Sentenced to Heaven

Chapter Six-1

Chapter Six

Dinner Deliberations

Flying higher than any drug could possibly get her, Rachel was glad she’d planned for a celebratory supper. She had a steak already thawed, though at the moment she felt like she could eat ten. Hell, this jungle cat’s appetite could take down an entire cow.

Right now she felt like the raptors in Jurassic Park. After all the secret seething and silent swallowing of monstrous injustice she’d done in order to deflect attention from herself, and all the plotting, expense and effort it had taken to engineer a more appropriate outcome to the matter of her family’s murder, victory was inexpressibly sweet.

Jimmy and Caitlyn could never be replaced. But in avenging them she had set herself up in a heaven she could hardly have credited otherwise.

She was retired at twenty-nine with all the money she would ever need. She had escaped all constraints to establish her own private paradise where her only companion was a remarkably sensitive and attractive man she owned body and soul. The only and overpowering desire of this man, who was really just a lustfully enthralled youth, was to be dominated and abused unto death in expiation of his unsettle-able debt.

Kill him she eventually would of course – she owed that to everyone involved, from her family to his, to both of them individually and to the entire corrupt system that had sought to spare him. Until she chose to carry out that execution though she had a partner, willing or not, in exploring sadistic fulfillments she found more compulsory by the moment.

This afternoon had been a simply fabulous first taste: a warm-up, or more accurately foreplay. This evening would see her truly unleash the beast. Right now was blessed intermission: time to treat herself, enjoy the fruits of her maneuvering, marvel over her afternoon depravities and savor the anticipation of even more savage lusts about to be sated.

Still, Rachel remained mindful that her slave hadn’t urinated in what was surely many hours. He was also c**k-tied too tight to even pee down into his own face if desperate enough.

It wouldn’t do to have his kidneys back up. Rather than give it an hour in the oven she microwaved her baked potato. Rather than fire the grill, she boiled frozen corn and pan-fried her porterhouse as well as the mushrooms and onions. Thus though she thoroughly enjoyed every scrap, and took the time to finish her entire bottle of wine, she was ready to return downstairs after little more than that anticipated hour. Still she had to provide for her slave.

Stacked in her pantry were cases of canned food she’d laid in. Beside her own expensive selections were some very cut-rate and even generic brands of stew: basic protein and nutrition without the benefit of much texture or flavor.

While not as unpalatable as combat rations or army MRE’s, they were nothing she would ever settle for voluntarily herself. Opening a can and dumping it cold in a bowl, Rachel wondered how her pampered captive would take to such fare. In case he seemed unduly distressed, she also had a few cases of dog food he could get by on until re-earning her favor.

Carrying the bowl, she stopped by the computer to check the cameras positioned around the place. She activated the security systems protecting her already considerably isolated slice of paradise. Then she headed back down to her condemned human property.

***

Rachel found him just as she’d left him: hanging by his feet, covered with damage, his hands bound through his butt to his genitals. His bruised and galled-raw face was beet-red with the blood in his head and his eyes were wet and miserable. Still these grew downright reverential as they followed her return. Her spirits sky-high with the excitement of her possession and intentions, Mistress laughed almost fondly at that look.

“I bet you need to pee, don’t you boy?”

“Very badly, ma’am.”

“We’ll take care of that momentarily. Let’s get some food in you first. You’re going to learn about being cold and hungry down here, my young scion of the one percent. But I won’t let you weaken to the point you might die accidentally. I won’t even let your pretty-boy looks deteriorate too much. Having my way with a handsome young stud is just too much fun. So eat up, slave!”

Rachel set the bowl on the floor. Then she loosened the rope suspending him and lowered Alex slowly down (spinning gently as he went) until his face was in it.

Despite the poor fare and difficulties of eating while bound and rotating upside down, he attacked the cheap crap as ravenously as circumstanced permitted. Good for him: another test passed. Smirking, Rachel left him to it while she picked up and examined the tablet computer she’d taken from him along with his cell phone, wallet and keys.

Though a negligible amount of storage was devoted to schoolwork and documents, most of the available space was filled with sadomasochistic pornography. Photos, videos, and stories of women abusing men popped up with every click. Already considerably turned on, Rachel felt her singlet chafing her n*****s and groin maddeningly as she browsed. She almost wished she’d obtained some dominatrix costumes herself – all that black leather, shiny vinyl, and twinkling rows of draping chain looked wildly hot.

Not bothering to watch much of the action, she began clicking through titles faster. She was looking for evidence that Alex had discovered her own favorite fetish. She wanted to know if she was going to drop him into nightmare at last next or merely satisfy another twisted submissive fantasy. To her grim delight she came across only bondage, corporal punishment and garden-variety degradation – licking boots and what-not.

Excellent: there was nothing like breaking in a virgin, and wondering how long it might take him to come to love it. Poor Jimmy never did, which only made her grief keener, and lent reflexive fury to her hunger for climax and revenge.

No longer able to deny her primary motivation in arranging to keep Alex Downing rather than simply murder him and have done with it, Mistress Rachel grinned to think that she at last had a b***h who could never say no. And she had him all to herself. There were no recordings or snitches to worry about here, nor any need to be gentle and patient with him. Finally she could peg to her brutal heart’s content, which was really the only kind of s*x that appealed to her since being raped by that asshole Colonel Lowell. At last, brimming with anticipation, she shut off the tablet and returned her attention to the boy who was minutes from being her b***h.

Alex was stretching his tongue to its limit, doing his damnedest to swipe the bowl spotless as he hung and swung above it. A fat vein stood out at his temple. He was dripping sweat and having trouble breathing. Yet despite the distress of his suspension he’d finished his meal without complaint. Putting off the fun just a tiny bit more, Rachel traded the tablet for Alex’ phone. Without opening any of them, she saw that it was filled with messages from his mother.

These began at around noon – right about the time she’d begun torturing the boy. Grinning again, she waved the phone at him.

“Mummy’s worried about you, child. She can’t stop calling. Nothing from Papa or any friends, though.”

“I don’t have any friends anymore,” Alex croaked. He cleared his throat to speak more strongly. “Papa can go f**k himself. The last thing he said to me as I walked off was that I should keep on walking and never come back.”

“Really?” Rachel was gleeful. “You’re not bullshitting me?”

“I swear it, Mistress. And I responded that I just might do that. Once they hear about that, the police might decide finding me is not such a priority no matter how much money and influence my old man tries to throw around.

“He’s no more popular down there anyway now than I was at night school. They all did what they had to in order for me to get off. But my case drew unwanted attention to the way justice works when there’s money involved. I imagine the whole town was glad when you moved on, and that the authorities will be less than thrilled with this reminder. No one’s going to look too hard for me for quite a while, if ever.

“Eventually they’ll probably assume I jumped off a bridge or something. I’ve been talking about suicide ever since my crime. So I don’t think we have to worry about anyone interfering with justice this time. Wherever we are in this world, I am yours, Mistress. As for my mother, she’ll pop another Valium or two and get over it. f**k her as well.”

Winded from so much speech, Alex lapsed into gasping. Exhilarated by these revelations, and further proof that she and her new slave were joined in their lust for justice, Rachel shut the phone back off. Soon she would destroy it. Right now it was time to introduce her penitent property to what might be the defining kind of exchange between them, their most gratifying way of sating that burning mutual need. She couldn’t wait!

***

Talia couldn’t eat.

There was nothing wrong with the food – Anita was the best they’d ever hired – her stomach just wouldn’t untwist enough for her to do more than sip at a glass of wine.

She just knew something awful had happened. Though they’d done everything perfectly as parents, they were losing their only child – if he wasn’t lost already. Despite what her husband said, Alex had never disappeared like this, without even a call. They needed to get people looking for him.

Somehow she held in until the boy’s father finished eating. Then she insisted he abide by the agreement he’d been holding her to all day.

“All right dear, we’ve had dinner. It’s time for Junior to leave for class, yet he hasn’t returned or answered his messages. We have to call the police.”

Alexander put on a pained expression.

“You know what they’re going to say, don’t you?”

“Yes, dear: the same things you’ve been saying all day. He’s eighteen now, with his own money. You two argued and you suggested he leave; he very well might have. But we’re talking about a boy who has been hooked on drugs, one who has spoken of suicide and who was involved in a case that resulted in a lot of negative media attention. We can’t just sit around and hope for the best. Why did you have to say such awful things to him?”

“Oh please!” Alexander sneered. “The kid has to grow up sooner or later. I was just trying to make him see how ridiculous he’s being. He made a bad mistake, yes. But he can’t let it warp his whole life. You know that, and when he gets back here I’ll tell him the same thing again.”

“If he gets back here!” Talia felt the panic she’d held at bay all day threatening with her husband’s recalcitrance. Her glass slopped as she set it down.

“If you won’t call the police, I will! Say what you want, but I’ll never get a wink of sleep tonight unless I know people are at least aware that he’s missing and taking all the proper procedural steps.”

“Fine!” Alexander slammed down his own glass, already empty. “Don’t complain to me when this is all over the television too, and he turns up surfing on a beach in L.A. or shooting craps in Las Vegas!”

The battle won, Talia didn’t bother pointing out how unlikely either such pursuit was for a guilt-ridden, despondent teenager. She just picked her glass back up and sipped again as her husband pulled out his cell phone.

“I need the sheriff’s department, please… No, it’s not an emergency or I would have called nine-one-one…Yes, thank you…moron.”

This last was muttered, and hopefully after the operator had left the line. Talia wouldn’t have bet on it though. As someone who’d built a company worth almost a hundred million dollars from scratch, Alexander had no patience with what he considered to be stupidity – particularly unnecessary questions.

“Yes, can I speak to Sheriff Jacobsen please? It’s Alexander Downing. Yes, all right.”

Clearly on hold, he pulled out his pipe and began to load it at the table, something he knew she hated. The smoke and smell would not be kind to her roiled system. This was his petty revenge of course, knowing she’d be unable to leave the room until the call was done. Luckily Jacobsen came on before he finished.

“Hello, Mark. I’m sorry to bother you, but the wife insisted. It’s about Junior.”

Talia burned and twisted as her husband waited out a reply.

“Well, he took off for school about this time yesterday and no one’s seen him since. Nor has he answered his phone. We had harsh words before he left, so I wasn’t too worried at first… Right. But the wife…you know how mothers are…right.”

Enduring this denigration too, Talia waited while the sheriff no doubt shook his head and chuckled ruefully. Finally things seemed to get somewhere.

“Would you? We’d appreciate that. Thanks a whole lot, Mark. Yeah, that’s what I think too. But it’s best to play it safe, right? All right, thanks again. Take care now.”

He hung up and resumed loading his pipe. Talia gave him a white-knuckled count of ten.

“Well?”

“He’s sending a man out to interview us, so they can file a report. What’d you think he said? That the boy was in the drunk tank, crawling with s******s?”

“Look, you don’t have to be so dismissive of my concerns! This is our child we’re talking about here! After all we’ve put into him, I won’t lose him because you think he’s gone soft!”

“Well, how long do you intend to keep coddling him over this goddamn thing?”

And so the bickering resumed. Fortunately only the hired help now had to stick around and listen to it. Others could turn their attention to more momentous business.

***

Mistress put down the phone and smiled. Her look mixed genuine approval with devilry.

“You’ve been very obliging, boy. I truly believe you’re determined to suffer and die for me.

Despicable as you’ve been in the past, that’s admirable. And I’m pleased with the way you’ve behaved as my property – though it’s robbed me of the cruel fun of breaking and subjugating you. Are you ready to take that pee now?”

‘Yes, please Mistress.”

“Okay, I’m going to let you down. Behave for me.”

“Of course.”

Kicking the empty dish aside, she released the rope and began to lower him – not slowly and gently, but not inconsiderately either. Turning over the praise he’d just received, treasuring that smile, Alex felt a warmth more welcome than the radiators this morning. As he began to descend face-first toward the mat he realized that this was the only time since he’d become a murderer that he actually felt good about himself – that he felt the least bit of worth as a human being.

The moment was so poignant he wanted to both cry and kiss his savior’s boots. Instead he made sure to lead with the wounded side of his face, so that his bruised and abraded cheekbone was the first part of his body to take his weight.

The pain brought a satisfied groan from him, and after hanging agonizingly swaybacked a moment he settled onto the mat. Kneeling beside him in that clingy singlet, Mistress rolled him over and untied genitals gone purple-numb and raw in their grotesque bloating and whipping.

Whimpering at the savage rush of returning circulation, Alex kept his eyes firmly averted from the glory of his savoir as she moved to untie his feet, leaving just his hands bound behind him. Only as she rose and backed away did he stir. Fighting a sudden wooziness, he crawled over to his designated drain and emptied himself down it with acute relief.

At last Alex turned and knelt formally. He leaned over and put his head on the floor at Mistress Rachel’s feet as though kowtowing to a deity. She laughed at this, disarmed completely from the hatred he knew she still harbored.

“What’s this? Am I some sort of empress?”

Speaking as fervently as possible, still overwhelmed by her favor, Alex let the professions pour from him unbidden.

“You are so much more than that. You are my goddess now, Mistress. You own me body and soul. You control every nuance of my existence right to the instant of its translation to the eternal. You provide the only joy I will ever know and the endless punishment I so desperately crave. You are divinely desirable yet erotically untouchable. You shame me profoundly every second, yet I love you beyond reason. I live only to worship and serve you in my virgin chastity until I am sacrificed on the altar of your righteous judgment. Dying by your holy hand will bring my sinful life to its only appropriate culmination, and entering your eternal spiritual custody afterwards will be a paradise I scarcely deserve. How many more proofs of divinity do I need?”

Though his forehead remained firmly on the floor, Alex could sense that his deity was swelled with mirth and perhaps even flattered by this gush. Perhaps she even felt something akin to the self-affirmation she’d just gifted him. Certainly she sounded inspired for introducing his next use as her subject/slave.

“Wow, you are one honey-tongued devil, boy. I bet you could sweet-talk the pants off any girl in school. And you claim to be a virgin?”

“I was only sixteen the night my life ended, Goddess. I’ve touched girls’ breasts and privates, and had them jerk me off, but I swear that’s it.”

“That’s it until now, you mean. Even a goddess has needs, boy, needs as ravenous as any jungle cat. You will satisfy these for me. Come along now, prisoner. Let’s see if this is torture or titillation for you. I admit I’m curious to learn.”

Following the tugging of the rope binding his hands behind him, Alex struggled upright. Staggering in his debilitation, he was flooded with warmth again when she steadied and supported him. Not daring to wonder yet what she had in mind – just the hint that it might be something s****l was too heretical to entertain – he followed the grip shifted to his arm off the sleeping mat and out into the dungeon proper for the first time.

Drawing him past a wheeled stand supporting an electronic control panel with associated wires and other ominous equipment, Goddess Rachel led Alex over to the pillory.

Modeled on colonial-era stocks, this had a rather modern, homemade look. Made of recently varnished oak, the boards that formed the primary restraints (with circular cutouts for holding the wrists and neck) were only half an inch thick – the better to accommodate his collar no doubt. As Goddess stopped him before this simple apparatus (adjustable but with stocks currently set at waist height), Alex saw more iron rings that had lately been cemented to the floor.

About five feet apart and four from the pillory, these were clearly intended for securing his feet. Without instructions he spread his legs out to reach them, though his debilitation and bound hands made this uncomfortable stance precarious. Though he still didn’t dare speculate his abused p***s climbed quickly to the upright as his owner used a set of handcuffs each to shackle his ankles to the rings.

Thanks to those videos, and his increasing perversion, the excitement he’d felt at first being put in bondage by his abductor now seemed an ineradicable part of him. Rising from securing his legs, that deity noticed his impudent rigidity. To Alex’ utter astonishment, his unworthy honor and swooning carnal pleasure, she grasped this and started slowly stroking. Only the firmness of that grip kept his weakened knees from collapsing.

“Impressive,” she murmured. “This is a damn pretty member you’ve got here, boy. Poor Jimmy must be spinning in his grave. Now, I’ve said you’ll be permitted your arousal, since I can’t prevent it and could hardly torture you worse for it than I intend to anyways. But if you dare to ejaculate, you immediately get level five – and that’s just the start. I truly can’t stand the smell or sight of semen. Nor can I be trusted to react rationally to it. You’d be in danger. So let your forever hopelessly impotent lust be just another intolerable torment, slave.”

“I understand, Goddess!” Alex gasped.

“Good!”

She released him, wiping her hand on her thigh. That body stocking was so thin and tight he could see the shape of her pubis – and the fact that it was hairless. His erection throbbed so hard it hurt as she untied his hands and lifted the top board from the stocks. Then she put a palm on the back of his head.

“Bend over, slave. You know how I want you.”

Alex eagerly complied, placing his neck and wrists in the semicircles provided.

Even as she pulled his hair aside, fitted the matching board on top and latched it in place he found his bent-over posture uncomfortable. Despite his dread of how terribly this would surely worsen over time, his c**k, heart and head all approved. Locked in place then, he uselessly shifted his widely spread feet on the concrete and mewled his excited distress.

Would it be a paddle against his proffered ass, or a cane? Were those daily childhood belt-thrashings about to be revisited? That seemed rather anticlimactic after this afternoon…

Leaving him to whimper and wonder, Goddess stepped to the periphery of his vision. There she began rummaging among her shelves. Her ass and legs were fabulous; even the small of her back and set of her proud shoulders made him ache with that forever hopeless love and lust.

Truly this was the most intolerable torment of all, setting aside the memory of the screams that had driven him here. Alex dropped his eyes to the floor before him, trying to wait patiently for the opportunity to satisfy his owner’s ‘ravenous’ needs, whatever they might be.

At last she turned back to him. He couldn’t help but raise his head again – or then goggle agog as his jaw dropped. Comprehension came to him in a cascade of horror.

Girded on over her jungle-patterned body stocking, Goddess now sported a strap-on c**k. And it was considerably larger than the suddenly drooping one she’d just been jerking.