The Laboratory

DETONATING WITH A DEAFENING, earth-shattering impact, heart-stopping bursts of thunder swiftly followed the almost surreal multi-forks of blinding lightning that had declared war on the castle, as with their wrists bound behind their backs and with the whips of the Amazonian female guards wickedly lashing their naked flesh, Mistress Madonna, Julian and Esmeralda were hustled down the forbiddingly gloomy, steep and well-worn stone steps leading to the depths of the castle. In deadly silence and with candelabra held high, the Baroness and the Marquis led the way as the party descended; their flickering candles shrivelling hideous giant spiders into ashes as the flames swept through the smoky-white silk of the webs that hung in festoons from the ceiling.

After the Marquis had finished fucking Mistress Madonna, the Baroness had suddenly seemed to come to her senses and insisted that the Ceremony must commence as soon as possible. Vladimir would have to postpone his shagging of Mistress Madonna until they were all safely down in the Temple. He had not liked that at all, but persuaded by the Marquis he had grudgingly agreed and so it was that an exceedingly disgruntled Dracula brought up the rear.

When the stone steps gave way to a rough staircase hewn from solid rock, Mistress Madonna realised that they must now have journeyed below the foundations of the castle. And still they stumbled ever downwards, now and again passing the entrances to side tunnels that wound away into the darkness, and for the first time the forbidding quiet was broken. But it was not a welcoming sound that fell upon Mistress Madonna’s ears.

Spine-chilling wails and ululating moans of despair flowed from their impenetrable depths and with an ice-cold chill of horror numbing her very being, she realised that they were passing through the catacombs; the inescapable prison to which the blood-drained slaves and zombies had been banished, destined to remain forever in a twilight world of neither life nor death.

The fate that the Baroness had promised her!

Lord only knew how much iron ore had been smelted in order forge the grotesque medieval instruments of torture that filled the vast flame-lit chamber into which they finally emerged. This particular area was exclusively the Marquis’ domain; this was where his own slaves were stabled and unlike those owned by the Baroness, his unfortunate victims did not have to remain virgins. It was here that he spent countless hours using them sexually in all and every way, honing ever new and humiliating perversions and supervising the construction of weird machines of torture and bondage. With perspiration dripping from her forehead, her eyes wide with disbelief, Mistress Madonna was dragged struggling through its overheated Gothic expanse. The Baroness waved expansively, pointing out what to her were its most appealing features; it seemed that she made a point of witnessing the Marquis’ more inventive acts of depravity.

“You would love to watch the Marquis at work my dear, he is so versatile and there is always something new with him; you could learn a lot. It is a shame that you will never be given the chance.”

An dull-black iron maiden stood open, its wicked spikes sharpened to needle points; there were whipping posts, a stretching ladder, a head press and an iron hanging cage. There was even a guillotine. That was one of his favourites the Marquis told Mistress Madonna.

“But I’ve never actually used it for its original purpose; I don’t need to, the mere sight of it is enough to reduce these pathetic peasants to witless obeisance.”

Hanging from the walls or laid on benches were breast talons, metal jaw locks, thumbscrews, iron collars of thorns and countless other horrific implements of torment. The Marquis did not say if they were ever used in practice but contrary to her usual tough imperturbable nature, Mistress Madonna felt a wave of compassion for these poor slaves wash over her.

The Baroness’ guards were all female but the Marquis’ force was most definitely all male; men who were obviously enjoying their labours. Aping their earlier inspirational historical heroes, hideous hooded, bare-chested, leather-aproned and heavily-muscled masters of the Inquisition were digging white-hot pokers into the depths of flaming braziers before waving them between the wide-open legs of defenceless slaves; boys as well as girls. And those that were not actually inflicting unmentionable mind-melting horrors upon the slaves were mercilessly fucking and buggering those that were deemed available to anyone and everyone.

Completely disregarding the screams and pleas for mercy that rent the air as the party made its way towards the Temple, the Baroness led the way as her guards dragged Mistress Madonna, Julian and Esmeralda in her wake.

Leaving the chamber of horrors behind after passing through a linking tunnel, the party emerged into another enormous cavern. But this one was entirely different. It was flooded with artificial light, the unmistakable smell of ozone filled the air and it was crammed with weird scientific instruments. Thick shielded cables ran across the floor linking huge transformers to a strange apparatus that reached up and through the stone ceiling and there was a multitude of gauges, long-handled switching devices and other paraphernalia that at once reminded Mistress Madonna of the sort of pseudo-scientific devices that featured so heavily in old-fashioned black and white monster movies.

Dracula gripped Mistress Madonna’s arm and turned her to face him. She recoiled in horror as his fetid breath washed over her and his piercing and heavily black-rimmed eyes bored into her own.

“The castle keep. The metal projections reaching for the sky. You wondered what purpose they served. Here is your answer. In a storm such as the one now very fortuitously raging above us, they function very much as lightning conductors. One strike and millions of volts of electricity are garnered and transmitted down here to be stored in the giant batteries you see all around you. Either that or the power is stepped down to a useable current by those giant transformers and directed to whatever apparatus I so desire for instantaneous use. When it has all been used up we remain without the means to run the machines or light the castle, which is why I told you that we did not always have electricity.”

Mistress Madonna’s day had been horrifically strange and eventful to say the least. One weird happening had followed another. But this was the weirdest of all. Far beyond the boundaries of her imagination, she found herself having to accept that things that she would normally have regarded as pure fantasy had now become reality.

“At this moment we have electricity in abundance and I believe that the Baroness will agree that while her virgins are being prepared for the Ceremony, she has sufficient time to introduce you to the delights of our little laboratory. Is that not so, Baroness?”

“That may well be so but first there is another little matter that requires my attention.”

The Baroness’ urgent voice jolted Mistress Madonna from her introspective ruminations.

“The gypsy girl! Bring her here.”

The guards hustled Esmeralda to the Baroness’ side.

“This is where you find out why I spared you after you ruined Arlecchino and threatened the Ceremony. I told you that an old admirer was waiting to greet you, did I not?”

At the end of an outstretched arm, the Baroness’ hand gave way to an extended index finger. Wild-eyed and obviously in a state of great apprehension, Esmeralda’s eyes followed her pointing digit.

“And there he is.”

In the forest when she had first laid eyes upon Esmeralda and her pet goat, Mistress Madonna would not have been in the least surprised if the hideous one-eyed, hunchbacked guardian of the bells of Notre Dame had made an appearance. He had not. But suddenly, showered by sparks falling from the streams of blinding electricity that flashed in great sizzling arcs from terminal to terminal of the Frankenstein-inspired devices, there he was.

Quasimodo!

Esmeralda’s shrieking hysterical scream faded to silence as she fell to the floor in a dead faint. The Baroness turned to Dracula and the Marquis.

“You see, I was not wrong. I know that in light of the grave manner in which she had threatened the Ceremony by seducing Arlecchino and rendering him a non virgin, that you both were of the opinion that I was treating the gypsy trash too leniently; but see! Look at her. An unending future suffering the slavering attentions of a creature such as Quasimodo is surely a fate worse than anything that you two could have devised. And I have given her to him. Unconditionally, to do with as he pleases. Forever.

“Can you imagine what horrors she will feel as he clamps his slobbering mouth over her nipples? The revulsion that she will be forced to endure day after day as he tries to force his lolling tongue up into her firmly-shuttered vagina? The vile smell and mouldering unwashed taste of the monstrous cock that has been locked inside his tights for aeons? Believe me, I know him, he will have her sucking him off the moment that she revives. Then he will fuck her. Again and again. Every day for infinity.

“She will die more deaths than any of us can possibly imagine. Is that not sweet retribution?”

There was not even the slightest murmur of disagreement.

“All right Quasimodo, you can take her away now.”

Seizing one of Esmeralda’s wrists, knees bent and shuffling across the floor like an Amazonian forest primate, Quasimodo dragged the half-unconscious gypsy girl towards whatever part of the cavern that he called his own.

But the Baroness was wrong.

The moment that Esmeralda showed any real sign of life, which was less than halfway to the sanctuary of the machinery, he stopped. But he did not make her suck his cock as she had predicted. Tugging her legs up from the floor and planting an ankle over each of his shoulders, he raised her cunt to cock height and hauling out his diabolically deformed weapon, drove it straight into her defenceless twat. His supernaturally stiff cock was deep inside her and laying siege to her cervix in seconds. Esmeralda was wrestled back and forth, her shoulders writhing over the stone floor as he plundered her sex with merciless ferocity. This was supposed to be the ultimate punishment, the end of everything. But Mistress Madonna could see that strange things were happening to Esmeralda; things that had never happened to her before.

With his hands clamped to her buttocks, holding her as steady as he could Quasimodo banged into her with unrestrained, pile-driving thrusts of his throbbing, tunnel-filling dick. And in return, amazingly she began to drive her hips upwards to meet his frantic downward plunges until in a combined cacophony of animal-like howls and feminine screams of delight, they both came in a duet of shaking, shrieking ungodly orgasms.

Open-mouthed, the Baroness looked on. And she looked on even more incredulously as the hunchback threw a dreamy-eyed Esmeralda over his shoulder and was lost from sight as he shuffled into the midst of the electronic jungle.