The Tom Tom Club Chapter 1 free porn video

Ketsana pulled up to the curb one house before her cousin's, wanting the surprise to be perfect. Despite the cool May morning, her spirit burned as hot as the sultry heat she had just left in Thailand. For the past six months she had lived in a glamorized tent in a rural mountain region, with weekend jaunts to Bangkok her only reprieve. Now back in the States, her sacrifice was over, an entire month of paid leave, a fat bonus check for a job well done, and here at last approaching a home she'd never seen in person.

On the eve of her journey, Ket had the pleasure of being maid of honor at her beloved cousin's wedding. For so long she had worried about innocent little Daraswan, having arrived in the States after Ket, she never really seemed at ease here. That all changed when Ket had the great idea to hook her up with her friend from work. Tom was very much like Dara, quiet, respectful, despite their different upbringings, she felt they were a perfect match, and she turned out to be right. Within a year of meeting, they were married, much to Ket's delight, she knew now her beloved cousin was in good hands.

Throughout her six month absence, the two stayed in touch when Ket's work permitted, but it wasn't the same. For the longest time, all they had in this massive new land was each other, being separated had seemed unnatural.

As the house came into Ket's sights, her stomach danced with euphoria, not only a reunion, but the dawning of a new age, a marriage, perhaps soon nieces and nephews, she smiled at the thought, approaching the front door, a lush garden smiled back, birds chirped their spring sonnets seemingly only to her. She sighed as she reached the steps, taking a look around at the pristine landscape, lost in an avian melody and a slowly warming sun. "Dara," she spoke into that wondrous spring air, "this is all I could have hoped for." Within her a pang of joy so fierce it threatened tears rose and fluttered down as her trembling hand reached for the doorbell.

Dara jolted with shock, immediately shutting off the vacuum upon hearing the dreaded doorbell. Cautiously she stepped over to the bedroom window, silently hoping for a UPS driver or a Jehovah's Witness, anyone who would just leave their stuff and move along, as she peered beneath the blinds to see her visitor, she was stunned to find Ket standing at the bottom of the steps surveying the house.

"Oh shit," Dara softly muttered into the stillness. She glanced a frantic look behind her searching for her sweats, a few panic ridden seconds later, her eyes settled on them and Dara jolted in their direction. Privately she had always feared this, a visitor who not only couldn't be turned away, but would expect to stay as long as they wanted. In Dara's case, only one person fit that description, and up until now that person was tucked safely away on the other side of world.

Her heart racing with an odd mixture of excitement and fear, she hurriedly grabbed her sweatpants off the staircase banister and began covering the black latex that made up the majority of her attire. Nearly tripping on her four inch boot heels, she heard the dreaded sound of a second ring, terror gripped her stomach in a vise as she accelerated her pace.

"I'M COMING!!" she screamed from the top of the staircase, as she struggled with the black turtleneck. Hastily pulling it down, her pinkie jammed on her breast chain, causing her to almost shriek out loud, instead she covered her mouth and wailed in silence as her breast throbbed from the unexpected yank. She could feel herself begin to lose it, like those sessions that reached an unbearable point and all would go black. That could not happen today, she steeled herself and finished pulling over her turtleneck.

Another ring. Grabbing her sweatshirt and tying the pant drawstrings, she raced down the stairs. "I'M COMING! JUST A MINUTE!"

As Dara reached the door, she cast a quick glance at the mirror in the foyer. Hurriedly she folded the collar of the turtleneck, hoping it would be enough to cover the leather collar and o-ring beneath it. Adjusting the sweatshirt over it, she reached for the door knob, as she looked down, she couldn't help but notice her long-heeled boots, how would she explain them? Too late now, hopefully by the time Ket noticed, she would have an adequate story. She took a deep breath, then opened the front door with the biggest smile she could muster.

"KET! OH MY GOD!" she yelled throwing her arms around her cousin, mindful of the items underneath her sweats, she kept her chest apart, "this is a surprise!"

"Oh it's so good to see you again Dara," Ket answered as she embraced her cousin. "Turns out we finished early and didn't even know it, so when they changed my plans, I figured I'd just show up at your door...you know me, always the mischief."

"Yeah, don't I," responded Dara in genuine laughter.

The two stood just outside the door, both staring at each other as if they had been separated longer. A moment of pure goodness, thought Dara as she basked in the early morning sun, moments she had believed gone forever.

"Hey, it looks great out here," Ket began as a mischievous grin etched upon her lips, "but are you going to let me in or what?"

"Get your butt inside," Dara barely managed through gut shaking laughter.

Ket stepped into the foyer, her mouth agape at the splendor of her cousin's new home. She had seen pictures, but they hadn't done the place much justice.

"Wow Dara," she uttered in wonderment, "this is truly gorgeous."

"Thanks, we like it. Let me take that bag off your hands and I'll show you around."

As they made their way around the spacious home, Ket continued to be amazed. "How the hell does Tom afford something like this? I mean, you're not working right?"

"No," answered Dara, as the question reprised her angst, "Tom has a lot of investments, it's a little over my head, all that financial stuff, I guess they've worked out pretty well."

"I guess so," replied Ket still lost in her wonderment.

Dara put the thought out of her head. Investments? Sure being an internet porn distributor was like being an investor, and yes, business was good. But she didn't want to deal with those things right now. Her cousin was back, regardless of the consequences, she wanted today to be like the old days. Just the two of them hanging out, the comfort of familiarity, it was what she had longed for all these trying months.

As Dara completed the tour, she turned bright eyed to her beloved cousin, "so what did you bring back?"

"Well let's grab that bag and head back to the kitchen," Ket smiled playfully, "have I got a surprise for you." Like school girls they headed back downstairs, arm in arm, giggling, eyes full of life, impervious to the outside world, if only temporarily.

Once in the kitchen, Ket raced over to her bag. With a girlish smile seemingly painted permanently upon her face, she pulled out a mason jar nearly filled to the brim with clear fluid.

"Well?"

"Rice moonshine...from the mountains girl!"

Elation and fear struck Dara. Her heart may have panged for the old days, but her brain knew a drunken morning of all things would bring her terrible consequences. There would be no telling what Tom's response to something like this would be, surely it would call for an epic punitive session. Still she could not turn her back on her cousin, she would pay whatever price to feel normal again.

"You're such a nut," Dara replied feigning disinterest, "how much is in there?"

"That would be thirty two fluid ounces, or sixteen for each of us. More than enough to do the trick thank you very much."

"God, it's been so long," Dara uttered as she stared at the heavenly crystal clear liquid in front of her, "I'm not sure I should drink though Ket, I've got stuff to do today, Tom will be up-"

"You're k**ding right?" Ket deadpanned through a sly smile. "Get the glasses already."

Dara returned her smile, a fear laden excitement simmered in her belly knowing she was about to do something bad. At this moment though, it didn't matter that Tom would be upset, it didn't matter what he would do to punish her. Within her an indignant voice wailed in defiance, perhaps this fateful visit was the key to set her free. She broke her stare from the mason jar, its alluring promise of uncertainty filled her, and turned to retrieve the glassware.

"Oh my God Dara," Ket voiced in an astonished tone, "what the hell are you wearing?"

Panic struck her as Dara wondered for stagnant seconds just what might be peeking out from her sweats. It had been a hasty job, instinctively she brought her hand up to her neck, the dreaded leather collar, what else?

"What do you mean?" Dara asked without turning, suddenly frozen in fear.

"Those boots girl, who does housework in stilettos?" quizzed Ket as she began to stand up and walk over to Dara.

"Oh...you know," Dara began unsure how she was going to explain. Sensing Ket's approaching steps, she resumed her march to the cabinet, "you know...I..."

Ket was upon her as she reached up for a glass, to Dara's dismay, she was about to pull up her pant leg.

"NO KET DON'T!" she shouted causing her cousin to recoil in shock. Immediately remorse coursed through her, this was not the way to avoid suspicion.

"Sorry," she began, "I'm sorry Ket, I didn't mean to snap like that, it's just..."

As she trailed off and looked into Ket's eyes she saw the alarm in them. In earnest Dara grasped for the words to extricate herself from this, somewhere within her tortured mind existed the perfect literary combination to render this an innocent comedic incident, but she had to find them quick. She closed her eyes, and let loose what she had.

"It's just...I'm trying to break them in a little," she began softly, turning her timid eyes at Ket, "it's a little embarrassing...Tom likes them, so I'm trying to break them in a bit...you understand?"

A devilish smile broke out over Ket's face as her cheeks blushed, "you mean he likes the stilettos?" she asked in a hushed tone.

Dara only shrugged her shoulders, silently praying her tale would work.

"No shit!" Ket exclaimed in her muted voice, her eyes bulging. "What else? You've got to tell me."

"Nothing else," Dara replied, "really, it's just the boots, that's what does it for him."

"No way, I don't buy it," Ket said crossing her arms, "I've heard about this stuff...does he like getting spanked?"

"KET!"

"What?" Ket quizzed mocking innocence. "He does doesn't he? Oh come on, you can't keep this from me."

"I swear to you it's like I said," Dara turned finally grabbing two shot glasses from the cabinet, satisfied her story was working, although perhaps a little too well, "he likes to see me wear them, it's Friday, I thought I'd break them in a little and maybe surprise him when he got home...that's it."

She looked into Ket's disbelieving eyes, "really Ket, that's it."

"Hmmph...well if you insist...I still say there's something you're not telling me."

"Let's have a drink already," Dara answered. If only you knew Ket, if only you knew.

"Yes," Ket emphatically replied, "let's get this party started. You know when he gets here, I'm getting him good and drunk, and if I know Tom Tom, he'll tell me everything."

"Well hopefully then you'll be satisfied," Dara smirked. But you don't really know him Ket, not like me.

The two cousins settled back at the kitchen table. Like teenagers at their father's liquor, their eyes danced with merriment. Ket snapped the lid off the jar, the smell alone was intoxicating, without grace she dipped each glass in, alas their banquet ready for consumption.

"What shall we drink too?" Dara queried half joking.

"To Thailand," Ket said raising her glass in the air, a girlish giggle underlying her words, "nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there."

The two women erupted into boisterous laughter. Dara reveled in the moment, feeling like a c***d again, she had been set free, and freedom had never tasted so good.

The hours of course flew. When Dara glanced down at her phone to find it dead noon, a shock coursed through her veins. Being Friday she could expect Tom to get home around four, five at the latest. Immediately dread began to creep over her, as wonderful as the last few hours had been they could not offset the distress of remembering what she was. A truth that slammed through the benign fog of intoxication, a slave, utterly bound.

Dara stood up robotically, Ket noticed the sudden change in her cousin's mood.

"Hey, you feeling okay?"

"Yeah…" responded Dara as mesmerizing defeatism overtook her, "I just need to go to the bathroom…like I said, it's been awhile."

"Oh…"

Dara made her way to the private bath upstairs as if sleepwalking. Funny now that fear had come to roost, time had been reduced to a crawl. She passed a wedding picture of her and Tom and stopped for a moment. She remembered the day fondly, Tom was her knight, the nightmare to follow was unimaginable then, as her bright smile attested to. As she stared into Tom's eyes, the hair on her arms began to stand, behind the lying smile was an insidious evil, a man who at first put her at ease, then shoved her into hell with a smile on his face. Dara took one last wanting stare at her happy self, her eyes began to well, and when she couldn't take anymore, sprinted the last steps into the sanctuary of her bathroom.

After a few deep breathes Dara began to pull herself together. She gazed at her reflection for a moment, immediately lamenting her neglected, beaten puppy look. Sweat had begun to break out on her scalp, the cold fearful sweat she'd grown accustomed to. Breaking her lifeless stare from the mirror, she began removing the baggy clothes covering her slave gear. First the sweatshirt, then the black turtleneck beneath, and finally the sweatpants, almost tripping as one of her heels snagged on the pant leg, again. As she stood up, she locked eyes with her reflection once more.

Her gaze made its way down to her breasts, her nipples were linked together by the chain attached to her piercings. At the chain's midpoint six mini-padlocks hung, one for each demerit she had received the previous week. From time to time she would hold them in her hands to alleviate the pressure, but really there was no getting around them and six minis over twenty four hours certainly made their presence known.

The mini padlocks gleamed in the mirror's reflection. How she hated the sight of them. Like tiny sentries guarding her prison, a prison of python-like clothing, wrapped skin-tight around her, all the while the minis gleamed, proud, arrogant, defiant. While Dara suffered the indignity of wearing her prison cell, they celebrated, in devilish snickering tones.

Dara fingered the one in front of her collar, its weight defying its size. Casually she flipped it, the mini seemed to spring to life, bobbing up and down, reverberating against her imprisoned neck, shining like a diamond on black earth, it seemed to be laughing at her.

Again, tears welled in Dara's eyes, through them the mini's sparkle grew. They all seemed to be laughing now, rocking with delirious cackling. Dara drew a deep breath, she could not lose it now, and broke her death stare from the mirror. Though she did not have digestion problems, she did have to pee, and that came with its own problems.

Beneath her bound breasts was a latex waist cincher, despite being laced in the back, it too had padlocks, running through the laces, just in case she might manage to create some slack by fidgeting with them. Her pelvic area was not spared either, she wore essentially a souped-up chastity belt, and it did a lot more than just keep her from pleasuring herself. The front was fairly benign, a triangular black hard plastic with slotted holes to allow urine to pass and nothing else. From the top, two leather straps extended from each side and met each other at her back where they buckled together. From the bottom, a single strap went underneath her and joined the buckled straps, first pulled behind the buckle, then coming over the top of the buckle. This particular strap had ten holes in it, when it was pulled over the buckle, it was matched with another hole on the strap and, of course, padlocked. The more demerits, the tighter the fit, six demerits made a simple piss messy and problematic, anything over seven would send her to the tub, face down.

Dara settled on the toilet seat, slotted holes or not, her belt was simply on too tight for a flow of urine to pass freely. She closed her eyes and hoped for the best. When she was done, she getting totally dry would be impossible. This was the real punishment, sure controlling her orgasms was of consequence, but nothing said humiliation better than walking around in your own urine, no whip, no confinement, no exotic torture device, could ever accomplish her subjugation as completely as her chastity belt.

As she continued to pat her dry as best she could, Dara dreamt of her release. Given her unexpected visitor, her chores had been neglected, so she could expect to spend the night locked up, perhaps with an even tighter fit depending on how much of an asshole Tom felt like being. But sometime tomorrow, regardless of what other horrors might await her, she would be free. While those thoughts hardly brought her joy, at least her terror had subsided to an uneasy calm, and that was an improvement worthy of another drink and the bliss of her cousin's company.

Such was the relative happiness she felt when she was jolted by a jarring knock on the bathroom door.

"Dara," Ket spoke in a nurturing tone, "are you okay?"

Terror spiked through Dara's spine as she helplessly watched the doorknob begin to turn. Regaining her lucidity before it was too late, she jumped off the toilet seat and slammed her body against the door.

"Hey!" An irritated response from Ket.

"I'm sorry, I'm okay really Ket, I just need to be alone for a few," answered Dara trying to desperately to sound convincing. "I got you know, digestion issues." Dara knew that would do it.

"Okay, but you nearly took my nose off," replied Ket with big sister admonition in her voice.

"Sorry Ket, it's a little embarrassing you know?"

"Oh," answered Ket, "my fault, I'll let you have your privacy. Hey I'll meet you in the basement ok? I made a DVD of my trip I want you to see."

"Okay Ket, I'll be down in a bit."

Dara's muscles eased, she hadn't quite finished drying herself when she'd gotten up to block the door, so she was dejected her work was going to be a little more arduous than previously thought. Still, she felt better, picking up a box of easy wipes, she started cleaning herself up. After this maybe some drinks and a DVD, and then Tom could do whatever the hell he wanted. Whatever it was, it wouldn't change the fact that for the first time since returning from her honeymoon, she felt alive, free.

As Ket descended the stairs, she could not help but believe something was amiss with her cousin, but of course it had been awhile since they'd seen each other, and there was the fact Ket hadn't slept in a day and alcohol had been consumed. She got her bag and retrieved the DVD, making her way to the kitchen to pick up what was left of the moonshine and decided today was not the day to pursue this. Just a lazy Friday afternoon with her cousin, some drinking and a bullshit vacation video, nothing more.

Ket entered the basement and went over to the entertainment center, marveling at the modern equipment. She turned on the television and DVD player, thankful it wasn't too hard and began opening her jewel case. Not expecting a movie to play just then, she was startled by a pronounced moan of agony, and looked up to see much to her shock, her cousin.

Ket's jaw dropped as she struggled to comprehend the image in front of her. Dara was completely naked except for a chain attached to her breasts and white rope that ran through her pelvis and buttocks and around her waist, from there it went upwards to link up with the breast chain, and there was Tom, tugging on the rope, holding a riding crop in his hand, while Dara stood in front of him, her arms tied to some bar that was chained to the ceiling.

Ket looked on in horror as Tom raised his arm and brought the riding crop down on one of Dara's imprisoned breasts. She mimicked her cousin's cry of agony, still her mind could make no sense of the revolting scene.

Tom: You like that, don't you whore?

Dara: [panting heavily] Y-yes master…may I-I please have…some more.

Tom: Sshh. No need to cry, I have plenty for you. Today starts your breaking session. Do you know what that means?

Dara started to reply, but he put his finger to her lips.

Tom: There there, it's not a question I meant for you to answer. You can rest assured, by the end of the night, you'll know exactly what it means.

The devil's smile broadened as Dara's whimpers trailed off, he stepped behind her, "now I want you to stay calm, this is for you own good and fighting it will just make things worse for you."

Dara barely had time to digest the message before she felt the ball gag rudely intrude her mouth, she made a muffled protest and received another whap on her breast.

"Like I said…fighting will make it worse," he tugged on the rope to get her attention.

The camera pulled back to reveal an even more disturbing scene. Dara was not actually standing, but kneeling on what appeared to be some modified exercise equipment. A heavy tarp stretched tightly on rectangular frame, supported by long metallic poles at the four corners and two others at the mid-section, a horizontal bar ran across the two poles in the front corner. Dara's arms hung, chained to that horizontal bar, behind her, her ankles were chained to each corresponding mid-section pole, thus keeping her legs spread.

Tom slowly walked toward the rear of the contraption, as the devil's smile came over his face, he slid his hand beneath her buttocks and appeared to be pushing something inside her anus. Dara let out another muffled plea.

"We are going to have to make this orifice bigger," Tom began through Dara's gagged whimpers, "but there will be a time for that. Today like I said is your breaking session, where you learn to obey at all times, and the consequences of not doing so. I would like to tell you now, those consequences are always going to be a lot worse than anything I might ask of you. Inevitably this message takes a while to sink in, hopefully you won't suffer too much, but then again that's up to you."

Dara struggled against her gag, trying desperately to convey to him that she would obey, that this was not necessary. Tom seemed to understand, silencing her with a tug on the rope.

"I know Daraswan," he said again in that cool tone that was slowly driving her insane, "it’s good that you want to obey, it will make things easier, but this has to be done. You just be a good little girl and take whatever I give you. You will see it won't be so bad." He paused as he lightly tapped her pussy with the riding crop, "maybe I'll even give you a little present after all this is over, huh? Wouldn't that be sweet?"

Dara let out a soft moan as her crotch heated up, abruptly to her surprise, he gave each breast a solid whap, as Dara's body naturally pulled back, he tugged on her rope, bringing her upright again. Dara screamed through the gag, from arousal to searing pain in seconds, how her breasts ached, and to despair, this nightmare was just beginning.

Dara descended the staircase with mounting unease. Her mind raced with images of Ket seeing something downstairs she wasn't supposed to. Why hadn't she suggested the upstairs to watch the video? With so much on her mind, it hadn't occurred to her. Now her cousin was surrounded by her secret life. Dara could only hope everything was properly put away.

As she steadily got closer to the basement, Dara began to sense the worst. She could tell the tv was on, but the audio was still faint, inaudible murmuring. Her ears strained to hear, but she couldn't make anything out clearly. She noticed she'd come to a halt on the staircase, and scolding herself, began descending again, telling herself everything was fine.

As she got to the last set of stairs, the truth hit her. The indistinct murmurs were her own struggles against a tight-fitting ball gag some five months ago. Her agony that day, forever preserved on a digital medium, was now being observed by her big sister cousin.

Dara stood frozen, on the cusp of being in sight of Ket. If only the bombs were flying, all over the planet, that was all that could save her now.

Suddenly the audio stopped. Dara's heart sank, she wanted to run forever, but she merely stood there, frozen in fear, damning herself again for her indecisiveness.

"DARA!" came an edgy shriek from Ket. "DARA, ARE YOU THERE?"

If only I wasn't.

"DARA! WHAT THE HELL?" shouted Ket, now facing her at the bottom of the stairs. Ket's face contorted with rage and concern. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

Dara looked down at the floor, a sight she'd grown accustomed to, whimpering, another frequent symptom of her newfound existence. Unable to come up with anything else, she let out a pathetic, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" quizzed a fastly enraging Ket. "YOU DON'T KNOW? YOU DON'T KNOW??" Ket was screaming now, exasperated she grabbed Dara abruptly by the arm and led her down the final steps into the basement and the damnable television. Ket unpaused the video, again Dara's muffled agonies filled the room.

"HOW THE HELL CAN YOU NOT KNOW?" Ket seethed, now fuming with Dara's whimpering responses. Ket paused again, finding the cries of agony too much. She was about to bellow out another load into the now silent air, then stopped.

"What's under those sweats?" Ket asked, her tone accusatory though her volume decidedly lower.

Dara looked up from the floor. Death-wish shame, now terror again, her existence lived from one debilitating condition to the next. Dara's eyes bulged, yet again she found herself pleading for someone else not to violate her.

"No," she began meekly, "please Ket."

But Ket had already made up her mind, and Dara was incapable of stopping her. All she could do as Ket advanced on her and grabbed the sweatshirt, was mutter a feeble, "no, please no."

Ket would have none of it, as she roughly pulled the sweatshirt over Dara's head, immediately she noticed the outlines on the tight fitting black turtleneck beneath. Ket stopped for a moment, of course whatever was beneath the turtleneck couldn't be worse than the video, but now the horrible truth was alive in front of her, she didn't know if she wanted it unveiled.

Dara still had the sweatshirt covering her head and Ket's hold on it had Dara awkwardly hunched over, as she pondered her uncomfortable state, Dara could not help but realize the absoluteness of her slavery. Dangling blind like some puppet, and in the hands of her beloved cousin no less.

"Ket...." Dara uttered softly, the voice of the lowest life-form, pleading for mercy.

Ket snapped out of her momentary lapse. She removed the sweatshirt from Dara and stepped back. Looking at the nylon turtleneck, Ket could make out Dara's neck collar and her bare breasts appeared to be chained together. Ket didn't know whether to be repulsed or frightened.

"Dara," Ket began firmly, "get that sweater off now."

It appeared Dara was about to offer some protestations, so Ket cut her off before she could begin.

"I SAID GET IT OFF NOW!!"

Coerced into action, Dara slowly began removing her sweater. Perturbed by her speed, Ket stepped in and forcefully stripped off the tight garment. Unfortunately Ket had no knowledge of the six minis hanging on the chain, Dara screeched in pain as the chain, her piercings, and the minis all converged and entrenched themselves in a convoluted, painful mess.

Ket heard her cousin's cry of anguish and let go. She stepped back and was horrified anew. All of this, the bondage, the torture, she could in some way comprehend, but this, this wardrobe of confinement was sickening. The piercings in particular, made her cousin seem almost subhuman.

"Ket, can you please...help?"

It was the plea of purity. Whatever sickening ordeals Dara had experienced, she would always be an innocent little sister to Ket, and her heart tugged at the tenderness of Dara's simple request to help her out of her sweater.

Ket moved over to help. "What should I do?"

"Just help me pull it down, and then we can take it off slowly, okay?"

"My god Dara, I'm so sorry," Ket stuttered out, "I had no idea."

"It's okay," there it was again, the voice of an angel. Even after having her breasts yanked because of her cousin's impatience, there was no acrimony in Dara's voice, "I know Ket...it's okay."

Together they proceeded to carefully remove the turtleneck. Ket was not sure if she wanted to see the horrors underneath, but she had to know just what in the world happened here.

Once they got the sweater off, Ket's jaw dropped at the sight of her cousin. She looked like something out of Hellraiser, with her dog collar, pierced breasts chain-linked and weighted down with small padlocks, but of course this was only half the story.

"Take your pants off Dara."

Dara robotically reacted as if taking orders from Tom. She began to wonder just how much difference existed between the two. Would her cousin be strong enough to stand up to him?

"My God Dara..." Ket started, her astonishment clear. "Did you...do you like this...stuff?"

It occurred to Dara for a split-second that there was a way out of this. All she had to do was tell her cousin that yes, she was an S&M freak, that messed up as it might seem, this was paradise for her.

Dara looked into her cousin's eyes and knew she could not pull off such a lie, at least not to Ket. Gradually her eyes welled up, and she sobbed out a barely comprehensible, "noooo."

Ket looked on in wonderment in spite of her cousin's sobs and her own moral revulsion. This was the antithesis of the cousin she'd grown up with. Dog collar, chain-linked breasts with some sort of shiny weights to add to the discomfort, black latex waist cincher, below that latex garters, a very odd looking panty, and while she was wearing black nylons, they were almost entirely covered by her thigh-high boots with their four inch heels. From the knees and above each boot had a chain, exactly like the one on her breasts, criss-crossing itself all the way to their tops.

Ket began to circle around Dara, still agape with the toxic mixture of fascination and aversion. It was only upon getting a backside view that Ket was truly able to appreciate the horrific extent of Dara's confinement. The waist-cincher had a few small padlocks running through the laces, locks and thread seemed inextricably linked, the odd looking panty appeared way too snug and it too had a padlock. The chains that criss-crossed her boots were intertwined with the drawstrings at the top of the boot and padlocked. Ket moved to face Dara again, and then noticed the weights on her breast chain were the same little padlocks used to incarcerate her in her clothing, even in the dim light, they sparkled.

Ket reached out to touch one of the small locks, instinctively Dara pulled away, still smarting from the turtleneck fiasco.

"Dara," Ket softly spoke, "I just want to help."

"Okay," came the whispered response from Dara, "just don't pull them...please?"

"They're heavy," observed Ket as she gingerly held one in her hands. "Why? Why has he done this to you?"

Dara paused, she knew only too well Tom's reasons or at least the ones he had expressed to her. As shocked as her cousin might be at all this, she could never expect Tom's motivation. It was something Dara had no idea how to tell, her frantic mind incapable of articulating his depraved plan.

"I'm sorry Ket," she began in a detached tone, "I don't know how."

As her voice trailed off, Dara's sobs began anew. Ket reached over to her distraught cousin and put her arm around her. Looking down at the minis, Ket reached down and helped prop them up.

Dara looked into Ket's eyes. Dominant, but kind, very different from Tom's dominant and sadistic, but still strong. She imagined a confrontation, picturing Ket as her avenging angel banishing the demon sort back to his dark hole, "thanks, Ket."

Ket met her gaze, her mind was feverish with incoherence. Tom had been such a nice guy to Ket, he had seemed the perfect man, smart, respectful, quiet. Exactly the kind of man she wanted for Dara. Somewhere her anger was stoked, but she put it aside for now, there was too much to this story to be blinded just yet.

"Maybe you should lay down Dara," Ket spoke as she grew enchanted by the minis' sparkle, "those heels look unbearable."

Without saying anything Dara turned and gracefully made her way over to the couch. Ket followed, something within her grew more and more transfixed with Dara's appearance. Although it wasn't at all of a sexual nature, Dara's walk, her composure, of course her clothes, all of it seemed from some dark wonderland, a place so utterly revolting it became appealing.

Ket looked down at her cousin, who had sprawled out on the big leather couch along the basement's back wall. Though still tinged with morbid fascination, she fought through it as there were more pragmatic concerns at the present.

Ket sat down next to Dara, gently stroking her long dark hair. She had grown it out since Ket last saw her on Dara's wedding day, it looked good, perhaps even an improvement, but Ket's lips soured when she thought it was probably Tom's idea. Ket's gaze fell upon Dara's heaving breasts, a distraught look came over her as Dara's pearl white flesh came up to the nipple and the shiny metal chains and locks that transformed and imprisoned her. To objectify and render less than human, Ket thought briefly overcome with sadness. The mini padlocks merely sat there, s**ttered on Dara's chest, deprived of their function, they even appeared miffed.

"Dara, we've got to get you out of these..." but Ket couldn't finish, her life experience had not brought her any kind of familiarity with this world.

"We can't," answered Dara flatly, finally nearing something resembling peace.

"What do you mean, 'we can't'?" asked Ket, slightly annoyed. "He can't leave you like this all day. What if there was an emergency?"

Unmoved by Ket's angst, Dara replied coolly, "I know of two sets of keys, one on Tom's person, the other in a safe in the playroom. I can open the safe if it's an emergency like you said, but Tom will know within seconds and he will race down here to see why. I know the first time I had to use the bathroom with this belt on, I couldn't bring myself to do it, so I went in and got the key and used the bathroom like normal people. He was here in twenty minutes, and I wore the belt for a week straight. So please leave the safe alone."

"We've got to do something Dara," responded Ket with undisguised anxiety.

"Can you get me a drink?"

"Are you k**ding?" replied Ket, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"Get a drink, a stiff one, and I promise to tell you all I know." Dara gulped as she realized what she'd just said. Fearfully she glanced at the clock, quarter til one, not much time left now.

"Well then, okay," replied Ket, "but you'd better mean it, I want to know everything."

Ket promptly returned with the decanter, not bothering to pour any into a glass, "all right, you can have every last drop if it means getting the whole story out of you."

Dara received the decanter, unfazed by her cousin's eagerness, "actually Ket, the best way for you to know is to see it for yourself."

Dara slowly got up from her comfortable spot on the couch and walked over to the tv. Ket stared, her mouth agape. Everything about Dara was different, perhaps now with her identity revealed, she wasn't trying to be her old self in front of family, but all of it from the way she walked, her mannerisms, were so thoroughly...westernized. Almost as if she were me.

"These are actual movies, they can be bought, streamed, whatever, on various sites all over the world," Dara began breaking Ket's thoughts. "You know...like he's some kind of director."

Dara ejected the dvd and held it up so Ket could see. It had a picture label, on it was Dara, hogtied, gagged, and blindfolded, and in blood red letters the title splashed: Breaking Daraswan. Ket recoiled with shock, on a day when there were so many to be had, the rising toll of each one still could not diminish them.

"That was our first movie, it has a running time of ninety eight minutes and took two weekends to film," Dara stated matter of factly. "This, is a rough draft of our second movie."

Ket took the disc from Dara and lost her balance as she stared at the picture on it.

"Are you okay?" asked Dara as she hurried over to help her cousin. "I'm sorry Ket, but this was the best way for you to know. He really gives himself away in this one, his thoughts...everything. I don't know, it was so weird playing you, hearing all of it, then I understood, you will too once you see it."

Ket was still too stunned to speak, she glanced down at the disc again, same blood red letters bearing the title Ketsana Comes Home. The picture was of course of Dara, but she'd been made to look like Ket, her hair dyed light brown with blond streaks, fake nails colored dark red, and her makeup made her a near perfect image of Ket. This time Dara was in office clothes, lying on the floor with her hands cuffed behind her back, her white blouse torn open, her feet were tied at the ankles and just above the knee with white rope, a leash tethered her to the wall where various torture devices hung. Ket could not stomach anymore, she felt her legs betray her and she stumbled to the ground.

"Ket, Ket, oh my God...KET!" Dara screamed in panic as she hastily leaned over to help her cousin up.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Ket muttered out as she tried to get a hold of herself. She stood up, the picture label of the DVD forever burned into her memory, and the depraved truth of this hellish matter smacked her across the face. How many times had Tom seen her wearing something like that? The black skirt just above the knee, the silk blouse showing just enough to tantalize, the four-inch heels, was it Ketsana he had wanted all along?

"I'm going to play it now," Dara said, "are you ready?"

Ket looked upon Dara again, with her glossy black and metal ensemble, still in this dark wonderland, still wondering what diabolic twists awaited her, she hardly took notice of the words that left her mouth.

"Yes."

"All right," Dara responded, "I am going to warn you, it's pretty intense, but thankfully pretty short, like I said it's only a draft. Let's see, here's the remote in case you need to stop it. If you don't mind, I'm going to lie on the couch, God knows I've seen this enough times."

Dara paused as she noticed the shell-shocked expression on Ket's face, quietly she worried about this newfound defeatism. Dread crept over her as she realized nothing might come of all this, worse that the day might end with both of them irrevocably imprisoned. The alcohol was beginning to wear off and taking the hope it once supplied with it. Dara's sinister reality was reaffirming its entrenched status in the terrorized hollows of her conscience, there would be no escape from this hell and Tom might even come out of this with his real trophy, if her tough cousin didn't snap out of it soon.

"Look just watch it okay," Dara spoke, already despair creeping in her voice. "I have something to show you after you're done." She returned the liquor decanter to the table beside Ket's chair and handed her the remote after starting the movie. Dara quickly scanned Ket's face for signs of life, something to let her know she still wanted to fight, but found nothing, and as the ominous music to Ketsana Comes Home began, she walked over to the couch, if nothing to sleep off the booze and give her aching chest some relief.

Ket stared blankly ahead at the tv, as Chopin played a melancholy dirge, the camera slowly moved about what Ket supposed Dara meant by playroom, although dungeon would have been a more apt description. In disquieting silence Ket watched as a plethora of bizarre instruments made their way across the screen, some she recognized, some she didn't, all of them looked painful. Credits rolled across the screen, Dara was not lying when she said they were actual movies. What kind of twisted psychopath had she set her cousin up with? A frigid, nauseating fear crept over Ket as she began to realize how absolutely wrong she had been about Tom.