THE ESCORT

THE ESCORT

After being given a short reprieve in the medical ward, her physical and physiological anguish has escalated to a new height in the steady quest to break her spirit, especially with a couple of alarming modifications.  Now, a new outfit and she’s run through her second auction, the winning bidder not only unexpected… But a sadist. 

Chapter 7

       Left alone for a couple hours while still groggy with the recent injection barely losing its effectiveness, laying on her back Amy can’t help from being transfixed with her modified breasts, her once perfect breasts.  Like a pair of balloons, heavy balloons rising and lowering, swaying back and forth with each anguished breath, wondering if she isn’t hallucinating, she barely realizes she’s not as her distended clitoris aches between her spread thighs.  Not knowing the amount of time that’s passed, day’s maybe even a week or more, she feels as if she’s sinking into a bottomless pit, never to be able to claw her way out, unable to escape as her body’s mutilated for their enjoyment.

       Kind of hearing the door to the room opening, glancing hazily toward the sound she watches several people entering together.  The doctor, the nurse, enter first, the tattooed blonde and even the redhead following close behind, one after the other approaching the bed.  Barely noticing the blonde carrying a stack of black latex clothing, wrists still shackled toward her sides on the bed, her hands with only inches of freedom to rise, twist, she can only lay her head back as the redhead steps forward, beside the bed with a black latex mask in her hand.

       Barely resisting as she feels the eyeless mask being slipped down over her head, obvious it’s been pre-molded close to the dimensions of her face as it’s snapped into place.  Positioned, adjusted, the mold fits snugly, the only outlets a couple small perforations for the nostrils and a double stitched oval for the mouth.  Its straps fastened beneath her hair behind her head, the latex stretches across her face like a second skin.

       Even sedated she can feel another prick of her arm as the doctor injects yet another drug concoction, one to revive her, bring her around.  In barely moments, her pulse rising, her heart pounds with the realization that she’s again in total darkness, again with that distraught feeling, the total helplessness of her predicament encompassing her mind as she realizes she’s obviously being prepared for another round of abuses.  Feeling the cuffs unshackled from her wrists, being forced to lean up on the bed, her heavy breasts tug downward, jerking her forward while swaying like a pair of overfilled water balloons.  She can only imagine what she must look like setting upright as her body’s twisted around.  Legs slid off the side of the bed, forced to stand with each wrist still firmly held down beside her, she feels talcum powder being sprinkled across her bare flesh by the nurse, rubbed swiftly but firmly across her shoulders down to her hips, preparing her to be dressed.

       Kneeling, the blonde slides the shimmering black latex bodysuit up across Amy’s legs one at a time.  Slipping the material up across her thighs, the hemmed cutoff legs stopping just below her butt cheeks, a stitched oval opening runs front to back totally exposing her swollen clit, vagina and rectum.  Continuing to stretch the material upward, a sewn in corset forces her stomach to shrink in even further then normal, almost to an impossible twenty-two inch waist line.  Tugging, twisting until the shimmering material stretches on across her trembling stomach, stretching the latex higher, aligning the pair of precut circular cutouts across her bulging globes, each breast’s left bare through the stretched hems of the latex.  Slipping the tapered remainder of the body glove on up across her chest leaving her shoulders bare, she fastens the outfit’s form fitting chocker collar around Amy’s throat.

       Twisting her around, inspecting the shimmering latex suit also as tight as a second skin, the material clings to her curves as her back, like her breasts also remains bare, all the way down to the gentle slope of her buttocks.  Standing, the blonde’s handed a foot long chrome bondage bar with leather cuffs on each end.  Circling Amy’s left arm just above her elbow, she secures a cuff.  As the nurse raises Amy’s right arm behind her, the blonde secures the second cuff from the other end of the bar above the right elbow.

       Handed a second chrome bar, a couple feet in length, also cuffs on each end, the blonde secures those cuffs to Amy’s wrists one at a time forcing her arms to spread down behind her in a ‘V’ angle.  The redhead meanwhile slips the six inch black stiletto heels onto Amy’s feet one at a time completing the outfit.  Turning her forward again, her butt cheeks scraping the side of the bed, she appears almost like a caricature of a bondage cartoon from the internet.  Masked, she stands in impossibly tall heels, her breasts larger then life, her waist narrower, stuffed in the skin tight black latex bodysuit with her arms bound to bars behind her back.

       The doctor steps forward, a black phallus type contraption in hand.  The same diameter of the oval mouth opening, he slips it toward the hole, twists it slowly into the sewn, cleverly threaded oval, spreading her lips apart.  At least three, maybe four inches in length, he twists it until the end’s just a fraction of an inch exposed, the rest engulfing her widening mouth. Snapping a black rubber four inch tube to it, a rubber pump bulb affixed to its other end, he pumps once, twice a third time until her cheeks noticeably swells against the latex stretched across her face.

       Almost numb, struggling to breath through the hollow tube pressed deep in her throat and pumped up, almost accepting her fate she realizes deep down that even as terrifying all of this is she’s somehow going to survive, because they always let her.  But, what’s even more horrifying is what other mutations are going to be done to her body?  Even as she’s thinking, her tortured mind rambling, she feels her arms arched upward from behind.  The end of another short bar attached to the center of the one cuffed to her wrists, she’s forced to step forward in the impossible heels, feeling herself being directed out of the medical quarters, her swollen clit grinding painfully between her thighs as her heavy breasts sway freely in front of her.

       Led into the hallway by the doctor, the nurse taking the blonde and redhead back to their quarters, to the Elder, Amy’s led to the vacant elevator.  Taken to the top deck she’s directed into the sunlight, the large group of men circling, the latest auction just winding down.  Staring, separating as she’s pushed ahead by the bar in the doctor’s hand, they watch her ballooning breasts wobbling, bouncing with each erratic step, her blonde hair flittering in the warm almost hot breeze, brushing across her arched back shoulders as she’s forced to blindly navigate through the crowd of leering men.  Hearing their voices, their lewd comments along with an occasional touch, and a few painful pinches mainly across her bugling breasts, she feels the closeness of the circling group, the stifling heat from the high sun in the cloudless sky.

       The auctioneer standing above the deck beside the rail, mike in hand and smiling, gives a quick wave to the doctor, directing him toward the steps along the side of the platform.  Guiding  her through the more then curious onlookers as she stumbles up almost every step in her heels, the doctor holds her somewhat steady as  her heavy globes bounce scrape across a couple of the step’s edges until she finally reaches the level walkway next to the railing.

       “Well Amy… Round two!”

       Hearing the familiar voice, she realizes it’s the auctioneer, especially as he leans toward her, the nasty garlic odor of his breath on her neck.  Pressed against the rail, feeling the heat of the hot sun still beating down on her, the murmur of the crowd below, she realizes where she’s at, what’s happening and humiliated by how her grotesque body’s being displayed in front of everyone.

       “Amy’s had a little transformation… And some attitude adjustments… But first… Check out those jugs standing out there!”

       She hears his voice, an echo from the speakers around the deck describing her like a piece of meat, sure that she’s got to be a repulsive sight.

       “What’s my bid?”  His voice booms across the still crowded deck. “What’s my bid for this whore that you’ve all watched the tapings of as she was fucked, whipped, disciplined in the chamber’s booth for hours on end... Even hanged by her tits before being transformed into this fuck slave while in the infirmary?”

       Feeling the bar behind her back pushing her forward, her waist bending across the railing, her breasts bouncing, slamming together, feeling like a pair of beach balls hanging off the front of her, she struggles for breath as she feels the pressure of the phallus in her throat being pumped up by a couple short squeezes of the bulb now In the auctioneer’s hand.

       Hearing the shouting, the bidding, the racket even louder then the first time she was auctioned, she can’t believe her mutilated body’s being so hotly contested for.  Almost thankful she can’t see from the mask, yet terrified of what she’s going to be put through next, she feels weak kneed, the hot sun scorching her bare flesh, her hyper sensitive breasts, pounding with pain each time they bobble.

       The rabid bidding escalating, her arms are gruffly lowered behind her back as the smell of the auctioneer behind her gets stronger.  Feeling his hands gripping her searing breasts, squeezing, kneading them painfully between his clenching fingers, thumbs, her right breast released, again she hears his antagonizing voice next to her ear.

       “One night only… Today’s auctions for just one day… And of course one night!”  Glancing down toward his hand cupping her reddening globe, he adds.  “Remember… Bondage night…  She’s yours with an assortment of toys… Cane… Paddle… Clamps and ropes.”  His voice rattles across the speaker system as he sadistically spanks her bobbling globe back and forth.  “And don’t forget… The decibel meter and wire clamps!... Three wire clamps!... Just use your imagination where to hook ‘em up!... Hook her up!”  Patting his hand down between her spread thighs, tweaking a nipple, he gives the group a slow, knowing scan from left to right.

       The pain excruciating, rasping for breath, the intensifying knot in her stomach twisting as she hears the shouting over his horrendous ravings, she’s terrified at the realization of what the rest of the day, the rest of the night has in store for her.  Bent further across the rail, both breasts heavy and swinging freely above the buzz of the crowd below her, her face mask is stifling, the latex shrinking into her heated skin, the rest of her bare flesh quickly reddening from the past few days of neglected sunlight.

       Barely conscious, flashes, specks of light resonating across her closed eyes, she slumps across the railing face forward as the doctor and auctioneer grips her arms, tugs her back into an upright position.  The nearly hundred degree heat’s compounded by her sensitive skin, stifling mask, her stuffed mouth.  Held firm for the next few minutes, the sounds, bids by the bartering crowd are just scrambled unintelligible sounds reverberating off her hooded mask… until she’s sold… To a representative of one of the few isolated Dominatrix’s on board.

       In almost a whirl, Amy’s led barely coherent to another level of the ship, a private area for the few wealthy females allowed on the cruises.  Delivered to the Dominatrix, a spreader bar’s affixed to her ankles spacing her feet a good shoulder width apart, its center eyehook clipped to a bolt in the floor as she stands tiptoeing in her stilettos.  The bondage bar cuffed between her wrists is chained to a waist high pillar behind her forcing her shoulders back, her globes bugling out from the stretching slots of the latex bodysuit.

       A whiff back and forth across the narrow slots beneath her nostrils has her jerking her masked face back and forth as the acrid odor of the snapped capsule jolts her awake.  Trembling, helpless, her stomach ripples under the tight latex as she struggle for breath, the rubber blub hanging above her chest, its tube still affixed to the phallus cramming her mouth.

       “Well… Amy… Looks like you’re mine until tomorrow.”

       Alert, almost wheezing through the mask’s slots, Amy hears the voice, a woman’s stern voice, feels a fingernail slipping across, gripping and tweaking her left nipple jiggling off her bare breast.

       “Do you hear me?”  The voice asks as the nail digs into the nipple, twisting back and forth.  “Nod stupid… Grunt … Let me know you’re alert before I start playing with you… With these big ‘ol titties!”

         “Oomph!”  A grunt, a quick little obedient jerk of the mask up and down as Amy feels the sharp pinch into her sensitized flesh.

         “Okay… That’s better!”

       Feeling the fingernails loosen, the hand slide under her aching globe and lift it upwards, she reflexively braces, waiting for the certain pain to be inflicted while in the darkness of her mask.  Her other breast also hoisted upward, resting in a palm of another hand, even the normal foundling’s painful, like a million raw nerve endings exposed across either breast.

       “Let me walk you through the next couple hours Amy… Nod to acknowledge me… Understand?

       Hearing the woman’s monotone but sinister voice, feeling a fingernail pressing inward on her right nipple, Amy’s mask quickly jerks upward as she also barely grunts. “Agghhhh!”

       “That’s good… Amy… Soon you’re be doing more then grunting… I’m sure you’re be screaming too!”

       Listening to the already frightening voice, cold, hard yet even keeled, Amy feels her left nipple being tweaked, tugged outward, the pain piercing just to the touch. “Oomph!”

       “I didn’t say anything yet, Amy… Quit being a sniveling cunt… Understand?”

       Feeling her nipple tweaked as she’s scolded, again the pain searing, Amy quickly shakes her head up and down while trying to muffle a groan.  Feeling the tension on her nipple released, almost in relief she inhales through her nostrils, taking a deep breath while feeling the latex contracting, confining her waist.

       “Now… Like I was saying Amy…  We’re going to concentrate on hurting these titties.”  The voice in its same sadistic monotone continues.  “First though, we’re going to skewer each nipple and chain each tit separately to this pillar in front of you… Understand?”

       Heart pounding, the nauseated, twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach, Amy feels her knees weakening as she sorts out the maddening meaning of the woman’s voice.

       “I said Amy… Understand?  I’m going to skewer your nipples and chain them to this post in front of you now!”

       Again the voice, again the tweaking of her nipple as she reflexively jerks her head up and down. “Oomph!”  Grunting, realizing what’s being said, what she’s facing, the latex suit seems to tighten, shrink across her heated flesh, confining her breathing through the slits under her flailing nostrils.

       “Amy!... You’re trembling.”  The sarcastic voice continues in the same monotone style as Amy feels her breast patted, her nipple again tweaked, then tugged.  “You won’t mind me probing, shoving a thick skewer right through these nubs, will you?... You’d like me to do that to you, huh?… That, and chain these tits… Stretch ‘em out here real good to the post with a set of nice heavy chains so I can exercise ‘em… Work them over… Okay?... I said Okay Amy?”

       A harsher pinch, a crisp tug, Amy trembles more then nods with a pitiful whimper barely audible out from the stifling mask, the pain resonating across her chest but nothing compared to what’s being described.

       Tell you what though Amy… If you take it like a good girl…  Be appreciative… I might not skewer that disgusting clit of yours!... It’ll probably burst if I do anyway!”

       ‘Oh God!’...  Amy’s thoughts scramble through her tortured mind as she feels her body uncontrollably shivering, her knees weakening.  Coughing while practically choking on the rubber plug plunging against her throat, she leans forward with the tug of her nipple, the wrist bar twisting behind her as its chain stretches tautly from the rear pillar.

       “Well… Let’s not waste anymore time, let’s get started!” Again the voice, again her left nipple tweaked outward.

       Leaning forward even further, her arms stiffening, stretching almost straight back in the pair of arm restraints, she feels her nipple tugged further outward, her heart pounding, thumping in her chest that’s stretching the shimmering latex across her thrust out torso.  Her knees quivering, her fists clenching behind her back, she wheezes through the flaring perforations beneath her nose in the quivering mask as she feels a sharp tip probed against her bare breast.

       Standing between the front pillar and Amy’s thrust out breasts, tweaking Amy’s left nipple with a thumb and finger while the rest of her hand cups the bulging melon, the black robed, dark complexioned woman scrapes the tip of the sharp skewer around the outline of the practically translucent, tautly stretching areola while glancing toward the flexing latex mask contorting across Amy’s face.  Almost quietly, she asks.  “I’m ready… Are you Amy?”

       Bracing, wanting to scream in her near panicking state, knowing she has no choice except for the consequences of even worse pain, Amy finds herself barely nodding her head up and down, erratically whimpering.

       “Can’t hear you!”

       “Oomph…Oomph!”  A couple quick grunts as she feels the point barely tilt, twist but not quite sink into her sensitive flesh.

       “Good… That’s what I thought!”

       Pinching a little firmer, forcing the tan nub to bulge outward from the spread areola, she lets the tip of the skewer barely prick into the side of the nipple, let the glistening tip disappear ever so slowly into the engulfing flesh as she hears the soft whimpers from the mask.

       Glancing toward the quivering mask, asking.  “What?... You say you want me to push it on through?”  She holds the skewer steady, almost gently presses the twitching nipple against it with her other hand.  “How’s this?”  Giving a slight thrust with the needle, sinking it through the outer edge of the nipple, she can feel the skin almost ‘pop’ as the tip sinks in, borrows halfway or so through the nub, a trickle of blood oozing, dripping from the underside of her globe.

       “Aaaggghhh!”

       “You say to go ahead and push it through?... Okay!”  Another slow thrust, the outline of the tip of the needle forces the tanned flesh of the outer edge of her nipple to push outward, to stretch across the slowly moving needle tip until a ‘plop’ the same sound of the tip piercing completely through, another trickle of blood tracing down off her quivering areola, dripping from her twitching breast.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  A louder, though still suppressed scream as Amy’s body bucks forward, the chain rattling from the wrist bar twisting behind her back.

       “Good!... Good girl, now the chain.”  Lifting the end of one of the chains already fastened to the top of the post, tugging it up toward Amy’s breast, the robed woman holds the last link against the pierced nipple.  Tugging the edge of the nipple through the link, past the barely exposed tip of the skewer, she slides the point out across the link’s outer side, sliding the rest of the skewer almost completely through the impaled flesh.  Slipping the thicker end over the other side of the chain as she presses it down past the nub and against the areola, she slides the skewer evenly back until its centered above Amy’s trembling breast, the link firmly secured between the skewer and Amy’s areola.

       Turning toward the pillar, uncoupling the chain’s other end from its eyelet, she tugs, tightens the chain until its taut, forcing Amy’s breast to thrust out, her arms to thrust back between the tautly wavering chains to the twin pillars.

       “Other tit!”

       Amy trembles, hearing the woman’s voice, the pain unbearable as her stretched breast thumps, pounds in her chest, her arms stretched painfully back as she stands spread-eagled in the painful stilettos.  Her right nipple pinched, tweaked, another skewer probed, impaling the nub, more screams, another chain manipulated to fit behind the skewer, the chain tautly stretched and adjusted to the top of the pillar and she’s chained into position, prepared for whatever else the woman has in store for her.

       “Well Amy… I think its time for a little break.”  The woman speaks as she steps around her chained submissive.  “I’ll let you meditate for awhile… Then when I come back, we’ll decide between us just what we can do to amuse ourselves for the rest of the evening… I’m sure with the toys that came with you; we’ll have plenty to choose from!”

End Part 7