was gagged. She was lying on a bed. Someone was straddling her waist.
All these facts pulled together and crystallized in her mind in order to give her a clear and perfect view of just how much trouble she was in.
“Mmmph!” She groaned through the wad of fabric in her mouth. They were wet. A familiar wetness that reminded her of some long forgotten scent.
She looked up at the person straddling her. It was a woman. A woman in a red bikini.
The woman’s thick, full lips pressed gently against Diane’s neck and began to kiss their way up to her ear-lobe.
“Do you like the taste of my panties, dear?” The woman in red whispered.
Diane grunted her disgust into the gag and tried to force the underwear out. She knew what the taste was now. It was the woman’s juices. What kind of a pervert would do that?
“Ah ah ah,” The woman tutted and leant in close, pressing her cleavage down into Diane’s face.
Diane grunted again and rolled her body. The woman in red laughed and leaned back. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, my dear.”
“Now,” The woman whispered gently and tilted Diane’s head up by the chin, “Look into my eyes.”
It was the dumbest thing Diane had ever heard. Maybe that was why she did it. She looked up at the woman straddling her and immediately felt her world shift. Her stomach dropped out and the most awful sensation of vertigo she’d ever had consumed her as her eyes locked onto the woman in red’s electric blue orbs.
“Stop struggling,” the woman commanded.
Diane slackened in her bonds and fell still. Her muscles felt weak, all the survival and endurance training she’d been put through at the agency was just a far-away memory; a fever dream of another time in another life.
“Don’t scream,” the woman’s lips twisted into a perverse smile, “Unless I ask you to.”
Diane nodded dumbly. Emptily. Those eyes. Those perfect eyes. Diane wasn’t a lesbian, but for the owner of those eyes she could be. She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. Thinking was...
...uncomfortable. Not painful, but as the woman in red’s eyes filled her vision and consumed every fibre of her being, all Diane could think about was just how strange it felt to think.
“My name is Elizabeth Lavender,” the mouth below the eyes said, “What’s yours?”
Two slender, beautiful fingers moved across the edge of Diane’s vision and plucked the panties from her mouth.
“Diane Wilson.” She gasped. Her legs felt weak. Not sleepy. But weak. Like the way they did after a particularly strong orgasm.
“And what are you, Diane?” Elizabeth said slowly. One of her fingers danced across Diane’s cheek. Diane didn’t notice. The only thing she could notice anymore was the two ideas staring down at her.
“I’m a...” Diane gulped once and tried to fight the urge to answer. Something wasn’t right. This woman had kidnapped her! Probably kidnapped others, too! She shouldn’t be...
...shouldn’t be telling her....
“Diane?” The eyes asked again. It was the eyes, Diane realized, not the mouth below that seemed to be speaking. It was definitely the eyes.
Such beautiful, deep eyes.
“I’m an agent with the CIA.” Diane bit back a groan and kept talking, “I specialize in foreign languages, counter-intelligence and long range target elimination techniques.”
“A cunning linguist, hmmm?” Elizabeth smiled at her own joke and gently slipped a hand down Diane’s neck, toward the cleft of her right breast.
“Don’t think, Diane. Just answer.”
“Answer...?” Diane struggled to pronounce the word, glancing up at the woman on top of her. Elizabeth, she’d said her name was. Right? She couldn’t be sure. Fact-checking involved thinking. Thinking was....
....wrong, Diane decided. Or rather, the eyes decided for her.
“What are you, Diane?” Elizabeth asked again. Her name was Elizabeth, right?
“I’m a...” Diane paused, her face contorted into a mask of confusion, “...I don’t...”
“You’re a slave, Diane,” Elizabeth crooned, cupping Diane’s firm tits in her hands and gently massaging the soft flesh of her chest.
That wasn’t right, Diane thought. But it was only a reflex. She suppressed the urge to resist. The need to deduct exactly what was going on. That would require thinking. Thinking was anathema to being a slave.
She...
The realization required no thought. Just obedience and consent to the truth that the eyes before her were burning into her brain.
...she was a slave.
Elizabeth slid up Diane’s trapped, but non-resistant, body and settled her cunt against Diane’s chin.
“Who am I, Diane?”
“Elizabeth...” Diane groaned reflexively. It didn’t sound right.
“No, my dear,” Elizabeth chuckled as she eased her bikini bottoms to the side and pressed her pussy to Diane’s lips, “My name is Mistress.”
As Diane’s lips and tongue went to work, she couldn’t even think of arguing with her.
She was a slave, after all.
“Do you know the duty of a slave?” Mistress asked, grinding her glorious cunt against Diane’s eager tongue.
“No, Mistress,” Diane gasped as she pulled away momentarily.
“It’s to bring their Mistress pleasure, of course.” Mistress leant in close and locked eyes with her slave.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Candice’s head slipped lazily down toward her chest.
The purple light was all she knew.
Everything she was.
She opened her mouth, as if to say something. To protest maybe, or possibly to agree with the thousands of whispers filling her mind. A single, thin strand of drool slipped down from her chin and splattered against her bare chest.
The vibrator humming away in her pussy was so far away now; nothing more than a dull, aching throb.
All that mattered was the purple light.
She thought she saw something in the light, something slim and round dancing across the rippling, viridian surface. It was a tit. Not a breast, or a mammary, or any of those other ugly words she’d used before. A tit. A great big, fleshy tit. Topped with a delicate, pink nipple that was just aching to be sucked on.
Sucked on by her, she realized.
“What is your name?” Stacker’s voice again.
“It’s....” She groaned and jerked against the vibrator, desperate to get more of it inside of her.
“It’s Candi.” Stacker’s voice echoed inside her head. “Candi Treat.”
No...
The vibrator stopped buzzing.
She needed it! Wanted it!
Her name was...
Her name was.....
“Candice...?” She offered gently, confused.
“No.” Stacker’s voice said firmly, “Candi.”
Her name was Candi, she remembered.
The vibrator began to buzz again.
The pulsing purple light finally died down. Candi giggled. She wanted to see it again!
The screen folded away out of view. Mr. Stacker was standing behind it. Suzie was next to him. Her hourglass figure was wrapped in a tight, latex nurse’s outfit.
It looked soooo fucking sexy.
Candi grunted against the humming vibrator embedded in her pussy.
Mr. Stacker grunted with amusement and then pointed to Candi, “Don’t you think it’s time your friend got a makeover like you did, Suzie?”
“Uh...” Suzie placed a single, thoughtful finger against her chin and stared stupidly at Mr. Stacker, “...I don’t know...”
“Yes,” Mr. Stacker hissed through gritted teeth, “the answer is ‘yes’.”
“Oh!” Suzie smiled. “Like, yes! Totally!”
Candi giggled as a pair of hands pried open her mouth. She was getting a makeover! She loved makeovers!
A cock-gag was forced deep into her throat. A long, thin pipe was fed into the base of it by gloved hands. She caught a glimpse of a smiling face, then a glowing, purple fluid flowing through the pipe and cock-gag towards her.
A sweet, thick taste hit the back of her throat as she began to suck on the long, thick, fake phallus.
Then the first orgasm hit her. She moaned into the gag as the fluid began to pump into her eager, willing mouth.
It took Nicole ten seconds to access the resort’s wi-fi. It took her another fifteen to crack their encoding and break into their database.
Another minute and she’d downloaded the entirety of the resort’s files and sent them to command in a single package. The wonders of the modern age, she mused.
The screen of her laptop flickered once, then burst into static.
“Goddamnit,” She grunted and slapped her hand against the thin, reinforced shell of the computer.
The screen flickered again and then flashed a burst of purple light, a second later it died completely.
“Fuck,” Nicole hissed. She wasn’t one to swear, but everyone had their moments.
This moment definitely deserved it.
The laptop was their only link to command. If the files had got through, then they were in business, if not then command might just scrub the mission and abandon them.
She let out a long, calming sigh and tried to still her shaking hands. Focus. People were counting on her. Focus was everything.
She blinked once and leaned in close to the screen.
Probably all the humidity around here. Wetness fried something in the screen.
God, it really was quite hot...
Nicole slipped a hand to her chest and eased the zip of her body-suit down.
That was better.
The screen crackled once, she jerked back. Something pulsed behind it. Something bright and hollow and purple all at the same time.
She bit her bottom lip and leaned in closer...
Yes, it really was quite hot here....
Suzie’s mouth was sublime.
Stacker groaned as he came, flooding her mouth with his essence.
He glanced over the top of his desk. Manute was standing there, his powerful limbs and barrel chest stretching his black uniform to the limits.
“It seems we have a problem,” Stacker smiled.
Manute glanced around. Candi giggled as she bent over, underneath her latex maid outfit she wasn’t wearing any panties. Manute grinned appreciatively as Candi began to lightly dust a nearby tabletop.
“So it seems,” Manute nodded.
“You can deal with them, I hope?” Stacker gestured at the four screens playing video.
In one, Elizabeth Lavender sipped delicately from a long island Iced tea by the pool.
In the second, her slave that had once been Diane Locke knelt obediently at the foot of her bed.
In the third, Nicole Harley stared slack-jawed at a glowing computer screen.
In the last screen Roxanne Danvers and Alexis Forrest glanced around as they worked their way through the crowd of giggling, grinding bimbos that were congregating in the lobby.
Manute leaned in close and surveyed each screen through wary eyes.
“Shouldn’t be a problem, boss.”
Mr. Stacker could only smile, “Wonderful.”