DAY ZERO

It was the mid-afternoon stretch of work from home before clocking out; lunch and her online shopping items had already been delivered for the day. Another restless evening was ahead of her; streaming some TV, maybe a round or two of Overwatch, for sure swiping left on Tinder for a while, falling down the TikTok rabbit hole for an hour or so while waiting for sleep to come…but it was all interrupted by a curious knock on her door.

The delivery person was dressed in all black, had a fancy looking filtration mask on, a pair of mirrored shades, and an unmarked baseball cap. They checked a picture on their phone against the face framed in the half open door, handed a remarkable looking roll of parchment sealed with red wax and left without a word. The woman closed the door and took the scroll into her apartment for a better look.

Seeing that the wax seal was emblazoned with an ornate logo designed around the letters “PNS” took her breath away. She had heard a rumor during her Academy matriculation of mysterious invitations to secret gatherings and high-level initiations. Her passing knowledge of the Perfectly Ordinary Society and its inner workings had led her to discount no rumor, however wild.

The woman broke the seal and read its simple command done in gorgeous calligraphy:

“By Order of the Governing Members of the Perfectly Normal Society, You Have Been Formally Summoned to The Pentacle of the Five Torments.”

There were no other details or instructions on the scroll. She sat at her kitchen table, a mix of fear and arousal fighting to take over the now barreling train of her thoughts.

She was startled by an alert on her phone, an unfamiliar noise punctuated by a couple of sharp buzzes. In the lower left-hand corner of her screen, the spot her thumb would all the time discover to open her current favorite app by habit in boredom or anxiety or frustration, was a new widget. The app icon was a pleasant blue and white design, colors she knew were used by banks and other large companies to convey a sense of comfort and stability, the stylized letters PNS, and the word “Norm-Info” underneath. The covertly installed app had a single red notification in the corner.

She hesitated for a moment, knowing that her life would never be the same the moment she opened that app.

 

DAY ONE

The Summoned entered THE BED naked, pink suede leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles, a pink choker with a steel heart shaped ornament around her throat, and a pink wiffleball gag with a black leather strap hanging loose around her neck. A narrow catwalk from the door of her quarters to the place of her first ordeal felt like the longest walk of her life.

THE BED chamber was a triangular room, like all the others would be, and was remarkably bare. A single custom-made four-poster bed dominated the space as much as it currently mastered the Summoned’s mind. The floor was cold, bare concrete, stained and finished so it wouldn’t be too rough or too slippery. The walls were tuned to the very darkest end of red and the lights were low. The air was just on the side of cool that brought goosebumps to every inch of the Summoned’s exposed skin. She knew that the unseen Operator had control of all these conditions, and probably much more beyond that, and could tweak and adjust them at will to heighten her ordeals.

Hopping up onto the bed, the Summoned felt too small and young. An awful twinge of shame recalled a time when she was an innocent kid stumbling across porn, or seeing adults acting more frisky than affectionate in public.

I’m not mature enough to be here, she wondered as she sat quietly, the anticipation building into a pounding heart and a spreading wetness between her legs.

Ah, THE BED. The Summoned had seen beds like this only in crazy real estate listing memes. The mattress itself was a California King almost as big as her car, and the frame was made of black painted steel. There was a canopy frame, but no canopy. The whole thing was square and severe and hard. Stainless steel circles that would be the hard points of her bondage gleamed all over it like grim Christmas lights. She noted as she sat on its edge that the bed was the precise height for her feet to be firmly on the ground while her upper body lay flat, bent over for the pleasure and pain that lay ahead. The headboard was a thick pad covered in red velvet and the footboard was vertical bars of chrome topped with a red velvet padded crossbar. There were a couple of pillows by the headboard covered in the same crimson sport sheets as the mattress, along with a large black wedge-shaped pillow she had once seen in a porno featuring a young woman and her horny masseuse. It was all very tasteful and terrifying.

The Summoned waited long enough to notice that the room was lit like a museum; that somehow the chamber looked and felt dark, but she could clearly see the details. The only other features in the chamber were a small bookshelf covered in toys, restraints and spanking implements, and a bare futon.

The Society Member’s door was directly under the Summoned’s entrance in the wide, recessed area of the triangular chamber that necessitated the catwalk. It opened, a mystical portal of harsh white light, and a couple emerged. The Summoned remained seated as they took their time ascending the wide set of stairs, hand in hand.

The man was barefoot and dressed simply in black slacks and a long-sleeve dark blue Henley. The woman had on a black lace body stocking, a high-hipped black thong, and stiletto heels. He was a little paunchy, had an average face and short cropped black hair. She was tall and busty, wide hips, long black hair, creamy skin, and soft features.

When the woman spoke, the Summoned finally looked up.

“Hello there,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Goode, this is my husband Mr. Goode.”

The Summoned held her tongue, unsure.

“It’s best if you don’t speak,” Mrs. Goode confirmed. “While you are this chamber, you should think of yourself as Mr. Goode’s plaything and comply according to that attitude. Our arrangement here is simple. He instructs me how to position and bind you. Once restrained feel free to struggle or cry as much as you need to. He will use you as he wishes. He will get bored with each position long before he cums. You will not cum until he commands. Before we are done, you will learn to take comfort in whatever punishment or pleasure he inflicts, as long as you comply.”

“Gag and hog-tie her,” Mr. Goode instructed, “then get my dick wet, I’m getting impatient.”

The Summoned’s first act of true submission in The Pentacle was opening her mouth for Mrs. Goode as she wordlessly inserted and fastened the gag. She looked hard into the Summoned’s eyes and smiled when she bit down on the ball. It felt a bit too large in her mouth and just a bit too tight around her head, but the Summoned knew that it was a minor discomfort compared to what was to come.

“Lay on your tummy and put your hands behind your back,” Mrs. Goode said softly.

The Summoned did so, resting her head sideways so that she could see Mrs. Goode work while keeping an eye on Mr. Goode. He stayed detached, stationary, and motionless, except for one adjustment of the rapidly swelling cock beneath his trousers.

Mrs. Goode produced the hog-tie, an X of pink leather and chrome fasteners that completed the cuffs, gag, and choker ensemble that the Summoned came in wearing. Cute. Mrs. Goode took her time tightening each cuff and securing it to the hog-tie, until the Summoned lay there feeling trussed up and drooled over like a turkey diner fresh from the oven.

Through this, Mr. Goode’s face showed only cold cruelty, his dark brown eyes seemed as emotionless as shark’s eyes. Lovers have shined the light of desire towards her before, and she’d received, ignored and, repelled glances of lust throughout her life, but this was different. Mr. Goode’s attention felt dehumanizing; the Summoned knew that he would get off on hurt-fucking her.

Mrs. Goode did a quick pull on the restraints like an amusement park ride operator checking the seatbelt before the rollercoaster leaves the terminal. She then approached Mr. Goode, unzipped his trousers without ceremony, and gave the Summoned a good look at his erect cock before doing her wifely duty. In that light, at that distance, it seemed utterly average to the Summoned; the predatory look that deepened as Mrs. Goode took him into her mouth was scarier.

The Summoned had been in a threesome before; watching someone give a blowjob was mildly tedious, especially when she was the guest and neither party were that special to her. Now, tightly bound and beginning to drool, a growing wetness between her thighs matched the deepening desire to be fucked.

Once Mr. Goode tired of Mrs. Goode’s oral fluffing, he instructed the Summoned be bound to the bed, spread-eagled on her back, her head hanging off the side of the bed. Mr. Goode roughly pulled the gag free and grasped her head in his unnaturally hot hands. Their relative height and the angle he held her head was exactly right for him to penetrate the Summoned’s throat deeper than she’d ever experienced before. She began to sputter and cough almost immediately, coating his cock in thick viscous saliva that allowed him to slide ever deeper, stroke even more vigorously.

I don’t feel like gagging, the Summoned wondered, is that good? To make matters worse, the Summoned could feel that Mrs. Goode had settled between her outstretched legs. The occasional brush against her thighs was maddening when her throbbing vagina was so close to that soothing touch.

Just as she wondered Mr. Goode might climax, he withdrew and forced the gag back into her mouth. He stripped off his pants but left his shirt on. The Summoned thought how he could be modest while she was laid totally bare and exposed.

“Bend her over here,” Mr. Goode demanded, indicating the edge of the mattress her head was currently hanging backwards over.

Mrs. Goode quickly released her. Standing free for a moment, even with her feet on the ground, the Summoned felt untethered. Mrs. Goode secured the Summoned’s ankle cuffs to the bed’s feet with chains then put a gentle hand against her back, guiding her to lay face down on the bed. She then secured the Summoned’s cuffs to the bed by another loop of chain. With her hands bound together above her head, she could not see or even really sense what Mr. Goode might be inclined to do next, but she had never felt the level of desire for the intrusion of a cock in her quivering pussy before.

Instead, he decided that the pleasure of deep throating his cock was worthy of the cruel punishment of his white-hot hands spanking her bare ass into oblivion.

“It’s ok to cry, sweetheart,” Mrs. Goode soothed. She had lay down beside the Summoned and was stroking her hair. “Let it out.”

The Summoned sobbed once and then bit into her gag, tears flowing, as blow after blow landed on her stunned cheeks. A few slaps managed to sting her pussy too, sending shocks through her body.

When his cock finally did make an entrance, it rocked her body as hard as a jackhammer doing roadwork at 6 am on a Sunday morning. It felt no less punishing than the spanking, but it scratched the itch that had been festering down there and quickly brought her to the brink.

The Summoned learned that Mr. Goode was a master at the art of edging, both for her and himself. Just as she wondered she would climax; the man would withdraw. He would punctuate the seemingly infinite pounding of his cock with explosions of spanking.

Mrs. Goode was as kind as her husband was cruel. Often, the Summoned would be positioned in a way that made Mr. Goode into an invisible force capable only of fucking and spanking. Mrs. Goode went out of her way to sit near to the Summoned, not detached, or impartial, but comforting. With her nearby, submission was easy, struggling natural, and crying out not shameful at all.

The Summoned finally came she was on her back, her legs spread chained to the canopy frame above, Mrs. Goode helpfully pinning her arms above her head. The Summoned was counting the strokes, breathing hard against the gag, and staring off into space as it hit her like a tsunami. She was bound too tightly to do anything more than moan and shudder, but she did discover Mrs. Goode’s smiling face and shining eyes to focus on as she rode the wave.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mrs. Goode said. “You held out so long; you are such a good girl.”

Pride swelled in the Summoned’s heart while the orgasm subsided.

Mr. Goode was not so pleased, it seemed. He withdrew and rummaged around for a moment, only to reemerge in the Summoned’s view with an arm upraised, belt in hand. The punishment on her thighs and ass for cumming without permission was intense, but Mr. Goode reserved the last few strokes for the offending pussy. The shock of a belt-whipped vagina spread through her body to her brain and made her cry again.

“It’s ok, sweetie,” Mrs. Goode said. “It’ll be over soon, just hold on.” For a moment, the Summoned thought why Mrs. Goode was still pinning her hands so tightly if she felt such sympathy for her in this moment, why she wasn’t stopping Mr. Goode. Two more strokes of the belt on her poor privates struck any more thoughts out of her mind. Mrs. Goode kissed her gagged lips and the tears from each cheek.

It was beginning to be more than the Summoned could take. Being gagged, she would have to use her pinned hands to signal her safeword, and almost did, but decided against it because she wondered Mrs. Goode might be disappointed with her. She could endure, would go on unless it became intolerable. Now that she was in the middle of it, so near to the unbearable, she had no idea what it would take to get over that line. All she had to do was lay there and take it.

Mr. Goode never looked in her eyes, or even at her face really, and never seemed to use his hands other than slap or grip her for more possible plowing. The grievances against this man were starting to pile up in her mind.

Mr. Goode ordered her position changed and the punish-fucking resumed. He seemed to take the most pleasure in abusing her ass and pussy, even occasionally slapping her breasts and thighs, but left her anus alone. The wondered crossed the Summoned’s mind, more than a few times, that anal with this man will feel violating and shameful.

She was not wrong.

The Summoned’s mind fell into an unfamiliar space for a time. She came back to herself to discover that Mrs. Goode had skillfully set up a webbing of straps and chains on the mattress that had the Summoned in a curious position. Kneeling with her ass up and face down, her hands were pulled together tightly between her spread knees, and her ankles were given just enough play for her to move and adjust for what she knew was coming next.

In-spite of her better instincts, the Summoned began to cry again. The mewling that came from her gagged mouth sounded pathetic to her ears.

“Shh,” Mrs. Goode said as applied a cold squirt of lubricant onto the Summoned’s exposed anus and then worked it inside her with a finger. “You’ll be ok, sweetie. Just relax as much you can. He’s almost done.”

The Summoned was grateful for the gesture and the act of application itself. Never much of a fan of anal sex, the Summoned found herself craving the soft smoothness of Mrs. Goode’s probing finger and clenched her anus around it. It withdrew, but Mrs. Goode spent another moment rubbing some of the cool lube into the red-hot skin of her butt cheeks.

Mr. Goode finally came three thrusts into penetrating her ass for the first time. His cock went in smoother than the Summoned expected, but it still felt too big and insistent. He withdrew to collapse onto the nearby futon and immediately fell asleep, exhausted. The Summoned finally felt her body relax despite the awkward position she was still bound to.

Mrs. Goode took the quiet time following her husband’s storm to show the Summoned care of a saint comforting one unjustly condemned. She released the Summoned from her bonds and cleaned the mess Mr. Goode left on her back with wet wipes and warm dry towels, applying soothing lotions to her sorest parts. She covered them both in a heavy soft blanket and cuddled with her on the bed. Mrs. Goode spent a lovely hour kissing and caressing the Summoned, whispering lovelies to her, shortening her moniker to ‘S’ and using it as the sweetest term of endearment.

“‘S’ is really a better title for you,” Mrs. Goode explained. “It covers everything that you will be in The Pentacle: Submissive, Slut, Sexpot, Servant, Student, Slave…’S’ is much better than ‘The Summoned’, don’t you think?”

The Summoned didn’t know if the storm had passed or if this was just the eye of Mr. Goode’s assault, but it was paradise.

Mrs. Goode then disappeared under the blanket with an impish smile and began to give the Summoned the best oral sex she’d ever had, rocking her body once more with waves of orgasm.

Once her climax had subsided, the woman commanded S to put on a strap-on harness, insisting that she use it on her any way she wished. Mrs. Goode took her time stripping off her body stocking and thong, tossing them apart to cool on the hard concrete. The Summoned gasped at how gorgeous Mrs. Goode was naked, how inviting and enticing her curves and valleys were. She longed to nestle on those full breasts, suckle on those engorged brown nipples, anticipated the scent of her moist vagina and the feel of the light brushing of black pubic hair on her nose as she plunged her tongue deep into a shared pleasure.

S looked down and caressed the cock jutting out from its harness. The skin tone and size looked familiar, as did the pattern of veins and mushroom tip. It was a recreation of Mr. Goode’s penis, if she was not mistaken. Mrs. Goode climbed back on the bed and knelt before the cock. Seeing the woman take the dildo in her mouth was fascinating and titillating. Watching the woman lay back and spread her legs so invitingly was so erotic that S swooned. The Summoned pounced on Mrs. Goode and put her mouth to work for the first time since Mr. Goode’s oral initiation. Kissing Mrs. Goode’s mouth, the softness of her lips and the firmness of her tongue was so sweet that S forgot that she was there to fuck.

Mrs. Goode reminded her by guiding the dildo into her welcoming pussy, gasping as it went in, grasping tightly the Summoned’s ass, instructing her how to manage this new appendage. S took her time taking Mrs. Goode through her own favorite vanilla positions, enjoying every moment of being on the other side of the penis. The Summoned’s only wish was that the dildo could be a real cock in that moment to fully realize the sensation and connection.

S gazed in amazement at Mrs. Goode. Her ass was up, face pressed to the mattress, silently shuddering in the throes of pleasure she provided. S reached around to finger herself, just managed to squeak out another orgasm just as Mrs. Goode came.

Holding onto Mrs. Goode’s lovely hips, dong still lodged deep in her pussy, the Summoned reflected on how this amazing couple had opened a well of orgasms within her she never imagined existed.

Just as the two women collapsed together in shared bliss, the man awoke and began the final part of the session. He instructed Mrs. Goode to put on the strap and lay back; the Summoned was to ride it. He watched for a while, rubbing his cock back into a full erection. When he nodded to Mrs. Goode, she pulled her happy cowgirl down onto her bosom and smiled.

“You did so great today, S,” Mrs. Goode cooed, helpfully spreading the Summoned’s ass cheeks for her husband. “You take his cock like a champ.”

He spit a glob of warm saliva onto his throbbing penis and another onto the Summoned’s waiting asshole. He crouched above them, nosing his cock gradually home. What was intrusive before was now joyous as S looked into Mrs. Goode’s bright face. What was punishment became pure pleasure. The feeling of both couple’s generous instruments working her tender holes like a fined tuned machine burned out her body and blasted her mind.