Slave to Cabal

Slave to Cabal
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ISBN:  9781907753473
Author:  Bruce McLachlan
Word Count:  75,244
Format:  eBook

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OublietteOubliette
MoonspawnMoonspawn
MoonslaveMoonslave

'Bend over please,' he said, flexing his fingers in their smooth cocoons.
   Kaitlyn draped her torso onto the tabletop, the cold surface sending a chill through her belly and breasts, making her skin rise with fields of goosebumps and quiver in nervous fits.
   Closing her eyes, Kaitlyn listened with light enthralment as he used plastic bonds to trap the lower reaches of her thighs to the legs of the shortest side. Spreading the limbs wide, the nooses held them firm with a grip that dragged the soft flesh inward and pained her whenever her muscles flexed. The officer took hold of her limp arms and started to steer them behind her back. She gave a tug of resistance, letting him defeat her attempt with his superior strength and allow herself to realise that she was truly helpless to his purpose. The officer applied another hoop and closed it with a chastising yank, trapping her wrists, the bond a dedication of his purpose.
   'Are you sure this is...?'
   'No talking please,' he interrupted brusquely, and snapped a fresh set of latex gloves onto his hands...

An innocent tourist visiting San Francisco, Kaitlyn discovers a secret world of slavery and domination hiding behind the city.

Seduced into their ranks, she becomes property of a mysterious sect known only as Cabal. Here, the noble members scheme and trade the slaves they accumulate, and any fantasy or whim is instantly recreated.

Exploring her submissive nature, Kaitlyn draws the admiration and envy of the slaves, masters and mistresses who come her way, making her a treasured possession whom others fight to acquire and use.

There was a brief hum of an electrical charge washing through the metal and Mina unleashed a yell of shock. Dropping to her knees she cradled her arms, the voltage burst having nipped the flesh, numbing it slightly, leaving her fingertips hot. It was not a severe shock, just enough to cause discomfort, her cry having been more from surprise than pain.
   'Remove your clothes, Miss Kraken!'
   'No!' she spat, throwing her head back from her kneeling pose, furious at being controlled so, at being so helpless to defend herself.
   The soft purring hum of the generators sent a sheet of fire through the floor that wriggled spry tendrils of duress into her legs, her tights doing nothing to stem the current.
   With a cry she jumped up, dropping against the wall for support and massaging the flesh of her thighs and calves, the shock having left them prickly with riots of heat.
   Another jolt of sensation caught her rear as it rested against the cool metal, the spikes of voltage jumping through her skirt and underwear, casting her forward. She tottered uneasily on her shoes, hunched over slightly, holding her aching rear, eyes clenched with endurance as she weathered the far sterner effects of the shock.
   'Miss Kraken, it is futile to deny us. You are now nothing more than corporate property. You will give in to us eventually, but you will find life far less strenuous if you simply acquiesce of your own free will. You will be trained to obey, the process can be pleasant or harsh, depending solely on how willing you are to co-operate.'
   The spines of havoc in her bottom were retreating, leaving her sense of frustration churning her thoughts with resentment. There was no way out, she had to do as they wanted just to get free. She had a mission to complete. If she simply did as she was told, surrendered power for just a while, she could achieve success.
   The generator thrummed again, gathering another more mordant shock, its signal louder each time as they relentlessly increased the setting, seeking the level that would eclipse the fortitude of their latest recruit.
   'Wait, wait!' she implored with a snarl, hands raised in surrender.
   She was tempted to continue her defiance, to sit on the cold floor and endure their attack, show them she was beyond their scope to master. But she needed to find out what was wished of her first. If such bold refusal met with dismissal, she would have failed. Such acts of rebellion would have to wait for a more opportune moment.
   Opening her shirt a button at a time, she slipped out of the white garment, displaying the strapless bra beneath before dropping the garment to the reflective floor.
   As she revealed herself for the gaze of her captors, Mina felt a sudden rush of excitement. It caught her by surprise with its power - the sudden wicked delight in this act of enforced stripping.
   A rush of adrenaline made her stomach flutter. The feeling of being defeated, of having been conquered, was a surprising result to what she should have found abhorrent. Dismissing it, she denied it as a by-product of the electrical castigation, that her senses were merely confused.
   Opening the zip of her skirt, she unbuttoned it at the waist and dropped the material sheath, the fabric airing a delicate rustle against the nylon shell of her legs.
   Kicking off her shoes as she stepped from it, Mina opened her bra and dropped it onto the pile, unveiling her bare assets for the voyeurs, the smooth skin presented in the facets of the mirrored interior.
   Standing only in her tights and underwear, she crossed her arms over her breasts to deprive them of their show, scowling at this treatment. Yet it was there again, lurking at the back of her mind like a monster in the night. She knew they wanted her naked, but she was stopping here, until they forced her on. She wanted them to defeat her, to bend her to their will. Unless they could overcome her stalwart refusal, she would not comply.
   'All of it, Miss Kraken,' stated the voice, and a short jolt of woe was sent through her feet, making her cry out and drop to the floor, nursing her pained soles. Despite her little pricks of eagerness for this ordeal, she relented and peeled herself free of the hosiery, dragging her underwear off and adding them to the pile.
   Huddled in the corner as a bare ball of femininity, holding herself for protection and warmth, she looked around, frightened, not so much of what they would do to her, but what their deeds had set free within her.
   Something had been let loose of its leash, a dedication, a vice she could not fathom or explain, an iniquity that was prowling in her thoughts. For the first time in her life, Mina was actually scared.
   A faint seeping whine of pressure sounded against the quiet. Mina knew what it was and flicked her eyes around to try and find the source.
   The low whistle of gas was a momentary precursor to the acrid cloying scent of an anaesthetic being pumped in to merge with her air to more effectively subdue her.
   Jumping up, she grabbed her shirt and held it to her face to help try and filter out the vapours. Pounding her fist to the door she screamed for help, wailing at the top of her lungs. Skipping back she flung kicks against the unforgiving steel, fighting with all her desperate might, her heel aching from such a virulent onslaught.
   A cloud started to settle through her thoughts, muffling them, making her senses dull. She was still awake, could still think and see, but her body was becoming heavy, difficult to control. A haze rolled through her and she collapsed onto her seat, the shirt falling away. Propped up by the mirrors, Mina watched her slack face and vacant gaze in the opposite wall. As more strength drooled from her, she slowly slid down the cool walls and flopped onto her side, automatic instinct causing her to breathe unreservedly of the new atmosphere.
   Her ability to move was almost non-existent; she was trapped, a prisoner in her own mind, helpless to whatever they were going to do to her. Her attempt to infiltrate this organisation had backfired drastically.
   The doors to the lift opened, revealing two forms. The women were almost as naked as she was, except that each had a polished metal waspie belt cinching their waist. The miniature corset pulled in between ribs and just over their hips, its perfectly moulded contours dragging into an hourglass shape. There were no laces or seams, the device could have been moulded straight onto them so featureless and perfect was its manufacture. A triangular pane dropped from the front and slipped a band between their legs, the mirror-like cone an efficient chastity device.
   Other than these strange devices of sexual incarceration, the two shapely young women wore nothing save gasmasks to protect from lingering fumes. The black latex contraptions hid their features, and a plastic visor revealed eyes marked with subtle shades of make-up. Their heads were shaved to the scalp, dark stubble and latex straps running across them.
   They entered with complete equability to the situation and despite Mina's best efforts to resist, the chemical agent proved a far stronger adversary and kept her impotent.
   Taking her by the arms, they hauled her slack form up and then drew her out, her feet slipping against the floor, the power of even staggering placed well beyond her.
   The chamber without was a place of surgical ambience. White tiled walls and floor were offset against a mirrored ceiling. A line of nine examination tables followed one wall, the padded black leather seats adjustable to a variety of indecent poses. Stirrups with black leather trammels emerged around them, carried by fixed poles. The other walls held cabinets, drawers, places where unknown instruments awaited her.
   One other exit existed, a white door set opposite that bore no handle or lock. The room was a thoroughfare, carrying those who were lowered to it to other places once they had been processed within.
   The room was not unoccupied either, a man in white robes loitered beside an awaiting table, stretching his hands into surgical gloves and hiding the ring he wore. A white rubber gasmask of identical design to his assistants left him devoid of visage, the mirrored visor even keeping his eyes lost to Mina. Powerful of build, he strapped a plastic apron of white across his front while the two women worked.
   Mina was set onto the cold plastic of the chair, its reclining back leaving her almost lying flat. Unable to do anything save watch with mortified angst, her legs were drawn open and set into stirrups. Buckles were placed over and around her ankles, enforcing the lewd split. She forced herself to fight, trying with all her will to move her reluctant flesh. Straining with her thoughts, she yelled with her mind, frantic to achieve movement, but it was useless.
   Secondary restraints were pulled out and caught her knees. Her arms were drawn over her head and bent over the headrest despite her efforts to struggle and stop the process. Leather bonds caught her biceps and wrists, keeping her limbs to this required position. All trace of freedom was slowly being gobbled up. She was losing portions of herself by the second, her body unable to even hamper its reduction to vulnerability.
   The last part of her confinement was the application of straps over her waist and forehead. The women pulled at the excess, tightening the leather strips with a creak of strain before they threaded them through and left her immobile.
   'Now, Miss Kraken, that was very impudent of you in there. Or was it? Did you enjoy your punishment? Was that what possessed you to be so disobedient?' the 'doctor' accused, turning around and lacing his fingers, making sure the gloves were fully on. His voice was muffled slightly, but against the absolute silence she could hear all. The sound of three respirators operating slowly was the only answer, each of their breaths dragging through the layers of protection, purified by their passage.
   'Just a few routine checks and we'll move onto something more interesting, Miss Kraken,' he stated with mirth, mocking her plight as one of the women stroked her hair, seeking to calm her. 'Now if you'll just relax.'
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Another top book from Bruce McLachlan
Thursday, 31 December 2009  | 

After really enjoying Tyra's adventures in Shadows of Torment, I had to read this one. And it's a typically good yarn from Bruce McLachlan, with plenty of fetish content.


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