 |
|||
|
|
Chapter 5 - A Plan Hatches
Kayleen yowled as her feet slid again on the greased bronze ball and pain shot
from her thumbs down her aching arms. She hung in the dark torture chamber,
the balls of her chained feet seeking the four-inch bronze sphere on which she
could not manage a steady grip, as the thumbs locked in screws high above her
head bore the entire weight of her aching, suspended body.
Droplets of blood fell on her face as another slip ground the screws into her
blood encrusted thumbs, her manacled wrists preventing her from grasping at
the chain rising above into the unlit emptiness. Her waist was again clinched
in the accursed iron band intended to constrict her breathing, which it did.
The Warrior Queen pondered her fate, baffled by the behavior of her captors,
desperately searching for an opening. They were not actually attempting sleep
deprivation, as she was allowed any fitful naps her wracked body managed to
slip into; they were not attempting to break her by exhaustion, as they fed
her after, and sometimes even in the middle of, each session.
She cracked a smile at the thought of the liquid food, mostly honey and some
herbal preparations whose effects she could not discern; apparently, they did
not want their brand new torture chamber messed up too much. Pain suddenly
gripped her thumbs as she slipped and had to regain her precarious footing, a
daunting task for her racked muscles. They were not attempting to break her in
a single surge, always allowing some respite in the course of each session.
And they had grown complacent about that, no longer keeping her fully tied as
they switched turns and sometimes even as they changed from one torment to
another. Her body was still strong, although at present every single muscle
ached terribly, but they were no fighters, and surprise would be on her side.
Zhorun's presence was an unknown, as she had no idea of how his present nature
had affected him, yet wizards made poor close range combatants.
Time was not on her side, however, as her strength would not endure forever
and she could not fathom when they would start to really damage her. She was
less worried about fighting three against one; she could take out the first by
surprise, preferably the old fart or the puny Easterner. Grod would be a tough
opponent in her condition. She had to rest somehow, if she was to snatch the
chance of freeing herself when fate offered her one, but as the screws bit
into her thumbs again she was reminded of the the difficulties involved.
When the Warrior Queen heard the dreaded footsteps, after a night devoid of
any rest or respite, she cursed because exhaustion made her plan essentially
unfeasible and she would have had to withstand another day of whatever horrors
they had prepared for her. She considered pretending to be on the verge of
breaking, but she loathed the thought and it would be of no use today.
The three brought torches, whose light shone on her taut body, causing the
swarthy Southerner to wet his mouth in anticipation. Kayleen was freed from
the thumbscrews and her arms were bent behind her back in a reverse prayer
position, her legs were doubled under her with the ankle cuffs tied to bands
tightened on her thighs at the hip, and the band around her waist was used to
lift her off the floor, her face up, her back bent backwards and her generous
breasts full and firm on her ample chest.
Already excited, the Southerner freed his member from his flowing robes and
thrust it into her on the spot, forcing her tight love channel open again,
rasping at its dry walls and enjoying every second of the pain and disgust she
tried to stifle in her voice but could not hide from her face. He pumped her
raw with brief, rutting thrusts, rocking her body back and forth.
"First things first." he declaimed, then fetched a tray and affixed a steel
staff, over four feet long, to the chain holding her weight, followed by
another crossing the first in the middle. The staves were strong but thin and
had dozens of tiny hooks underneath. He added another, shorter staff crossing
the other in the middle, parallel to her midsection. Although Kayleen had no
doubt about the general intent behind the contraption, she could not help but
wonder how it was supposed to hurt her.
Her doubts were soon washed away as he produced a thin steel chain ending in a
bronze clamp, which he brought against her left breast, pinching a fold of
firm flesh with his right hand, onto which he snapped the clamp which he then
hung to a hook, making sure the fine chain was taut. The clamp was painful,
although not nearly as painful as most of what she had been subjected to in
this chamber, but dread mounted over her as she counted the hooks above.
The next was placed inside her thigh, near the knee, and forced her to buckle
to the right because the chain was too short. The one after that closed on the
soft flesh under her right breast, and the short chain again forced her to
raise her shoulders as a gasp escaped her lips. Her fiendish tormentor used
clamps whose chain had different lengths, so as he added more her weight still
pulled only at those added last and she had to twist and turn for his delight.
After over twenty clamps, the last biting the tender flesh of her underbelly,
he contemplated his handiwork and then casually leaned on her thighs, drawing
a spiteful hiss as she grimaced to stand the pain. He kept leaning, his grin
widening, until the clamp snapped and she jerked with a strangled scream when
another was pulled suddenly. He rose, and waited until her panting subsided,
then, locking his gaze into hers, moved between her legs.
Fear and humiliation turned into burning hatred as he violated her again, the
clamps pulling and tearing whenever he pushed and coming off with audible
snaps, as she desperately tried to deny him at least the satisfaction of
hearing her scream, with limited results. Her marked flesh grew new bruises as
each clamp was yanked under his lust, although most often than not little
actual damage occurred, and he ran out of clamps some time before climaxing.
"We'll have to try again with more, my dear. I am no longer the man of my
youth but apparently you rekindled some flame here." he said panting while she
sobbed softly. He recovered his clamps and started over, reaching under her to
clamp some more under her back and her ass cheeks, but leaving most for her
inner thighs and breasts. He then pulled at her left nipple and clamped it,
allowing some slack as her jaw set among tears, then pinched the other.
He then moved beside her and pulled her blonde mane downward, yanking a clamp
and then another as he said in her ear "Dance for me, Whore Queen, until I am
ready for you again." And dance she did, in spite of herself, as he pulled at
her hair or sent her spinning, the clamps snapping in quick succession as she
wound around the chain holding her waist and then back, her body convulsing in
a vain attempt to lessen the pain and her stifled, fitful cries arousing him
until he violated her again in a frenzy of snapping clamps.
As the Warrior Queen was lowered to the floor, only seething hate allowed her
to notice that she was being allowed a moment of respite just as exhaustion
was creeping over her. She was however not freed this time, as the chain was
moved from her belly to her back, suspending her face down above the stone
floor, her torso slightly leaning forward and her still doubled legs finding
no comfortable position.
Her sweating tormentor fetched from his accursed tray a clasp of a different
kind, the bronze jaws at least twice as wide but wickedly jagged and with a
single ring in place of the fine chain. Leisurely, he closed the jaws on a
fold of flesh along her sculpted abdomen, apparently unconcerned when she
barely flinched. He added a few more and then pulled her head up by her
disheveled hair, so that she could not see the lead weight that he attached to
the first clasp and hoping to savor her visage contorting under pain.
He was not disappointed, although screams would have been welcome, so he sent
her spinning. Unlike before, the clasps would not go off but simply keep
pulling, rising as she spun around, falling as she slowed down and then rising
again as she spun in the opposite direction. He would have liked to close his
eyes and gauge the progress of her by her screams, but she still defied him.
He hung a few clasps to her labia, sending her for another spin, to no avail.
Well, he was not running out of clasps. He hung one to each breast, then more
to her inner lips and inside her thigh, each time sending her spinning. He
savagely clasped her love bud and her nipples, savoring the yowls as she spun.
When he felt ready, he moved behind her, freed his member from the robes and
put his hands on her ass cheeks, the thumbs digging on each side of the
rosette of her anus. A muted "No" formed on her mouth as she realized what was
going to happen. His member pushed into her, slowly at first, forcing her
sphincter, then he pumped deeper, and the weights hanging off the clasps
danced under her, her body twitching under the pain, her throat hoarse in the
effort to hold her mounting anguish, and her mind seething at the humiliation.
He was not done with humiliations, however. He moved before her and pinched
her nose, so that she had to open her mouth to receive the hollow gag meant
for her final abuse. But Kayleen guessed the intent and finding strength in
desperation managed to thwart all attempts at gagging her, so he left.
When he came back, he wore gloves and carried a handful of stinging tree
leaves. Dread filled her eyes as he folded a leaf into a clasp, turning to
agony as he closed it on her left nipple, but she managed to hold the cries
she had not held when first exposed to the hellish leaves; the same fate
befell her other nipple, her cunt lips and her love bud, yet she did not give.
Instead of weights, he snapped the clamps on the clasp rings, so that he could
gather the chains in his left hand, then held the gag before her mouth and
said "When you've had enough, take it." He jerked at the chains and the clasps
ground the leaves into her tender parts, a scream of agonized suffering
escaping her lips in spite of her vain efforts to contain it. He jerked again,
and kept jerking, until her screams turned to gurgles, but she seemed bent on
defying him. Incensed, he kept yanking at the clasps until he managed to gag
her exhausted mouth by force. He could have waited until she recovered, but
lust overcame cruelty and he throat fucked his victim into unconsciousness.
When she came to, she was lying face down on the floor, still gagged, her arms
now cuffed behind her neck to an iron collar and her legs opened painfully
wide by a ten feet iron bar resting behind the small of her back, to which
ankle cuffs and thigh bands had been clinched. Above her, a matching iron bar
hung from a chain, with the now familiar hooks he used to hang his clamps to.
But he was not using clamps with time, he was using the same clasps whose
wickedly jagged jaws could chafe her skin raw when pulled.
Kayleen could not help but despair at the thought of more torture at the hands
of this pig, but she was not allowed time for more because as soon as he had
enough clasps on her to hold her weight, he lifted her off the floor by the
clasps running the whole length of her distended legs. Her shaken resolve
shattered at the sudden pain and she screamed in earnest through the gag.
Only when he was done adding more clasps all over her body, with chains of
different lengths, did he clasp her breasts in earnest, lust coursing through
his hands as he tightened the clasps on her firm tit flesh, enjoying her cries
and gasps. But he had saved his worst for last.
He opened her cunt lips wide and clinched a pair of clasps on each, pulling
them to distend the lips further as she shrieked, then followed on with
another pair of clasps, and then another, a wheel of clasps deforming her cunt
lips which he completed by clasping her love button and pulling at it savagely
until it was distended enough to clasp it once more at the base.
When her cries subsided he moved behind her back, hissing "Now your tongue
makes an old man hard again." grabbed a handle in each hand and pulled her up
by the clamps on her breasts, forcing her to arch her back and bringing her
gagged mouth at the height of his flaccid member. A howl rose from her throat,
the clasps chafing her breasts raw, but she defied him and however he jerked
the clamps, she still denied him this humiliation of her.
Her refusal incensed him to the point of leaving on the spot. Unbeknownst to
the others, he had in his room the means to serve the bitch right. When he
returned, his member was already bulging and his erection became prodigious
when he savagely pulled her up again. Kayleen's eyes were wide with horror as
he pushed into her throat in a frenzied rut.
The savage violation lasted much longer than before, his wild thrusts snapping
a number of clasps from her chafed breasts, but did not exhaust him. After a
brief pause he moved between her legs, pulled her up by the clasps on her
breasts again and savagely penetrated her ass as humiliation and pain shot
through her forlorn screams, each thrust snapping some clasp holding her
weight until she fell on the floor, her legs chafed all over.
His drug-induced lust still not sated, he put a leather sheath on his bulging
member, rubbed it with stinging tree leaves drawing a strangled "No" from his
victim's ravaged throat, and viciously fucked her on the floor, pulling her
groin onto his erect member by the clasps on her nether lips, and after those
snapped off, by those on her love bud.
Whatever merciful entity made her pass out again did a half-hearted job,
because she awoke in pain on the cold stone floor, sobbing, gazing at the
Easterner who eyed her coldly. She was dragged to a rail bench and her wrists
and ankles cuffed to the ends, while an iron band was clinched at her waist.
She was pulled taut, but the bench was not intended to rack her.
The man moved to the head of the bench, took her left middle finger and
encased it in some metal contraption, which she could not see but whose cold
touch she felt and soon turned into pressure as he operated the device, slowly
bending her finger backwards, the ever increasing pain shooting through her
hand even when he just sat idle and increasing when he tightened it. He did
the same on her other hand, tightening one and then the other until she
thought that he would snap her fingers.
Her tormentor instead stopped just short of that, and simply moved to the next
finger on each hand, visiting each in turn with excruciating slowness as sweat
glistened over her body, her generous breasts heaving under the effort and her
jaw clenched in the effort to withstand the unrelenting pain.
Her toes soon underwent the same treatment, the ligaments stretched near
breaking point toe by toe and the unrelenting pain compounding that from her
ailing fingers. He surveyed her writhing form, the head shaking and the teeth
clenched to fight back the screams, and bid his time before moving by her arms
and encasing her right elbow in another iron contraption.
The Warrior Queen was able to see enough of the latter device to guess at its
functioning: iron bands encasing the elbows and a vise bending it backwards,
tearing at the ligaments of the upper and fore arm. Her guesses found
immediate confirmation as the pain from her bent elbow joined that from her
fingers and toes. The deviousness of this torture was that the pain never
decreased, each device unrelentingly tormenting a different joint but not
causing shock or permanent damage. Yet.
After her elbows, he encased both her knees in a similar contraption, bending
her leg inwards at the knee in spite of the muscles flexing under her
glistening skin, the unrelenting pain heavy on her breathing and her face
contorted in the effort to resist the mounting agonies inflicted upon her.
Another iron device was tightened around her shoulders, pushing her shoulder
blades up behind her back, her arms on the way to dislocating as the device
pulled them down. But the worst device was placed at her hips, pulling up and
apart her thigh bones out of their sockets. Her once fine stretched body was
now contorted at odd angles in the iron devices encasing her, the
uninterrupted pain now worsened because new agonies shot through her shoulder
joints whenever her chest heaved against the shoulder device.
As time passed, her endurance was sorely tested because the pain from her bent
joints and stretched ligaments never subsided. Her tormentor bid his time, and
then applied a second vise on her left hand, encasing her pinky and bending it
almost to the point of tearing the ligament. Her eyes were clenched shut, but
he rapped on her chest three times with his knuckles, her surprise such that
she almost let her mounting screams escape the tightened lips. Soon she
understood that each rap was another finger bent, the pain blazing in her
hands and the promise of more in his quiet rapping as he moved to the toes.
Just as she thought that there was nothing more to bend in her ailing body, he
fetched a thin steel switch and rapped it on her heaving breasts, slashing the
nipples, wrenching a yowl of pain through her clenched teeth as her torso
moved in reaction. The switch landed next in the palm of her left hand, and
agony shot up her arm as her muscles contracted, tearing at the distended
ligaments. After a long pause, the switch landed on her nipples again, her
shoulders a world of hurt as the jerk of her chest moved her shoulder blades.
The Easterner rapped at her crotch, through the crease between her thighs
caused by the bending of her hips, and she cried behind gritting teeth as her
buckling caused her hip joints to creak in blazing agony. He started circling
her, leisurely, rapping her exposed flesh now and then to bring renewed pain
to her bent joints and distended ligaments, until her endurance waned.
After being painfully released from the vises and the bench, Kayleen's sore
body fell on the cold floor, curling in a silently sobbing ball in a vain
attempt to escape the pain. The Easterner tied her to a post, her arms pulled
straight above her head along the sides of the post by iron bands at the
shoulders and elbows, and her thighs spread outwards, encased at the hip and
knee by iron bands. She drank from the jug brought to her lips as iron bands
were clenched above and below her breasts and at the waist.
Although the cuffs had not been removed from her wrists, she was restrained by
twin studded iron plates, encasing her palms and extended fingers like tight
metal gloves. The Easterner gauged her condition in a single cold glance, and
then turned a crank, twisting her wrists outwards.
Her elbows could rotate to compensate the torsion of her wrists, but her
shoulders much less so, and soon the twist applied to her palms reached a
point which was too much for her elbows, and pain mounted at her wrists,
elbows and shoulders as he increased the pull on her palms, inch by inch,
hoping to see defeat dawn on her pain-wracked expression.
As his gaze only met furiously clenched teeth, he bid his time and then moved
to her feet. They also were encased in studded iron bands, veritable sandals
of torment, which he rotated outwards, bending her legs at the ankle and the
knee, the position immediately painful because the knee could give only a
little and her thighs were already splayed. Sweat covered her skin again,
muffled cries punctuating her belabored breathing whenever he twisted her
restraints some more.
The silent Easterner sat behind her, studying her twitches and moans as the
unrelenting torment of her bent limbs wracked her strong frame, the pain never
decreasing and dread building up as she could not see what the origin of her
suffering had in store. He paused until, according to his experience, the
victim started hoping that no new torment would be added, and then turned a
crank pushing a wedge behind her shoulder blades, sending new pain blazing
through her shoulder joints and constricting her heaving chest.
Breathing turned into an exercise in agony for Kayleen, as attempting a deep
breath tore at her shoulder joints, and she dreaded the silent tormentor
behind her back, certain that he would draw her through this hell only to take
her into another. When he did, this occurred through another wedge, pushing
her buttocks away from the post and tearing at her hip joints, as if to wrench
them out of place inch by inch, and the anguished screams she denied her
tormentor raged within her, escaping only as gasps and hisses.
As yet another crank was turned, her knees protested as her twisted legs were
also rotated outwards, her pain-wracked hip joints reaching new pinnacles of
searing white agony as the relentless pain of her predicament was compounded
by a rotation which was allowed for only a small angle even in a normal
position. Pure, unadulterated terror descended over her as she discerned among
her barely stifled screams a sickening creaking from her joints as pain
reached new heights, screaming to herself "A cripple! I am going to be
crippled forever!" over and over until she screamed for real when the steel
switch suddenly savaged her exposed breasts.
In spite of the searing pain, nothing was broken as time passed except her
resolve, as the regular application of the switch sent waves of agony through
her body when the muscles contracted, vainly attempting to pull against the
iron devices bending her body. Once more, however, the Easterner noted that he
could break her defiance, but her will would persist until she passed out.
Kayleen woke up hanging upside down, her torso tied to a vertical post with
waist, neck and chest iron bands, her legs pulled wide along twin iron rails,
which already included the iron devices to bend and twist hip, knee and ankle,
although still unwound. Her arms were also pulled along a single horizontal
rail extending from the bottom of the sturdy wooden post.
The Easterner picked up a smallish device, waiting until her gaze focused on
it, then proceeded to apply it to her left toe, bending it again, intent on
rekindling the hell she just left. As before, her elbows and knees were
encased and viciously bent near breaking point, her fingers and toes purplish
at the relentless tearing of her ligaments, her throat sore and her jaw aching
from the effort of containing her screams again.
Once her fingers were in pain, the rail at the bottom of the post was rotated
downward, twisting her shoulder joints, her gasps and hisses the harbingers of
more to come, sweat returning on her twitching body as unrelenting pain
consumed her resolve and gnawed at her determination.
Again the wicked steel switch landed on her exposed flesh, causing her muscles
to contract in reaction and bringing fresh pain as they flexed in vain against
the stretched ligaments. But the purpose of her position soon became apparent
as her leg rails were rotated slightly, one counterclockwise and the other
clockwise, twisting her martyrized hip joints and pulling at her sore muscles.
The Easterner eyed her coldly, then started winding the devices along each leg
until they renewed their compounded agonies, and then cranked first one and
then the other rail into rotating her distended legs, choreographing a dance
of pain in mid air, a dance whose music was her broken voice wailing and
shrieking as her thigh muscles were strained one after another.
The pain in her groin rose and waved as her thighs were distended, twisted,
pulled and torn, her muscles burning and the ligaments pulled near breaking
point as her tormentor unrelentingly wound his hideous device. Her crotch was
pushed forward as both thighs were bent backwards, closer and closer to
tearing them out of their sockets, her voice rising in a howling scream when
the steel switch savagely slashed her crotch and her thighs spasmodically
attempted to pull close, spraining under the effort.
Her tormentor sent her left thigh along a downward arch, while sending her
right thigh upward, causing her pelvis to buckle and twist in a rag doll dance
of pain as her limbs were forced to come full circle and start back, slowly,
agonizingly, the unrelenting pain waxing and waning in each joint, wrenching a
fitful scream from her unwilling mouth whenever agony mounted in both at the
same time.
Time and again she screamed in fear as the pain rose to unbearable levels,
expecting the cracking of bone or the popping sound of dislocation, but her
tormentor bid his time, and exercised her limbs in his ballet of agony while
his victim howled and nonsense words like "Please" and "Mercy" escaped from
her parched lips. "Now you talk." he answered, and resumed his rapping of her
exposed flesh, slowly increasing the strength of each strike and their
frequency, her uninterrupted lambasting inaudible as her fitful cries mingled
with anguished calls to Lyral, the friend for whose sake she was undergoing
this, and whose name last escaped her lips as she lost consciousness.
The shock of cold water brought her back lying on the floor, and Grod brought
a jug to her lips, allowing her to drink at length. Her ankle cuffs had been
supplemented with narrow iron bands along the entire length of her legs and
thighs, and Grod was proceeding to bind her arms behind her in the same
fashion. With dread she realized that the bands were studded on the inside,
not to the point of piercing the skin however, and that the studs had a screw
mount which allowed each to be pushed further down.
Grod paid no heed to a number of bands still on the floor besides her, but
dragged her into a corner where chains hung from pulleys in the ceiling and
lifted her up by tying chains at her knee and elbow bands, her shoulders again
hurting horribly as they bore part of her weight. But her eyes widened in
horror when he brought under her a wooden upwards wedge, positioned it under
her buttocks and lowered her onto it.
Part of her weight moved onto the point, the discomfort soon turning to a dull
ache, and while she squirmed in search of some respite Grod tightened the
remaining studded bands on her torso, constricting her chest and waist so that
her breathing became immediately uncomfortable. More chains were fastened to
the cuffs at her ankles and wrists, her torso and her legs, so that at the end
she hung in a web of chains. The pain she dreaded came when he loosened the
chains bearing her weight, which rested entirely on the wedge point below her,
in the soft spot between the sphincter and the opening of the vagina.
The point radiated pain up her body, and she could not help but twitch in a
vain attempt to find a less excruciating position, which caused the studs in
her restraints to grind the flesh, each jerk bringing about more pain from the
wedge tormenting her. Grod adjusted the chains holding her in position so that
she would not rock off the point and bid his time, scrutinizing her contorting
face as she grimaced and hissed in uninterrupted torment.
Time passed, and yet the Warrior Queen endured the excruciating torment, each
breath bringing new sufferings as her chest pressed into the studs
constricting it, each jerk a new blaze of pain from below, droplets of blood
on her skin where the chafing from the studs had turned the skin raw. Grod
tightened the studs one by one, a mute menace of further pain to come, but
then loosened some of the chains and slowly pulled others, excruciatingly
drawing her on the point until it entered her sphincter.
After a strangled cry of dread and outrage, her suffering actually subsided,
as her weight was no longer concentrating on the tip, but a whip soon cracked
on her thigh with the full force of Grod's powerful arm, her clenched teeth
fighting a scream of anguish at this new development.
Grod had picked a short, nasty whip of twisted sinew, which could be wielded
in the confined space of the corner, and now lashed her exposed flesh all
over, apparently at random but actually looking for the most effective spots.
Whenever her body jerked under the whip, the wedge point entered her rectum
some more, impossible to dislodge, and soon the pain from her distended
sphincter and the chafing from the gyrations on the wooden tormentor added to
the suffering from the merciless lashes.
Well aware of the developments, Grod concentrated his lashing on the spots
which would push the wedge deeper, targeting her lower back, the underside of
her thighs and the exposed soles of her feet. Her glistening body flexed and
contracted under the assault, her panting often turning into hisses and gasps
as she still held out, determined not to scream for their pleasure.
There was to be no pause to this torment as long as she looked to be taking
the full measure of it, so Grod again loosened some chains and pulled at
others, dragging her body over the tip again until it rested again where it
was before, her twitching body experiencing again its bite but with the added
torment of the accursed lash.
He fetched a pair of raw wooden pliers, waited until her teary gaze focused on
them, and then moved besides her to close them on her left nipple. He could
hear the gritting of her teeth as he started pulling at the nipple, as if to
tear it off from the breast which was flattened against her chest by the
studded iron bands.
Since he had to work in a restricted space, it took him many excruciating
attempts to pull her full breast through the bands by the nipple, her jerks
and twists as the raw wood chafed her sensitive piece of feminine flesh
bringing untold suffering from the diabolical unyielding point. And she also
endured the same on her other breast, before her conditions caused Grod to
allow her a pause, as she was no longer feeling what was being done to her.
Cold water revived her brutally and the suffering resumed, her now exposed
swollen breasts a suitable target for the whip, since in her new position the
most effective strikes where those which forced her to distend her limbs,
increasing the pressure where the point dug into her flesh.
The twisted whip took to her thighs, as upon each lash her legs distended and
a new lance of white hot pain surged from the hellish wedge, and crisscrossed
them where the flesh was free from the bite of the studded bands. Grod bid his
time between each lash, allowing the pain to sink in and the grinding from the
point to do its work, but still she would not scream in spite of the agony
evident on her beautiful face.
He fetched another whip, a short whip which he wet thoroughly and then coated
in wet sand, and with this whip in the right and the pliers in the left moved
to her and closed the pliers on her left nipple, pulling it up to slash the
underside of her left breast. An agonized scream burst behind her clenched
teeth, her face distorted in the effort to contain it, and he lashed her again
to see if he could wrench it from her. After many lashes it became apparent
that she was still defying him, so he bid his time, perusing the effects of
the point on the mask of suffering distorting her face.
He moved the pliers to her other nipple and pulled it savagely up, pausing
before lashing the quivering flesh and listening for her panting voice to
burst into despair, but she still endured and the pain had not broken her will
yet. He operated the chains positioning her again, dragging her soft flesh
over the point with excruciating slowness until it dug through the lower rim
of her vagina end entered it with a sickly thud. To his disappointment, she
managed to hold even this howl behind her clenched teeth, tears flowing from
the eyes as she shook her head incessantly.
To drive the wedge deeper, her torturer slowly modified her position, lowering
the legs and raising her elbows, then fetched the twisted whip again and aimed
at her armpits, her chest rotating under the lash and the wedge grinding
deeper into her. He alternated strikes behind the knee to strikes on the outer
side of each breast, forcing her to undulate and chafe her cunt walls on the
wooden wedge, wails of agony echoing behind her folded lips.
He picked up another pair of pincers, with long thin iron jaws this time, and
inserted them forcefully between her clenched thighs, his dreadful probing
causing her to twitch and turn on the wedge even more frantically than before,
her screams a mounting wave behind the last vestiges of her determination as
droplets of blood stained the wooden wedge.
The jaws finally pinched what he was probing for, her agony bursting in a
scream of anguish as they bit on her love bud, her efforts to escape their
grip driving the wedge deeper and deeper, the torn muscles at the entrance of
her vagina bleeding again as the wedge distended them whenever her pelvis
jerked around, spasmodically searching for relief.
He returned to the wooden pliers and pulled down her left breast by the
nipple, whipping it occasionally but putting as much of his weight onto it to
driver her further down the wedge, then repeated the operation with her right
breast. Not satisfied yet, he kneeled below her suspended body, brought the
right arm wielding the pliers up on her left side and pulled at the nipple
with his full weight, jerking repeatedly, each pull lowering her onto the
wedge until her cries rose into a howl when the point hit her cervix.
A new nightmare began for Kayleen, the whip landing alternately on her left
and right sole, forcing her to rotate the pelvis and savage her innards up to
the cervix on each strike, blood dripping from inside her as her screams first
rose higher and higher and then trailed off, her endurance spent, her will
broken again. Instead of pausing, her tormentor repositioned her so that the
point dug at her urethra, the new pain searing through her while her bloodied
innards got some respite.
As even this new torment lost its bite, her obviously exhausted body not
allowing her to fully experience the torment, he wound new chains around her
pelvis and dragged her weight over the point, helping himself with the iron
pincers, until the full weight of her tormented body rested on her pinched
love button. As the unwinding of chains brought the full weight home, her
cries turned to howls and then rose higher, as cold water was poured on her to
prevent her from passing out.
The whip landed on her right breast, the underside of her thighs, the soles of
her feet; any strike ground her soft piece of feminine flesh mercilessly onto
the wooden tip. Small as it was, the arrangement of chains precluded her from
dislodging herself, although she tried whenever she had some respite between
lashes, causing more agonies on each failed attempt.
Grod produced a jug, heated by burning oil, with a thin dispensing beak, and
tipped it onto her left breast. The scalding water landed above her nipple and
flowed down her body, a few droplets which caused her to jerk more than once,
as the steaming rivulet followed its fiery trail, each movement bringing more
searing pain to her love bud.
The device actually prevented the water from reaching boiling temperature, and
the contents were released in droplets, but Grod spared no part of her body,
each drop a scream as she could not help but jerk herself onto new agonies
from her impaled love bud. Angry patches of reddened skin soon appeared on the
soles of her feet, her arms, her legs, while her spasmodic contortions rattled
the trestle on which the wedge rested, as if she was attempting to break it.
Fixing the trestle brought her some respite at least from the scalding water,
but then Grod started dripping water between her thighs, the water flowing
onto the soft flesh enclosed by the studded bands, and then placed the jug
under her navel and let the water flow, an angry red trail soon forming on her
skin while her screams turned hoarse.
Grod considered, then said "Talk, girl. We haven't even started to harm you
for real, and you're already delirious. You can't hold out much longer."
Behind a haze of pain, Kayleen thought that there was compassion behind his
voice, and warmed at the thought of telling them what they wanted to know and
end this nightmare. She wished for a desperately long instant that she could
talk, but what escaped her parched lips was just "I won't." at which her
torturer resumed liberally dripping scalding water on her contorting body as
the tip of the wedge savaged her love bud, forever and forever until no amount
of cold water could bring her back to consciousness.
|
|
|