112 Short-Short Torture Stories – volume 2

1. Certainly Works Better Than “Wanna See My Etchings?”

“Lady, you are as cute as a bug,” he whispered in her ear.
“I wanna take you home and mount you in my collection.”
The girl sitting at the bar giggled and smiled at him. It was the best pick-up line she’d heard all night.
Later, naked and hanging nailed to the X-frame by her palms
and ankles, she realized too late just how literally he’d meant it
as he viciously whipped her to death.

2. Shhh! Don’t Tell Their Trademark Lawyers

“Why are you doing this to me?” she pleaded in pain, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her legs were spread as far apart as possible as if she had been captured and bound while doing the splits.
He leaned down and flicked his tongue on her bulging cunt.
It dripped with pussy juice and blood. Then he reached for another one.
“Why, just for the taste of it,” he said mockingly and forced
the fourth can of Diet Coke up her stretched twat.

 

3. All Right, Who _Can’t_ See This One Coming A Mile Away?

“Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen so many zucchinis in my life. These are absolutely _amazing_.” The backyard greenhouse was filled to the ceiling with enormous vegetables.
“Yes, I’m quite proud of them,” he said. “Been doing some pretty intensive selective breeding for a number of things; color, taste, but mainly size. I picked my prize plant yesterday. It’s in the house. Would
you like to try it?”
“Sure,” she enthused. “I love zucchini. It’s delicious.”
“After you,” he said politely, with a wave of one hand, as he fingered the handcuffs in his pocket with the other.

 

4. They’re Not Airborne, Are They?

Fire in his eyes, the soldier drew himself up ram-rod straight and barked, “With respect, _sir_. Are you actually giving us a lawful
order to torture her to death?”
He looked down at the gorgeous prisoner. The rest of the platoon gathered around the gagged and bound woman came instantly to alert. Wild hope flared in the girl’s breast and she stared beseechingly at the soldier.
The major turned slowly to look at the soldier, and said, in a
steely voice, “Yes, Private, those are precisely my orders. My compliments on your excellent hearing. Was there any part of those
orders you did not quite understand?” His burning eyes bore into those of the soldier.
Then the soldier smiled and said, “No sir. Just wanted to get
it straight.” He picked up the pliers and terror overwhelmed her.
(Let’s see who gets that title. Hint: Canada 🙂

 

5. Medi-Torture I: Show Me Where It Hurts

She was an obscene sight, head immobilized by screws and strapped down like a lab rat. Thin wires trailed from dozens of small holes all over her skin; trickles of blood oozed. Her jaw was clamped open and more wires went down her throat. Her pussy looked like a drunk electrician had been to visit.
“Okay, that’s one… that’s another… and that’s the last nerve,” he announced. He gingerly withdrew the sophisticated endoscope from her abdomen, being careful not to dislodge the wires. He’d had enough trouble figuring out how to implant them.
His grant hung on this experiment, but hell, the animal models of pain just weren’t good enough. He _had_ to go to human subjects.

“This had better work,” the doctor muttered and flipped
the switch on the 220-volt power supply.

 

6. Medi-Torture II: Learn From The Dead To Heal The Living

“The liver is smooth, with no lividity or obvious cirrhosis,
of normal shape for females in this age range. It weighs…” The pathologist dropped the bloody organ on the scale. “…1456 grams.”
“Please, stop!!” she screamed.
(thanx, Doc 🙂

 

7. Medi-Torture III: Hospital Births Are Safest

The Ob/Gyn resident had finally flipped. “It died,” he told
her. “It’ll have to go back in.” The murdered newborn lay on the tray.
In shock and tied to the stirrups, the gagged woman barely felt
the spreader enter her vagina. “Ohmigod,” she thought in rising panic.
“He’s _serious_!!”

 

8. Medi-Torture IV: An Effective Therapy But Has Some Side Effects

“Doctor,” the naked blonde on the table said nervously, “I
don’t mean to be difficult but isn’t that a car battery? And aren’t
those electroshock thingies supposed to go on my head, not my nipples?”
“Yes,” the bent psychiatrist said, and dug the huge alligator
clip on the end of the thick cable into her pink pussy lips.

 

9. Medi-Torture V: Patient Care Is Our Top Priority

“But Doctor, those are the instructions on the chart. Five
litres boiling water enema, every half hour. That’s your signature
right there.”
“WHAT?!!” the doctor screamed and yanked the clipboard away
from her. His jaw dropped and he groaned, “Oh Christ!! This is my
license for sure…”
The pretty but sadistic nurse stood impassively, but she was
smiling inwardly to herself. She could forge the handwriting of every
doctor in the hospital.
She glanced at the patient in the bed. The order had stood
for seven hours. He looked like a truck had hit him; minor surgery
on an ingrown toenail, his original chart had said.
“Hmmm,” she thought speculatively. “He looks as though he
needs a catheter.”

 

10. Medi-Torture VI: A Crucial Part Of Every Practice

“You… you can’t!!” gasped the pretty blonde. She was tied
naked to the examining table. “It’s… malpractice!!!” she shrieked.
“Oh, but I found a _real_ good insurance company,” the
doctor purred as he wound the blood pressure cuff around her neck.
“Believe it or not, I’m even covered for _this_” he laughed,
and began pumping.

 

11. Medi-Torture VII: Sterility Is Critical

He removed all the shelves to make more room, then turned to
look at her. Metres of IV tubing bound the nurse’s wrists and ankles,
and Ace bandages stopped her mouth. Tears dripped from her eyes and
ran down her breasts.
Would she fit? Only one way to find out.
After a little bit of shoving, yes, she would. Her muffled
screaming was cut off as he pushed the door closed with a thunk, and
the huge steam autoclave began its cycle.

 

12. Medi-Torture VIII: Take Internally

The naked redhead screamed, thrashing against the restraints
that held her on the table and in the stirrups. “Oh sweet
Jesusjesusjesus,” she moaned.
Both gloved arms buried in the woman’s vagina almost to the
elbows, the pretty but sadistic nurse smiled brightly and said, “Oh come
on now. You dilated more than this with your baby, didn’t you?”
“I haven’t _had_ a baby yet!!” the young woman snarled through
clenched teeth.
“Well then, this is what it’s like. Now, I think I’m in deep
enough. I’ll just get the suppository…” She pulled one hand out
with a wet slurp–there was a sigh of relief–and held up the dyed
sugar cube from the cafeteria.
Then jammed back in hard and the redhead yowled like a flung
cat. The nurse wriggled her fingers a bit then said, “All right, it’s
in.” She pulled out sharply and was rewarded with a final yelp.
“Now, I’ll get a wheelchair to take you back to bed…,” she
said efficiently, undoing the restraints; the redhead was in no
condition to walk.
“…And we’ll see you back here in four hours.” she continued.
“That’s the worst yeast infection I’ve ever seen; could take five
or six treatments to clear it up.”
“Doctor’s orders,” she added sternly at the look of horror on
the redhead’s face. She held up the chart.
“Doctor’s orders,” she repeated with secret glee. Totally bogus,
of course, and more fun than she’d had in a long time.

 

13. Medi-Torture IX: Free Market Medicine Is Best

But he had saved the worst torture for last. “My bill,” the
doctor said calmly, and held the long, itemized list up to the bound
and tormented woman’s eyes.
Her screams went on, and on, and on…

 

14. Medi-Torture X: You Hold A Life in Your Hands

Humming to herself, the pretty but sadistic nurse finished the
last cut. Always knew I’d make a good surgeon, she thought, and
stepped back to admire the past hours work.
He had almost been disassembled, skin peeled back, muscles and
tendons detached, non-vital organs removed and resting on the operating
table beside him. And yes, his intestines really were that long.
Her cuts had been neat and precise. Arteries and vessels
were cleanly clamped off with gleaming haemostats. There was
surprisingly little blood.
She looked at her watch; should be coming out of it soon. Heart
and lungs had been treated gingerly, and oxygen hissed steadily
into the mask. A glucose drip maintained his blood sugar and fed drugs
to deal with the shock.
Textbook work. She stripped off her bloody gloves, then
reached into a pocket and pulled out a small sign. She placed it on
top of the anesthesia machine where he could see it. It read, “Out To
Lunch.”
She was starting to enjoy the night shift.

 

15. Bet This Thing’s Hell On Dust Bunnies

Sweat rolled off her brow and she gnawed on the gag. The compact
machine whined and he could see her left nipple through the transparent
tube. The power of the suction had extended it a full two inches. She
struggled against the handcuffs, clearly in pain.
Then he looked at the controls. There was another setting on
the dial. Wonder what this does? he thought, giving it a twist.
The whine rose to a roar and her body stiffened in shock. With
a kind of muffled <shlork!>, her entire 55DD breast was sucked up the
narrow, 1-inch diameter tube. Whitish-reddish fluid began to pour
from her ruptured nipple.
“Wow,” he breathed, then picked up the other tube and <thoomped>
it onto her right breast. With similar results. She convulsed in agony,
eyes wild.

16. I Suppose It’s Pretty Much A One-Time Torture

He held up the instruction manual and frowned, going down
the checklist. Was she strapped incorrectly? He looked at the blonde,
who was struggling frantically against the straps. Check. Was the
power on? The green light glowed on the control panel. Was the action
clear? Looked okay. Were the blades resharpened from last use? Never
used it before; check.
He shrugged his shoulders and pressed the start button. If
it works, it works. Complicated machine; it had taken a while to
assemble. Still, the instructions had been easy.
Then his doubts vanished as the drive kicked in and the
screaming girl began to ratchet towards the blades. They rose and fell
smoothly, and would not stop until her entire body had been chopped up
into two-inch-thick cutlets.
He sat back, smiling, to watch.

 

17. There’s A Power Tool For Every Application

“Jeeze, I don’t know,” he grumbled. “It looks like an ordinary
Black & Decker to me.” He held it up to his gagged and bound captive.
Her large breasts heaved in terror.
Then he dug deeper into the box. “Oh, wait, here are the bits
to go… with…” His voice trailed off as he examined the ghastly
devices.
One of them looked like it had been wrapped in barbed wire.
Another sported razor-sharp blades. Yet a third looked like a combination
corkscrew and rasp.
“Ah, _now_ we’re talking,” he said with satisfaction. He fitted
the razor bit placed it on the girl’s left breast and hit the trigger.
Her first scream almost dislodged the gag.

 

18. Wonder If I Need To Buy A Patch Kit Just In Case

Now it was really beginning to hurt. The pretty blonde rolled
her eyes wildly and fought the handcuffs. The little air compressor
chuckled merrily.
He watched her pain, then looked between her legs. The straps
kept it from popping out of her. It certainly didn’t _seem_ as though
it could get any bigger. The compressor burbled away.
But it could. She was mewing now through the gag as the thing
grew larger and larger, the hose to the compressor jerking as she
flailed helplessly.
“This is pretty good,” he thought. Should have bought one
for her ass.

 

19. Gotta Get The Adapter; Hate It When The Batteries Die

It looked pretty ordinary; about the usual length as these
things go. He hefted it; good balance too. The only difference was the
little sliding switch set into the handle.
He looked at the girl. Naked, she hung by her wrists from the
ceiling hook, feet off the ground. She looked nervously at his new toy.
Might as well see if it works. The manual promised it wouldn’t
leave a mark but that couldn’t be right. He thumbed the switch to
low power and a faint blue glow appeared along the entire length.
He landed just a light flick on her ass.
She screamed as though he’d slashed her with a saber.
Well. On full power now (and it was charged for two hours),
he leaned into it with a will, lacing strokes onto her breasts and belly
and between her thighs. She shrieked as never before.

 

20. Oh. So That’s What It’s For.

It was beautifully designed, it was light, he could set it up
in 10 minutes, and she didn’t get it.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “I thought we were going camping.
You bring me all the way into the woods and show me… this?” She
waved her hands at the thing in incomprehension.
Handcuffs flew on as quickly as her clothes flew off. He
whispered into her terrified ear, “It’s really very simple. Just step
up and I’ll show you…”
Moments later, the noose around her neck, she looked down at
him and said fearfully, “You’re not… not really going to…?”
He laughed and said, “Oh, even better than that,” and gave the
lanyard a sharp tug.
The trap door snapped open. Screaming, she fell to the
end of the rope, neck stretching…
And bounced back up!! And down, then up, then down,
then up. The spring mechanism on the crossbar recoiled each time,
keeping her airborne.
The look on her face was priceless and he laughed and laughed.

 

21. I Love A Happy Ending

“Hmmph,” she sniffed, looking down at her decorated breasts.
“Funny looking nipple clips. So what?”
The pretty blonde was stripped naked to the X-frame. The fun
had gone out of their games lately.
“Oh, I think you’re going to like these,” he purred. If this
didn’t work they were through. He reached for the odd, oblong clips
and turned them on.
There was a faint sound of gnashing gears, then the two tiny
robots began to gnaw furiously at her nipples. Small needle-sharp arms
extended, insect-like, and sank deep into the pearly flesh.
She screamed in pain. “OH! They’re wonderful!! Oh, my GOD!!”
She thrashed in agony.
Unnoticed by her, he reached between her legs and laid a third
machine on her clit.

 

22. Something Tells Me These Ain’t Reebok

They actually sorted of stylish, if a bit big. They had
high spiky heels, with a sharp spike pointing up to go through the
heel. The straps were studded with tacks. Razor blades stuck up through
the soles, and the screws tightened down to crush the toes on the
barbed wire.
“Are you really sure you want to try these?” he said dubiously.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, almost hypnotized by the appalling
footwear. They would hurt _so_ much.
“All right,” he shrugged and slid the right one on her foot.
She screamed. The left one went on with more tears.
She stood up and almost fainted. “Do it,” she said, in a
strained voice. He thumbed the remote control.
With a leap good enough for the ballet, the shoes came alive
and began tap-dancing her, howling in agony, around the room.

 

23. I Think I Saw One Of These At The BME Homepage

“This is not going to work,” he said. “It keeps slipping.”
“Keep trying,” she snarled through the tears. They had been
at it for nearly an hour now.
He sighed. She would put a pierce through her head if she
could. Lord knows, she’d pierced almost everything else. Which led to
the inevitable, never-ending search for things to put through them.
Like this silly thing. Where’d she ever find it, anyway? It
was a round ring of metal at the base, with two poles sticking
straight up on either side. A detachable crossbar sat on top of the
poles. The idea was to stretch it through the ring, insert the crossbar
in the pierce, then mount the crossbar on the poles. It was called
an extender.
But the thing was almost two inches tall. No _way_ it would
stretch that far.
Oh. Okay, maybe it would. As she screamed, he slid the bar
into place.
“There,” he said proudly. “You now have the longest clitoris
in the world.”
“Wonderful,” she winced.

 

24. I Always Wanted To See What He’d Do If He Caught Someone

The naked girl in the cage quivered with fear. “Please let me
go,” she pleaded through her tears. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Me?” he murmured innocently. “Why, I’m not going to do
anything.” He tapped a control on the remote.
A panel in the cage floor slid open, and a squat, furry,
vaguely animal-like machine rose into view. It had two arms and legs
that ended in wicked claws. The mouth was wide and sharp fangs were
visible. The eyes were closed.
“What…?” she began. Instead of answering, he tapped another
control. Glowing red eyes snapped open, looked around, then locked on
the terrified girl.
With rising whine that sounded like a jet revving up, it burst
into a slobbering, howling motion, moving so fast it looked like a small
tornado. Then it descended on the girl and began ripping her to
shreds.
Over her screams and the flying gobbets of skin and blood, he
looked at the remote and whistled. Gotta make _real_ sure the
batteries are good, he thought to himself.

 

25. It May Have Other Uses, But I Can’t Think Of What Off Hand

He was beyond screaming. The little machine had been
grinding away for nearly 45 minutes and his bonds held him firmly in
place. The off switch on the frame was mockingly far away.
Finally, he looked up, almost blind with pain, as she came
back into the room.
“Oh goodie, it worked,” she said, pleased, and picked up the
lash. “More to whip,” she murmured, and began flaying his by-now two-
and-a-half-foot-long cock.

 

26. If You’ve Ever Laced One Up, I _Know_ You’ll Want One

The tall, buxom redhead wriggled as he hauled on the block
and tackle. The ropes around her wrists burned. Finally, she was
off the ground. “Ow,” she said. “I hope this isn’t going to take
long.”
“It’s easier if you’re nice and stretched,” he replied as he
wrapped the constraining garment around her waist. It looked no
different from any other she’d worn, except for a small metal box at
the back. He carefully did up the snaps.
He stepped back and reached for the remote. “This ought to
be a real time-saver,” he said and hit the control.
Wire loops began to tighten as tiny motors strained. Her waist
began to contract. Pain flickered across her face. It continued
to tighten.
“I don’t know about thiseeeeiiiaaaaagghh!!” Her scream rose
into double octaves as it got tighter and tighter. Her waist was now
eight inches wide. Now seven. Now six. He bashed the remote frantically
on the table. My god, would it cut her in two?
Finally, it stopped: three and a half inches wide. He looked
at her in fascination. “Holy… You’re… you’re gorgeous!” he breathed.

Then he looked at the manual and slapped his forehead. “Oh,
jeeze, how dumb can I get? It’s two sizes too small!”
“Aghk!” she gurgled. “We’ll keep it.”

27. Entre Act

he stripped off her clothes. Blouse, bra, belt, skirt,
panties, watch, necklace; all fell to the floor until she stood
naked, save for garter belt, stockings, and high heels.
He watched her disrobe. Finally, she turned to face him and
said, in a low, formal voice, “Master, I am yours.”
He smiled thinly. Such were their rituals. It would not
do to miss a note.
He reached forward and slipped the thin loop of rope around
her precious neck, and said softly, “Yes, my slave. You are.”
Eyes bright, she shivered.

 

28. Preliminary Training

He led her by the rope into the other room. It was empty
except for a single chair. “Sit,” he commanded.
She sat down. What would they do this time? The noose around
her neck was certainly a clue.
He walked around behind her and laid his hands on her
smooth, white shoulders.
“Your ordeal today will require some, ah, preparation,” he
whispered into her ear. They had never done this before but
he had studied up on every aspect of it. It wasn’t too difficult.
Just a matter of training. His hands slid confidently around
her throat.
“You need to learn what it is like to be without air. Do not
struggle,” he murmured. He began to squeeze.
Trembling, she sat stock still as his fingers dug into her
esophagus and stopped her breath.
By the time she passed out her chest was on fire.

 

29. An Added Touch

“Very good, slave. You did not struggle” he said when she
came to. She rubbed her throat and coughed experimentally. “Thank
you, master,” she wheezed.
Praise when she does well, punishment when she does not; that
was the pattern. He smiled to himself. Such a simple formula, yet it
gave her the will to endure so much pain. And the fantastic orgasms
that came with it.
He reached into his pocket for the handcuffs. “This next
training will be a bit easier, but you should be restrained,” he
said. Her arms and legs were quickly cuffed to the chair.
Then he pulled out the plastic bag. She drew a sharp breath.
Old childhood fear: wrapped up and smothered in a dry-cleaners bag
in your parents closet.
Ignoring her dread-filled eyes, he placed the transparent bag
over her head, then scooped up her red hair and tucked it in. The thin
rope went back around her neck. And the bag.
And tightened.
_Now_ she struggled, the filmy plastic stretched taut over
her face. She tried to scream, mouth agape, but nothing came out.
Her breasts heaved as she passed out again.

 

30. A Taste Of The Lash

Waking this time found her in a different position. He had
carried her to the next room and cuffed her arms and legs to the mat.
She lay spreadeagled on her belly, beautiful ass and pussy exposed.
Then the whip landed and she screamed in surprise. Hard
strokes flew again and again and crisscrossed her now-bestriped back.
Punishment. “You resisted, slave,” he said with a grunt as
he sent another blow between her legs.
Of course, the more she resisted, the more she would be
punished. It was how the game worked. She always played it well.
Finally, he dropped down in front of her face, panting; a
good whipping was actually rather hard work. He reached out and
wiped the tears off her face. “Punishment enough, slave,” he said.
She gulped, and said, “Thank you, master. I accept my
punishment.” She sniffled and gave him a weak smile.
Their code for do more. He picked up the whip and her eyes
widened in anticipation.
Ah, but not the way she thinks. In a twinkling, he had the
strong, leather cord coiled thickly around her neck. She gasped in
surprise, cut off in mid-gasp as the agonizing whip was put to a
different use. It tightened like a snake.
He watched her face as her futile gagging trailed off into
asphyxiation.
Such a lovely shade of red, to match her hair. And her tongue,
so purple.

 

31. Ropework

Consciousness was harder this time. Her throat hurt and
she had a blinding headache. But that was quickly ignored in light
of what he was doing now.
Ropes. And lots of them; he was halfway done. “Master?” she
gurgled plaintively. Still, on her belly, she wriggled her wrists
against the rough hemp that bound them all the way up to her elbows.
“Ah, you’re back, slave,” he said smugly, fiddling with
another knot. “This time you get to do it to yourself. While I enjoy
myself.” This last with a rub at her exposed pussy. She suddenly saw
that he was naked and erect.
And then the purpose became clear. He looped a final length
around her ankles, lifted her legs to bend her feet almost to her
ears then slipped the noose around her neck.
She would strangle herself! She couldn’t _help_ but throttle
herself in this position. The rope cinched shut around her neck,
drawn closed by her legs; this would leave a mark.
She felt his cock slip inside her and he began to move.
Between the rope, their motion, and the growing fire in her pussy,
she almost didn’t notice her vision blacking out as she sank into a
coma of pleasure.

 

32. Weighty Matters

“Ohhhh,” she moaned. That had been _good_. She didn’t even
feel her raw throat. He observed her; she was getting used to it.
Now to throw her a curve.
Her eyes snapped open. “Wha..?” she said. Then knew: she
was on her back, arms tied above her head. Her ankles were tied
as well.
In fact, she was rather well… stretched between two tables.
Her midriff was open in between. She looked at him as he held up the
black garment.
“Corset,” he said simply, and began to put it on her. But no
ordinary corset, he thought to himself, tugging on the laces. When
it was fully sewn up her waist would be barely four inches in
diameter.
“Uhh,” she exhaled. It was too tight and she could hardly
breath.
Finally, it was done and he straightened up, a flat board
in one hand and weights in the other.
“Your neck gets a rest for this one,” he said, as he piled the
weights on her chest. She wriggled desperately but the combined
effect of the corset and the load on top of her large, squashed breasts
gave her no mercy.
He watched as she slowly suffocated. It took a while this
time.

 

33. Strange Apparatus

This time he had to help her get up, but her strength came
back quickly. He ushered her into the next room and she gaped.
The stocks were lowered to the level of the narrow beam
in front of them. A spreader bar dangled from the ceiling. A shock
generator and clamps and cables lay on the floor. A rope ran up…
from the middle of the stocks to a pulley?
He undid her hands. “Up you go,” he murmured as she
straddled the beam. He lifted the top of stocks and she laid her
wrists in place.
And put her head in the noose that ran through the head-hole.
Then he swung her ankles up to cuff to the spreader bar. She lay
balanced on the beam, legs wide apart, hands and head locked in the
wood.
It took only moments to attach the heavy clamps to sensitive
nipples and labia. He patted an exquisite buttock and came around the
stocks to face her anxiety.
“Now we train your neck,” he said with satisfaction. He
bent down and she saw him choose a heavy weight from the small pile
at the foot of the stocks; she hadn’t noticed. The weight had a
clip on it.
For her breasts? No. Oh no. She screamed as he clipped it to
the rope and let go.
The rope twanged around the pulley and the noose sawed into
her throat. He moved one foot and tapped the shock generator to life;
agony flashed through her most private parts.
The look in her eyes told of her comprehension and she writhed
in outright terror. He would add more weights, one at a time, until
she was thoroughly strangled, close to what a real noose would feel
like.
The genuine panic on her face was intoxicating. Sometimes, he
could make her completely abandon control, lose all semblance of
humanity in the roaring pain until she became, for a while, nothing
less than a tortured animal. How long could he make this last before
she succumbed to the oxygen deficit?
Quite a while, as it turned out.

 

34. The Final Step

She lay on the floor, resting. He leaned down and kissed her.
“You all right?” he asked, the roles are forgotten for a moment.
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “You do
that to me again and I’ll have to marry you,” she murmured throatily.
“We’re already married,” he pointed out.
“Never too much of a good thing,” she giggled and kissed him
again.
It was time. He picked up the handcuffs, stood, and helped
her to her feet. They padded in silence into the last room.
The video camera. The lighting. The box on the floor. The
the heavy noose that hung down from the ceiling. A while back, she had
confessed a brief, if powerful, fantasy: to be hanged, to dangle
helplessly from the noose, to orgasm violently even on the edge of
death.
To allow him to place that noose around her so-slim neck,
then haul her up off the ground like so much meat.
He could see her pulse beat faster in her neck as they
walked over to the box. She stepped up on the box. The handcuffs
snicked around her wrists and ankles.
Then she bent from the waist and he slipped the noose over
her head and snugged it tight.
She straightened up, breathing quickly. Moistness glistened
from between her legs. “Ready, slave?” he asked. She nodded, eyes
wide.
He walked back to the video camera and switched it on. Then
he picked up the rope and pulled it taut, taking strain. The noose
swung up and lifted her head.
He waited. It was up to her now.
She stood, eyes closed, fear and anticipation at war with each
other. In the back of her head, a dark terror gibbered. What if he
did not let her down? She could stop it, even now.
Then something snapped and a wild compulsion welled up
inside her. She screamed as every fiber of her will rushed to her
bound feet and kicked the box away.
The rope jerked in his hands, but he was ready for it. He
gritted his teeth and blessed the block-and-tackle as he dragged her
skyward.
She was not ready for the fall; just a few inches but it ended
with shocking jerk. Terrible pain overwhelmed her as her neck stretched
in the grab of the noose. She almost fainted; had no _idea_ it would
hurt this much.
Survival instinct took hold of her limbs and she flailed
frantically, seeking relief. Her face was a twisted rictus of pain,
suffused with trapped blood. She could feel her tongue protruding from
between swollen lips. The room blurred as her body spun around at
the end of the rope.
It got worse.
Her blocked lungs raged within her chest as her body rapidly
used up what little oxygen there was left in her bloodstream. She
felt a warm trickle of urine run down her legs; was she that far
gone already?
Apparently so, for even as her struggles grew weaker
something else was building, starved cells firing dying impulses.
It grew, and grew, and grew until it eclipsed the agony and the
desperation, a nova about to go off in her head and loins.
And at the last, just as she knew she was only moments away
from oblivion (and but a few more from away the real thing), she
exploded.
Amazed, arms straining, he watched as she came as he
had never seen her before. The spasm tossed her like a kite in the air.
Every inch of skin and muscle quivered in the grip of the titanic
orgasm, almost enough to rip the handcuffs off; blood ran freely from
her ankles where they had cut. It seemed to go on and on, her body a
solid pillar of ecstasy.
Then she went completely limp, unconscious. It was over.
Quickly and carefully, he lowered her to the floor and
rushed to remove the noose. Her face was as dark as the grave, a
ghastly contrast to the rest of her pale skin. He felt between
her sweet breasts; still a heartbeat.
The noose gone, she began to breath weakly through her
nose as her tongue still blocked her throat. He massaged her throat
and worked her tongue back into place. He began mouth-to-mouth.
Finally, she was breathing evenly and a normal colour had
returned to her face. Smiling, he sat back to watch her and made a
small bet with himself.
She ran both hands through her hair and sighed in exhaustion.
And total satiation. Then she looked up at him, a glint in her
eyes.
“When can we do that again?” she breathed.
He threw back his head and laughed. Oh my beautiful one, my
slave, my wife, he thought, with no small joyful love. You are
insatiable.
And he had won his bet.
“I knew you’d say that,” he whispered and kissed her.

 

35. Oooo, That’s Gotta Sting

Strapped to the table, her naked body was on fire. “How’s
that?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” she squeaked, grimacing in agony. “Ah… would
you mind…?
“What? Oh! Of course,” he said as he reached for the
extinguisher.

 

36. Looks Pretty NC To Me

Gurgling through the blood, her screams grew weaker and weaker
until, at last, they stopped completely.
“Aww, you’re no fun anymore,” he grumbled.

 

37. But He’s Perfectly Correct, You Know

The live steam whistled and she howled in unspeakable pain.
“There, now,” he chided. “Remember: a clean colon is a
happy colon.”

 

38. Puns Are Torture, Too

He plunged the blade in over and over again. In shock, she
fought her bonds and shrieked horribly, “Why are you doing this to
me?!!”
“Oh, just for the hack of it,” he replied viciously.

 

39. I Can Just See Vincent Price Doing This Scene

“For this journal entry, I shall describe the torture of a very pretty young girl, sixteen, I think, (though it’s _so_ hard to
tell these days) who came into my hands thanks to some drugged beer.
By the time she wakened I had already stripped her naked and
tied her…”
The author stopped and frowned. He gave the pen a good shake.
Nope; out again.
He dipped the pen into the little pot of her blood and
continued writing.

 

40. Whoa. Had Her Going For A Second, Didn’t He?

“Look, lady, will ya calm down, fercrissakes? I tell ya, I
don’t wanna rape ya.”
Her hysterical sobs slowed and the pretty blonde looked up
at him, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. The handcuffs clinked as she
trembled.
“No, I don’t want to rape you,” he repeated in a different
tone as he picked up the scalpel.

 

41. You Can Actually Get Equipment Like This

Couldn’t do business without it, he thought. The huge
automated packaging machine clanked and roared as it processed the
load.
Finally, she came out the other end, completely wrapped in
layer and layer of thick plastic. She looked like a cocoon. She
writhed as she began to smother.
“Oh yeah,” he said, satisfied. “That’s much faster.”

 

42. With Apologies To Python (And Greenpeace 🙂

“Wh-what are you going to d-do with m-me?” she stammered in
terror. The pretty blonde eco-activist was naked and tied prone on
the log.
One of the men slapped his forehead and muttered, “Jeeze.
Dumb treehuggers.”
The leader bent down and said sarcastically, “Well, we
thought we’d all dress up in women’s clothing, dance around you, and
pick wildflowers. After all, we’re lumberjacks. Right, fellows?”
The men’s raucous laughter was cut short by a loud snarl as
one of them yanked the chainsaw to life.

 

43. Seems Like A Happy Couple To Me

The ropes cut deep at her wrists and ankles. “‘Oh, what is
this thing called love?'” she warbled.
“Oh, shut up,” her husband growled sourly and slashed the
whip across his wife’s gorgeous ass.

Just A Teensy Bit of Miscommunication Here, No?
The flames licked at her perfect breasts; they were beginning
to turn brown, the nipples crisping. She couldn’t stop screaming as
the spit turned her, the wire cutting into her wrists, waist, and
ankles.
“Well, I did ask you if you wanted to cook,” he said calmly.

 

44. Masterpiece Theatre Goes BDSM/Bestiality

The butler sighed as the horse exhaled a blast of
oat-smelly breath into his ear. Really, this was properly a job for
the stableboy. But the silly git had fallen off of his bicycle
yesterday. This would not normally be much cause for inconvenience
except that, in this instance, he was in front of a lorry at the
time. He was now in the hospital and in frightful traction, having
received the sort of severe injuries one would expect to incur under
such circumstances.
Her Ladyship had been most dismayed. “Oh please, you _must_
help,” she pleaded tearfully. “You can handle them, I have every
confidence in you.”
No doubt true, except that the butler hated horses. Ugly
brute, he thought as he led the huge black Percheron from the
stables. The massive animal plodded placidly along at the end of the
leash. No, no, he thought: reins.
Very well, he would assist her, but we’re going to do it
_my_ way, the butler had said. Her Ladyship had squealed in delight and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.
He had blushed. Even considering all they had done together,
one should observe at least _some_ proprieties.
Horse and butler rounded a corner and entered the courtyard.
The horse whickered in anticipation as he spotted her and the
gargantuan penis slid out its sheath. The butler had to grant the
animal was very well trained.
The morning sun shone on her Ladyship’s naked, creamy ass,
projected up into the air as it was by the rough frame; carpentry was
also among the butler’s many talents and he knew exactly what was
required.
Her wrists and ankles were firmly fastened to the four corners
and the whole construction was dug solidly into the ground. It would not
do to have the beast push her all over the yard. He had measured
carefully and she would fit perfectly underneath the horse’s belly.
She had insisted on the blindfold but she heard them coming.
And she knew her horses. “Come here, Giant,” she whistled. The horse
neighed in reply. The butler carefully jockeyed the animal into
position over her, then reached down and placed the Brobdingnagian
phallus at the entrance of her lovely young pussy.
The horse moved forward and began to copulate. Her screams
echoed over the grass as her Ladyship thrashed futilely against the
ropes. She howled and caterwauled in a most un-ladylike fashion.
The butler had never observed this before. It was instructive.
Such violence in the horses’ motion. And he had never before
suspected that her Ladyship’s pert blonde twat could accommodate such
a wide organ. Or, for that matter, to such a depth.
After almost a quarter-hour of vigorous intercourse, the horse
finally came in an explosion of sticky fluid that gushed out around her
impossibly stretched labia. Sighing in satiation, she collapsed on the
frame, obviously having had experienced an orgasm or two of her own.
The horse withdrew of its own accord with a wet <schlork>
and cantered sideways. The butler bent down towards her ear; she was
almost insensate with pleasure.
“The Clydesdale twins next?” he asked politely.
“Please,” she murmured, a beatific expression on her face.
“Magnificent. Why didn’t I think of this before?” she said to herself,
dazed.
Flushed with the success of his idea, the butler led the horse
back to his stall. They had twelve such monsters in the stables, but
with any luck, her Ladyship would be done before lunch.
Then the butler smiled, and his step became even cheerier.
Consider yourself extraordinarily fortunate, he told himself. He knew her
Ladyship well.
Had she thought of it, she could just as easily have bought
an elephant.

 

45. Not Really A Short-Short; Just Fantasizing About It

He pricked his finger with it; ouch, sharp. He turned towards
the naked girl manacled on the X-frame and grasped a firm breast. She
barely moved, exhausted.
At least, they used to be breasts. The wire had squeezed them
both into hard, purple balls of tit. Both nipples bled from the
alligator clips he’d used to shock her, and from the pierces that
now supported two extenders; the two stretched bits of mammary
were now an agonizing inch and a half long.
The long needles contributed their share of the pain, too; at
least fifty per breast and stuck in and through every which way. And
what flesh the needles had missed the hemostats pinched. Tiny
rivulets of red ran down from the countless small wounds.
She seemed spent, but when the first skewer went in her
left breast and out the other side, she screamed to make all
her previous howls seem small. He reached for another steely sliver
and impaled her right one.
Then left, then right, then left then right, until the box
was empty and her tortured chest full. Her eyes stared, her mind
gone in so much pain. No words could describe the ruin that he had
made of her once-sweet mountains.
He cracked open a fresh box and went to work on her cunt.

 

46. I Wonder, Does This Void Her Warranty?

The late-night gas station attendant pumped the jack a few
more times; her renewed screams echoed through the empty garage.
The pretty redhead made a naked X in the air, her wrists tied
to the two arms of the hoist and her ankles chained to the two widely
separated floor bolts. The twin four-inch-wide metal dildoes welded to
the jack impaled both her pussy and ass cavities.
He cranked it up a few more notches and she keened. Then
he reversed the jack and began to withdraw the huge pillars. “I see
the problem,” he muttered.
“Not enough lube,” he announced, and reached for the
grease gun.

 

47. Happens To Me _All_ The Time

The gorgeous blonde materialized nude out of thin air and the
Writer groaned. She had the face of an angel and impossibly perfect
tits, only a faint wisp of delightfully curly pubic hair, and a petit
blue choker around her neck. She stood calmly in blue high heels,
arms behind her back.
“Aww, not again!! Damn it, will you _please_ go away?!” he
snarled. “Blast my over-active imagination!!”
He gestured at the computer and said, “Can’t you see I’m
trying to get some _work_ done here?!” Then he turned his back on her
and resumed hacking at the stubborn paragraph.
“Well, the time you took a break, then, isn’t it?” she murmured,
a vicious glint in her eyes, and flexed the long whip she held coiled
in her hands.
There’s Precedent: Justice Wears A Blindfold, Doesn’t She?
The young, pretty judge lay tied to her desk in chambers,
her robes flipped up over her ample chest. She writhed, and muffled
screams came from underneath the heavy black fabric. “This… this
is contempt of _court_!!” she shrieked.
“Oh, very,” the defense lawyer murmured as he worked the gavel
deeper into her blonde pussy. Deny his appeal, would she?

 

48. Hmmm. Full-Scale Production Could Be A Problem

The frantic blonde lay strapped to the table, her pretty feet
bound to the stirrups. The equipment between her legs began to
stimulate her mercilessly with needles and shocks. Her secretions were
collected for later processing.
The two scientists watched her struggles dispassionately. “You
know,” the first one remarked, “I’d have thought it would have made
more sense to inject the gene complex into her breasts. Once it
modified her mammary glands they’d produce exactly the same
quality of drug. Wouldn’t you get more volume from lactation?”
“Yeah,” the second scientist grunted. “But this is more fun.”
(With a tip ‘o the hat to the Doc, and to the January/97 issue of
Scientific American on transgenic research)

 

49. We’ve _All_ Had Teachers Like This

“Hmm,” thought the sadistic professor, as he twirled the
whip absently. “Must need the marks bad. She’s really taking
sucking up seriously.”
The pretty, naked co-ed slipped the handcuffs onto her wrists
with a <snick>, and bent over.
“I think I’ll give you an ‘A’ today, Cindy,” he announced, and
wound up for the first slash of many.

Should Send This Either To Lucas Or The Enquirer; Haven’t Decided
The abducted woman shivered in the chill, her fear mounting.
Driving home late last night, a bright light appeared in the rearview
mirror and now she awoke naked and spreadeagled on a metal table,
bound at wrists and ankles. Instruments of unknown purpose lined the
walls. The air smelled funny. Somehow, she knew instinctively she
wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Finally, a door slid open and several of the ugly, grey-skinned
aliens came through. They began preparing sinister-looking equipment.
Two of them shuffled over to her. The first one placed a dry,
three-fingered hand on her breast. It spoke.
“Do not be afraid, Earth female,” it said in a hissing voice,
unused to the awkward English. “We require knowledge of humans before
our races engage in First Contact. We wish to test your physiological
response to… pain.”
She stared, then broke into a wide smile. “Oh, is _that_
all?!” she exclaimed in relief. “I thought you were going to do some
kind of kinky medical experiments or something.”
The two aliens blinked. She shook her blonde locks theatrically.
“Anything for intergalactic science, Doc,” she whispered in a sultry
voice, and readied herself.
The second alien turned to the first and said, “<You know, I
think they’ve got more in common with us than we thought.>”
The first one nodded glumly and said, “<Yes. If they’re this
advanced then we can’t ethically treat them as food animals.>”
They both turned back to look at the blonde, who bucked and
screamed in pleasure as a third alien applied a bladed device to her
pussy.
“<Although maybe just this once…,>” the first one murmured.
It’s mouth opened slightly to reveal needle-sharp teeth. A small
the forked tongue darted out to lick thin lips, then withdrew.

 

50. You’ve Got To _Want_ To Quit

The doctor pressed the lit cigarette to her clitoris and
she moaned through the gag with the last of her strength. There was
a sweet smell of sizzling flesh.
“There,” he announced. “That’s the last.” Her skin was covered
with agonizing pockmarks all over her breasts, tummy, buttocks, arms
, and legs. And pussy. She looked like she’d come down with some massive,
mutant strain of chickenpox.
“This ought to be a lot more effective than that useless
patch,” he thought.

 

51. Now This Is What You Call Customer Service

He grunted as he tied the last rope. The warm morning sun
shone down on her exquisite nakedness. The air in the pine forest
was sweet and pure.
The owner of the campground clambered off the picnic table
and examined his young, squirming wife. A stream of pungent expletives
was cut off as he jammed the ball gag in her mouth and fastened it
tight.
“Now, now, none of that attitude,” he said severely, pinching
a nipple. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I want them to come back next year,” he continued. “They
spent a pile here last time, they didn’t mess the place up that much,
and you said yourself it wasn’t too bad after the tenth one.” She
mmmphed angrily and struggled against the ropes.
He scowled. “Look, I don’t like it any better than you do,
but at least this saves them the trouble of kidnapping you. I’m sure
they’ll appreciate it.” He turned and stalked off.
She lay spreadeagled on the picnic table and cursed
blasphemously to herself.
In the distance, there was the faint, throaty roar of
motorcycles.

 

52. Mea Culpa, Mary Shelley

Stretched naked on the table, the woman screamed as the wide,
swinging blade bit into her smooth stomach for the first time. The
backswing dug a little deeper and she screamed some more.
The two men watched as the giant pendulum slowly carved its
way down through her flesh. Blood went everywhere.
“Yes, well, that’s all very interesting,” said the first one
politely, “But what do you do with her after you’ve chopped her in two?”
By way of answer, the second man turned towards the door,
whistled, and called out, “Helga? We’ll have the schnapps now!!”
A tall, sullen, pretty blonde came through the door carrying
a tray with two full snifters. She served the men with a smoldering
resentment. She wore slave gauntlets and chain around her wrists but,
save for the high heels, nothing else. There was a wide row of
stitches around her waist where her belly button should have been.
“Ah, of course. I should have guessed,” said the first man,
slapping his forehead. “Frankenstein, you’re a genius.”
“I know,” the doctor murmured, and sipped his schnapps with a
pleased smile.

 

53. Happens To All Us Types Who Writes

The Writer sipped his coffee and stared dumbly at the blank
screen. Stuck. Blocked. Jammed. Stalled. Empty.
He groaned. It had to happen sooner or later. Somehow, he’d
known that the creative juices would eventually dry up. Was this
it? Was his career over? No more to tickle the Muses, to make them
giggle, to make sweet love to them, to listen to their enchanting
voices as they whispered the evilest stories into his waiting heart?
Carrying the coffee, he got up from the keyboard and walked
over to the window. The day was sunny and blustery, the wind whipping
at the tree limbs outside. Maybe it was time to just chuck everything
and go for a good long walk. Maybe that would bring the inspiration
back.
He sipped at the dark Columbian brew. Then he blinked.
Outside, a rope suddenly appeared, knotted hard around
a heavy branch. His eyes followed it down to the thick noose, which
was coiled tightly around a pretty neck, stretched by her own weight.
Long blonde hair drifted in the breeze around her features, obscuring
the panic and terror in her eyes. Her face was suffused with blood,
and her purple tongue was thrust out in a manner most obscene, yet at
the same time intensly erotic. Gold handcuffs glittered around her
wrists and ankles. Help me, please, I’m dying, her eyes pleaded
silently.
The mug of coffee went flying. With a whoop, the Writer dove
for the keyboard.
Haven’t lost it yet.

 

54. Gee, Maybe You Should Try Counselling First

Her head was securely fixed in place by the straps. The
spreader opened her jaw to it’s widest extent. The painful clamp
ground into the tip of her tongue. The weight and rope attached to
the clamp pulled it out of her mouth to an incredible length.
The first needle through her tongue had provoked a gargled
scream. The dozen or more that followed had yielded diminishing
results. But overall, he was satisfied. He turned and left the
room, leaving his new wife in bondage and unique agony. A couple of
hours ought to teach her the appropriate lesson.
Yak, yak, yak. Chat, chat, chat. Babble, babble, babble. She
just wouldn’t shut up.
Well, he’d put an end to all of _that_!!

 

55. It Probably Happens Something Like This

They’d talked about it; more fantasizing than serious, of
course. After all, it _was_ a pretty potent fantasy: to carry it to
the absolute limits of pain, of dominance, of torture. To death. They
could both understand how someone might want to do it. Or have it
done to them.
Then they had skittered uneasily back to safer territory,
reassuring each other that they weren’t _that_ far into it.
It happened during the most intense session they’d ever
experienced, crashing past limits neither of them had even known they
had. She was suspended by her wrists from the ceiling, hands long numb.
Breasts bound and weighted and skewered; labia pierced and stretched;
whip marks and burns and shocks; she had come over and over again.
For his part, he had long since exhausted his capacity for
ejaculation, orgasming half a dozen times into her pain-wracked body.
Arousal had taken on the aspect of frenzy, every increment of her
agony spurring him on to more further torture.
And finally, at the absolute peak of torment, she had shrieked
in pleasure, not realizing what she was saying, “Oh!! You’re killing me!!”

They froze, and their eyes locked in the same thought. As one,
they looked at the knife stuck into the table. Until now, it had only
been a symbol, and possibly a safety device in case of stuck knots.
The blade glittered. They looked at each other again. Slowly,
he reached for the knife and saw her breath come faster. They did not
need to speak. He picked up the knife.
In ultimate, bloody, ecstasy, they slid over the edge
and descended, screaming, into atrocity.

 

56. Well, As A Matter of Fact, Yes It Is

The C-clamps on her labia and clit had been tightened down
as far as they could go. The wing-nuts on the restraints that held
down her wrists and ankles gleamed in the light. The tiny clips on
her nipples were turned as snug as possible; one more twist and he’d
have stripped the threads. Glee on his face, he cranked away at the
bolts on the breast press until her gorgeous mammaries were bloated,
swollen balloons.
Voiceless behind the gag, she rolled her eyes in exasperation
and thought to herself, “I swear, all he ever thinks about is
screwing.”

 

57. Lights, Camera, Waaah!!

The first actor wound up, delivered, and the actress screamed
as the whip landed on her naked ass.
She was tied and spread on the countertop, her arms bound
and hauled up by the rope from the ceiling. Her beautiful tits dangled
a few inches above the red-hot stove burner; her nipples were
beginning to crisp.
“Good, good,” the director yelled enthusiastically. “Another
one! And give me _real_ pain!! Now work that rolling pin some more!”
The second actor between her legs gave the large kitchen
implement buried in her blonde pussy a vicious twist as the whip
cracked down again. Both actors wore “Kiss Me, I’m The Chef” on their
T-shirts.
The actress shrieked and heaved, hardly acting anymore. Ooo,
but she was going to just _murder_ that jerk agent of hers. How dumb
did he think she was?
This was no _cooking_ commercial!!
(Fer you, Blithe 🙂

 

58. I Know A Girl Like This. If I Could Get a Uniform… Hmmm.

The pretty, big-titted blonde waitress set his coffee
down and said, in a bright, beautiful voice, “Would you like cream
with that, mister?”
Transfixed, the Writer said, “Yesss, I believe I would…”
In a flash, he was over the counter and behind her. The cuffs
and the gag went on in an instant. The other customers at the
diner stared in shock.
Then he reached in front of her, bunched his fingers in her
uniform blouse, and ripped it and her bra away. Two gorgeous, huge
breasts bounced free into the air.
He reached into his pocket for a length of cord, looped it
a dozen times around her right mammary, then pushed her forward so
the big, pert nipple was just above the cup of coffee. He yanked the
cord tight and began massaging the boob as it swelled.
The waitress moaned in pleasure and pain as a thin stream of
white fluid began to spurt out. The coffee changed color. She yelped
as he dipped the nipple into the hot java to get the last drop.
“One or two?” she asked and held up two small containers.
The Writer started and shook his head. “Er… uh… one.
One, please. Thanks,” he mumbled in a small voice, a flush rising in
his face.
The waitress dropped a creamer beside his cup, gave him an
odd look, and walked away.
Whoa. Get a grip, he thought to himself as he stirred the
aromatic brew.
Gotta leave the work at _home_.

 

59. I Knew I’d Write This Story Sooner Or Later

The plumber was dubious. “Look, mister, this really isn’t my
kind of job…” he said uncertainly.
The man pulled out his wallet again and dropped another fifty
on the table. “There,” he snapped. “That’s a triple scale for ten
minutes of work. We just want it done. And never mind our reasons.”
“Yeah, but…,” the plumber began. Then he stopped and sighed.
His dad had always told him: never argue with the customers. And the
the business had done all right, hadn’t it?
“Okay mister, it’s your nickel,” the plumber said tightly.
“Lady, you realize this is going to hurt like hell?”
The naked blonde on the table was gagged, tied down, with her
delicious ass pointed in the air. She nodded eagerly.
“Sheesh, some people,” the plumber thought and picked up the
Roto-Rooter.

 

60. I Haven’t The Heart To Tell Him She’s Not A Frog

“You know, I heard once that if you drop a frog in a pot
of hot water, he’ll jump right out. But if you put him in
cold water and just raise the temperature, he’ll sit there until
he boils.”
The gorgeous redhead floated, gagged and bound and
terrified, in the hot tub.
“Let’s test that theory,” he murmured and tapped the
control up to a notch.

 

61. Just Real Dedicated To Her Craft

Dangling high above the floor from the end of the rope, the
actress could feel her tongue beginning to stick out. Red spots
danced before her eyes. Her naked body turned slowly under the hot
lights of the sound stage, agony coursing through her cuffed limbs.
Oh please, please, hurry…
“Annnd… that’s the shot,” the director shouted, a
stopwatch in his hand. “Get her down!”
The technician in the catwalk above wrestled in panic with
the hoist. “It’s jammed,” he yelled, bashing at it with a wrench.
Pandemonium erupted on the set. Two more techs raced up the
stairs to help and three gaffers wrestled with a ladder, trying to
reach her.
On the edge of unconsciousness, the actress felt a fire
growing between her legs. She twisted away from a pair of helping
hands. Not yet, you idiots, she shouted silently at them.
The orgasm burst in her pussy like a grenade at the
same time as she felt herself descending. Then she felt no more.
Cool water brought her around. She looked up at the director,
who was shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, “There was noise.
We need another take.”
“Good,” she croaked.
(Blithe, you’re an inspiration 🙂

 

62. Do You Trust _Your_ Doctor?

She moaned as he ran a cool, wet cloth over her fevered
brow. The doctor swept her blonde hair out of her tear-filled eyes
and gave her a warm smile. “Are you feeling better now?” he asked
solicitously.
The woman looked up at him and her lower lip trembled. “A
little,” she said and coughed. “Can I have some water, please?”
“Of course,” he said soothingly, nothing but compassion in
his gaze. He held the glass to her lips and she sipped greedily.
“Thank you,” she said, stronger now. His face radiated
concern and she knew he was a kind man. “That’s a little better,
I think.”
“Wonderful,” he beamed, genuinely pleased. He checked her
wrists and ankles for cuts from the handcuffs.
Then the doctor turned to the torturers and said, “She’s
fine. You may continue now.”

 

63. Fairy Torture Tales I: The Witch Left A Loophole

He had removed her royal garb and flipped her over on her
tummy. She lay spreadeagled on the slab by the ropes that ran from
her wrists and ankles. Oblivious, the pretty princess snored on.
He gave the whip an experimental twitch, then turned and laid
a ferocious <Crack!> across her beautiful ass.
The girl’s eyes snapped open. Then she screamed as the force
of the pain hit her.
“Ha!” he said smugly. “I knew this would work as good as a
kiss.”

 

64. Fairy Torture Tales II: Well, They _Were_ Miners

The two men worked on the ropes as the naked, dark-haired
the woman squirmed on the bed. She <mmmphed> through the gag.
“I dunno,” said the first man. “She looks pretty mad to me.
You sure she wants to do this?”
“I’m sure,” the second man grunted as he tied an ankle to
the bedpost. “She said she was horny. After we do this, she said
she’d take us all on.”
The first man looked hungrily at her fine, creamy breasts,
capped with rosy nipples. It would be worth it.
“But she’s fighting us all the way,” he said as he struggled
with a wrist.
“It’s just BDSM,” the second man said. “We went over this.
Or were you asleep?”
The first man hung his head and the second man snorted. “I
should have known. All right, she’s done.” He gave a piercing whistle
and shouted out the window, “Okay! Bring it in now!!”
Three other men entered the room carrying a huge, heavy
machine in their arms. Hoses trailed out the door behind them. Puffing,
they carried it up onto the bed and between her legs.
“That’s… that’s our mining drill,” gasped the first man
as the second man guided the thick, spear-like tip into the woman’s
pretty, already-moist twat. She moaned in pleasure.
“No shit, Sherlock,” grunted the second man. “But it’s the
closest thing we’ve got to a vibrator.” He leaned out window and
shouted, “It’s in!! Turn on the compressor!!”
Hosed stiffened as the drill came to life with a noisy
chatter. The woman howled in ecstasy through the gag.
“How long?” shouted the first man over the din.
“She said until she comes seven times,” the second man
shouted back. He looked at the writhing woman on the bed, the
dirt-covered machine roaring away in her pussy.
“One for each of us, then we get to see if we can do
better,” he shouted. The first man smiled in anticipation.
Snow wasn’t the only one who was horny around here.

 

65. Fairy Torture Tales III: Timing Is Everything

The clock bonged ominously and the naked woman broke the
kiss with a start. She’d competely lost track. Was it time…?
Then she relaxed and smiled up at her new lover. It was
all right. Her beautiful gown had changed back to rags an hour ago,
but she certainly hadn’t been wearing them at the time. And who cared
if they found a big ‘ol pumpkin and some mice in the stables
tomorrow morning?
Then her smile faltered as the Prince’s features began to
change. And change. Then changed some more. She screamed in terror.
“Oh hell, now my spell’s run out,” the werewolf growled, and
sank his fangs into her pretty throat.

 

66. Fairy Torture Tales IV: Does He Know Any Moe Kaufman?

The naked woman struggled on the dining room table, wrists
bound above her head and legs bound apart. “You’ll… you’ll never
get away with this,” she gasped in fury.
The musician shrugged. “Hizzoner the Mayor, your fine
husband, isn’t gonna pay me. What am I supposed to do, kidnap the
children or something?”
He put the flute to his mouth and began to play an odd,
haunting tune, full of compulsion. A rat poked it’s head out of a
hole in the wall, whiskers quivering curiously. It was quickly
followed by two more. And more after that, until the floor seethed
with brown fur and pink tails. Squeaking filled the room and the
woman gaped.
Then the music changed. The woman screamed as the vicious
rodents swarmed up onto the table in a rush, red eyes glowing.
The rats began to feed.

 

67. Fairy Torture Tales V: Chacun A Son Gout

The bound girl quaked in terror as he touched the blade
of the carving knife to her perfect left nipple.
“Sometimes, I like a change from pumpkin,” he whispered
hoarsely.

 

68. Fairy Torture Tales VI: Disposes Of The Evidence, I Suppose

The two teenagers sniffed as the aroma of roasting flesh
filled the kitchen. The pounding and screaming from inside the
oven grew weaker and weaker until it finally stopped altogether.
The fire crackled merrily.
“I dunno,” the girl said dubiously, a pastry in her hands.
“We could get into a lot of trouble for this.”
“Naw,” the boy said confidently. “We’ll just tell everyone
she was a witch.” He chomped down on the stolen dessert treat.
The baker’s daughter made such delicious marzipan.

 

69. Fairy Torture Tales VII: I Don’t Think She’s _That_ Thirsty

The naked girl gurgled as the agonizing noose around her
neck choked her halfway into a coma. He looked down into the well
as she struggled feebly to free her wrists. Her feet kicked out and
scrabbled futilely at the walls for some support.
That’s about enough, he thought. He tripped the windlass
and the rope unwound with a whir. She dropped back down into the
icy pool at the bottom with a splash. Her screamed obscenities
echoed up at him.
He didn’t see what she was complaining about; wasn’t his
idea to climb all the way up to this stupid well. And no way _he_
was going to carry it all back down. She wants to get some water?
Very well, water’s what she’s going to get.
But she’s gonna fetch it _his_ way.

 

70. Fairy Torture Tales VIII: Ooo, I’d _Love_ To Do This

The pretty girl wept in terror. Mistake, mistake, mistake.
_Big_ time. But he’d looked so nice standing down there at the base
of the tower.
She was naked and her arms were tied painfully behind
her back at the wrists and elbows. A thick length had been wrapped
between her ruby lips and tied behind her head. Her sweet breasts
bulged purple from the thin strands looped around them. Her legs
were spread wide, bound to the bedposts; he finished knotting
a lovely ankle firmly in place with the golden cord.
Finally, he was done and the evil prince stood back to
admire his work. He whistled. “Gawd, what a sight,” he smirked,
and began to laugh. “I mean, I’ve played a lot of BDSM games, but
this is the first time the woman supplied the rope.”
He began to unbutton his trousers. He leered at her and said,
“Hope you’re ready for it. Gonna make a princess out of you now,
Rapunzel.”

 

71. Fairy Torture Tales IX: Resourceful Lass, Wouldn’t You Say?

The little girl reached into the basket she was carrying
and pulled out a huge bullwhip. She wielded it with an expert hand
and sent a stinging blow across the bed, right onto his belly.
The thin sheets were no protection and the wolf howled in
pain. He leapt from the bed and scrambled madly for shelter as
the little girl landed accurate slash after slash on his hide.
“Where’s my Grandmother, you beast?” she growled menacingly,
brandishing the whip over her head. “Tell me what you’ve done with
her or I’ll take your _fur_ off, one hair at a time!!”
The wolf cowered in the farthest corner of the room,
completely shattered by the sudden assault.
This was _not_ how the story was supposed to go at _all_.

 

72. Fairy Torture Tales X: Tops Dolly If It Works, That’s For Sure

She pulled and yanked hard, but the stakes held firm. The
pretty shepherdess was draped naked on her belly over the rock,
wrists roped to one stake, legs roped wide to two others. Her pussy
was at exactly the right height. She gnawed on the gag that he’d
improvised from her panties.
The tall, rustic shepherd smiled widely and said, in a
thick Lancashire accent, “Ar, an’ that’s t’ right way naow,
girlie. Y’ cn’ think o’ it as breedin’ hexperiment, if y’ likes.”
He whistled, and three of the sheep (young rams actually)
sauntered over and lined up behind her.
“Oh well,” she thought resignedly. “They say if it’s going to
happen you might as well enjoy iteeeEEEEE!!”

 

73. I Dunno. We _Could_ Do It

“So what fiendish tortures have you in store for me this
time, O wicked Master?” the naked blonde said flatly, bored stiff.
He was _so_ predictable. Watching paint dry got her hotter by now.
The Writer cinched her wrist tight to the X-frame and
stepped back. “Oh, thought we’d try something different. How’s about
a group session?” he asked.
He grinned. “Sent some e-mail last night.” He turned and
went to the door. He opened it and yelled, “She’s ready!! Come on
in!!”
The girl stared in amazement as a wave of bizarre people
poured into the room, dressed in all manner of dom garb. One man
carried a truck battery and waved a set of jumper cables, shouting,
“Nipples!! Give me her nipples!!” Another brandished a _huge_ noose.
A woman cracked a thick bullwhip on the floor, then gave her a
smile to freeze her blood. One man was almost hidden behind the big
box of needles in his arms. A woman wrestled with a laptop, yelling,
“Not too fast! I want to get it all down!” The big man at the back
in the chefs apron said nothing, but he held an enormous blowtorch in
one hand and a carving knife in the other; a couple of artist’s pencils
were stuck behind one ear. And there were others, too many to mention.
Above the crowd, the Writer shouted, “Meet the gang from
alt.torture, my dear.”
She barely had time to think, “Oh fuck, I’m dead,” and
then they were on her.

 

74. Sometimes, It’s Just To Pay The Rent

The actress gritted her teeth and tried to smile through
the agony. She was naked and her wrists were cuffed to the steel
table. Her legs were propped up in the stirrups. The leather
straps were tight around her ankles. The actor playing the
Ob/Gyn resident droned on.
She hadn’t particularly liked shaving her pussy for this
job but the director had insisted. “It’s got to look totally
realistic,” he said.
Totally realistic my ass, she winced to herself. If they
keep this up they were going to have to give her a totally realistic
episiotomy.
“…And as you can see, the female vagina is extremely
flexible and can stretch up to six inches, quite wide enough to
acommodate childbirth,” the actor said.
Her twat gaped open under the hot lights. The actor reached
down and gave the huge speculum another crank. The actress almost
bit her tongue off.
_Damn_, but these med school videos were a pain.

 

75. Reliable Equipment Is Critical

The sharp clips dug hard into nipples, clit, and tongue, and
the two metal dildoes inside her hurt; too big. The bound woman
steeled herself for the agony. He pressed the button but there
was only a weak <fizzle>, and a brief aroma of toasted circuitry.
He swore and gave the box a hard rap and a shake; the
cables danced. He jammed the button down again and again. No
good. The new shock unit had shocked its last.
He sighed in frustration, then looked down at the box.
He looked at the woman. Then at the box again. He unplugged the
cables and held them contemplatively.
“Ah, what the hell,” he growled, and gave the cables a
tug. He walked towards the wall as the woman watched in growing
horror. Surely he wasn’t going to…?
He bent down, fumbled with the cables, and jammed them
crudely into the wall socket. Full house current poured into her
flesh.
He turned back to watch as she was instantly converted
into a screaming, twitching horror, smoke rising from between her
legs as breasts and tongue and pussy and asshole burned.
“Damn it, I’d better still have that receipt,” he thought
sourly as she sizzled.

 

76. Ooo, What A Pretty Little Oogums-Snoogums-Cutsie-Eeensy-_Boo_!!

The new kitten looked up at her and mewed plaintively. It
was hungry.
She looked down at the tiny furball and thought to herself,
“Sorry, kitty. I’m a little busy at the moment.” The kitten mewed
again.
Naked, arms tied together and suspended from the ceiling,
legs spread apart by the bar, gagged, tits bound to softball size,
clips and weights on pussy lips; yeah, she was busy. The whip marks
on her ass and back had begun to cool a bit but he would be back
shortly to continue her torture; bathroom break.
The kitten padded over to her right foot and sniffed, then
licked some of the sweat on her ankle. It rubbed up against her
foot, as cats will do.
Then it raised it’s head, crouched, and leapt up to land
on her inner calf, claws fully extended.
She screamed at the sudden pain and shook her leg vigorously.
The kitten held on grimly and began to climb up the back of her leg.
It clambered up and around until it was on the front of her thigh.
Blood oozed from the trail of tiny punctures.
The kitten looked up and mewed. Cautiously, it began to work
it’s way up her tummy.
Then it slipped on her sweat! The kitten fell with a tiny
yowl and would have hurtled to the floor if one paw hadn’t flailed
out and caught at one of the pussy weights. Saved, the kitten swung
down in a smooth arc, then dangled there, swaying back and forth and
hanging on for dear life.
“Agggghmmph!!” the woman howled. This was ridiculous! How can
a six-week-old kitten inflict such paineeeEEEE!!
For the kitten had gotten it’s bearings again and planted
its hind paws against the inside of her thighs while the front paws
assaulted her shaved pubes (“Kkkkkk!!”). The kitten resumed it’s
vertical ascent up her belly.
Finally, it reached her rib-cage. The kitten mewed again,
then looked first at the right, then the left breast. Oh no, she
moaned.
So _that’s_ why the kitten was doing this! Her compressed
breasts had turned dark purple but the pressure had forced out a
few drops of white fluid. The kitten smelled milk.
The kitten steered for the right breast and soon made
it into position from below. Needle-sharp claws dug in to further
torture the tit and also anchored the little beast in place.
It put muzzle to nipple, took a lick, then opened it’s mouth
to sink tiny fangs deep and began to suckle. The pain was
almost unbelievable.
He picked that moment to return, carrying the whip. His
jaw dropped open at the sight and he began to laugh. “Oh god, now
is that ever _cute_,” he guffawed. The kitten fed on.
Tonight, when he’s asleep, cuff him spreadeagled to the
bed, dip his dick in tuna, then drop the kitten on him, she
thought furiously, tears in her eyes from the pain.
Yeah, that would do.

 

77. Well, For One Thing, She’s Waterproof

God, but the stuff reeked, an acrid, volatile smell that
all but knocked him over. No smoking, that’s for sure. To keep her
from suffocating he’d had to tape a hose to her mouth and cover
her nose and eyes; the first thing had been to shave her head.
Should be pretty impressive, though. He slathered the stuff
on her with a will, building up a heavy coating all over. She
hung from the ceiling by the harness of rope under her arms, wrists
cuffed, and legs bound firmly together.
Finally, he was done. Not a sliver of skin went uncovered by
the even, one-inch thick layer of brown goop. She wriggled
helplessly; this would be the best mummification ever.
The rubber cement tightened on her as it dried.

 

78. Water Sports I: She’s Not A Buoy, She’s A Girl

The pumps labored and the water in the pool rose steadily.
It was up to her chin now and the naked blonde flailed and splashed
futilely. The chain around her ankles went down to the bolt on the
bottom.
She swallowed some water and coughed. “But… but I can’t
swim!!” she wailed.
“Precisely,” he said with a grin.

 

79. Water Sports II: You Call It Training, I Call It Torture

The woman bucked and twisted against the ropes like a thing
possessed, eyes insensible with pain. The twin hoses down her throat
were tossed in the air.
Her struggles grew weaker. He tapped the control and the
pump went into reverse, sucking the water out of her lungs and
replacing it with life-giving air. Gradually, her convulsions
subsided.
She lay there wheezing and he gave her a chance to rest.
Then he said, “One more time,” and hit the pumps again.
Eyes despairing, she shook her head as if to say, please, not
again, but that was cut short as the fluid poured back down.
The pool had an underwater window and he had a video camera.
There were a number of scenes he wanted to shoot but he didn’t
want to kill her, for heaven’s sake.
She had to get _used_ to it first.

 

80. Water Sports III: Pools Take _So_ Much Maintenance

Bound and cuffed, the girl floated on her back in the water.
Her eyes bulged as she saw what he held up and she tried to wriggle
away; to no avail.
He reached for the wall and hit the switch. The powerful pool
vacuum fired up with a whine and the hose twitched. He dipped
the vacuum head on the end of the long pole into the water to get
good suction.
Then lifted it up and dropped it with a wet <thoomp!> onto
her left breast.
She screamed in pain. “That’s not what that thing is for!!”
she howled.
“Yeah, but isn’t it fun?” he grinned as he dragged her
around the pool by the tit, ducking her under in the deep end, then
pulling her back up to splutter and cough.
Cleaning the pool could wait.

 

81. Water Sports IV: Hmmm. Combo Torture

Naked, she lay bound in the long bathtub, almost up to her
nose in the cold water. Does he want to drown me or freeze me, she
thought frantically, her mind racing with panic.
He came back into the bathroom, grinning, and carrying
something behind his back. He held it up and for a moment it
didn’t register.
Then she screamed as he said, “Two tortures for the price
of one, my dear,” and dropped the plugged-in toaster into the tub.

 

82. Water Sports V: Need A Real Private Beach For This

She gasped as the icy Atlantic washed over her legs and
halfway up her body. Her calves were already completely covered.
The naked girl had screamed herself hoarse but there was no
one within miles. He’d staked her out, spreadeagled at the waterline,
then left. Only the video camera heard her.
Another wave crashed down and splashed into her face; she
coughed. For the thousandth time, she struggled hysterically to
loosen the stakes that held her down, deadly fear giving her titanic
strength.
The cruel tide, however, had taken no notice of Canute and it
certainly didn’t notice her as it slowly inched higher.

 

83. Water Sports VI: Gee, Getting A Little Techy On Us

The odd camera was pointed at the long fish tank. The first
man strapped the last weight around her neck and let go her head.
The naked girl sank down under the water with a final gurgled scream.
Then he reached for the water-filled bag of pirahnas.
“But they’ll chew her to bits,” the other man objected.
“There’ll be gobs of blood. How are we going to see her?”
The first man didn’t answer and dumped the piranhas into
the tank. They swam around lazily for a moment, disoriented, then
took notice of the girl. A dark red plume appeared as one took a nip;
drowning, she writhed.
The first man switched on the video monitor. The picture
cleared to show a perfect image of the girl twisting helplessly as
the vicious fish gnawed. One arm bone showed white already, stripped.
“Infra-red,” the first man said simply.

 

84. Water Sports VII: Ooo, Ritzy Torture, This.

He hauled on the rope attached to her ankles and dragged her
head up out of the large, water-filled bucket. Upside down, the
naked woman coughed and spluttered. Water ran out of her nose. She
swore a blue streak when she finally got her voice back.
“But dear, I thought you _liked_ Perrier,” he said nastily,
and dunked her down again, cutting off her wail.

 

85. Water Sports VIII: Every Pool Should Have One, Dontcha Think?

He leaned against the long wooden beam and watched the
clock. It hadn’t taken long to find the plans, and the construction
had been a snap; heavy base, twin pillars supporting the fulcrum
point, iron bar through the beam about two-thirds of the way down,
and the chair at the end of the beam. The biggest problem had been
getting the sawdust out of the filters and cleaning the deck
afterward.
That’s long enough he decided and leaned his weight on the
beam. The great lever tilted and raised her out of the water.
Dripping wet, she gasped hugely and gulped weakly for air.
Naked, her hands were cuffed behind her, and the chains looped
around her waist and ankles held her to the chair. The pretty blonde
was red in the face from holding her breath, and half-comatose to
boot.
He frowned. She should have been under long enough to force
her to inhale water. He let go of the beam and stepped back.
“Noooo!!” she screamed and went under with a splash. The
the authentic, 17th-century ducking stool was working perfectly.

 

86. Water Sports XI: Oh, But This _Is_ Vicious

The two naked women fought each other, first the blonde on
top, and then the redhead. They were hampered by the fact that they
were underwater, but also by the long, thin chain that ran from one
pretty ankle, down through the loop at the bottom of the pool, then
up to the other one’s ankle. The chain was only long enough for one
of them to reach the surface.
Vastly delighted by their struggle, he sipped the Chardonnay
as he watched them through the underwater window.
They were both synchro swimmers; it could go on for a while.

 

87. Water Sports X: Why Get Fancy?

The bound girl struggled and twisted, but he was stronger
and had the advantage of his hand pressed firmly on the back of her
pretty neck. He shoved down steadily and her muffled cries grew
weaker and weaker as she inhaled more water and mud.
Finally, she stopped. He lifted her begrimed face out of
the shallow puddle and examined his work. “Well, what do you know?”
he said, breathing hard but satisfied; she had fought well.
“You can _too_ drown in an inch of water.”

 

88. Works Better If She’s Older: More Candles

He brought in the big cake, the candles on top blazing away
like tiny blowtorches.
“But… but it’s not my birthday,” she said, puzzled. Her
hands were cuffed behind her back, her legs tied to the two legs of
the chair. Her breasts were gorgeous.
He put the cake down on the low table in front of her, then
put his hand on the back of her neck and began to force her nipples
down towards the fiery decorations.
“Make a wish anyway,” he whispered.

 

89. I Hear You Have To Burn Them Off

He carefully plucked one out of the jar with the tweezers,
then dropped it on her right nipple. Tied on her back to the table,
she raised her head and watched apprehensively.
The tiny beast dithered for a moment, then sunk it’s mandibles
into the pink-fleshed bud. She yelped in pain.
He repeated the operation on her left nipple. Yelp again.
Then he looked at the tweezers, then at the jar, then at her
breasts. Christ, this would take forever
“Oh, to hell with it,” he growled and upended the jar over
her delicious tits, sprinkling fire ants everywhere. It didn’t take
long for her screams to fill the room.
“_That’s_ more like it,” he said with satisfaction.

 

90. Now This Is What I Call Restraint

He heaved the last shovelful of dirt over the lip of the hole
with a <plop>. Four feet deep by six feet long; it was a lot of dirt.
He clambered out and regarded the naked woman standing a few
feet away. Eyes, ears, and nose were taped shut, and a long length of
tubing was taped in her mouth. Cuffs around her wrists and ankles
completed her captivity. Her breathing whistled anxiously in the tube.
“Up we go,” he grunted as he picked her up. The woman wriggled
panic. He stepped carefully back into the hole and laid her at the bottom.

“Remember, dislodge the tube and you’re dead,” he warned her
sternly. The woman was too struck with fear to respond and just moaned.
He lifted the hose up and out of the hole, then jumped out and
picked up the shovel. Clods dirt rained down upon her.
“I’ll be back for you in five hours,” he said before lowering
a shoveful of dirt onto her face. The rest of the dirt went back in
quickly.
Finally, all that showed was a mound of disturbed earth and a
hose sticking out the ground. He bent to listen; despair and terror
wheezed out of her. Thus assured, he stood up and walked away.
Actually, he’d be back in ten hours but he wasn’t telling her
that.

 

91. Sheer Craftsmanship

It was over three hundred years old and he wrapped his fingers
around it with nothing less than total reverence. The grip fit his hand
like a natural thing, so well made that it felt like an extension of
his own arm.
The hilt and guard were carved and inlaid with intricate images
and symbols. It was supposed to tell a story of battle and honor and
loyalty to inspire all who held it to go and do likewise.
The long, clean blade itself was in perfect balance, made from superlative steel the world would never see again. The master
weaponsmiths who had made it was long, long dead, their secrets entombed
with their dust.
The elaborate calligraphy on the flat invoked war-like gods
and ferocious demons, echoes of a past where such things were real and
deadly. The edge was honed as far beyond mere, mundane sharpness as a
surgical scalpel was beyond a butterknife.
In short, it was less a sword and more a shining, beautiful
incarnation of lethality, sufficient on its own to rule empires. In its
day, it had.
She gasped as he slid the tip up between her petal-like lips
and deep into the core of her being. “I came,” she said in a small,
amazing voice, and then she died.

 

92. Going For Some Serious Squick With This One

“How’s she doing?” asked the torturer.
They had captured her ten months ago and raped and tortured her
continuously; they wanted her pregnant. Bound to the table and stirrups,
the naked woman wept in soundless pain. Her swollen belly rippled
with a contraction.
“A perfectly normal delivery as far as I can tell,” the doctor
said. He lifted the stethoscope off her abdomen and unplugged one ear.
“Baby’s fine, she’s fine, the kid’s in perfect position. Wouldn’t even
need an epidural to deliver this one.” He looked at his watch, and said,
“I’d give it another five or six hours.”
“Good,” the torturer said. “After the baby’s dead we’ll remove
it, then cut out her pussy and send them both to her husband. You might
as well do her now.” The doctor nodded. He turned towards the table and
picked up a tray.
The woman stirred, uncertain of what she’d just heard. There
had been so many lies. And so much pain.
Then her eyes fell on the tray and she understood. She screamed,
a wail of despair that was heard but ignored, captured only by the video
camera: “NNNOOOOOOO!!!”
The doctor bent between her legs, picked up a suture, and began
to sew her shut.

 

93. One Reason Why Medical Care Is So Expensive

“Okay, now why did you cut the Radiation Therapy department?”
asked the pretty but sadistic nurse.
“B… be… because it duplicates service provided by the
General across towneeeEEEEE!!!”
The naked, middle-aged man’s voice rose to a scream and held
it for a good half minute. He was restrained spread-eagled on the bed
and tore at the special cuffs in agony.
They’d met in the cafeteria. When he told her he was a
consultant working on the hospital’s budget, the gorgeous, big-titted
the nurse had all but jumped his bones on the spot. He could hardly believe
his luck when she damn near dragged him to this soundproof room and
locked the door and shook out her long, blonde hair. Then the prick of
a needle and boom, he woke up like this.
“Oh no, that’s wrong,” she murmured as she studied the
spreadsheet on his laptop. The rest of his briefcase was scattered
across the table. “Our cancer patients need that treatment here.
Right?” She smiled at him as her finger hovered over the button.
“Yes, yes, anything you say,” he babbled. “Just don’t do
that again…”
“Oh, you mean this?” she said innocently and hit the button
for a few seconds. She grinned as the man convulsed, then turned
back to the laptop to reinstate the Radiation Department. The
consultant groaned.
“Now, let’s see what you’ve done to Nursing,” she cooed, and
tapped a few keys. She studied the numbers, then frowned at him and said,
“Oh, but you’ve been a bad boy here. Forty percent cuts, and replacing
half the staff with temps.”
He grimaced in terror as a slim finger descended on the button
once again. The pretty but sadistic nurse calmly watched his agony.
They were in the psych department’s ‘quiet’ room. The
electroshock unit was easily modified to her purpose. The metal catheter
down his penis and the EEG pads stuck to his balls and nipples were doing
an excellent job of persuading him of the error of his calculations.
Another six hours and he’d be nicely brainwashed to deliver his modified
presentation to the Board tomorrow.
Good gracious, _somebody_ had to hold the line against these
silly cuts or patient care would just go _straight_ to hell, she
thought virtously as he howled and writhed.

 

94. Humiliating, Isn’t it?

The decrepit streetlights cast a poor light into the evening but
they were quite enough to illuminate the naked man clearly.
He was blindfolded and gagged, and both his arms and legs were
cuffed behind the telephone pole. This put him on his knees with his legs
spread, which afforded an excellent view of his tormented genitalia.
There was a chopstick down his wire-wrapped penis and the weights
clipped and tied to his balls dragged them down almost to the ground.
The tall dildo impaled up his ass completed the picture.
On their way to bingo, the two elderly women stopped dead in
their tracks and goggled in shock. “Helen, whatever on earth is… is…
_that_?!!” Mavis gasped, disbelieving.
Helen fumbled in her purse for her glasses. There was a note
stapled to his nipples. She bent closer to read it.
“‘Male Slut In Training,'” she read out loud. “‘Please do not
untie me. I am doing this on my Mistress’s orders, who I love.”
Helen turned to Mavis and said, “You know, I think he’s some
kind of slave. I read about this sort of thing in Reader’s Digest.”
Mavis wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “Is this what they
call ‘S & M’?” She stepped closer to the man and said, in a quavery
voice, “You’re disgusting, did you know that? Just _filthy_!!”
Helen looked at the man speculatively; one had to admit he was in
excellent shape, with not an ounce of fat on him. “Oh, I don’t know,
Mavis, he’s not hurting anyone. And think how embarrassing it must be for
him. More than once I remember you saying you’d have loved to tie down
George and whip him silly.” Mavis’s deceased husband had been the most
_impossible_ man.
Mavis grumbled. “Yes, well, but not like this. This… this is…”
she said, waving a deprecatory hand. She failed to find the words and
looked the man up and down in distaste.
Then she turned to Helen and whispered loudly, “Although you
know, I think his balls could be tighter.” The two old women cackled
evilly and walked away.
Despite the warm night, the man shivered. For the thousandth
time, he thanked the gods he belonged to his Mistress.

 

95. Obviously A Major Malfunction

The woman bit down on the ball gag in ecstasy. It was as tight
as she could make it and it hurt her jaw. It felt wonderful.
She lay on her back, naked and spreadeagled on the bed. Her
breasts were bound and covered in needles; each one had stung deliciously
going in. The huge clamps on her labia and clit had brought tears to her
eyes when she had snapped them on. The ropes around her wrists and ankles
cut deeply into her skin and stretched her nearly to the limits of her
endurance. A timer controlled the four small hoist motors at the corners
of the bed; in another three hours they would reverse themselves and free
her from her self-imposed torture, but not before her abused pussy had
blown her into orbit a dozen or more times.
There was the sound of a fat spark. Buried deep in her vagina,
the gigantic, cord-powered vibrator began to smoke.

 

96. You Know, If I Could Find Some Backers… 🙂

“No, No, NO!!!” screamed the enraged director. He chopped at the
air with one hand–the music stopped–and hurled the script at his
assistant with the other. He bounded up onto the stage and stalked
towards the actors, murder in his eyes.
The actress sighed and glared at her leading man in frustration.
He was out of his depth in this part and everybody knew it. Worse, he
was terrified of the director. He held a limp whip in his hands.
The stage was dressed as an opulent, 17th-century nobleman’s
bedroom, but she wasn’t dressed at all and lay spreadeagled and
cuffed on the inclined bed at center stage. The costumes would be
arriving next week but the actress wouldn’t be wearing one; the part
called for complete nudity. The director had insisted she strip during
the rehearsals to try and get a more, er, aroused performance out of the
actor. It wasn’t working.
“Give me that thing!” the director snarled and tore the whip
from the cringing actor’s grasp. “Like this!!” he shouted, and dashed
off a flurry of whip strokes to the actress’s breasts and tummy, ending
with a sharp <crack> on her pussy.
The actress was not expecting it and a short “Eek!!” of pain
and surprise escaped her lips.
The director shoved the whip back at the actor and said, “That’s
the pattern I want, damn it! Now get it right or I’ll rewrite act three,
scene five so _you’re_ the one hanging upside down with nipples skewered.”

“I’m sorry,” the actor said in a sullen tone. “I’ve just never
done any of this stuff before. I’ll get it right, it’s just going to
take a while.”
“Before or after you’ve flayed her skin off practicing?” the
director shot back. “Just pretend she’s your lover and the two of you
are playing some kinky games.”
“But… but I’d _never_ do this to Carl,” the actor said,
horrified. The actress rolled her eyes. Talk about miscast.
“Just do it!!” the director bawled in fury and stomped back to
his seat. “Cue the music from bar 20, and run it again!!” he yelled to
the sound man.
An orchestral melody filled the theatre and the actor sang,
“‘Justine, why does your pain fill me with such pleasure?'” He raised the
whip and clumsily slashed her in approximately the right places.
The actress writhed convincingly and warbled, “‘It is not pain
for me but sheerest delight.'”
De Sade: The Opera needed a _lot_ of work.
(Blithe, can you get me front-row tickets? 🙂

 

97. Ah, The Great Outdoors

The air in the woods was clean and aromatic and birds cheeped
a background track as the naked woman hung by her ankles from the thick
pine branch. She had to twist her head around to watch him work with
the sharp axe. What _was_ he doing?
<Schwack!!>, and another thin sliver was carved off of the thick
log. He put the axe down and began whittling at one end with a pocket
knife. It joined the small pile at his feet.
Finally, he gathered up the handful of pointed sticks and
walked over to her.
“Forgot the needles at home,” he grunted. He picked one and
reached for her right breast.
Her screams sent the birds into the air for a hundred meters
around.

 

98. Gotta Know When You’re Overdoing It

The naked, pretty blonde looked hungrily at the stapler on the
Writer’s desk. She picked it up and studied it, then pressed it against
her right nipple and squeezed hard. She gasped in pain.
“Will you do my other one?” she asked, holding the stapler out to
him. The Writer just sat there, stunned.
She shrugged, then repeated the operation on her left nipple.
Blood began to ooze.
She picked up the box of paper clips and began bending them open.
She quickly prepared a handful, which was then promptly poked into her
ample breasts. She moaned.
“What’s next?” she muttered. Her eyes lit on his favorite pen.
“Ah, perfect,” she said. Dumbfounded, the Writer watched as she
sat down on the floor, spread her legs, and jammed the fine writing
instrument up her urethra with a forceful thrust. A scream of agony
ripped from her throat.
“Oh, that was wonderful,” she breathed. She looked around the
room for more.
His jacket and tie had been tossed over a chair. She pounced on
the tie. “Oh, goody,” she squealed. “A little self-asphyx!”
In a twinkling, she had the tie wrapped tightly around her
slender neck. She hauled at the two ends with all her might and was
rewarded with a quickly-purpled face and bugged-out eyes. Her tongue
lolled. She swayed as her consciousness dimmed.
After a few moments, her eyes rolled back into her head and the
the girl collapsed into an untidy heap.
The Writer shook his head in dismay. This would never do. He
turned back to the computer, selected a good two pages of text, and hit
the delete key. The bizarre, unconscious girl on the floor vanished.
The Writer drummed his fingers on one arm of the chair and
pondered what to do next.
Apparently, writing a pain slut into the story wouldn’t be as
easy as he first thought.

 

99. ‘Nine To Five’ Could Have Done It This Way

The executive secretary finished tying the CEO’s wrist to the
boardroom table; he was completely spreadeagled and naked except for
the severely tight leather codpiece with the sandpaper on the inside. She
was dressed in spiked heels, fishnets, a leather G-string, and a corset.
The push-up bra strained to contain a pair of gorgeous breasts. She
could see his penis swelling, caught inside the codpiece.
The job interview had been perfectly normal until the point
when the CEO had waved the two people from Personnel out of the room.
Then he told her that the job requirements included a highly unusual
qualification, one that called for strict confidentiality. If she did not
have the necessary skills, he would hand her $50,000 in cash on the spot
to ensure her silence. Then he asked her a question.
The secretary strutted over to the small cart which carried a
plethora of S&M gear. She picked up a pair of heavy nipple clamps; it had
been a while since they had used these.
Needless to say, she got the job. She might have hesitated had
the CEO been the usual corporate plush-bum, but he was not a bad-looking
man; only in his late fifties and rock-hard from years of squash. Single,
too. But attempting to alter that would mean leaving the job and losing
a five-figure paycheck was a powerful disincentive to romance.
Besides, this was more fun. She screwed down the clamps until
they almost cut his nipples off. His eyes pleaded for more.
She smiled. Well, more was what he would get. She sashayed back
to the cart, giving him a full view of what he called ‘her best asset,’
and selected a whip. She turned back to face him, a cold expression on
her face. “You’ve been ripping off the shareholders again, haven’t you?”
she said sternly.
Of course, there weren’t many executive secretaries on the market
with experience in femdom S&M. To say they had both gotten lucky would
be an understatement. “Shred me, Miss McAllister,” the CEO whispered in a
strained voice.
And she did.

 

100. Hmmm. Must-Have A No-Stick Coating

Tied into balls, clamped, twisted, needled, shocked, skewered,
whipped, everything but ripped off; her tits were a ruin, that was for
sure. Bound with her arms above her head and dazed with pain, she looked
down at the horror show he had made of her once-lovely mammaries. What
could he possibly do next? she wondered, almost blind with fatigue.
Then he came back into the room carrying what looked like
a heavy metal bra. A breast pump, perhaps? No, those were wires, not
tubes, attached to where the nipples should be.
She was too tired to struggle as he strapped it on her. Whatever
it was, it would probably hurt. He plugged the strange device in, then
gave the control knob a sharp twist.
For a few moments, nothing happened. Then the elements reached
red heat and she screamed as her breasts began to bake.
And oh yes, it definitely did hurt.

 

101. Dang, But This Newfangled Automation Has Its Good Points

Nervously, she tested her bonds. Nope, tight as usual; he had
always been good with ropes. Naked, tied to the frame, with her pearly
butt high in the air, he had only said he had a new “toy” to try out.
She glanced at the wall. It was covered with all manner of whips,
lashes and paddles, neatly arranged and hanging from hooks. No doubt
about what the new toy would do, but where would he put it?
Not on the wall anyway; he came back into the room pushing it
ahead of him. It was on wheels, about the size of a washing machine, and
covered with a sheet. A power cord trailed out behind. He positioned it
carefully at her rear, lining it up, then locked the wheels. He drew
the sheet off with a flourish.
Looking over her shoulder, she gaped. Two thick arms stuck up
with a wheel-like apparatus on the end. Straps of stiff, studded leather
were attached to the wheels. “Oh no,” she said dubiously. “That’s not
what I think it is, is it?” He only smiled and hit the power.
With a whine, the wheels began began to rotate. The arms
descended to bring the straps into contact with her tush. She yelped as
the arms moved back and forth, punishing every inch of her exposed
bottom.
Then there was a sharp electrical pop and a puff of smoke rose
from the machine’s innards. The whine became a howl as the straps
speeded up to a blur. She screamed as the wildly spinning flails bit
into her skin. Droplets of blood began to spatter around the room.
He dove for the power plug, then looked back at her as she
struggled to escape the ropes. He hesitated.
Give her another fifteen minutes, he thought, as the arms moved
to target her pussy.

 

102. Don’t You Love Upgrades?

“But I _like_ plastic,” she complained petulantly. “It makes me
feel all squishy when I sweat.” He lifted her up onto the track; cuffed
wrists and ankles clinked. “No plastic tonight, but trust me, you’ll
like this more,” he said, and hit the power.
Ropes are tame, she had said. Let’s do something better, she
had said. So they bought the mummification machine. He had to admit, it
was a vast improvement. In a matter of minutes, he could zip her up in
tight, shrink-wrap plastic sheeting, slick PVC, wet leather, or
airtight rubber. You could even get the thing to leave her tits or
ass exposed.
But the assembly instructions mentioned an upgrade kit. Secretly,
he bought one and installed it. Now they would test it.
It worked. Even before her head came out the other side of the
machine, she was screaming in pain. The track clanked as it dragged
the rest of her into the machine’s maw. Then, the job complete, it
stopped.
He looked at her in awe. Oh boy, had it ever worked. He bent
near her face. “Well?” he asked.
She bled from a thousand little pinpricks as though she’d
been hit by a blizzard of needles. She was totally immobilized but
that didn’t stop her from writhing in agony. The loops that ran between
her legs dug deeply into her pussy, and the stuff had also been wrapped
around her breasts.
“Wonderful,” she gasped, halfway between shock and ecstasy.

 

103. Beware Of Amateur Chefs

First, the fire wouldn’t start. He finally got it going by
dumping a bucket of gasoline on it, only to burn the front of his
shirt off, and his eyebrows, in the resulting fireball.
Then the rotisserie stakes fell over. Into the fire. He scorched
a hand getting one of them out and had to throw out the motor on the
other one; totally fried. He would have to turn her manually.
He tried to suspend her from the tree branch by her wrists, so
as to make it easier to ram the skewer up her twat then out through
her mouth. The rope broke. Naked, gagged, and handcuffed, she tumbled
down on top of him, breaking one of his ribs.
Then, to add insult to injury, he stabbed himself in the left
foot with the sharp skewer.
As he hopped around the yard howling in pain, the woman could
only roll her eyes at the man’s klutziness. “By the time he gets around
to eat me, I’ll have died of _starvation_,” she thought with a
muffled snicker, terror at her captivity having long since given way to
laughter.
There was a tremendous crash as he knocked over the table with
all the cooking utensils. The woman quaked with silent giggles as the
man filled the air with blistering curses.

 

104. Let’s Go Play, Little Girl

“Oh come on, I’m sure you played on one of these things when
you were a kid,” he purred. He gave a final tug on one of the straps that
held her to the pallet. The young woman quaked with fear.
They were at the top of what looked like a children’s slide, only
heavier. She was naked, with a gag in her mouth and tied to a square
platform with ball bearings on the bottom, just wide enough for the slide.

She lay on her back with legs spread wide and ankles taped to her
thighs. He positioned her at the top of the slide.
“Have a nice trip,” he said with a grin, then pushed her down.
He had measured her carefully and had raised the thick dildo to
the correct height for her pussy. The pallet slid down, gathering speed,
then came to an abrupt halt with a wet <Thunk!>. The four-inch-wide dildo
mounted at the bottom of the slide rammed itself deep into the woman’s
tight twat.
Her screams were instantaneous, and long drawn out.

 

105. Will It Do Wooden Rabbits?

“So you’re going to hang me again,” she said, in a bored tone
that told him it was time to end this relationship. They had gone to
the barn, she had stripped, he had cuffed her, then held up the noose.
“Not quite,” he said with a smile. “Bought some plans for a
really neat… ah, scaffold. It’s outback.” Mute, she followed him
through the barn and into the backyard.
The huge machine filled the yard and bore the marks of hasty
welding. It leaned slightly to the right. It was easily 15 meters long.
He guided her to one end of the beast and looped the noose around her
neck.
“Actually, it’s not a scaffold,” he said, “but it sort of does
the same thing.” He kissed her on the lips and said, “Relax. It’ll be
over shortly.”
Fear rose in her chest as she watched him walk over to
the trigger. He threw it. What could he possibly mean by thaURRGHH!
The machine sprang into action. The heavyweight dropped and
the noose snapped shut around her neck. The arm went up and yanked her
off the ground. The huge catapult, based on a Roman design, whipped
over and hurled her, neck utterly broken, almost fifty meters into the
field.

 

106. Always Give Gifts To A Woman

“Why they’re _gorgeous_,” she squealed as she held up the
heavy, jeweled bracelets. The ornate gold work and the big, clear
rubies gleamed in the light. She eyed them with a practiced, critical
gaze.
“My pleasure,” he said with a fake smile. Finding the right
birthday gift for this insufferable rich bitch had been a challenge. But
in a few more moments, it would indeed be his pleasure.
“And don’t forget the ankle bracelets,” he added, holding up the
second box. There was more shredding of wrapping paper and more
delighted squeals.
“Try them on,” he suggested nonchalantly. “They go with your
dress.” And what a piece of luck she was wearing it, too. She’d never
put them on if they clashed with her precious wardrobe.
“They’re so… so… _barbarian_,” she said as she slid them
over her wrists. She bent down to remove expensive heels and slipped
the ankle bracelets over pretty feet. She stood up and took a theatrical
stance, wrists together. “I am your slave, master,” she cooed, then
giggled and ran both hands through her red hair.
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” he murmured, and
thumbed the radio control in his pocket.
The cuffs bleeped and the rubies glowed a brilliant red.
Before she knew what was happening, her wrists snapped together and
the braclets locked themselves tight. At her feet, one shapely leg was
pulled against the other by some unseen force and the ankle bracelets
locked as tightly as her wrists.
She gasped in surprise, then struggled with her wrists while
teetering a bit on her suddenly cuffed feet. “What… what’s going on?”
she cried.
The man smiled, then reached forward with one hand and ripped
the $800 dress off her as though it were an old t-shirt. Then he pulled
the coiled-up whip from his other pocket.
“Why, it’s your birthday, of course,” he said mildly as he laid
into her. The woman fell down and writhed on the floor, screaming in
terror.
There are some presents you just can’t wrap.

 

107. I Dunno, There _Can’t_ Be Much Of A Market For These

He peered intently at the last ball and flipped the tiny arming
switch. They were all armed and on automatic. Just insert them, hit the
control, and wait.
He turned to the woman, who was tied down naked on the table with
her legs spread wide, and began to push the odd little balls on the
string into her waiting vagina. She groaned in pleasure. “Oh, I like
Ben-Wa balls,” she hissed.
“These are a little different,” he said in a preoccupied voice
as he pushed the last one inside her. He reached for the control and
thumbed the start key. The balls began to vibrate. She moaned, eyes
closed.
Then he bent down beside her ear and whispered, “Yeah, these
are different all right. When you come, they explode.”
The woman’s eyes snapped open, full of horror. She watched,
open-mouthed, as he walked out of the room. Then she looked down at
her bulging pussy, full of it’s pulsating, irresistible load.
Outside, he could hear her scream and plead, mixed with
the inevitable, rising cries of pleasure. Then there came a muffled,
sharp, <BANG!!> and he sighed in satisfaction.
He had warned her. If she continued to fool around, someday it
would all blow up in her face.
Or wherever.

108. Oh, I _Gotta_ Get One Of These

The thunderstorm shrieked and wailed outside the window, which
was precisely what she was doing on the inside.
The Acme ‘Grinder’ Rotating Dildo was jammed vertically up her
ass, suspended naked as she was by the wrists from the Acme Hoist. Twin
Acme Biting Nipple Clips gnawed their way into her breasts, matched by
the one on her clitoris. The wires and clamps of the Acme Electroshock
System jerked as jolt after jolt lanced through her tongue, breasts, and
labia. The Acme ‘Mr. Ed’ Vibrator galloped deep within her pussy.
On top of which, his accuracy with the Acme Neuronic Whip (on
full power, of course) was devastating. The woman howled in agony and
pleasure, unable to make up her mind which was which.
Then there came a terrific clap of thunder and an intense
flash of lightning. The lights flickered, then steadied back to normal.
They both froze in surprise, ears ringing.
She looked out the window. The whole town was blacked out. “How
come…?” she gargled past the tongue clip.
“I always buy Acme,” the man said with a shrug. Then he raised
the whip and continued with her torture.

 

109. Don’t You Hate It When This Happens?

“ARRGGH!!” he screamed in frustration. The damn things had come
off again!! The gagged, naked woman wore a look of relief, in contrast to
the agony she had felt a moment earlier.
Snarling, he fumbled with the recalcitrant hardware. There wasn’t
anything wrong with the equipment. It’s just that she was sweating so
much the clamps couldn’t get a grip.
“Well, we’ll fix that,” he growled and left the room. He
returned moments later with a pair of safety pins. She yelped as he
pushed them home.
There. That would do it. He reset the machine strapped to her
chest fastened the clamps, then hit the power button.
This time it worked. The screw ground away and the clamps
stretched and stretched and stretched her. She howled in pain.
Then stretched a little too far and tore both her nipples clean
off. Blood ran down her chest as she sobbed.
“Now _that’s_ more like it,” he said, satisfied.

 

110. Whatever It Is, It Seems To Be Quite Effective

He panted in pain. “Please, take it off,” he said through gritted
teeth. His wrists strained against the handcuffs.
She put one finger to her chin and looked at him coyly. “No,”
she said brightly. “We’re exploring my dominant side tonight. So that’s
how I’m going be.”
So there, her expression said. She toyed with the whip and eyed
his buttocks through lidded eyes.
He groaned. Leaving that catalog lying around had been a _big_
mistake. When one day he found her masturbating over the torture
equipment designed for men, oy, the row they had had. Why can’t you let
me be the torturer for once? she had begged. Just once. Pretty pleeease?
Like an idiot, he’d agreed.
She gave in to temptation and slashed him a couple of good
strokes across the ass. He jerked, then screamed as the fiendish device
attached to his cock ground in deeper.
“Don’t worry,” she cooed. “I’ll kiss it and make it better.”
Then she giggled, an evil chuckle he had not heard before.
If there’s anything left to kiss, he thought despairingly as
the agony went on and on.

 

111. He Wins That Bet

“I’ll bet I can make you scream with just one touch,” he
challenged.
She was tough, that was for sure. They’d been at it for three
hours now and she just drank it up. The more he tortured her, the
more she gasped in pleasure. Was there nothing that would make her
writhe in pain?
She pondered his bet for a moment, then said, “All right. One-touch.” Her eyes gleamed in anticipation.
“You can’t look, though,” he warned. She nodded in assent. Tied
naked to the X-frame, she tossed her head and scrunched her eyes closed.
“I’m waiting,” she taunted.
A few moments of preparation, then he slowly inserted one finger
deep into her vagina. He held his breath.
The effect was immediate and thorough. Her eyes snapped open
and she began to scream and struggle against her bonds.
He stripped off the plastic glove and balled it up, then tossed
it for two points into the trash. He picked up the bottle into which he
had dipped his finger moments before. “‘Do not allow in contact with
skin,'” he read aloud from the label. He looked at the woman, who was
all but foaming at the mouth and howling in agony.
No kidding.

 

112. Tsk. Got To Read Those Instructions

She lay on the bed, shivering in anticipation. The feel of the
slick, clinging rubber was almost overpoweringly erotic as it gripped
her tightly all over.
Her ankles were cuffed, as were her wrists. Just a couple of
more things to do before she zipped up the suit and abandoned herself to
a dozen delicious orgasms.
The woman reached down between her thighs and switched on the
big vibrator she’d planted deep in her pussy. Then she reached behind her
head and fastened the ball gag in her mouth. Finally, she pulled the
hood over her head.
All set. Almost on the verge of coming, she reached down and
pressed the button at the base of the zipper.
There was a grinding of tiny gears and the zipper whizzed up her
torso and sealed the suit.
Then it reached her neck and kept right ongoing. Up her chin,
over her mouth, over her nose, and past her forehead, until the hood was
sealed as tightly over her face as the rest of her.
She writhed in panic all the way to the point of asphyxiation,
then didn’t writhe much at all after that.

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