Margaret glances at the rear mirror for the twelfth time. She knows that no one is following her but the extra caution is becoming more and more of a habit. She looks at her watch. The platinum encased time piece shows her 10.25am. Plenty of time left, she tells herself.
There is practically no one around and she did not expect such level of seclusion. One could virtually die without anyone ever knowing. Tall overgrown grass sandwich the dirt road. Even the grass on the center of the road is beginning to reclaim the tracks.
After a large turn, the roof of a wooden structure come to sight. Margaret smirks victoriously. After 2 hours of driving, she has finally reached the given destination. And judging by the road she has to travel, the claim told by her contractor isn’t so far fetched anymore.
“The shed is just a disguise. Underneath it is a nuclear bunker built by a paranoid man during the cold war. He died many years ago and the bunker is auctioned. I happened to be there and bought it. It’s location is disclosed only to the buyer, which is me. So, you see, no one is really going to stumble into this place by accident.”
Margaret remembers just how proud her contractor was when he disclosed the details of the bunker. Electronic bulkhead doors, a refrigerated supply storage, a small bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, a toilet with bathtub and internet connection. Some are relics left by the dead man, some are installed recently by the contractor. She thought the furnishing is impressive as well when the contractor showed her pictures. Victorian styled with modernized features.
It even has a underground cable connected to the national grid. The cables are buried deep enough to avoid detection from casual metal scavenger. There is also a backup power generator to power the bulkhead doors should the main line fails. When fully supplied, the whole structure is built to last 60 days for a standard family size of four.
As Margaret approaches the deceptive shed, she sees two men standing outside of the shed. When they see her black Audi A8 pulls into the small driveway, they walk up to her. Margaret kills the engine and walks out of the car holding her tiny clutch that worth more than the annual salary of a family man.
“Is Luther here?” Margaret asks coldly. She doesn’t want to deal with anyone else other than Luther, her contractor.
One of the men nudges towards the shed. Margaret takes the hint and go into the small wooden structure. Luther is there, standing on a dusty moth damaged carpet, staring at an old, bleached out, picture. He is at least 6’4″, towering Margaret by a head. His head is bald. His muscles bulging, making the t-shirt he’s wearing seems like a size too small. He turns briefly at Margaret before resuming appraising the picture.
“Glad you make it.” he says.
“Where’s the girl?” Margaret asks.
Margaret looked around and tries to find the entrance to the bunker. Luther approaches her and kneels on the wooden floor. He sticks his finger into a tiny hole and lifts the entire panel up, revealing a staircase.
“After you.” Luther bows.
The woman goes down the stairs gracefully. Her heels clacked on the cement finish. At the end of the stairs is a sturdy metallic door. At the left side of the door is a number pad. Luther punches in the code. A soft beep is heard and the door releases its lock. Luther uses both his hands and laboriously pulls the door handle. The heavy door swings outwards and Margaret moves further into the bunker. It is an impressive sight indeed. It’s so secure Margaret suddenly feels intimidated. What if Luther turns on her now? With those two guys up on the surface, she could be easily captured and no one would ever know where she is. For some reason, she finds that thought hot and arousing.
Luther closes the bulkhead door and the clanking of the locks startles Margaret. She, however, keeps her composure and waits for Luther to guide her further in. The two proceed down along the short alleyway before turning to a corner where the living room comes into sight. The cement floor ends and polished wood tiling fills the rest of the space. The furnishing is luxurious with a grand piano at a raised stage. A small but bright chandelier hung from the ostentatious Victorian ceiling.
“Impressive.” Margaret says under her breath.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Enough the sight seeing. Show her to me.”
Luther leads Margaret down a spiraling stairs. The lower floor is utilitarian. No more polished wood tiling and no more expensive furniture to fill the space. Both the ceiling and the walls are cement encrusted. There’s a pile of supplies at one corner. Margaret sees a electric sign nailed to a door and judging by the small hum coming from there, it must be the electric room.
It is when Luther gestures his hand to a window pane that Margaret finally finds what she is looking for. Alisa Graham, the daughter of her current husband. Her stepdaughter. Margaret can’t help but to smile in delight.
“As you can see, we are keeping her real busy down here.” Luther quips.
“No doubt.” Margaret replies.
Margaret walks to the window and study her stepdaughter. She is secured to a small ‘X’ shape cross placed at an angle. Her legs are folded, ankles touching her thighs and fastened to the metallic ‘X’ frame. Her hands are secured to the frame as well. Her eyes are blindfolded and her mouth’s gagged. Her clothing, bra and panties, are all on the ground. A vertical beam holds the frame up, bringing her pussy to a comfortable height for the man to fuck.
“The dead man built a prison cell inside his bunker.” Luther says. “Fear that the commies would come looking for survivors. Built a cage to house a few for interrogation I reckon. A shitload of torture devices all around the place too. And sound proof. As if anyone could hear from outside.”
“It’s sound proof.” Margaret scoffs in disbelief.
“Yes.” Luther says and presses a small intercom button. The sound from the other side comes flooding through. Margaret stomach quivers in satisfaction. Nothing feels greater than hearing the cries of someone you dislike.
Luther knocks on the glass and the man inside the room turns. With a small hand gesture from Luther, the man moves away and turns the ‘X’ contraption until Margaret can see the frontal view of Alisa. Her pussy is red, sore. Margaret winces at the sight. It seems painful. White substance smears around her lower ass and the upper thighs. For some reason, Margaret feels aroused by the spectacle.
“How long have these guys been keeping her busy?” Margaret finally asks.
“Since she’s here.”
Margaret looks at her expensive platinum watch again and it shows 10.50. If she hasn’t remembering it wrongly, she received Luther’s message about Alisa’s captivity at 4.32am. Slightly over six hours.
“The men take turns. I have nine men to fuck her around the clock.” Luther explains when he sees just how astonished his client is.
“Can she take it?” Margaret swallows.
“She doesn’t have a choice.” Luther grins.
It’s true. The metal frame and restrains are keeping her legs spread. With that pussy so red, Margaret knows just how sore and aching her stepdaughter is. If she had a sore like that, she won’t even want to walk, much less to be penetrated. But like Luther said, Alisa doesn’t have a choice. Her pussy is completely spread and helpless. She is entirely at the mercy of Luther. If he wants her fucked for twenty four hours, her pussy will be milking cocks for twenty four hours.
“Good. But keep her alive. I don’t want her dead.” Margaret warns.
“I’ve hired a medical expert. Worked as a doctor for some big shot hospital until a sexual harassment charge had his license revoked. He’ll keep your girl all healthy and fine. He even scheduled her for an enema tomorrow. Got to clean the dirt out of her rectum before the guys can use it.”
“What about contraceptives?” Margaret asks when she sees the man finishes inside Alisa’s pussy.
“Feed her a pill once a day. The doctor plans to get her an IUD. He says it will be more convenient.” Luther answers nonchalantly.
Satisfied with the service so far, Margaret opens her clutch and fishes out a small pouch of diamond she gets from the black market through unmarked notes.
“As agreed, two million dollars worth of diamond.” she hands the pouch to Luther. He takes and shoves it into his pocket.
“And I will keep her here for 6 months. And when the service is done…”
“You will have your 4 million.” Margaret promises. “Make sure you break her. I had enough of her smart mouth already.”
“Don’t worry. Her mouth will be doing something very different at the end of the day.” Luther remarks.
Luther presses the intercom. “Let’s continue.” he said to the man inside.
Margaret watches as Alisa jerks against the restrains. The man is back and positioned himself between her legs. With a hard thrust, the sound of her yelping come through the intercom. Luther has been pressing the speaker all along.
“Thought you might want to hear that.” he says.
“That’s why I choose you in the first place.” Margaret casts him a side smile. “I’ve seen enough.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Luther offers.
The two go back to the surface. The two men are still there doing sentry. Margaret goes into her black sedan and guns the engine to life. Luther knocks on the window and Margaret rolls it down.
“You know, if you are interested, you can always come here and have a try.” Luther suggests.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Margaret lies. Of course she knows what he’s talking about. He must have seen through her composure, that she felt hot when she saw Alisa, that she wants to be manhandled and fucked like her.
“Every girl has her fantasy. I don’t know hers, but I definitely know yours. Drop by here some time, me and my boys can show you a good time.” Luther gives her a sinister smile.
Margaret ignores him and rolls back up the window. She reverses out of the small driveway and heads back out to the dirt road. At the back of her mind, she begins to plan of a good excuse to be gone from her husband for a few days without arousing suspicion.
Stepmother’s Plan 2 (https://tentaclestories.wordpress.com/2015/12/17/stepmothers-plan-2/)