Odalisque Addams awoke chained hand and foot to a wall, ball-gagged and blindfolded. The slight slack caused her to list from a perfect slash and she exerted herself to make a better presentation. She did hope the wall didn’t make her look too healthy, her gold blonde hair and peachy complexion was a trial to compensate for.
Her memory gave her no hints as to how she’d gotten here. Muzzy images suggested more than chloroform, though whether delivered by gas, ingestion, or injection she couldn’t judge. She’d have to find out. It was a disorienting feeling.
She was watched, now. Who had her? It was from her viewpoint an artful abduction. Had there been a bloody slaughter, or a silent extraction? One or the other, she insisted. Motive?
She was disappointed when the observer stopped watching her. There might be cameras, but they lacked visceral effect. They did have archival uses. Maybe one could sense being obsessed over by tape. Photographic stalking had once been new.
Such thoughts wiled away untold hours. There was no window. Basement. Closet. Vault? So many delicious options. The eyes came back. The door was pulled open quickly. She shrugged delicately, wondering what he’d expected leaving her chained up for so long. The door was closed again, then opened once more shortly.
Scissors cut the skirt of her dress at the waist and big padded fingers pulled it away. She could hear it used to wipe at the floor, then plopped into a pail. It had been a nice gown. She was methodically cleansed, but not re-dressed. Gagged as she was she couldn’t exactly warn him that it would happen again if she was left for such extended periods.
She was, and it did. The second time, she’d thought it was some sort of misguided lesson, given how long the filth was permitted to accumulate. The third time she concluded her captor was short staffed. He rechained her arm straight up after that cleaning, so she was standing firmly on her leg stretched like an exclamation point. He was clever. He was also more attentive after that.
Ransom. That answered her question as to her abduction and the well-being of her family. He was apparently most diligent in leaving the lair to place his demands and engage in whatever negotiations were needed for the final exchange.
She was less certain of her supposition as her captivity stretched to what she thought was the fourth day. Without food or water for that long her toilet was perfunctory. Chained back up she sensed something was different, and then the buckle was undone on her gag and the balled eased from between her teeth. Before she could make more than modest sounds a lidded cup was pressed against her lips and her head tipped back. Gag replaced broth quickly.
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She was being toyed with, alternately left to sleep long stretches and toiletted over-frequently to disorganize her sense of time. Odalisque sensed a presence more often, watching her and then leaving the room without a word or touch. Her captor’s large hand landed to cup her face, his palm hot and still against her cheek and then as quickly gone.
He didn’t come back for ages, and it was a relief when she was taken down for her toilet. She was cleaned mechanically, and quickly rehung. Food was given and withheld contrary to any apparent schedule. Mostly broth, sometimes soft foods. The last he fed her gently with a coated spoon. She tried talking to him during those moments, and he didn’t stop her, just as he didn’t react.
Completely disoriented as to how long she’d been held, she was surprised as the right side of her dress was sliced open and her breast palmed, nipple framed in the C of his thumb and index finger. He left as suddenly as he’d arrived. Things were coming to a head, he was spinning out of control.
The next two meals were broth, and she thought quite some time later. Matters weren’t going to his plan. Her rape was imminent. The bath took her by total surprise. It was a sponge bath perforce as she was kept chained to the wall, but he did shampoo her hair. There was a drain in the floor. So, not a vault. Abattoir? He toweled her off, blotting her hair dry. He removed the ball gag.
She steeled herself. She flinched at the touch to her ear. Cell phone? “Daddy? Mummy? I don’t know what his demands are. He’s going to rape me now.” It only made sense that it was her family, who else would he torment? The phone was removed and she stood fast. The shutting of the door was so quiet she nearly missed it.
It was a trial but she resisted calling out. Addams did not break. Treason, duplicity yes but they didn’t crack. Soon. Would he rape and disembowel? Slice her throat at his culmination? Cannibalism. Her mind swam with possibilities. She grew wet and swooned.
Odalisque felt the large finger between her labia and feigned continued unconsciousness. Clit to hole and back again it sank in just a bit further each time until finally it sunk one, two, three knuckles deep and she was riding the back of his hand. Forgetting herself she moaned, clenching around the invader slipping past her hymen. She sparked. “More!” He pulled out his finger, only to switch it for another that could reach deeper. Fireworks were going off inside her eyelids. He pulled her head back and mashed his open mouth over hers. She waited for his tongue so she could bite down hard. She sought it in its lair to tempt it to danger. No lion to beard. She kissed him harder, excited his tongue had been cut out.
She roiled with increasing shocks, shellbursts and blooms. For a finger it was long and thick, but still only a finger. It twisted inside her, and everything went to white.
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Odalisque was frustrated. The digital foray hadn’t been repeated in what had to be days. She’d talked herself hoarse, pleading, promising and cursing him to shove into her and plant his seed. He’d not provided food or water in ages. She faced the door, knowing that he was outside. After long minutes, he opened the door and strode right to her. She could feel the heat pouring off him. A blunt hot pressure rubbed her between the legs, becoming slick as it circled her hole before being withdrawn. She cursed him like a sailor after the door slammed shut.
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“No!” It had breached her, tore past her hymen and now the cockhead, just the head of him was pulling away from its shallow penetration. The pain had been exquisite, coming suddenly after a drink of water. He was big, and he hadn’t even made a full stroke, didn’t work himself down to the root, just popped her and pulled out. Masochist. Sadist. She would have his children, she just had to get him to rape her properly.
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Time passed, though she thought her feedings and foliating were rather more frequent so it could be only days not weeks as it seemed. He’d returned to the solicitous professionalism of her early captivity. The ball gag had also been replaced, and she’d been dressed.
She tensed at the first stroke of his hand down her neck. It wasn’t followed by another that visit. When he returned he traced her left side. Third trip he ran his large hand up her leg. Left shoulder. Right buttock. Belly. The seventh visit he tore open her top tracing under her breasts. The next flurry of encounters revisited terrain. His left hand gripped her neck, he bit her right nipple. Turned out her thigh, traced down her thigh.
She was at such a pitch of anticipation she missed the entry of his finger. Her breasts heaved as he set her to sea, sliding in and out with his large long finger. She curled her leg over his right, unthinking of the released chain. She struggled as her arm was pulled down, writhing vigorously as his hand came from between her legs. He carried her thrashing out of the room. She hated the gag, hated the blindfold.
She was tossed down on a cushioned surface, and she crabbed back on the bed foot and hand as pins and needles ran down her limbs. Soon he captured her ankle and wrist and had her tied spread-eagle. She shifted as she could, which was little, desperate.
He transfixed her, fed his hard cock past her labia until his sack slapped against her. Again and again he pulled away to shove back in, his strokes becoming longer as she ramped higher and higher. His hands gripped her shoulders, so close to her fragile neck. She arched her back and his hands came down to her breasts. He didn’t cover her and she raged at that, raged at not having opportunity to bite him, headbutt him. She feared he’d coitus interuptus, he’d exhibited far too much self-control so far. She wouldn’t be denied her unborn children of rape.
He tapped her against the ear and undid the ballgag as he continued to plunge into her. He was taping this, he would send it with his next demand. “Mummy, Daddy.” It was difficult to talk in extremis. “He’s finally raping me, he’s close I think.” She grimaced in ecstasy as he became unhinged. There! He was erupting within her, pearly ropes filling her womb. She would conceive. She was an Addams.
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Bent into a bow, chained ankle to wrist behind her back, he entered her from behind nibbling the back of her neck as his large hands smoothed over her flesh. She suspected this footage would be from her clavicle down, to protect the anonymity of her abductor-rapist. Though from the feel of him any line up stripped from the waist down should reveal the perpetrator. Her parents had been getting an eyeful of him lately.
He dipped his fingers down to her clit, circling her inner folds stretched around his girth as he slid in and out. He’d become rougher since those early sessions, more primal. Her parents would pay the ransom soon. The ballgag prevented her from asking if he was demanding enough. Not that she thought he understood her. He wasn’t deaf. How was he placing his demands?
He thrust those thoughts right out of her head as he possessed her body, plunging into her, taking his pleasure. He grabbed her shoulders from the front, tipping them forward onto his arms. The changed angle pounded Odalisque full, and she knew this was for him, not for the tape but his lust, his anger. She clenched hard, fought him, drew him on. He came like a hurtling train on a collapsed trestle bridge and dropped on her like a dynamited cliff-face.
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She was suspended from the ceiling this time, arm taut as she barely balanced on the ball of her foot. She could feel him circling her. “You better be getting this on tape.” She sighed in relief when he finally laid a hand against her flesh. She’d yet to see the images, and was desperate to know they’d captured the nuance and intensity. He rotated her several degrees and she had to hop to keep her footing. He switched hands as he claimed different parts of her for the camera.
Suddenly he gripped her in both hands, spinning her one way and then in the other direction. His hard cock traced her belly, hips and buttocks in turn. He pulled her cheeks apart, dragged two fingers between her lips, latched his mouth over hers. He stepped behind her and pressed two wide fingers into her hole slowly, dragging them out and twisting them back in.
He rotated Odalisque and slammed into her, his fingers replaced with his cock, one finger thrust into her anus. He pumped into her repeatedly and suddenly withdrew. The head pressed against her sphincter and then he was gone.
Odalisque screamed herself hoarse for him to finish what he’d started, challenging his mettle, castigating his family, expending her store of invective. She hung abandoned for an eternity afterwards. Something pressed against her lips and she responded eagerly, then spitted out the water. Callused fingerpads skated over her skin. The door closed again.
The torture continued for interminable visits. Feeding, watering, otherwise tending her needs. Except her need for him, for completion, to reduce him to a sated husk. Her spirit lagged as she was disappointed time and time again. His hands on her hips, the slight pull of her ass to him gave her no thrill, teased too often. He was slamming back into her vulva from his withdraw before her interest returned, his penetration so sudden and unexpected her mind scrambled to provide a replay. The broken rhythm of the savage fuck shattered any build of orgasm in her. She exhorted, execrated, egged him on to his selfish completion. She was drunk on his lost abandon. His withdrawal and shift of hands promised sodomy. His juice slicked cock smacked wetly her butt, and he released her right hip to push his erection along her crack. She burst into tongues. Anticipation whetted her.
He stepped away, then dove in to mouth her left breast and end of her shoulder. He cupped the bottom of her hip, sliding just the tips of his fingers into her slit. He followed down her leg with his mouth, moving behind her on the way up and biting a path up her spine. He dipped his rough fingers between her legs, stepped to her side and dug one hard into her anus.
She cooed to him filthily, his other hand twisting her head to him by the cheek and possessing her mouth. She thrust her tongue into him wildly, biting his lips as he broke the kiss. He slid back behind her, his hands plowing across her roughly, gripping her throat, squeezing her left breast, cupping the bottom of her hip with his fingers brushing soo close to her slit. His rod was hot and straight up against her back. She provided the color commentary, breathing heavily.
She felt him step abruptly back, listened to him circle her. He was cruel, admiring his work. The door opened and shut softly. Minutes later she raged at her abandonment.
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She awoke, being carried through what seemed to be woods. Her captor was dressed and shod-she heard twigs break under his path. She was wrapped in a sheet. Shallow grave? Romantic as that was, she had plans that held no room for dying now. She focused herself on escape.
Her opportunity came when she was stuffed into a hole, no, a trunk. She skinned off her blindfold, undid the gag’s buckle and lashed out with her foot. The fight was short but sweet, and she quickly restrained her now prisoner. She heaved him into the trunk, and fished out his keys, giving a good squeeze from inside all of his pockets. She slammed the trunklid hard and hopped along the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. She smiled as she started the car and pulled out.
She had a nice drive, sloshing her former captor around for good measure, but her anticipation made her find the way back to his lair. It had been a moonless night so she’d still not seen him even having removed her blindfold. She pulled up to the small asylum, the land developer’s sign a blot on the overgrown lawn.
Odalisque slipped from the car and hopped inside after a hearty rap a tap tap on the trunk. This would be so much fun, but devilment was in the details. She quickly found everything she needed and went back to the car. She fed a rubber tube into the trunk and attached it to a glass jar with a nozzle. She waited for it to take effect and unlocked the lid, pulling it open.
Getting him out and onto the gurney took some doing. Good thing his hair was such natural padding, matted into so many ropes. Otherwise she might have cracked his skull open. She wheeled him inside, to the light.
“Oh!” She became wet just looking at him, stretched out and bound wrists and ankles, shoulder and belly banded. More leather framed his face as only vintage restraints could. He was inky, a rich velvet black rivaling a hearse, dark as night. “We’ll have such fine mulattos.” She looked around and found some bandage scissors to cut his shirt open. So evenly black, his nipples the same burnished plum as his lips. She stroked one then the other nub, swirling the disk and pinching the center to a hard peak.
She looked pallid against his dark flesh and it was only with great self-abnegation she resisted hoisting herself over him right in the foyer. She pushed him him down the hall, hopping after the gurney.
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After a month, she called her parents. She’d spent the time well, found the ransom money and account numbers, viewed the raw footage- she was eager to see the final cut. Entertained her beautiful captive. It had been electric. “Mummy! No, no, he didn’t release me. Yes, I’ve so much to tell you and Daddy. Do send the hearse, with an extra long coffin. No, it’s a surprise.” She closed her cellphone abruptly. There was so much to get ready.
Her clothes, which she’d ordered after getting free, were already packed. Which toys to bring though? She decided on asking her former kidnapper. His reactions were so nuanced, speech wasn’t really necessary. Odalisque kicked her way down the hall on the most charming stool she’d found. The building was two storeys high plus a basement, rife with half-flights, split floors and blind hallways. She had found this section the most fun-filled. She pulled up to one door and unlocked the meal slot and looked in.
He looked back at her brazenly, as if he wasn’t completely in her thrall. She liked the challenge in his green eyes too much to blindfold him except under special circumstances.
She closed the hatch and pulled herself up before she unlocked the door. She smiled at him recumbent and tipped backwards. She trailed a finger down his crooked arm from the wide leather restraint, past his elbow and on to his shoulder. She leaned down, pressing against his pectoral as she came lip close to his smooth muzzle. He screamed so well, she rationed it for bedtime. She loved how his new piercings highlighted the flaring of his nostrils, a bright ball on each side at the base of his nose. Two rings flashed at the fronts of his ears. She pulled back and blew him a kiss before looking down his chest.
Odalisque flipped the left nipple ring out, drawing the chains connecting it to its mate into a shallower curve. She spun the hoop and stroked his chest possessively. She pushed the right ring to match and moved down and higher. “You’re beautiful, you know.” His stomach clenched most deliciously. She rolled one testicle in her hand.
She flung the bed 190° so he was now hanging from his bonds like a sailor strapped to the bow of his ship. She moved around him to his right flank. “I’m taking you home.” It was too bad he didn’t seem to understand her words. It made her wonder how he’d placed ransom demands. It didn’t matter what language she spoke, he expressed the same incomprehension. She moved away from him and started gathering up cables, clamps, dildos, floggers, and other toys, moving out of his sight to pack them.
She looked at him when the service bell rang. “That’s my help.” He continued to act as if he’d be rescued. She dialed her phone, having only turned the intercom to transmit. “Pull out the casket and get my bags loaded, then come up in the elevator.” Too bad she had no more time.
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The hearse pulled into the elegant drive of the mid-century modernist house, past a weeping thorny tree. A knot of people exited the house, led by a cadaverous red-headed man in grey dockers and polo holding with both hands those of a valkaresque woman in a veiled brimmed hat, ruffled blouse and pleated skirt. The driver stepped out and to the back, his hand stilled inches from the handle by bloodcurdling keening. The banshee aria ululated for torturous minutes. When it stopped, and stayed stopped, the driver looked to the family, getting a nod from the father. He opened the door and pulled the casket out onto the lift. He closed the hearse door and then got back in and drove away.
The family stepped closer. They’d spent the time since their daughter’s, sister’s, niece’s, cousin’s call viewing the ransom notes and video clips. Just as mother and father started to reach for the casket lid handle, the top half flung open. One of the nephews rushed to stop its hinge-breaking fall. Odalisque wriggled out, smoothing her dress at turns. She smiled as she took her father’s hand. “Daddy.”
“Daughter.” He pulled her from the coffin, despite his weak appearance. Her mother finished pulling her skirt straight. He looked her over, head to foot. “New outfit?”
She nodded and looked at her loved ones, now gathering around her, leaning into hugs and giving others. “Now, I want to introduce someone. I don’t know his name, but I want to make him mine.” She looked into the coffin, along with her family. “I’m going to marry him.”
The screaming started again. The family laughed. Finally the father looked at them and they stopped. “Get Adam out of that coffin. We’ve a wedding to plan.” The uncles and nephews worked the towering man out, his arms pinioned his back and his ankles shackled. He screamed again, shaking himself to get free. Odalisque reached into the casket, then jammed the dildo gag into Adam’s mouth. She caressed his throat as the buckles were fastened. “Make sure you prop him upright. I wouldn’t want him to choke without me there.”
Mr. Addams looked at his wife adoringly. “You know your mother and I have been worried sick about you.”
“You’ve been eating. I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Tell me more about my future son-in-law. Your marriage won’t interfere with his art?” He stopped, holding his daughter by the shoulders. “I couldn’t let that happen. I’ll call the wedding off if it’s even a danger.”
She squirmed away. “What did he send you?” She latched onto one of her cousins and hopped into the study. She looked at the first easel on the bureau, then the second. She stopped after barely viewing the third. “I had no idea. We’ll have to fix him to a chair.” Odalisque looked at the most exquisite decoupage ransom note.
“Not now. If you’d been so eager to know what your mother and I were going through, you’d have gotten free sooner.” He looked at his daughter. “You did! How long ago?” He thought about it. “That’s why we stopped getting calls.”
“I can’t take sole credit for that.” She wanted to see his last message.
“No skipping. Supper first. We’ll have drinks with Adam.” He offered his daughter his left arm.
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Adam was chained hands above his head to a very highbacked chair in a stark black and white room with a solid wall of glass. His legs were spread wide by a long hobble.
“Didn’t call in a tailor?” He looked at his daughter disapprovingly. He spoke directly to Adam’s ear. “Don’t let me see you alive in that suit again.”
“Daddy!” She waited until her father turned. “He doesn’t understand.”
Her father moved his hands rapidly, smiling as fear bloomed on Adam’s face, and he went deathly still.
“What did you sign to him?”
“That he’d forged eternal bonds with this family that even death couldn’t sunder. At least, I think that’s what I said. I’ll have Gomez lend us his man. He’s fluent.”
Odalisque sat down on Adam, twisting around until she had her leg against his groin. “Don’t scream.” It was one of the sign phrases she’d learned. She leaned to unbuckle the gag, pulling it out to push it back in, giving several thrusts before withdrawing it completely. She dropped it on the salver and picked up the fresh muzzle. A pale hand reached from the right. “Thank you, Malice.” She cinched the straps tight, then rubbed her fingers over the dark lips. His jaw was restricted to the barest movement. She grabbed the champagne flute and tipped it to his lips. She took her own sip and leaned against him, nipping Adam’s ear.
Drinks over she slid off her perch and moved to the dining room. Her angle was bad to watch Adam’s forced feeding and she caught back up with her family. She insisted they take dessert back out to Adam. Only the daintiest morsels would fit past the chastity mask, so she cut tiny pieces and pinched them to Adam like a mother bird. Between that and her own bites she pressed her lips to Adam’s, digging her fingers inside his shirt to yank his chains.
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Six months later the Addams family was gathered around the pool, dark inflated balls floating on the water. “It’s so, exposed.” Gomez Addams rubbed his thumb over the back of his wife’s hand. The property had the most minimalist landscaping, no groves of old trees, just ornamental sweeps of scree, pruned thorn and the odd tuft of tall grass.
“Desolate. Swedish.”
Bells sounded and people took their places. Gomez stared at the bride on his cousin’s arm. “How far along is she?” Her belly swelled out of the cannonball hole that had ended the gown’s original wearer’s marriage before it had begun.
Morticia smiled. “Enceinte de huit mois.” She wrapped an arm around her husband’s head, taking him to her bosom. The bride, resplendent in ivory, left sleeve roached into a loose rosette, glid down the aisle. At the top, her father wrapped her hand through the groom’s elbow and took off his daughter’s rollerskate.
It was the traditional Addams service, Lurch signing it for the groom. There was an interruption by the groom at the ‘impediment, speak now’ section but one of the groomsmen tightened the muzzle and it was passed off as a cough/Tourette’s.
Gomez lip-synched the groom’s vows, the officiant’s statement of them. The listing of trials always excited him. Morticia joined him in the affirmation ‘Where you die, I will die, and there we shall be buried, shroud in our love.’ Gomez dipped her in their kiss. Odalisque levered herself up by her husband’s neck and plundered his mouth. Quickly the groomsmen undid the bridegroom’s bonds and resecured his hands in front, just under the bride’s butt.
The bridesmaids pulled on ropes, raising a translucent curtain around the newlyweds. A strong light cast clear shadows of pants unbuttoned and a skirt rucked up and all that naturally follows. A wail came unexpectedly after they had finished. A second wail joined the first. There was a confusing flurry of shadows.
Finally, the host appeared. “I’m a grandfather! They’re twins.”
The ushers ignited torches and headed for the reception marquee.
The end