Samantha’s life is in ruins when a mysterious woman who calls herself Lady Morgana unexpectedly delivers her from the streets. Seduced by the wealthy and enigmatic executive, Samantha finds herself spiralling helplessly into a world of debauched passion and sensual excess. Her submissive nature is nurtured and tested through numerous exquisite ordeals and Samantha swiftly becomes lost to the ownership of others.
At this time, the ruthless and devious Master Talon enters their lives along with his harem of slaves, each named after the deadly sin that they personify. During a weekend of pony play, strict domination, and relentless bondage at a remote ranch and mansion, Samantha and Lady Morgana start to surrender themselves to his dominion. A final depraved ordeal is prepared and it will determine the fate of both slave and Mistress.
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Pounding music filled the interior of the car like a physical force. The swell of power in the song bolstered Karen’s confidence while she continued to casually cruise down the streets. She was concentrating solely on her quest and remained oblivious to the avid horn blares that stemmed from impatient drivers who had lost all tolerance for the idleness of her passage.
The dense business hub of the city was sombre and locked in a tentative quiet. It was an expectant hush where the district waited for the sudden chaotic eruption that would come with morning.
Just as the nurturing rays of the sun rolled across a migrant earth, life in the city moved from the dense array of sky-spearing towers made of glass and steel to an altogether new location. With clockwork precision, it would flow back again the next day and the process would repeat without ever changing.
Karen threaded a route out of the gloomy lifeless zone into an area where the buildings leant against each other for support. This more rundown portion of the city was filled with light and life. Restaurants were choked with diners who had smiles on their faces as they joked and talked about the most amusing or shocking of their recent events. Garish neon signs thrust back the night, beckoning the passers-by with slogans and pulsating silhouettes. Ragged mounds of tattered cloth extended withered and grimy paws at the joyous hordes, their mewling solicitations seeking worthless change that might extend their own meagre existence a little longer.
The further Karen travelled, the seedier the environment became. The elite establishments that pandered to the opulent profession of the moment began to thin or shed their dignity. They were replaced by strip clubs, fortified massage parlours, and adult stores that were replete with sex toys and assorted viewing material catering to every taste and vice. The insides of the bars grew darker, but these dingy interiors proved to be no less rowdy than their luxuriant cousins.
Iniquity hung in the air like a stubborn fog. It fondly welcomed the curious or hungry, and Karen was ravenous. Her eyes flowed across the pedestrians, locking to those prurient forms that could be seen loitering at the curb and in the doorways. She sought that which she required and ached for with a predatory intensity.
It was a warm evening and the wind had all but vanished. It made her assessing of candidates easier due to their resulting libertine and scanty attire.
Easing her foot off the pedal, Karen’s eyes sifted through the ranks then fixated on one particular youth. The woman was clinging to the last dregs of being a teenager but her eyes told of years beyond her own. They were intense, furtive of nature, and well aware of the traps and pitfalls her profession presented.
The girl stood near a ramshackle building that was undoubtedly the base of operations for all the whores along this stretch of the block. Women could be seen leading anxious men past the grinning sated clients that were swaggering out.
She was slender and her lithe frame was clad in vinyl. The midnight polished sheets caught the variety of colours from the flashing signs of nearby stores and made it seem somehow alive. A gloss Basque was laced down her front, and its low cups gathered up her alluring breasts. The lower portion of the garment was hidden under the hem of her short skirt. This sheath of vinyl was perched just over the tips of her seamed stockings and revealed the wink of the suspenders that stretched down from the Basque to hold the fine denier hose. Stilt-heeled ankle boots of black patent leather were laced onto her feet and the ease with which she moved on them revealed her familiarity with the awkward footwear. Lycra opera gloves scrolled up her arms and the missing fingers unveiled her vibrantly red nails. One hand gripped her hip and the other clasped a plain handbag that was slung over one shoulder.
A meticulously tended bob of short claret hair wreathed her impassive features and a set of overtly crass earrings emerged from her half-revealed ears. The girl’s face was touched with only the subtlest traces of makeup and the thin-framed glasses she wore gave her such an innocent quality that Karen questioned whether they were truly prescription or just a sly marketing ploy.
Karen looked away from the girl and considered the next course of action. A wide grin of relish started to spread across her face as she forged her plot.
Flicking on the turn light, she merged closer to the next corner and readied to hurry around the block and put her plan into effect.
