checking out new real estate...

Although it's always a nuisance to start up a new dungeon complex, there's still always that fun in being able to come up with a fresh place, and kick around a few new ideas. Fortunately this hiatus resulted in most of the well-paid help having a long summer season off to recharge and then drop in on the owners once in awhile to kick around some concepts. The boss, the wife, and a few of the older kids are usually on the road quietly checking out real estate, in this economy, suitable places relatively easy to obtain, especially with real estate and banker types eager to not ask too many questions from people who are proposing discrete, all cash deals. Although not shy about using the corporate jet when it makes sense, they've mostly been taking it leisurely, touring from one end of North America to another in their private rail cars. The attention from the TSA is relatively non-existent, and most of the on-board crews not caring to ask many questions once they've been toured through the well-done, but not lavish interiors. Although a little unusual to travel with what looks like a baggage car, nobody's all that curious...only those in the know have the multiple keys and codes required to open the secure doors that open to the compact, but well-equipped soundproof storage rooms and torture chambers. Highly useful sales tools for loyal clients, and potential new customers, when not enjoying the passing scenery, the creative work of the traveling chef, or the well-stocked liquor selections, able to enjoy sampling one of the captive young ladies scooped up along the way.
But with not a whole lot going on after a pleasant extended vacation, I get a text that they'll be passing nearby, so I meet up with the owners as they're making a quick stop at a small town in the middle of basically nowhere, hopping aboard almost unnoticed in the driving rain in the dark of the night. Kicking back with a cold local microbrew, I meet up with one of my favorite previous night shift co-workers, a seemingly normal on the surface soccer mom type. With her kids back in school, she's been able to get a few days off from the housewife routine, and we're soon it's like old times, adding new "what I did on my summer vacation" stories as we crack another round of quality beers while watching the rain-drenched, empty small downtowns go past. With a few references from the boss, we've managed to keep our hands in the business, so to speak. I quite enjoyed a few weeks at a remote eastern European Gothic mansion, helping a newly-wealthy character and his possibly even more depraved, but gorgeous Russian wife set-up a reasonably well done and equipped dungeon...the medieval-like atmosphere one of the best recreations I've run across. Although ambitious, the couple and their help needed some suggestions on tweaking the design and definitely needed some training. Fortunately, this couple's shady connections provided a few rather attractive local girls to work with, and by the end of the week, I felt fairly comfortable that they could stretch a girl on their new rack or wheel as it should be done, and perform a proper interrogation or two. Mostly occupied with her family's usual summer activities, my partner still managed to help out for a few weekends at a secretive millionaire's remote complex. This couple usually staffed their expansive residence with eager, but somewhat naive young ladies from overseas, probably none of them imported legally. There's always a few who need some disciplining, and for a few that were caught pilfering the owner's belongings, they unfortunately paid the ultimate punishment, my partner's hazel eyes positively twinkling as she described the formal short-drop hangings she supervised in a small, remote garden for the owners and a select small group of friends.
After the long chats into the night, we all get around to the morning routines in a leisurely fashion, still in vacation mode. At some point, the oldest daughter and son, being groomed to take over in the family business eventually, came onboard, and over one of the better breakfasts, we leisurely discuss future business. We're still a good distance away from the next city on the boss's tour, so we have plenty of time for me and my partner to add our two cents. It looks like the business plan is going to pretty much stay with the same successful formula, just tweaked a bit. Although things are tough in the overall economy, our client base is still doing quite well, thank you. Our bread and butter , so to speak, is still in providing the whole package for kinkier-minded, wealthy folks who get off on having female captives to carry out their weirdest fantasies on. We provide either everything, or what part they don't want to get their hands dirty with themselves...keeping a regular inventory of fresh captives available for torture, rape, and execution scenes that they can be part of, or as many do, have the whole thing handled by us, viewing whatever happens to the captives they've purchased or rented on a secure, live connection, and complimentary DVD. Of course, we're also able to, and happy to sell a client the girl, or group even, that fits their needs. It's all a matter of money at the end of the day...females custom kidnapped to specification, or younger, or more attractive, etc. a matter of costing more. For those looking for something more economical, our website, secured to proven customers only, updates the inventory of captives available, shown off with numerous pictures and a detailed bio. Another line of work we'll keep providing is a place for some of our shadier characters to outsource their "problems" to. Whether times are good or bad, there's always a need to outsource things: kidnapping and torturing a business rival's girlfriend, mistress, wife, daughters....disposing of a troublesome ex-wife, or snooping employee, the possibilities never seem to end. Some of these are cared for as a no-charge item to long-term profitable customers, but in general, something that can be rather lucrative, since many of these clients don't have the time to negotiate a price in their time-sensitive situation. As we're kicking ideas around, it seems a good idea to expand a couple of our newer offerings from the last operation a bit. The website torture chamber proved pretty popular, despite some occasional technical issues that cropped-up, especially some software problems at first. But the customers couldn't get enough of it, from anywhere in the world, 24 hrs. a day, as long as one had an internet connection, a credit card, and a little patience, one could have a freshly captured naked young lady at his mercy. Just a matter of a mouse click on one of the drop-down menus, and you could instantly see your temporary victim respond to the increased voltage shot into her more sensitive regions as she lay strapped to the table, or add a few pounds more pull to her limbs as she lay on the rack under the gaze of the cameras. It turned out to be a fairly good way to break-in new arrivals as an added bonus. The boss's daughter and son have been lobbying a bit for that to be expanded...the slightly ghoulish daughter suggesting adding something stronger, like a pendulum chamber, where numerous customers could regularly check in to see how far down the blade had progressed down, some HD cameras zoomed in on the victim's face as she waited for the inevitable and gruesome ending. "We'll keep that one in mind honey" the boss chuckled and winked at his wife & business partner. Then we all seemed to agree that the new line that developed out of taking care of some of our more perverted banker friend's delinquent account problems is something that should be continued, but refined a bit. My partner brought up a few easy suggestions to avoid another "oops" that happened, where a new torturer mis-identified a schoolteacher working off some late student loan payments and sent her off with a group of worn and spent captives being disposed of on the guillotine as part of our usual end of the month clearance sales. Probably something simple, like using a different colored, shorter-term ink and numbering system when they're inventoried. We all seemed to agree that putting these short-term visitors into the general population, and handling them relatively the same, was worth continuing. Although not much of an issue yet, since each "visitor" was thoroughly briefed on the consequences of mentioning her weekend of sexual abuse and torture, there were a couple of younger women who seemed like there was some angle they could profit from their ordeal. One wouldn't think it would be a problem, since each victim signs almost as much paperwork as buying a house acknowledging her unique offering, plus each session including at least one closely simulated execution, as well as being a bound and gagged "guest" at a regular execution chamber session for reinforcing that commitment. For now, the owners think a two-step warning procedure should work...for a first indiscretion, the offender is quickly returned to the dungeon for an intense 24 hr. or 48 hr. session, plus the pictures and video of her ordeals being sold off to regular public BDSM sites, plus a few conveniently "leaked" to the usual free pic locations. If she persists, she'll be warned that she'll be included on the next group session on the gallows. But we've noticed a more usual occurrence, where it appears someone has managed to get herself back in financial trouble rather quickly, and seemed way too eager to work it off using the same solution. We might hint to her at the end of that session she might want to find herself a more mainstream BDSM outlet for her sex life, but then again, the sexy MILF bank vice president that liked observing and participating, didn't seem to mind...especially when it gave her yet another chance to trade her conservative business attire for the tight black leather get-up and whip she kept in her office closet, always able to postpone a meeting for the chance to abuse another helpless female customer.
Just as we're breaking for lunch, the boss's wife still scribbling ideas on a legal pad, the Amtrak train we're attached to pulls in on schedule, and quickly cuts our private cars off. Within minutes, we're coupled behind a switch engine, and being taken on a tour of the local gritty neighborhood, getting the "scenic" tour of warehouses and factories squeezed between a sprawling airport and miles of docks and piers, as the crew does a few set-outs and pick-ups of various empty and loaded freight cars. When they're done, we then start backing down a long, curved, tree-covered spur to an empty factory building the boss has been checking out. While backing, I get a chance to talk a bit with the conductor, a cooperative local train crew always a valuable asset. This place does show promise....like our better late facilities, it's fairly "intermodal" as they say, with close access to quiet and unobtrusive water, road, rail, and air connections. The owners have been busy checking the local scene out, and it looks good....the backside of the airport is accessible through the local streets, and it turns out an appropriate-sized hangar that can easily shelter a couple of Gulfstream 550's or a BBJ is available, the previous leasee having gone Chapter 7 and leaving the landlord eager to deal. No problem for our farther-off customers....able to load their new purchases in the privacy of a closed hangar, on the side of the airport off of the authorities usual rounds, then be off on their way home with no delays. We all seem to like the rail and water access layouts, too. The docks look like they'd be about invisible in spots, especially at night, with a roll-up door going into the place large enough to handle a 50 footer, or one of the boss's utility boats..always a plus for customers who like to depart or arrive without too many prying eyes or people asking questions about the tied-up and gagged cuties below decks. The rail spur looks good for a couple of reasons, too...a roll-up door leading straight into the building so unloading operations could be done under cover under all weather conditions. the small fleet of ordinary-appearing leased controlled climate boxcars the boss has leased under one of his multitudes of shell corporations have proven pretty useful in transporting newly captured inventory...with the doors sealed and locked, and an appropriately obscure waybill, for all the crews or anybody else could know, all that's inside is another load of potatoes or apples. But kept fed and watered by the ride-along attendants, the bound and gagged females are kept at a comfortable 72 F, the car's location and environmental conditions relayed back to headquarters constantly by satellite or cell connections. I check out the long, curved spur as we get closer for other aesthetics, too...the occasional customer wanting to indulge a damsel tied to the tracks scene, of course. The thick trees and brush keep a good portion of the line hidden from view, and it's look enough for an engine to get some speed up. Talking with our conductor, it seems she might prove to be our type, although she's a fourth generation railroader, and not about to do anything else. An ex-marine, the cute and muscular, tough blonde isn't the shy, weak type, easily handling throwing switches and aligning 800 lb. drawbars like any beefy guy. I ask about the engineer, and she shrugs..."he's a dick, but he bid into a different job, shouldn't be here for more than another couple of weeks" she replies..."Buddy of mine, real fucking character, bid in on this job, should get it, we'll be the regulars on this job pretty much" she smiles, just before dropping off the car's platform to guide our train in, then walk forward to uncouple our cars, then climb back on the engine to pick up some more cars before returning to get ours. "Probably be back in 2 or 3 hours" she says as they leave. That sounds like about enough time for us to make a quick tour of the place with the commercial real estate people that are waiting. My partner and I relax and have a beer while the owners do their chatting and bullshitting with the sales people who are trying not to look too desperate to sell this place. But curious, and a bit bored, we get off and head in to check the dark and dusty place out. Most people would shy away from a place like this, but we're liking the look of it. Great, but discrete access, a little more room than the last place. I look up and check out the overhead trolley, the numerous electric-powered hoists....a couple of older machine tools, deemed too old and difficult to move, apparently. A large milling machine looks intriguing...although dirty and unused, apparently still operational, the heavy steel bed more than large enough to fasten an average-sized female to. Walking around, there's plenty of appropriate-sized rooms that could be converted easily enough to torture chambers...the basement, and sub-basement consisting of more than enough windowless, concrete walled rooms that could be made into adequate storage cells easily enough. The partner and I nod to each other....like the previous places it'll take some work to set up, but definitely enough possibilities to make this our happy home away from home.
As we're walking out, we notice the boss and the sales folks smiling and shaking hands, making phone calls. We walk around the exterior for awhile after they head back into the office car's air conditioning, then get handed a glass of pricey champagne as we step back aboard. A well-dressed woman, apparently a bank's vice-president of commercial real estate or such, has appeared, too, and she's busy with her laptop, arranging wire transfers and title transfers, as she chats. The boss nods and winks briefly as she chats on about her friend at the bank we dealt with at the last location...the secretly sadistic blonde dominatrix that ended-up tossing us a decent amount of extra business. An expert at sizing up people, the boss's wife seems to be checking her out for similar possibilities...seeming to be interested in conversation, but a twinkle in her blue eyes says the gears are already turning in her brain. "Well partner, looks like we're in business again" soccer mom chuckles as she clinks her champagne glass against mine..."Here's to lots more fun with girls" I laugh quietly....the boss smirking through his thick beard between signing papers. He strolls over as his wife is still busy signing and shuffling other paperwork, and tapping away on her laptop..."Actually we're already in business with these guys somewhat" he offers. "I'm sure you've read about all the distressed properties all these banks are holding on to? Turns out this bank has a few of them, along with some other guys we deal with. Nothing like some half-done places in subdivisions gone bad to use for stocking up on inventory temporarily....we'll be back in business before you know it, just a matter of making a few calls and the trucks and rail cars will be rolling in as soon as we've got something set up here".