Dark Eden: Gone to the Dogs

This is a LONG story. If you don't like long stories or stories driven by plot and characters rather than just sex, you might want to skip this one.

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Disclaimer: The following story is a work of (hopefully) erotic fiction. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, please stop reading now. Any resemblance between the characters and any actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy or redistribute this story without the author's permission.

This story takes place in the fictional city of Springfield, California. It also contains characters from two prior series, namely "Lost in Texas" and "Twenty Years to Life." I'm going to try and make this story and any possible future stories as independent as possible, but it might be helpful to look over those series for background information.

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"Are you almost done?" came a booming voice from the club's intercom.

"Are you in a hurry?" Isabel shouted at the ceiling. "Everything seems to work, but I was hoping to give it a test run." She knew that Mr. X, the owner of that voice, was probably rolling his eyes, but she didn't care. She looked at the apparatus that took up a portion of the room. It was a metal "web," about ten feet wide and stretched from the floor to the ceiling, built out of solid metal bars that were crafted and wielded by the hand of a talented artist. The bars of the web were covered in a thick black rubber, and there were leather cuffs at several locations that could be slid along miscellaneous bars and secure someone of just about any size and shape.

At the moment, those cuffs were in use. There was a tight-bodied, beautiful young woman with pink hair that was being held fast. She was wearing thigh-high stiletto boots made of leather, a black thong, a chauffeur's hat and . . . well, that was about it, unless you counted the ball-gag.

"I assumed as much," came Mr. X's voice again, but this time he sounded amused. "You didn't need to get her all dressed up just to see if the cuffs worked."

"Don't be snide," Isabel replied, smiling. She knew that Mr. X was getting an eyeful. While the woman secured to the web was a California hardbody, complete with a golden tan, Isabel's body was soft and curvaceous. Her hair was black, her lips full, her breasts well rounded . . . about the only thing the two women had in common physically were nice tans and the ability to make men and women drool. Isabel's generous curves were covered by white leather pants and a white leather corset. "Mind giving me a few minutes?" she asked.

"The client will be here in about an hour. I'm assuming you'll be done and presentable by then?"

"You assume correctly," Isabel said. When she wasn't being a dominatrix, she was a twenty-three-year-old mall manager and had recently been in talks with Mr. X about taking over management duties of the Dark Eden fetish club, the very place they were currently at. She was a businesswoman, and she wasn't going to let the upcoming opportunity slip away. A new organization within the domination/submission domain was wanting to have their first conference at Dark Eden, and two representatives were supposed to be coming by later to discuss some "special equipment" needs. Isabel was going to be handling the business end of things.

The building of the special equipment, as well as the design, would be handled by the woman currently secured to the metal web (which she had also designed and built). The twenty-three year old girl was a certified welder, artist as well as a philosopher. She was also the most beautiful creature Isabel had ever seen.

"Well Torrie, it looks like we'll have to make this quick," she whispered into the girl's ear. But Torrie, the pink-haired girl in question, didn't exactly seem nervous. She actually looked anxious. Isabel tried shaking the web, but it was secure. "You did a good job . . . for once," she said, roughly grabbing both of Torrie's exposed breasts. Then she grabbed the girl's tough little nipples and pulled on them with some force, extending them away from the breast. She heard Torrie groan into her gag. So Isabel pulled harder. She held the distended nipples for about twenty seconds, waiting until Torrie's chest began to heave before releasing them. She drug her fingernails up and down Torrie's rock-hard abs. She did it just hard enough to leave temporary white-line crisscrossing that perfect skin, but not enough to do any actual damage.

Finally, she let her hand drift to the front of Torrie's thong. Sure enough, the captive girl was wet as could be. "You nasty little slut. You're actually turned on, aren't you? A bitch in heat . . . that's what you are!" Isabelle pinched Torrie's swollen mound through the moist fabric, and Torrie let loose a gasp of air through her nose. "How many things have you had in here?" she started, pinching again, "And you're still not satisfied? Disgusting!"

Torrie's entire body was warm with excitement. Isabel had become a much more adept mistress in the almost year that they had been together, and she knew how to make Torrie suffer the way she longed to suffer. But when she looked into those emerald green eyes of her mistress, she didn't see contempt or even anger. Rather, she saw total devotion and more than a little mischief.

Isabel released the pinch and started running a finger up and down Torrie's slot, pushing the girl's panties into her pussy as she went. With her other hand, she once again grabbed on of Torrie's nipples and extended it, twisting it a little bit as well. She could tell that Torrie was incredibly turned on because she was panting through her nose. Isabel let go of the nipple and gave Torrie's breast a quick slap, making the flesh turn pink. Then she grabbed the nipple on the other breast and repeated the process, but she never stopped stimulating Torrie's opening. Isabel's finger was damp, so she brought it to her mouth, sucked it clean and then sent it back to work. She wanted to fuck Torrie so bad and get that beautiful face between her thighs, but they were on a time frame. So she would have to settle for a little "torture" and a rain-check. Besides, Torrie had done a good job constructing the metal web, so she deserved her treat.

Torrie had been horny as hell all day, and Isabel knew just how to treat her. Torrie's nipples were throbbing perfectly and the slaps against her breasts stung just right. And that persistent stroking of her mound was infuriating. Then she felt her mistress push the thong aside and pinch Torrie's inner labia. 'Just touch it, please?!?' she thought desperately. And sure enough, Isabel placed her thumb lightly on top of Torrie's clitoral hood and began to rub it in small circles. Torrie's body succumbed to incredible pleasure. She strained against her bonds and the metal web, but she was held fast as her toned body was ravaged by orgasm. She was dripping cum down her inner thighs and moaning happily into her ball gag. Finally, her body was able to relax.

Isabel wiped up some come with the fingers from one hand while removing Torrie's gag with the other. She shoved four fingers into Torrie's mouth, causing the girl to gag as she attempted to lick and/or suck them clean. Then Isabel withdrew her hand. "Your depraved natured knows no bounds," she said huskily. She moved in as if to kiss Torrie, but instead took the girl's bottom lip in her teeth, bit lightly on it and pulled outward. She held it for several seconds, released it, and finally kissed her slave full and hard on the lips. "We still have a while. Whatever shall I do with my nasty little whore?" She wandered over to where her purse was sitting and grabbed a string of vibrating pleasure balls. She went back over to Torrie's bound body, activated the balls and pushed them one-by-agonizing-one into Torrie's pussy. When Isabel was done, Torrie's legs pressed together in a desperate attempt to intensify the sensations emanating from her crotch. Isabel walked over to the wall, where a number of paddles were hanging. This was just one of many "playrooms" in Dark Eden that had its own toys. Isabel grabbed what was basically a heavy ping-pong paddle covered in latex and headed back over to Torrie.

The hole in the center of the metal web was directly behind the girl's ass, which was an intentional feature of the installation. Mr. X used to have old fashioned stocks in the room, but they weren't able to be custom fit to their occupant like the web was, and had led to several unwanted injuries, including Torrie. Torrie had still wanted to participate in some of the games at Dark Eden, so she had devised this device. The hole in the web allowed for paddling, but prevented people from hauling back and hitting harder than they should.

Isabel gave Torrie a fast spank on her muscular butt, then watched the skin turn pink on one cheek. On the next swat, she made sure to nail the other cheek. This was Torrie's ultimate reward, as the pink-haired girl was literally addicted to being spanked. It was her ultimate drug . . . her ultimate high . . . her ultimate reward. And with those little plastic spheres humming away inside her pussy and shifting a bit every time Torrie's squeezed her vaginal muscles after a swat, she knew that Torrie was in heaven all her own.

Torrie was biting her bottom lip and sweat was dripping off her brow. She had actually cum just from being spanked before, but the vibrating toys inside her body were taking things to a different level of ecstasy. Isabel had done similar things before, and she knew that they worked. Torrie's ass was lit up like a Christmas tree, and her only regret was that she couldn't stick it out to meet those welcome spanks.

Isabel stuck her hand in through the top of her pants and began to finger herself as she continued to spank her girlfriend/submissive. Torrie was one of the most sought-after slaves in Dark Eden on those occasions where slaves were auctioned or traded, but Isabel had become increasingly picky about who was allowed to sample Torrie's wares. Making Torrie's body a rare commodity increased Isabel's bargaining power, and both girls enjoyed teasing everyone. Isabel increased her fingering, desperate to achieve release at least once before they had to get ready for business. Since Torrie's ass was passing "pink" and working on "red," Isabel dropped the paddle and just grabbed that beaten flesh. She curved her fingers inward, realizing that she was already close to orgasm. Just being around Torrie got her excited! She slid her hand between Torrie's ass cheeks and thrust her middle finger into Torrie's asshole and began to wiggle it. Torrie's sphincter clamped down on the invader, but it was out of instinct rather than resistance. Torrie had endured MUCH bigger things up there than a finger in her sexual career.

"Muh. . . mistress . . . I . . . I'm going to . . . oh sweet mistress!" Torrie whimpered as she was over come with pleasure for the second time. The finger in her ass had been just the catalyst that her tortured body needed, and her juices flowed down her thighs to mix with the cum that had already dried down there.

Isabel's frantic fingers made sure that she was close behind. She leaned her head against one of the bards just behind Torrie's head, bracing herself as she climaxed. She never stopped moving that hand, but did pull her finger out of Torrie's ass. When her body stopped trembling, she finally pulled her hand out of her pants, thrust it through the bars and hooked it back until Torrie was once again forced to lick a hand clean of jizz.

"Good girl," Isabel whispered from the other side of the web. "But now we have to get ready for work."

Torrie pouted even as Isabel came around to uncuff her, but her mistress was right. And when Isabel kissed her again, she ceased to BE her mistress and became her girlfriend again.

"Let's hit the showers," Isabel said, handing Torrie her clothes. "It's almost showtime . . ."

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A little while later . . .

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Mr. X patiently was sitting in his office when his guests arrived. He had finished fucking his own slave, who also happened to be his wife Laura, as they watched what was going on between Isabel and Torrie. He enjoyed seeing Torrie dominated . . . for him, she was forbidden fruit. And Laura enjoyed it when he took his sexual frustration out on her. But Laura had gone back up to the front desk and had just buzzed him, letting him know that he had company.

Laura escorted two young women to his office. One of them was at least six feet tall and lean, with a fairly tight looking body. She had incredibly evenly tanned skin and had the look of someone not unaccustomed to physical labor. But what really set her apart were her hair and eyes. Her eyes were pale-blue and her hair was almost white. The woman had some definite Nordic blood flowing in her veins from somewhere that had been mixed with something else. Mr. X's first impression was that she was a formidable woman, particularly for someone so young. He pegged her to be in her mid-twenties.

"Hello," she said firmly, extending her hand. "You must be 'Mr. X'?"

"Yes," he said with a smile, shaking her hand. "But since this is business rather than pleasure, my real name is Paul Smythe, and feel free to call me Paul." He normally didn't like to use his real name at the club, but recent suggestions by Isabel as well as his own normal business sense made it necessary from time to time.

"Elizabeth Price," the woman said with a brilliantly white smile. "Call me Liz. And this is Alice Stroub. My . . . companion."

The other girl couldn't have been more physically different. She was only about five-foot six-inches tall, with medium-to-long brown hair and a soft but pleasantly curved body. There was an angelic . . . almost innocent quality about her that was slightly captivating. While her companion was dressed in an all-black business pants-suit, Alice was wearing a purple cotton sun-dress, them hem of which came down to the back of her knees. The calf-high leather boots were the only thing she wore that looked normal in a fetish club, but Mr. X was willing to bet that her soft outer façade was probably a tad deceiving.

"Nice to meet you," he said, offering her his hand. She accepted it, stepping out from behind her . . . companion. She was most definitely the submissive, but her current stance indicated that she might also just be a little shy.

"Nice to meet you too," she said, her voice clear and actually quite pretty.

"Well, if you would accompany me, I'll let you meet the artist." Mr. X led the couple down the stairs towards the back of his office, down a few dark hallways until emerging in the auction room, where Isabel and Torrie were waiting. "Ms. Price, this is Isabel Turner and Torrie Jones. Torrie's the one you want to talk to about any custom equipment, and Ms. Turner will likely be running the day to day operations of Dark Eden by the time your conference rolls around."

Isabel had changed into business attire, but Torrie was wearing her "naughty chauffeur" outfit. Skin-tight, hip-hugging spandex pants tucked into black leather, stiletto-heeled boots, a black spandex tube top that exposed her washboard abs, a black PVC half-jacket that had long sleeves but otherwise didn't make it down past her breasts in front and her chauffeur's cap. The whole ensemble was topped off with dark John Lenin sunglasses and black dress gloves. Hell, she was the artist . . . she was allowed to act out a bit.

"Pleasure to finally meet you both," said Liz, sizing up the two women.

"Likewise," returned Isabel. "So, how about we tour the facility and you tell us a little bit about this organization of yours?"

"That would be great," Liz idly replied, looking at the web.

Mr. X and Isabel smiled, then the former said, "That was the first work I commissioned from Ms. Jones. She designed our new lounge tables, which you'll see in a moment, but we had to have someone else actually do the building due to the scope of the project and the immediacy of the need. But from here on out, we hope to use her unique talents on a number of projects," he finished.

Torrie blushed a little with pride, but she knew that she still had a lot to prove.

"Why a web?" Liz asked.

"Mr. X . . . sorry, Paul . . . forgot this is a business meeting," Torrie said, causing the others to chuckle. "I'm feeling a bit underdressed . . . or maybe overdressed . . . anyway, Paul had some old-fashioned stocks in here. They had a definite nostalgia value but they were very customizable. After some unnecessary injuries that resulted from poor fit, he decided to replace them, but needed something that slaves could be secured to for auction. The auctions . . . actually, I'll let him explain that at another time. But I thought that this design suited the atmosphere quite well, it's customizable to fit anyone placed in the web, and should help prevent certain types of injuries that had been taking place."

"I like it," Liz said. "And the rubber helps protect the captive. A little more extravagant than what I'm looking for, but impressive. Have their been any problems?"

Torrie grinned. "Not so far. We've done some testing over the last couple of days, but I think more might be wise."

"Of course you do," Isabel said, kissing Torrie on the cheek. Then she led the small party towards the lounge, where everyone was given a drink. Some of the patrons gave approving glances at the four women, and some were outright gawking at Torrie. The group sat down for a moment. Isabel pointed out the new "cage tables," that Mr. X had been talking about. They were basically circular plexiglass tabletops adorning steel cages, each of which were large enough to hold a human being on his or her hands and knees. A patron could store his or her submissive and/or other belongings down there and then lock the cage, taking the key with them as they enjoyed the various aspects of the club.

"Isn't that a little . . . dangerous?" Alice said, speaking for the first time since introductions.

"Not especially," said Mr. X. "This entire room is monitored by video cameras, and each member of security has skeleton keys with which to open the cages. And Ms. Jones installed a very sneaky backup."

Torrie got on her hands and knees and crawled into an open cage. Isabel knelt and locked the door behind her, taking the key. "See, each cage has padding on the floor for the submissive's comfort. But if the individual needs to get out and can't get anyone's attention," Torrie said, reaching up and pulling on a latch that couldn't be seen from the outside, causing the opposite side of the cage to swing gently open. "I don't believe that safety should EVER be compromised, even in the realm of sexual domination. Every submissive that is allowed in or registered at the club knows about the release switch. It became club policy as soon as the tables were built," she said, giving Mr. X a smile and a nod.

"Impressive!" Liz said. "Want to give it a try?" she asked Alice.

Alice was blushing from head to toe, but she was also enchanted with the idea. She wondered how much one would cost and if she could get one custom-ordered. She got down onto her knees after Isabel unlocked the cage and Torrie crawled out the other side. She crawled in, her hips almost instinctively beginning to sway. Her sundress was long enough that her privates weren't exposed, but she knew she was getting checked out anyway. Once inside and knowing what she was looking for, the latch was actually fairly easy to find.

"I think we might need one of these back at home," Liz said as Alice went through the other side of the cage.

"Liz!" Alice said, blushing some more.