Victoria opened the heavy oaken door to reveal her ‘playroom’ to Fiona, who nodded in appreciation. It was rustic and intimate; a place where pleasure was extracted from those under duress by a privileged few. Fiona inhaled the heady scent of old leather and furniture polish with relish. The floor was mostly flagstone, worn smooth with age, the walls covered with the same Stygian wood panelling as the rest of the house, made all the more ominous by the absence of daylight. There were, in fact, windows, but thick blackout curtains deliberately kept nature at bay.

The walls hung with tools and devices intended to exquisitely extract just the right response from the unfortunates who found themselves persecuted within. Bizarre furniture was carefully arranged throughout the space, only a heavily framed bed recognisable to the untrained eye. On closer inspection that revealed itself to be merely a raised mattress covered by a clean sheet. It was set inside a dull timber frame the colour of old dried blood, festooned with sturdy metal hooks and eye bolts.

It wasn’t Fiona’s first visit there, but again she mentally noted the room screamed ‘dungeon’ rather than ‘playroom’. Her own such space was much more clinical; clean lines, stark lighting and walls and floors which could easily be wiped clean. While she did have a space reserved for what she termed ‘messy play’, a hose pipe and a mop were enough to remove any unpleasantness after a session. Victoria wasn’t quite in that league. Still, Fiona thought, a change was a good as a rest.

The pets of Fiona’s hostess were prepared for their ordeal, one secured to a heavy chair and another apparently kneeling on a black foam rubber-covered mat. Neither struggled or panicked, both resigned despite the creak of the door and that tattoo of high heels on stone announcing the arrival of their tormentors.

“Oh Victoria, darling. I am so jealous of your garrotte chair.” Fiona’s husky tones exuded rich English privilege with every syllable. She advanced on the device, unable to resist running her manicured fingers over the thick metal ring securing the male occupants' neck. His arms were held vertically behind him by another two pairs of metal bands encircling his upper arms and wrists either side of the back and his ankles were equally held by rings forcing him to sit with his legs obscenely spread.

“It can be very handy when I need to milk her.” Victoria’s reply: English with an elegant Irish overlay.

Fiona could see Victoria’s continued need to emasculate her victim at every opportunity. She had him dressed in a pale pink waist cincher, stockings and suspenders. His slight body was hairless apart from a short fuzz on top of his head. ‘Lucy’, as Victoria referred to him, had Hispanic features and his skin betrayed a tan, faded no doubt, from his extended incarceration.

Fiona had helped acquire him some years before. She had used her contacts to extract him from death row in some South American country she had forgotten the name of and to deposit him at the whim of Victoria’s tender mercies. It was doubtful he even understood what they were saying. Not that they might have a useful conversation; any meaningful exchange was prevented by a rubber ball secured between his teeth by enclosing leather straps, forcing him to bite down. Fleece-lined leather pads were held over his eyes by a similar mechanism to deny him sight of his tormentors.

Fiona wrapped her elegant fingers around his drooping cock causing him to grunt. “Not that you’re going to get much milk out of him now. What happened to his balls?”

Normally tall and confident, Victoria looked bashful. “After she made another attempt to escape, I had her castrated as punishment. After that, she seems to have lost some of her vigor.”

Fiona looked down thoughtfully at the restrained figure, squeezing his flaccid penis as one might milk a cow, causing the poor wrench to moan into his gag. She turned her attention to the other restrained figure, another which she had helped Victoria acquire, this time a woman convicted of adultery in the Middle East. “What about her?” Fiona gestured with a nod to the pet Victoria referred to as ‘Ellie’.

“I’m not sure how much spirit she had in the first place. Honestly, Fiona, I think you put me on to a couple of duds.” Victoria raised a mocking eyebrow.

Victoria’s challenge struck home. Feeling her reputation besmirched, Fiona squeezed Lucy’s appendage with extra vigour causing a pained grunt to issue from his throat. After a moment’s thought, she released the hardening phallus and turned to Victoria. “Did you know, one of the effects of strangulation are extreme erections in men and pelvic muscle spasms in women? It’s delicious.”

Victoria shook her head in mock innocence, “really?”

“Why don’t you take a ride?” Fiona gestured to Lucy’s lap and moved to a position behind the chair. From there she could turn the big metal wheel which slowly but forcefully drove a threaded metal bar with a flat end into the neck ring from behind, inevitably throttling the chair's occupant. Fiona turned the wheel experimentally and was rewarded by an urgent grunt and a hardening cock.

Obligingly Victoria hitched up her elegant silken cocktail dress revealing her toned thighs sheathed in seamed stockings. She pulled aside the meagre triangle of material covering her hairless pussy and mounted her struggling plaything. If Lucy felt pleasure at the entry, he didn’t show it, flushed and struggling for breath as he was. Fiona could see that Victoria was enjoyed it and that was all that mattered.

Slipping her shoulder straps to allow her own dress to drop to the floor and kicking off her shoes, Fiona padded over to the mats in stocking feet. Ellie waited, subdued. She wore a red leather bondage harness, collar, and a single glove which kept her arms restrained behind her. Straps around each thigh and ankle forced her to kneel. A mock set of voluptuous red plastic lips hid a ring gag set in a head harness.

Ellie’s dark green eyes were downcast until Fiona manipulated the pulley motor controls lifting the chain attached to her head harness. Amused by the absurd red lips, Fiona pulled her hairless cock from her lacy knickers and fed it into Ellie’s oral ring. The eyes of Fiona’s victim bulged as she was forced to precariously balance on her knees with little support from her tormentor.

The dominant Englishwoman purred as she felt Ellie frantically work her tongue to satisfy her. From behind her, Fiona could hear the sounds of Victoria beginning to enjoy her ride, but she could also detect Ellie’s lack of enthusiasm. She didn’t even try to maintain eye contact while fellating her.

Perhaps Victoria is right, these two are past it, Fiona mused. She pulled herself from Ellie’s mouth, being sure to wipe the long ropes of saliva against the bound woman's face. Seeing Victoria in a state of rapture, Fiona returned to the garrotte chair and gave the wheel one last fatal twist. She watched just long enough to ensure that Lucy’s thrashing became frenzied as his face began to flush from red towards purple before returning to the object of her own pleasure.

Ellie’s moans of relief were palpable as Fiona worked the pulley controls to lower her again. Her ridiculous open-lipped features almost looked grateful to Fiona as she methodically detached the chain from her head harness, only to connect it to the D-ring at the back of her collar.

A new panic gripped Ellie as the pulley whirred drawing her up to Fiona’s eye level with nothing more for support than the wide strip of leather secured around her neck.

Fiona grunted with the effort of entering her twitching playmate providing some, but too little, support to prevent Ellie’s inevitable strangulation. The dominant woman pulled her victim in an intimate embrace, but did nothing to hold her up, a thrashing starfish of stunted limbs.

The Englishwoman found her own ecstasy, gripped as she was by Ellie’s inner folds twitching and contracting in her death throws. Like a devoted lover, Fiona explored Ellie’s lips, held open by the metal ring set inside the lurid plastic lips. Her lithe tongue tangled with Elle’s, which lulled and protruded as she fought for breath.

At some point before Fiona reached her climax, Ellie had passed the point of no return. Her last gasp clamped Fiona’s throbbing member deep inside her and held it firm until she finally came inside Ellie’s gently swinging corpse. Fiona pulled out at last, spent. Although the odd twitch afflicted Ellie’s body, she was gone.

Fiona turned to see Victoria brushing waves of her dark hair from her perspiring face having only just recovered from her own moment of crisis. She looked down at Lucy, unmoving, his face a strangled purple of fatal exertion and burst capillaries. As Fiona watched, Victoria turned to exclaim, only to take in Elle’s equally tortured features dangling at the end of the chain.

Before Victoria could utter a protest, Fiona interjected: “It felt exquisite being inside her as she went. Although, I wonder if it would have felt better if I had mounted her from behind?” She shrugged as if it was a trivial thing. “I should try it with one of my own pets, but they all tend to be somewhat over-stretched in that regard.” Fiona’s voice took on a musing quality, “my own fault I suppose.”

“You killed them!” Victoria’s voice pitched high with accusation rather than shock.

“Well,” Fiona retrieved her dress, “you were bored with them and it was the most fun you were going to get out of them given how past it they were.” Seeing the beginnings of realisation in Victoria, she felt the need to tamp things down. “Your man Janik is more than capable of disposing of these two. You really should have got shot of them earlier.”

Understanding dawned on Victoria’s oval face. She nodded and pulled herself from her spent toy.

“At least it was bloodless,” Fiona observed, fitting finely-manicured toes back into her stilettos. “I once visited a friend of mine who has a plantation down in the tropics. He used a guillotine as a threat to keep his pets in line. He once had to dispose of one while I was there and was kind enough to allow me to mount the condemned girl as the blade fell.” She inhaled deeply as she briefly relived the experience. “Absolutely exquisite!” Her mind returned to the room and turned to Victoria knowingly. “A guillotine: not for domestic use. It made a terrible mess.”

The ladies sauntered towards the door, having restored their elegant outfits. A tall, able-looking man stood discretely nearby. Victoria nodded to him and then pointed at the two dead bodies, “Get rid of them if you please, Mr Janik. Make sure there’s nothing left to find.”

“Yes, Mrs McCathy,” the man’s rough voice intoned, heavily accented.

Their clicking heels muted as the stone below their feet gave way to carpet.

“So, how are you going to get your thrills now?” Fiona tried to keep her tone from giving away her hope that they could indulge in some more trading in human assets. “Perhaps some new blood is in order?”

Victoria scoffed. “Would you be trying to sell me some of your cast-offs? You always use them up too quickly for them to have any second-hand value.”

As they entered the sitting room with its grand fireplace, they retrieved their half full wine glasses and retired to opposite ends of a sturdy leather sofa.

“What then?” Fiona wondered privately if Victoria had found an alternate vendor.

Victoria took on a thoughtful look. “I thought I might like to try to find some new blood myself.”

“You’ve found a new trader?” Fiona pricked up her ears with interest.

“No.” Victoria became resolute and turned to Fiona. “I want to find a new pet myself. Someone young and impressionable.” Her voice took on a new passion. “I want to hunt, stalk, groom and then reel them in myself.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow in surprise. “That sounds tedious, not to mention dangerous.”

Victoria shook her head. “No. It’s a challenge. It’ll be fun.”