Keyholder Demoness Ch. 07 – Erotic Horror

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“Well, one thing is for certain,” Charity wondered as she drove her car through the dark city streets with the heat blasting, “I know I won’t get raped.”

Per Keyholder’s instructions, Charity wore only a pretty, little black dress. She was even driving barefoot. She knew that she should be terrified about what was going on. On the contrary, she felt like finally after all these weeks she was able to actively do something to help discover or free Blue from her abductors. She actually felt empowered.

It had taken a little work to explain to Hope that she had to leave to run this errand. It was surprisingly simple, though, to suggest that Hope should await her return in the cage under the master bed. In fact, Hope seemed to want to go there. When the two arrived at the bedroom, Hope got down on her hands and knees and crawled inside. Charity tried to communicate that Hope should leave the cage door slightly ajar so she could get out if she wanted, but as soon as Hope was in the cage, she turned and yanked the door closed with a forceful tug.

Charity decided that Hope would be okay. She flipped a switch that started up a fan for ventilation. It was a pretty cozy space. The base was padded and comfortable. There was a nice pillow and duvet. Charity had slept there many nights. It felt safe, isolated, and protective. But, it was a cage.

“Turn right in 600 yards on South Rope Street,” the Goze app on her phone announced in a pleasant voice. Somehow Keyholder was sending directions through the app. There was no specific destination drawn on the app’s city map, but she was receiving instructions that were taking her to the outskirts of the restaurant district. Most businesses in this section of town were closed for the night. “Turn Left on East Cascade Avenue. Your destination is on the right.”

Charity’s phone beeped – a text message from Keyholder instructing Charity to park along the road. After she had turned off the engine, a few more text messages arrived explaining what Charity was required to do. After reading each message, Charity looked up and down the street. There were only a handful of cars parked along this stretch of road. Charity examined each one closely. The businesses along here had residences above them. Only a few had lights pouring through windows.

Finally a message arrived: “There is your target. Go!”

A woman had stepped out of a building onto the sidewalk. She was standing under a street light, talking on the phone. Charity took a deep breath and opened her car door. She knew that Keyholder was trying to humiliate Charity. “I’m doing this for Blue,” she said to herself and all her nervousness melted away. She had her instructions and this would all be over soon enough.

The pavement was cold on her bare soles. Charity was gritting her teeth every time she stepped on a bit of loose gravel. Her dress was backless, but adrenaline kept her from getting too chilly as she quietly made her way towards the woman. She took one last look up and down the street. Was there someone in the white Toyota sedan across the street? “Ok,” Charity told herself. “Let’s do this.”

“Hello?” Charity approached the woman, who looked up from her phone conversation. Charity then followed Keyholder’s script. “I was told that you have the key to my chastity belt.”

“What?” the woman said then she mumbled something into the phone, “There’s some woman…”

Charity pushed the straps of her black dress off her shoulders and the sleek material slipped down over her hips and pooled at her feet on the ground. She stepped out of the dress, now naked. “I’m very horny, and was told that you have the key to my chastity belt.” Charity began knocking on the faceplate which made a very distinctive tapping sound.

The woman on the phone looked at Charity, shocked, “What the fuck!?” Charity made sure to get a good look at the woman. She didn’t recognize her, but she made sure to study her features. “You need to go away from me!” the woman was saying. “I’m going to call the police!” Then she was talking on the phone again, “…some crazy naked bitch out here wearing some kind of metal underwear…”

Her task was now complete. As per Keyholder’s script Charity turned and jogged back to her car, leaving her dress behind. When Charity was safely back in her vehicle, she looked back up the street. The woman on the phone had disappeared back into the safety of a nearby building. Charity saw the lights of the Toyota turn on and the car pulled out into the road and drove away.

“That car has to have been Keyholder,” Charity wondered and she smiled despite herself. She grabbed the camera she had left on the passenger seat and browsed through the pictures that she had taken of the area before she stepped out of her car. She could clearly make out the license plate of the Toyota in the photo. “You don’t fuck around with me!” Charity wondered.

She turned on her car and drove home naked. Keyholder’s ploy had backfired. She did not feel humiliated standing naked before some anonymous woman. She felt victorious. Adrenaline surged through her body. She actually felt elated. She wondered about the naked woman locked in the cage under her bed. “Holy shit! I am horny!” she wondered. Chastity closed her eyes to picture Blue.

“I hope that Hope is ok.”

–+-

Journal Entry 4:

Subject: Ash Adams – p-FEAR Installation

Hands

QM: Rainbow

When one has ‘agency’ that means that one can take action to produce a particular effect. As humans, most often it is our hands that allow us agency over physical objects in our environments. Mostly, we take this for granted…

Our current subject, Ash Adams, was provided a waiting period after her permanent breast restraint hardware was installed. She was subjected to a variety of the features that the hardware allowed including pain, but mostly pleasure. The combination of boredom, conditioning, a cocktail of aphrodisiacs, and the more pleasurable stimulations from the breast restraints left the subject particularly aroused all the time. A variety of sex toys were provided – false phalluses, vibrators, etc. – of which the subject made great use.

Soon after the installation of the breast restraints we removed all the nail beds from her fingers and toes and capped the ends of each digit with tight sheaths of titanium. Without the advantage of repeated experimentation with multiple subjects, one may be surprised to discover that the discovery of the loss of fingernails produced only a minimum of emotional trauma in the subject. Within several sleep cycles, in fact, the subject seems to become adept at using the new finger shields to their greatest advantage while masturbating. This result is evidence of the evolution of the subject’s mental state transitioning to a reality where sexual arousal eclipses all other concerns.

Once measurements indicate that the subject has reached an acceptable equilibrium with her current environment and stimuli, it is time to move to the next phase of her conditioning – the removal of ‘agency’.

When the time arrived, the subject was thoroughly anesthetized and the surgical cart was drawn into Isolation Theater 3. First, a hole was bored through each of the subject’s hands mid-palm between the fore and middle finger bones – that is, the second and third metacarpal bones. Metal piping with a quarter inch open diameter was inserted through the holes and flanges were clamped tightly at either end. Normally such an installation has a permanent, though minor, negative impact on the subject’s hand dexterity. For our purposes, the impacts are immaterial.

The subject was kept unconscious for some time for healing. Our desire is that the subject finds each modification to be something that is gorgeous, perfect and good – not a painful open wound. Time is required to dress the wounds appropriately to make the desired presentation.

Once the healing has proceeded and infection is no longer a concern, the subject’s hands are encased in their flat-shells. The flat-shells are produced as two halves – an upper and a lower, using the same manufacturing process as for the wrist and ankle cuffs. The hand is placed, palm down, on the lower. A juncture on the lower shell coated in a thick, waterproof epoxy is lined up with the flange in the subject’s palm and, with a firm amount of pressure, locks in place. The shell holds the hand and fingers in a relaxed, open configuration to allow for the best circulation.

The upper shell is then pressed down on the top of the hand, once again, locking to the flange on the back of the hand. At the same time, all around the shell halves’ circumference, plug and socket connectors of the type used for the wrist and ankle cuffs fuse them into one inseparable whole. The hand is pillowed between the two halves in a compressible foam which hardens over time. By the time the subject is revived the fingers are held immobile inside the shell. Combined, the two halves of the flat-shells appear as a smooth, featureless, flattened ovoid – like a squashed egg – with a hole running through the middle. The two halves of the flat-shells can never be separated again.

Finally, the subject’s wrist is bent forward. A flexible strip of metal is wedged into a slot on the flat shells at the back of the wrist. The opposite end of the strip is then shimmed into a matching slot on the forward edge of the subject’s permanent wrist cuff. Next, the subject’s wrist is bent back and a similar metal strip is connected between the shell and cuff on the underside of the wrist. The subject will find that in the future, they will be able to slightly flex their wrists, but only with the greatest of effort.

After a period of healing the subject awakens, lying in her gynecological chair. Her arms are positioned above her so that the first thing she sees is her new hand restraints. Her arms now terminate in the flat-shells – oblong, well-padded stumps. A metal bar is passed through the center of the flat-shells. The subject quickly finds that she can slide the metal bar through these holes to the extent dictated by simple clips at the termination of the bar. Based on the location of the holes in the flat-shells and the lingering discomfort of the recent operations, the subject quickly realizes that, indeed, the metal bar passes through the center of her hands!

What occurs next is a period of reconciliation where the subject must confront a new reality of greatly reduced agency. Ash screamed until her voice was raw and hoarse. She slid her hands back and forth along the metal bar violently.

After several sleep periods, her hands were released from the metal bar so that she could lay with her arms free in her chair. A saddle-like post had been installed, upon which her crotch rests. In due time, stimulation is applied to her breast restraints as well as a soft vibration transmitted through the new crotch post. These stimulations are not sufficient to allow her to reach climax. Perhaps it is reflexive for her to reach over to her trove of sex toys to seek relief and perhaps it is with a dose of cruelty that the trove has been left for her to reach when she no longer has the agency to grasp any of them.

Thus begins the next major phase of the subject’s mental evolution. With the removal of agency, the subject now begins to develop a dependency upon her caretakers. Certainly, we take care of her carnal needs with utmost efficiency but solely in intervals of our choosing – her input, no longer taken into any form of consideration. She quickly learns that from now on, this is the way it shall be.

Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.

–+-

It was Sunday afternoon and Charity was sitting in front of her computer staring at the photo of the message Detective Tumalo had sent from her wrecked office. Faith had said that the awful poem was a coded message and she had started to describe how to translate that message. She had used some word to describe how to find out the code. What was that word? Try as she might, Charity could not think of the word that Faith had used… “Ci… Ci… Siphon” No.

Crap! It was right there on the tip of her tongue. “Ci… Cyber?” Maybe that was it. Charity typed “cyber code” into the search engine… Over a half billion page results. Fuck! Why wasn’t Faith answering her phone?

Hope rattled into the kitchen where Charity was staring at her computer. She still preferred to walk around the house naked. Every time Charity looked at her she quickly became distracted. The extent of Hope’s decorations was overwhelming. Charity caught herself staring – studying the intricacies of a tattoo or embedded jewel that had not caught her attention before… Hope was just so… distracting. So exotic. So terrifyingly gorgeous. Charity pressed down on the metal faceplate of her chastity belt even though it did nothing to quell the surge of tingling energy that bubbled from down there.

“Cuhn,” Hope said, beckoning Charity to follow. “Cuhn… thhee…,” she said pointing to her eyes.

Charity got up from the table and followed Hope into the hall. She walked to the door which led to the cellar. Oddly, it was wide open. “Oh, shit,” Charity said. “I thought I had locked that door?” Hope was already walking down the stairs.

When they got to the bottom of the steps, Hope started speaking excitedly and pointing to the numerous pieces of bondage furniture that Blue had collected. “How am I going to explain this to you?” Charity thought out loud.

Hope walked up to the gibbet cage. She tentatively poked it with a finger and it rocked back and forth slightly on the ring from which it hung. She pointed at Charity and then at the cage.

“Sometimes Blue and I liked to play with bondage equipment like this,” Charity explained, despite the fact that she knew Hope had no idea what she was saying. Charity pulled the hasp off the staple and the back side of the gibbet groaned open. The cage was measured precisely for Charity. When she stood inside and the door was closed she could feel the cold metal touch all around her body.

Hope pointed at Charity again and then towards the cage.

“No,” Charity said. No way was she gonna get in the cage with Hope in charge.

Hope moved over to the trunk. The lid was up. Inside, the small pillow and padded base left no question as to what was occasionally stored inside. Hope pointed at Charity and then inside the trunk.

“No,” Charity said again.

Hope walked to the rack and pointed at the ankle cuffs. She seemed to know what they were for. She pointed towards Charity’s feet.

“Yes. You put the cuffs on your ankles, then lay back,” Charity pointed at the wrist cuffs. “These go around your wrists, then you turn this wheel…” Charity stood tall and raised her arms over her head slowly pushing her hands higher and higher like she was being stretched out.

“Ow?” Hope asked, pointing at her shoulder.

“It could hurt you a lot,” Charity replied. “But Blue and I only play on the equipment. For fun! Fun!”

“Fuh?” Hope asked.

“Yeah. It’s fun! It’s sexy,” Charity closed her eyes and brushed her hands up over her breasts and down between her thighs. She opened her eyes and smiled briefly. “Fun.”

Hope stepped over to Blue’s work table. She picked up a length of chain about six feet long. She then picked up a padlock that was open and waiting. Somehow, she quickly found a ring on one of the tighter necklaces wrapped around her throat and she attached the chain with the padlock, squeezing the shank into the base with a solid click. She handed the end of the chain to Charity.

“Chai-Ree,” she said smiling and pointed back up the stairs as though she wanted Charity to lead her out of the basement.

“Ok…” Charity looked at Hope’s face draped in tiny chains – her lips with their menacing array of needles – unkissable. Charity sighed. She reached over to the padlock and pulled out the key, issuing a comically diabolical laugh. Hope just continued to smile, then turned towards the exit.

Charity followed Hope up the stairs watching the sway of her hips as they climbed. Hope navigated their way into the den with Charity holding the chain leash loosely in her hand. Hope pointed to a spot on the couch.

“You want me to sit down?” Charity asked.

“Thhi-,” Hope confirmed. She picked up the remote to the TV and handed it to Charity. Then she knelt on the carpet next to the couch and pointed to the TV.

“I guess we will watch a little TV now,” Charity laughed. She started flipping through some channels. “But, I would like to point out that this would be considered ‘topping from the bottom'”.

Hope smiled up at Charity for a second then leaned her head against her thigh. She started to stroke her hands up and down the length of Charity’s leg. Charity found a kid’s show – a girl and some annoying monkey going on great adventures while outsmarting a thieving fox – but Charity only sat, mesmerized, still loosely grasping the chain links watching the decorated woman kneeling next to her.

Meanwhile Hope was laughing at the TV and copying words that she heard. “Mah-(pop)! “Mah-(pop)!”

–+-

“Metolius Suttle, my lawyer friend, is down the hall in the conference room waiting for you,” Perit said after knocking on Charity’s office door.

“Great!” Charity said. “You don’t mind watching Hope, do you?”

Hope was sitting in a chair clumsily holding a silicon-tipped stylus, scrolling through pictures on a touchscreen device. It had been quite an ordeal convincing her to put on her hoodie and sweatpants so she could travel in to Charity’s office.

“This seems to entertain her for hours,” Charity explained.

“Thith-uhth,” Hope said, pointing between Charity and herself.

“Yes,” Charity said. “Sisters… I just don’t like to leave her alone for too long at my house.”

“Thorhina(click),” Hope said.

“Sisters,” Charity repeated. “Thorhina.”

“(click),” Hope said emphatically. “Thorhina(click).”

“Thorhina… (click)?” Charity said with a little more focus on copying Hope’s pronunciation.

“(Click)!” Hope said. “(Click)!”

“(Click),” Charity mimicked.

“You seem to be developing a really good rapport with her,” Perit said. “No… uh… incidents of any kind, right?”

“She’s an angel, Perit,” Charity said and she turned to Hope. “Hope. Perit. Perit.”

“(Pop),” Hope replied.

“Perit,” Charity’s boss pointed at herself. Hope stared at Perit for a moment. Then she turned her attention back to the touchscreen device.

Charity walked down the hall to the conference room. She entered and shut the door behind her. She turned to the woman sitting at the table. “Hello, Ms Suttle? I’m…”

Charity gasped. She recognized the woman immediately.

This was the woman from the street corner the other night. The one for whom Keyholder had forced Charity to strip.

“You!?” The woman, Metolius Suttle, recognized Charity immediately.

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