Our Only Hope - S01 E01

Story 10 months ago

Our Only Hope - S01 E01

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 1

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Chapter One

Mistress Aleana[i]

I don’t follow social media, but I do have accounts on each of the major platforms. They aren’t under my name, but I have them. Recently three different friends contacted me about an image that was apparently directed to me, so I had to actually sign in and check my accounts.

The image wasn’t sent or shared to me and I wasn’t tagged on it under any of my account names, but once I found the image, it was obvious that it was intended for me. The image was of a naked young woman bound spreadeagled against a wall with a sign dangling from a bright red ballgag that had been wedged firmly between her teeth. Thick leather straps stretched her arms up and out very tightly so that she was almost standing on her tiptoes. Similar straps pulled her ankles fully out, causing the muscles to stand out on her legs and forcing her cunt to gap slightly from the strain. The strap for the gag was excessively tight so that the thin black leather forced the flesh of her cheeks against and almost between her teeth. The sign itself hung down in front of her breasts and said simply, “W, you are our only hope.” There was also a link to a video on PornHub. In all likelihood, clicking on the image would take me directly to that video.

There are a lot of Ws in the world, but I– and anyone who had ever worked closely with me– knew that this message was intended only for me. The “W” in the message wasn’t printed on the paper like the rest of the message. Instead, it was one of my cards, taped to the paper on which the message was printed. My card is very distinctive because of its pale azure blue color and the small frame embossed around the edges of the card. The card is also totally blank except for a large embossed “W” printed in black in the middle of the face of the card. If I want to give a number or email address or whatever to someone, I write it on the back of the card. It was definitely one of my cards. And I don’t hand out my cards to just everyone, so in all likelihood I had personally met whoever had this card.

Beneath the image was a caption which read, “If you can find them you can free them.” At the bottom of the white caption area was another line typed in one of those fonts which are supposed to look like they are hand written. It said, “Or die trying.”

The picture appeared to have been taken in a basement area– at least the walls were block that had been painted white a long time ago and there didn’t appear to be any windows. Nothing looked familiar to me about the setting. I couldn’t see anything special about the woman in the image other than the fact that her eyes appeared to be wide with fear. I didn’t click on the link, but instead copied the URL and checked PornHub to see if it was valid. It was.

A thirty-minute video came up featuring the same young woman hanging in a bondage frame with the same white block walls in the background. A completely masked and hooded, but otherwise naked, man was standing directly in front of her. Another equally naked and equally masked and hooded man was standing behind her. At an off-screen command of “Begin!” both moved forward and drove their pricks into her body. She grunted loudly, but did not scream.

Both men pumped into her for several minutes until they evidently spurted up into her. She remained more or less unresponsive during the ordeal. After a command of “Next!” the two men pulled out in unison and stepped out of the picture. Two more men took their place, and at the command of “Begin!” entered the woman and began pumping.

When they had finished, a strange-looking machine was rolled under the woman’s spread legs. There were two small motors within an open frame with two rods sticking up through it on which were mounted two ebony black dildos. One of the dildos was ribbed, about ten inches long and probably two inches across. The other dildo was smaller and smooth, almost shiny.

One of the masked men locked the cart holding the machine in place while the other guided the smaller dildo into the woman’s ass and then made some sort of adjustment to the rod on which it was mounted. After a few moments, the other masked man guided the larger dildo into the woman’s cunt. Apparently no adjustment was needed. A third man squirted some sort of lubricant on both dildos.

Again there was a call to begin and the motors began turning at a very low speed. As they turned, the dildos were slowly driven in and out of the woman’s cunt and ass. It was obvious from the variations in the humming heard on the video, the speed of the motors could be independently controlled. The two motors gradually changed speed on a more or less random basis. It took almost thirty minutes, but eventually the woman’s body overruled her mind. She opened her mouth wide and groaned out in orgasm. As she did, both motors went to maximum speed. They continued at that speed until she once again reached orgasm. This time she screamed loudly as her body shook and trembled in her restraints. The motors stopped while she was writhing and pulling at her bonds.

When she regained control and was again silent, the motors returned to their lowest speed and a voice said sarcastically, “W, you are her only hope.” He then laughed softly, but bitterly, and added, “If you find them, you can free them...” After a pause, he added curtly, ‘... or die trying.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself. An old saying of my grandfather’s was repeating in the back of my mind, “Your anger is your enemy’s best weapon.” That was not his only advice on handling enemies. He had grown up in the land which originated another well-known phrase, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” People think Italians are hot-blooded. They are with their friends, but with their enemies, they are as cold as ice.

My body was almost shaking with anger, but I wasn’t about to do anything rash. Besides, I needed more information before I could do anything. I decided to contact Boris and Natasha, my trusted nerds who were much more skilled in things which appear on the internet, to see if they could uncover anything else in the image or video. I figured it would take a little while for them to respond, but was surprised when Boris immediately replied with a link to a large file buried on a commercial site. As typical with Boris, there was no lengthy message with the link.

The file, however, was quite lengthy... and very wordy. It was a forensic evaluation of the image with Boris’ voice narrating as an arrow cursor moved around the image. Portions would highlight and become slightly larger as he pointed to them with the arrow.

“The caption and link are with the earliest versions of the image which I can find on either the open or dark web” he said carefully. “So evidently it is part of the original post. Also, the sign shows no signs of being edited or pasted in and is most likely a part of the original image.” A highly-magnified circle moved around the edges of the sign and across the letters. Then Boris said, “Since the sign and message are real, that would mean that, in all likelihood, the female in the picture did not post this image.”

I wasn’t sure that I totally agreed with him on that, but I would take his advice under consideration. He was usually right in his analysis of technical things.

“The image is very high resolution,” he continued, “which allowed me to discover several interesting things about this woman.” As if to prove his point, he zoomed in on the woman’s eye until only the pupil was visible.

“Unfortunately, there are no usable reflections in her eyes,” he said as everything zoomed back to the original image. “I could determine, however, that the woman is a natural redhead.” As he said that a highly magnified portion of the image appeared in a small circle near the woman’s crotch. “And it would appear that her pubic area is shaved, not plucked or permanently denuded.”

The natural redhead I could see as the magnification of the circle increased until it showed the slight bronze stubble on her pubic mound, but knowing that her cunt was shaved rather than plucked was a mystery until two additional circles appeared on the image that were not part of the original image.

“Notice that the hair on this female has a thick, square look to it,” Boris continued as his arrow pointed to the woman’s magnified mound. Then his arrow moved to one of the new circles. “Whereas,” he said, now sounding like a professor lecturing a class, “... the hair on this cunt which was plucked appears fine and pointed.” His cursor then moved to the third circle. “And the hair on this cunt, which was permanently treated, is extremely fine and almost non-existent.”

The circles disappeared, but Boris’ voice continued. “I’m not sure what it means, but her cunt was most likely shaved about a week before this image was taken.”

Another circle appeared on the image. This time it was a closeup of the woman’s pussy lips. “It would appear,” his voice continued in his flat, analytical way, “that the female is not sexually excited, or at least there is no apparent moisture visible on her labia. They are not swollen, and her clit is not engorged.”

The circle disappeared and a new one appeared with the green eye staring wildly out at me. “And her eyes show the correct widening to correspond to fear,” he continued, “which means that she is most likely an unwilling participant in taking this picture. That, combined with the shaving and the fact that there is a slight ‘cheaters mark’ on her left ring finger, tell me that this is a married woman who was perhaps recently abducted, quite likely about a week before the image was taken.”

His arrow moved to the link at the very bottom of the image. “I will let you watch the video in the link,” he said. “There is nothing of technical importance in the video itself except for the fact that it continues to appear that the woman is an unwilling participant. The quality of the video makes it very difficult to do in-depth evaluation, but it is my interpretation that the woman’s cunt might be freshly shaven when the video was made, so the video was made before the image.”

The entire image blurred out and Boris’ voice became slightly different. “I need to say what you are most likely already thinking,” he said as a slightly smaller, moving image overlaid the frighten female. It was that weird, fish-like Admiral Ackbar from one of the old Star Wars movies saying, “It’s a trap!”

‘One final thing,” Boris said as the admiral disappeared and a circle opened just to the right of the woman’s feet, “this image was most likely taken in Denmark. The wall plug behind her is a distinctive shape found almost exclusively in Denmark. That shape figured in a book I read recently, so it could be that the sender also read the book and is faking things, or perhaps he or she is just a little careless.”

The image returned to its original state and Boris continued, “There is no metadata contained within the image or the video. It would appear that both the image and the video have been cropped and the captions added with the use of an older, freeware image processor that leaves no information with the photo.”

The video ended at that point and I sat at my desk slowly swirling the glass of bourbon I was holding in my hand. I didn’t need some Star Wars character to tell me that this was most likely a trap, but the rest of the information was helpful. One item that Boris did not mention was the name of this woman, but he didn’t have to. I knew this woman. She was Mistress Aleana, wife of Master Robert, both members of the Inner Circle of Masters of The Society. She and I were not friends. In fact, she once slapped my face and said that she would figure out a way to bring me down– her exact words.

I also knew the equipment in the video. I had sold it to Master Robert and Mistress Aleana several years ago. It was for use on their slaves– or perhaps for personal use, they never specified. It was the cheapest one I sold with dual penetration capabilities. I think my pointing out that they could afford a much better unit was what started Mistress Aleana’s pique against me. But regardless of what she thought of me... or I thought of her... she was part of the Inner Circle and was possibly in deep trouble.