Animus
Chapter One
Khaley threw her head back while she danced alone amid the throng of sweating,
writhing club-goers. She loved the way her body felt when she danced. She swung
her hips and moved her arms in rhythm, eyes closed, luxuriating in the way her
limbs seemed to flow effortlessly in time with the loud music. Her body slick
with sweat, her tight black leather pants slid against her skin as she moved.
Her hair was damp, and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face.
It had become her weekly ritual to dress up and come here, to Pandora, the local
fetish club, and dance until she was exhausted. She'd only lived in this city
for a couple of months, since she'd gotten fed up with her family and moved
without a word, leaving her old life behind. Now, Khaley lived her life
privately, deliberately staying on the outskirts of any social life or intimacy.
She'd had enough of that. Now, she flowed through her days uninterrupted, and it
felt like a sort of dream. Khaley had saved up a large sum of money before
leaving home, the result of two years of full-time work, and living rent free in
her parent's house. So far she hadn't gotten a job here in this new city. And so
far, she didn't need to. So her days were spent browsing book stores, and
lounging in coffee shops. And her nights... her nights were spent exploring the
city, prowling around in clothing she never dreamed she'd wear, going into
establishments she never dreamed she'd have the courage or desire to enter.
The song ended, and as the DJ called out to the crowd, Khaley made for the bar,
thirsty from all the dancing. She ordered a gin a tonic and leaned back against
the bar to cool down a bit and watch. The DJ was announcing a Dom and sub that
would soon start a scene onstage for all to watch. The crowd cheered loudly at
this, Master James and his veronica were a favorite couple of the regulars here.
Khaley was mildly disappointed, since it would now be awhile before she'd get to
dance again, but she enjoyed watching the scenes, so she settled on a barstool
and waited for the show.
____________________________
"So, what have you found out?"
Stephen Dale, the owner of The Pandora nightclub slid into his private booth
next to Brandon, who was busy watching the scene that was taking place in the
middle of the stage.
"Did you get all of the information we need?" Stephen asked. Brandon pulled his
attention away from the stage, and fixed his gaze on Stephen with a grin,
nodding his head.
"She's perfect, Sir," Brandon began, "Her family doesn't know where she is and
doesn't really care. She doesn't have a job, and as far as I can tell, she has
made no friends. There is no one to check up on her or notice that she is
missing."
Stephen nodded his head, his eyes wandering over the crowd and then settling
again on Brandon. He laughed a quiet laugh, excitement showing in his eyes.
"You've done well, Brandon. I'm very pleased." Stephen leaned over and stroked
Brandon's face with the back of his hand, and then planted a light kiss on his
lips. Brandon beamed with pleasure and closed his eyes.
"Tonight, then?" Brandon asked hesitantly.
"Yes, tonight," Stephen replied.
Stephen pulled a small packet from his pocket, holding it out to Brandon.
Brandon nodded, and as he slid from the booth, he took the packet and put it in
his pocket, heading for the bar.
____________________________
"Another Gin and Tonic please," Khaley ordered another drink absentmindedly, her
eyes glued to the woman on stage who was tied to a table and moaning while her
Master whipped her. The woman, Veronica, was gorgeous. Her blond hair was long
and flowing around her, sticking to her face while she lay there moaning. She
had on only a small latex thong and a pair of black boots, laced up to her
knees. It was obvious that she kept in great shape, her abdominal muscles
flexing as she strained against her bindings, her legs long and beautifully
sculpted. Khaley was mesmerized by this woman's grace. Even in her struggles, it
was plain that she was caught up in some slow dreamy form of ecstasy. Her eyes
were always on her Master, as though to lose sight of him would be to lose
herself. And James, her Master, spoke to her quietly while he put on the show,
attentive always to her body language, her facial expressions. Khaley felt she
could sense his love for Veronica all the way across the room, as she watched
the couple move through this intimate scene together as though no one else was
present. She felt a brief pang of jealousy over what these two so obviously
shared, but then the jealousy was replaced by mild embarrassment at the thought
of being in Veronica's place.
Khaley was pulled out of her thoughts by the bartender, who had set the drink
down on the bar, and was trying to ask her if she was running a tab. She turned
around, pulling money out of her pocket to pay for the drink, and realized this
bartender wasn't the usual one. This one looked incredibly young, almost too
young to even be in here. She thought he looked familiar, but shrugged it off
and handed him the cash.
"My name is Brandon," he told her as he took the money, and gave her a sweet
boyish grin, "I'm just giving the regular bartender a break, but if you need
anything in the next twenty minutes or so, just wave me down."
Khaley smiled and thank him. As he moved down the bar to take another order, she
lay down a large tip, thinking he sure was friendly, and then began to wander
through the crowd, drink in hand.
After another thirty minutes, the music was blaring again. Once the scene ended,
the couple from the stage retreated to a back room to recover, and as the DJ
started up the music, Khaley gulped down the last of her drink and headed back
out to the dance floor.
Her head was feeling a bit fuzzy, her body tingling all over. She wondered if
she'd had too much to drink, but continued to dance, enjoying the relaxing new
sensations. The colors and lights in the large room began to blur together. The
music, and the sounds of laughter and conversation around her became loud and
distorted, yet it seemed far away, as though it were all being piped to her
through a long funnel. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her body, to
stay with her own rhythmic movement. Soon she felt as though she were falling
into a dream, all sound moving further and further away. She opened her eyes,
but everything was a blur, and darkness began to close in. Disorientation,
confusion. Khaley suddenly couldn't remember where she was, and her cheek was
pressed against the cold floor, her hand curled around a stale cigarette butt.
She stared at it in confusion. Feet appeared in front of her eyes, but she
couldn't look up to see who the feet belonged to. Her eyes were so heavy, she
wanted to close them, just for a moment.... And then she was enveloped in the
darkness of deep dreamless sleep.
____________________________
Stephen hummed along with the radio as he drove up the long driveway to his
house. He was in an exceptionally good mood. The club was becoming more and more
popular, making him a very rich man. He had this beautiful house set far enough
away from the city to give him the privacy he needed. He had beautiful, young,
pliant Brandon at his beck and call. And now, the first phase of his newest
venture was panning out flawlessly.
Nearing the four car garage, he punched a button on the car's control panel, and
the garage door began to quickly slide open. He pulled into the open space
nearest the house, and punching the button again, the door slid shut behind him.
He stepped out of the car and stood still for a moment, listening. Silence. Not
a sound coming from the large house. Nodding and grinning to himself, he quickly
walked through the door leading from the garage to the kitchen, and made his way
toward the living room.
The living room was huge. There were several large, plush leather couches with
throw pillows scattered randomly. The hardwood floor was covered in a thick
oriental rug. In the corner was a huge fireplace that Stephen adored more for
the mood it set than the warmth it provided. Against the far wall was a fully
stocked wet bar. It was to the bar that he made his way now. He filled a glass
with ice and poured himself a generous glass of bourbon, and then sat down on
the nearest couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, lost in thought.
Stephen was thinking about the secret rooms under the house, and what he knew
was going on down there right now. When he'd had this house built, he had
special rooms put in beneath the main house, accessible only through a hidden
panel in the back of Stephen's large walk-in closet. For the most part, the
rooms remained empty. But at times they came in quite handy.
Stephen's thoughts wandered then to memories of the last time he'd had use for
those rooms. The memories were sweet. His Brandon, so beautiful in his fear and
torment. Stephen had enjoyed Brandon's training in a way he never imagined he
could. Images of Brandon bound naked flashed through Stephen's mind, long red
marks covering his body, Brandon blindfolded, sobbing and struggling. The venom
in his voice as he screamed at Stephen that he was a monster had only stirred
pure arousal in Stephen, and excited him more at the prospect of the continued
training. Then he thought of Brandon's slow submission. His sweet quavering
voice, his body yielding slowly to Stephen's every whim.
He thought of his growing need to see Brandon's pain, and to see love in his
eyes while he endured that pain. Sweet Brandon. He had endured so much for his
Master. Stephen had begun to worry that he might inflict permanent damage one of
these nights, though. More and more he was finding himself filled with such
mounting lust for the sight of Brandon's pain twisted face, he was taking things
to further and further extremes. Brandon begged for it, which threw him into a
fury of need, and often when it was over, Brandon required several days of
recovery before his body would cooperate with him again.
Stephen realized he'd become incredibly aroused during his mental wanderings.
It's time to go downstairs, he decided, and see how things were coming along. He
got up, poured himself another drink, and made his way to the bedroom, where he
would open the hidden panel, and descend the stairs to his secret rooms.
____________________________
Khaley was dreaming of her childhood. Her father was yelling at her again.
Something about playing with the boys on the playground. He'd seen her, he said.
He knew she played with them. He sneered at her and said that he bets she lets
them play with her in all kinds of ways. Khaley didn't know what he meant. She
was scared. She didn't know what she'd done wrong, but she knew she didn't like
the way her father got when he was angry. She cowered on her bed, trying to pull
her pleated skirt down to cover as much of her legs as possible. Tried to hide
in the corner, praying he wouldn't touch her. But when father was mad, he always
touched her. In slow motion, Khaley watched as her father pushed her flat on her
back and hiked up her skirt. She struggled to keep from crying. He was telling
her she deserved what he did to her, that she asked for it. She hated the way
her stomach felt sick when this happened. She didn't understand why he did this,
but she supposed he was right, she probably deserved it.
Khaley jolted awake, breathing rapidly, still seeing images of her father's
sneering face. Thank god, she thought. It's just a dream.
But something wasn't right. Khaley struggled to open her eyes and throw off the
lingering fog of sleep. She tried to lower her arm to rub her face, but
couldn't. In a panic, Khaley realized she was blindfolded and couldn't move her
arms. I must still be dreaming, she thought. But as she slowly tested each arm,
pulling, and twisting, she knew she was awake, and that her wrists were bound
above her head with rope. She tried to move her legs and found that they too
were bound at the ankle. She struggled helplessly, panicking and groaning,
chaffing her wrists and ankles against the rope. But it was useless. She was
tied too tightly.
She had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there. All she could remember
was being at the Pandora, dancing, and then... nothing. What had happened to
her?? Fear gripped her as she thought of all the stories of girls being drugged
at bars and raped or killed. She prayed that this was somehow something
different, but couldn't think of any other scenario that fit. She fought to hold
her panic at bay and think, what could she do? Should she scream?
Just then she jumped as she felt a hand touch her leg. She began to scream and
jerk uselessly at her bonds to escape the hand. But it continued to touch her.
It was touching her bare skin, Khaley thought, as it dawned on her that she was
naked in addition to being bound and gagged. Her screaming and panic increased
as she thrashed. The hand disappeared then, and after a few more moments of
futile struggle, Khaley quieted down and began listening for whoever owned that
hand that had touched her.
"It's useless to struggle, you know," I male voice spoke, soft and gentle, but
still menacing to Khaley's terrified mind. "Get used to the blindfold and ropes.
You're going to be living with them for a long time."
"Who are you," Khaley choked out, trying not let the panic show in her voice.
But the man didn't speak again. He was moving around the room. There were
footsteps a few feet away, and then rustling noises. "Please," Khaley sobbed,
"what's going on? Who are you?" And then she screamed, a shrill, hysterical
scream, as a stinging pain accompanied by a sharp cracking noise shot across her
ribcage.
"Oh, GOD," Khaley screamed, "Please don't hurt me, please, please, I'll do
anything, please." Crack! The pain again, across her upper thighs. Khaley's
pleas became incoherent as she struggled against her bonds, terrified of this
unknown pain and this unknown man. Then more pain, again across her ribs, and
then across her belly.
The jolts of pain became more rapid, searing across her body, seeming to cover
every inch from her ankles to her breasts. Her whole body was aflame, her wrists
and ankles raw from struggling against the course rope, her voice hoarse from
screaming, and yet the assault continued on. Khaley lost all sense of time, it
felt like this had gone on for hours. Her mind became foggy and her terror
subsided a bit. She was afraid for her life but too exhausted to struggle and
scream anymore, her entire existence was the pain she felt, and the cracking
sound that soon became an anchor that she held onto, just to keep track of
herself.
Then it stopped. At first, Khaley wasn't sure if it really had stopped, or if
she had just become so numb that she didn't feel it anymore. She couldn't think
straight. Her whole body was pulsing and burning.
Then she felt a hand on her arm, and a prick. And once again, she tumbled into
unconsciousness.
-End of Chapter One-
