I pushed my longish, sandy brown hair back off my face with my hands, and cut a series of heroic poses in the mirror to pass the time. I also tried to get into character, imagining Captain Matteo Lukovic piloting bombing raids over Graveria and engaging in bloody hand-to-hand combat with the fascist forces of President Viktor Bartosz.
I had to admit to myself that I kind of liked the idea of being a famous, heroic military leader and resistance fighter, which only served to highlight what an arrogant narcissist I truly am.
After about fifteen minutes, I grabbed the handcuffs off the bed, left the apartment, and took the elevator down to where the building’s storage spaces were located. I then walked down a long, quiet corridor lined with simple, white-painted doors, each lettered with its corresponding apartment number.
I stopped at the door marked 66V, and after a moment of hesitation, I clicked on the handcuffs, instantly imprisoning myself and relinquishing my power to Allegra Von Brockhaus. I was now on the bottom and at her mercy. I took a deep breath, and then knocked on the door of the storage room.
“Bring in the prisoner,” Allegra said in a bizarre European accent of her own creation, seemingly a harsh, curious mix of Russian and German. “Guards, remain outside. Send the prisoner in alone. I am armed, but if I require assistance, I will call for you. Send Captain Matteo Lukovic in!”
I pushed the door open and entered Allegra Von Brockhaus’s storage room turned torture chamber. I was overcome with excitement as sweet, dirty memories of my last sordid experience in this small, highly erotic room came flooding back to me.
Illuminated by lurid red ceiling lights, the walls of the storage space were covered from floor to ceiling with black, vinyl, buttoned cushioning, obviously as much for sound control as decoration. The floor was covered with black-and-white checked linoleum, creating a feeling of dark, harsh eroticism. The ceiling was painted a deep, high-gloss red.
In the centre of the room was a huge, upright, thick metal slab drilled into the floor with heavy bolts. It looked almost like an up-ended surgical table, but with manacles and chains attached to each of its corners. The slab gleamed threateningly in the dim half-light, and I recalled the feeling of its cold metal on my naked back.
Next to the large metal slab was what looked almost like a gymnastics pommel horse, but with a set of manacles and chains bolted into the floor on either side. I shivered with pleasure when I recalled being pegged by Allegra while humiliatingly bent over the pommel horse the last time we’d been together in this room.
To the side of the pommel horse was a large, heavy wooden chair with ornate decoration carved into its high back and arm rests. It was grand and striking, with a heavily padded seat, and looked almost like a throne.
In the corner of the room were two black, plastic buckets, both of which appeared to be filled with liquid of some kind. These were a new addition to the room, and were not there on my last visit. I was instantly intrigued.
Interestingly, and obviously to fit in with Allegra’s new military-style role-play theme, the wall-hung pictures I’d noticed last time — fetishistic black-and-white photographs of naked men restrained with chains — had been replaced with bold, repeated photo portraits of a heavy-browed, moustachioed man, obviously chosen by Allegra to represent Graveria’s President Viktor Bartosz.
There were also three vintage, outdated video cameras on tripods positioned throughout the room. In her description of our role-play scenario, Allegra had assured me that these cameras were solely part of the fantasy set-up, and didn’t even work. The dominatrix promised me that she wouldn’t be recording our session, and I trusted her.
Against the black padded walls were a series of metal shelves adorned with a variety of devices. There were large black feathers, red leather-and-plastic ball-gags, blindfolds, riding crops, thick leather whips, studded belts, paddles, a collection of black dildos of varying sizes, and a collection of small electrical boxes with electrodes.
And standing tall in the middle of it all was Allegra Von Brockhaus, who had ingeniously reinvented herself as a fascist military careerist. The striking 52-year-old’s auburn hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and atop her head was a fitted black beret adorned with a military-style patch of an eagle.
The height of military chic, Allegra was dressed in a tight, black skirt and a black military jacket emblazoned with arm patches, medals, and various army insignia. Underneath the heavy jacket was a crisp white shirt and black tie, all teamed with black stockings and a pair of black high heel shoes.
Allegra looked wonderfully striking and imperious, and the scowl on her face said she was ready to play the part…and so did the — obviously replica — revolver in her right hand. Allegra slowly raised the handgun and aimed it right at my chest.
The fearsome Chief Commandant Allegra Von Brockhaus was now well and truly here, and she fixed me with a cruel, emotionally lacerating sneer. The older woman casually threw a key on the floor in front of me.
“Unlock the handcuffs,” Allegra said in her strange European accent. “Drop them on the ground, stand against the metal slab, and then lock your left wrist into its corresponding manacle with your right hand. Then place your left ankle and your right ankle into their corresponding manacles. Once you are done, remain still. Do not resist…if you resist, I will shoot you. Then, when you are dead, all of your captured comrades will be killed too…slowly. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I replied quietly, doing the best impersonation of a taciturn war hero I possibly could. “I understand…”
“Yes…Chief Commandant!” Allegra shrieked in response, and then back-handed me across the cheek.
“Yes…Chief Commandant,” I said, physically rattled and a little shocked by the stinging slap that Allegra had so expertly delivered.
With the gun now pointed again at my chest, I walked backward to the metal slab with my hands raised, and then did as Allegra commanded. With my right hand, I reached over and locked my left wrist into the manacle chained to the top of the slab.
I then spread my legs and placed my ankles into the open manacles chained to the bottom of the metal slab. Once I was done, Allegra quickly locked my ankles into the manacles. With a villainous smile, she pulled my right arm up above my head, and then snapped that into its corresponding manacle too. I was imprisoned.
“The great Captain Matteo Lukovic…you are now my captive,” Allegra said with a smile. “You have been a thorn in our side for way, way too long, killing our soldiers and bombing our bases…and I’d now like to do something I’ve been dreaming of since I first heard your name.”
Quickly and cannily shifting her gun to her left hand, Allegra then suddenly and swiftly bent down, and punched me right in the crotch, driving her steely right fist directly into my easily accessible balls.
Obviously fully aware of what she was doing, Allegra pulled her punch in such a way that it hurt me without completely crippling me. I gasped hard, shocked by both the mild pain and the speedy manner in which Allegra had so mercilessly hit me in the nuts.
“Oh, fuck,” I sputtered.
As I coughed in pain and sucked in deep breaths, Allegra slowly unbuttoned part of her military jacket, revealing a leather shoulder holster underneath. She slid the handgun into it, and then fixed me with a cold, intimidating stare, watching amused as I reeled from her surprise punch to my balls.
“So strong…so brave…such a fierce combatant…reduced to a blubbering mess by one single punch to the testicles,” Allegra sneered. “I will take great delight in breaking you, Captain Matteo Lukovic.”
“You fascist bitch,” I said, growling. “Fuck you and fuck President Bartosz!”
Allegra jumped forward and then back-handed me across the face once again. With my right cheek stinging in pain, I strained instinctively against the chained manacles, but I was well and truly trapped…and well and truly helpless. Fear and excitement coursed through my tense body as I ruminated on what would happen next.
With a sexy but frightening smile, Allegra Von Brockhaus moved in closer to me, and I could smell both her enchanting perfume and the even more intoxicating scent of her body itself.
The older woman reached out with her hand, and then slowly unzipped my flight suit down to the waist. Allegra then roughly pulled the suit apart, revealing my white t-shirt underneath. I shivered in anticipation.
“Captain Matteo Lukovic of the resistance,” Allegra said firmly, and then reached into the pocket of her black, fitted skirt. “You are in my custody now…and I have questions…questions that need to be answered…and I will get those answers out of you.”
Allegra drew her hand out of her pocket, and then raised it up in front of my face. The dominatrix was holding what I instantly recognised as a black-handled switchblade. The threat and sense of menace were instant.
Allegra punched down on a small button, and the blade swung out from the side of the handle. The silver metal glistened in the half-light as Allegra held the blade directly in front of my face. A look of surprise obviously passed my face and Allegra smiled.
With her left hand, Allegra pulled my white t-shirt away from my chest, and with her right hand, she cut through the thin cotton of the garment with the switchblade. Allegra slid the blade downward, slicing my t-shirt open and partially exposing my bare chest underneath.
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