Our Only Hope - S01 E14

Story 10 months ago

Our Only Hope - S01 E14

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 14

Like such a barrel, this one could apparently also be turned to any position. Currently it was positioned so that Mistress Tenesha’s head was on the top. That meant that her body was curved back around the barrel with her lower legs on the bottom and her feet slightly past the bottom curve. It was only because her body was stretched so tight from where her wrists were bound to where her ankles were bound that she did not sag away from the slats of the barrel.

A myriad of black wires led from a small control panel that was sitting on a stand alongside the barrel to which the Mistress’ body was strapped. Each of those wires terminated in a small, square patch that was attached to some portion of her body. In addition, wires led to a large cap of some sort attached to each of her nipples. Several wires also led between her legs, apparently connected to something inserted in her cunt and ass.

A voice offscreen said cheerfully, “Welcome to the Monty Brothers music video channel. Today we have an old favorite accompanied by one of our favorite singers, Mistress Tenesha White. This song is dedicated to one of our favorite watchers, W. And remember, W, even though you might not be able to understand her, the name of this song is, ‘W, you are our only hope.’”

The voice suddenly became very harsh and flat. “You can save them by turning yourself in to us. Just text your current location to this number.” A phone number appeared on the bottom of the video. “Verify yourself by giving the derisive name you used to describe my brother and his wife.”

A loud song with a pounding bass guitar beat then began. The controller box was evidently synced to the song because small blue lights began flashing in time to the music on the electrode pads on Mistress Teresha’s body. Evidently the cunt and ass dildo electrodes were synced to the guitar. Their brighter red lights flashed exactly in time with the beat and intensity of its driving rhythm. Mistress Teresha began screaming, her screams modulated by the guitar’s repeating riff. That continued for perhaps two minutes and then suddenly ended with a loud, crashing explosion of cymbals and drums. A bright, white light flashed near the top of the Mistress’ cunt. It continued to flicker slightly as the ring of the cymbal slowly died away. From her response, I assumed that white light was on a clit clip electrode. Sweat was now dripping off her entire body.

After the loud song ended, a very soft slow dance song of some sort began and the voice again spoke. “As you know, W, at low levels these electrodes can be rather pleasurable. But to help our captive Mistress with her time of pleasure, we are activating the vibrators in the dildo electrodes.” He laughed. “If she responds the way she did the last time, the first of our slow dances should last almost an hour.” He laughed again. “This Mistress,” he said between laughs, “is as good as any slave at holding back her orgasms.”

The voice turned harsh again, “How long will you let her go on like this, W? Surrender to us now. Call the number on the screen. If not, our original offer still stands... if you can find her... you can free her...” His voice became almost a snarl as he ended with, “... or die trying.”

“Is that live streaming?” I asked Boris.

“Yes... no,” he answered. “It’s live streaming, but it is echoing a different site that is echoing a different site that is echoing a different site that might be playing a recording of some sort. At least, I’ve traced it back that far. Who knows how many different sites he is using before going public on this darkporn site.”

“So we can’t find him.” I said.

“Not necessarily,” Boris replied. “If he keeps using the same music– and if you are willing to drop some bits– I think some of my friends might be willing to put in the effort to trap the initial upload or the source of the live feed.”

“How many Bitcoins do you think it will take?” I asked.

“It has to be a really good prize to get a lot of them involved.” Boris answered. “Can you go with five?”

“$40,000,” I said slowly. “That kind of money transfer might attract the attention of some IRS or DEA people, but yes, I can put that kind of money into Bitcoins. It might be a bit difficult to explain on my expense account when I bill The Society, but I can make it work.”

Actually, it was Boris who made it work. I opened one of my on-line accounts and authorized the funds. Then he did the actual purchase of the coins and set them up as a prize in his weird contest. Whoever delivered the originating IP first would get the unlock codes.

“I’m afraid the net is going to slow down slightly,” Boris said sheepishly after he finished announcing the contest to his darkweb friends. He waited a few seconds to enjoy my look of confusion and then said, “Five Bitcoins is a lot of dark money to offer as a reward. So right now there are half a million sniffer bots scouring the web for the telltale signature of that audio. Its going to overwhelm some of the nodes and slow down normal traffic.” He shrugged, “That happens anyway once in a while when a bot program is badly written... or if it is too well-written and sophisticated and goes rogue.”

Anticipating my question of “How sophisticated are these bots?” he grinned at me and said, “You really don’t want to know.” He then relaxed slightly and said, “Now we wait.”

***

I don’t know if Boris or Natasha got any sleep overnight, but I did. As usual, I was up around two am and checked the computer area. Boris was slouched in his chair still dressed. I didn’t check if he was really asleep. There was no need to wake him if he was. If one of his hacker buddies wanted to claim the prize, I assume there was some sort of alarm that would waken him.

I went on up to the biggest of the fake shacks topside. It was warm, so there was no need for anything more than what I was wearing in bed. Usually I sleep nude, but sharing the housing area with Boris and Natasha prompted me to dig a pair of pajamas out of my dresser.

When I got to the end of the tunnel, I was surprised to see that the lower and upper hatches were already open. I expected to find Natasha in the shack, but instead found poopsie leaning out one of the open windows looking at the stars and the lights of the cars on the highway below. There was enough moon and starlight to nicely illuminate her perfect little heart-shaped ass.

She startled slightly when I came through the hatch. “I’m sorry, Master W,” she said quickly, “I will leave immediately.”

“No, poopsie,” I said with a smile, “you can stay here. I just came up to see something that wasn’t electronic.”

“And something that wasn’t your friends in pain,” she added.

She came over and stood next to me. I keep forgetting how small she really is. She could probably walk under my outstretched arm. She hugged me around the waist, her head pushing into the base of my ribcage. “I’ve never thanked you for saving me from that man,” she said as she rubbed her naked body against my front.

“It was the jaguar who saved you,” I said, trying to sound firm and trying to keep nature from doing what nature does when a naked woman– even a very petite naked woman– rubs her tits against the top of your crotch.

“But you were the one who helped them,” she said, now very intentionally sliding her entire body across the front of my pajamas.

“I don’t think either of us should be doing this,” I said softly.

“Mistress lets her kukolka play with other women... or men,” poopsie said, pressing harder into my groin. She looked up at me, freed my now turgid member from my flimsy pajama pants and added, “... as long as it is not Master Boris.”

Some day my rational mind is going to win the argument with my natural impulses in a situation like this, but this was not that day. She flicked the tip of my prick with her tongue and then turned and leaned out the open window, balancing herself on the wooden frame. She had to almost jump to pull herself over the frame at the waist. Her toes were a couple inches off the floor, but her cunt was at just the right height.