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DISCLAIMER:

1. This story is fiction.
2. This story is FICTION!
3. The author doesn’t endorse or play down violence and brutality
of any kind against living beings in general and females
in special. The author insists on the consumption only by
those legally of age and where ADULT MATERIAL isn’t prohibited
by law. If you get offended by those topics, stop reading.

Venom, September 2007

Synopsis:

Three slavegirls (“a ponygirl, a painslut and a snuffette”) became
attractions at the “Heaven’s Gate Exhibition”, an extreme and
exclusive underground torture fair.
Their deliciously cruel Mistress guides them to unknown hights of
suffering.

This is a loose sequel to “Temple of Torture” (that can be found at
the public story area of this site).
The author recommends to read “Temple of Torture” first for becoming
acquainted with the characters’ backgrounds.

Temple of Torture

Vanessa’s First Journey

PROLOGUE

Still the Grand Mistress’ words rang in Vanessa’s head:

“A ponygirl, a painslut and a snuffette.”

At noon, Vanessa, Kate and the very young brunette with the long
beautiful hair had been chosen by their cruel goddess and been
brought to the south-eastern wing of the old, concrete,
shelter-like complex. Here they had been soaped, washed and douched
by slavemaids in a sterile looking huge room, almost a hall.
Furthermore Kate and Vanessa had got their bellies pressurised
with chemical enemas.
Afterwards the trio had been collared tightly. Hands cuffed in
front and their ankles chained, all three had been hanged nude on
hooks running in a rail at the ceiling, just like in
slaughterhouses. Being lifted off the white-tiled floor, they had
dangled helplessly. One of the slavemaids had taken the long chain
dangling from the dainty brunette’s collar and had headed towards
the big roller shutter at the far end of the room, where the
ceiling rail was leading to. The long-haired slavegirl’s hook had
started to move, the chains from collar to collar had tightened,
and finally Kate and then Vanessa followed their companion. All
three had groaned as the pain in their shoulders reached
intolerable levels through body weight and movement.
The roller shutter opened as they had reached it. Behind it had
been a smaller room, maybe ten metres deep, with a concrete
platform of about three metres length at the right wall and a
second gate in the far one; just like an airlock.
Relieved Vanessa had seen that a second rail branched off the main
one, leading them over the 60 centimetres high platform so they had
could reach ground with their feet. The slavemaid had left wordless,
the inner gate had shut and darkness had swallowed the trio.

SLAVEGIRL TALK

The sweet brunette was the first daring speak:

“Damn, I’m just to short!”

Kate’s eyes had get used to the darkness. The petite slave before
her, five feet, two inches of height, was dancing sexily on her
tiptoes the whole time. Her exceptionally long hair was waving with
the motion, cascaded in light curls down her shoulders to the small
of her back.
Kate could reach the cold floor better, and her lover Vanessa
behind her could stand almost flat on balls and heels.

“Be quiet!” the tall blonde whispered

“What’s your name?” Kate asked.

“Kate! shhhHHH!” Vanessa hissed.

“Michelle. Hello, Kate.”

“Shut up, both! I beg you!”

“Relax.” Michelle tried to turn around, but spun back by the
tension of the cuff’s chain after ninety degrees.
“I know this area. I has been here before. They have stored us here
because they are busy. It’s not a trap. Here are no microphones or
stuff like that. You are the two lovers Grand Mistress has tortured
so cruelly, right? Kate! And your name is…you are…?”

Vanessa moaned: “I’m dead meat!”

“Huh?”

“You have heard the Grand Mistress: a ponygirl – that’s obviously
you; a painslut – that’s what this sadistic bitch wants to change
my poor Katie into; and a snuffette – a silly cow like me, getting
snuffed slowly.” Her voice had got a light crack at the last
words.

“Vanessa, don’t…” Kate had been more successful in turning
around. Now she was hobbling towards her lover to comfort her,
working against collar and hook.
Behind her Michelle protested as the collar chain tightened,

pulling the leather, buckled around her neck, against her larynx,

choking her.

“Grand Mistress won’t snuff you!” she croaked.

“Why not? She said it…you know something?! Where will we be
taken?” the Italian beauty said louder than intended.

Kate turned around again, eager to hear the answer.

Vanessa investigated further: “You’ve said that you has been here
before; and that all are busy! What’s happening?!”

“I’ve no idea what is happening!” Michelle damned her loose tongue.

Kate pulled herself up on the hook and rammed her knees into the
back of Michelle’s thighs.

“Oouuwwaa! Bitch!”

“Tell us! I’ve learned a lot from these sadistic whores here!”

“We are not supposed to know it! If Grand Mistress finds out…”

” ‘No microphones or stuff like that’ somebody told me. The same
who will tell me about our destination!” Kate nudged her again.

“Ooouuuww! Stop it!”

“Well…?”

Michelle moaned. These nudges really hurt! And every time the
strawberry blonde athletic bitch badgered her, she lost her
balance. And, finally, she was absolutely sure that this was just a
logistic area.

“Okay, okay! I’ve overheard that we are going to the Heaven’s Gate
Exhibition, some kind of slave market and show for torture

methods.”

The hysterical undertone in Vanessa’s voice was evident: “And from
that you conclude that I’m NOT getting snuffed?!”

“Wait! The exhibition has started four days ago. Tonight will be
the main event, presented by Grand Mistress.” She heard Vanessa
almost go crazy. “No, wait! I was there two years ago! Of course
there are snuff shows, and Grand Mistress’ performance will include
extreme tortures. But She has a very high reputation, so She’ll
only use Her best slaves, slaves She ‘ll never sell or kill!”

Vanessa was far from being convinced: “I’m surely none of Her best
slaves.”

“She likes you. Both of you.”

“Are you crazy?! Do you know what this witch had done to us?!”

“Yes, I was there…”

“Wha…you are the girl that fitted these terrible shoes to me!”

“Yes, I’m sorry, but.,.” She paused and pull herself up on the
chain to relieve her cramping calve muscles, causing more pain in
her shoulders. “…She forced me…” – “I know. You don’t have to
apologise.”

Although standing, more or less, the trio’s shoulder joints were
still strained by their upraised arms. All of them now were
suffering from severe cramps in shoulders and backs. The handcuffs’
metal was cutting mercilessly into their wrists. Especially
Michelle’s voice was filled with pain.
Furthermore the stretching of their slim bodies made it hard to
breathe and talk. But talking was the only thing they could do to
deal with their situation.

“Extreme tortures, you said?” Vanessa asked after some minutes.

“Nothing both of you haven’t already endured inhumanly long.”

“Great. Hear that, Katie? We are going to enjoy all our favourite
tortures again!” Vanessa laughed humourlessly.
“Maybe I should even hope to get snuffed!”

Kate had been silent for a while. Now she said: “How they are going
to transport us? By car?” – “Last time they did.” – ” Maybe we
could escape, once we are outside the area.”
“No chance. We’ll be bound most tightly and be heavily gagged.
Besides, do you know the flaxen-haired runaway, who’s almost did it
to the inner fences before she was caught?”

“The Grand Mistress have sliced her Archilles’ tendons.”

“Yep. And the tendons in both her knee hollows.”

Vanessa meanwhile has calmed down: “The Latvian? But I’ve seen her
afterwards. She clearly had been dragged through hell, but walked
more or less normally.”

“Grand Mistress sliced the tendons LENGTHWISE, splitting them on a
length of four inches – as a first and final warning.”

“IRRGH!”

“A single act of mercy.”

“You are overhearing a lot.” Kate’s voice housed a strange tone.
She didn’t trust the teenager bound in front of her. Maybe Michelle
lied about the microphones, or maybe the Grand Mistress didn’t need
any microphones to get informed. The brunette had broken the
silence first, was talking carelessly, trying to motivate Vanessa
and herself to do the same. If Kate would find out that Michelle
was a little spy, she would hurt the small sweetie till she pukes
her ovaries.

“You are right. Grand Mistress likes to have me around Her.”

“What are you to Her? Some kind of pet?”

“I think so. Her little pony. Being a ponygirl is my fetish. Maybe
I’m something like a mascot, I guess.”

“And you like that?!”

“I’m not entitled to decide that. Let me say so:
I consciously agreed to be abused against my will.”

Vanessa couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You VOLUNTARY let the Grand Mistress enslave you to become a
ponygirl?! You ARE crazy!”

Michelle hopped again to get a little less uncomfortable.

“I was young and stupid and didn’t knew what I let myself in for.
Besides, I started as a normal slavegirl. In those days I was not
yet sure about my…penchant. So I didn’t tell Her, especially not
when things went out of control, at least out of MY control.
And now I’m Grand Mistress favourite ponygirl, Her sweet ‘Beauty’,
since three years.”

“How did She find out about your liking?” Vanessa asked.

“What do you think? She tortured me and I confessed.
She put me on The Rack, then stretched me till my shoulders popped
out; just for fun. I had already talked when She had racked me with
three or four notches.
Such a small body like mine hasn’t much length tolerance.” – her
chains rattled – “I’m feeling it right now again…ponygirl…”
she said more to herself, “luckily I’ve never had intentions to be
a toilet slave.”

Kate still wasn’t free of doubts: “Why had you been at our torture
session?”

“Because it had been the will of Grand Mistress.”

Michelle paused a moment, then mewed pertly: “Are you trusting me
now? Or would you like to kick me some more?”

“One more thing: I’m a little confused…”
– “I can tell!…Ouwahh!” – “CONFUSED about your more than three
years lasting enslavement: How old are you?”

“26.”

Both Vanessa and Kate stammered incredulously, recalling the
childlike, heart-shaped face with the innocent features and the big
brown eyes.

“But you are looking like fifteen!” Vanessa was truly amazed.

“I know. I think, that’s why Grand Mistress dotes on me so
incredibly; Her super-sweet little filly.” Traces of resignation
could be heard in Michelle’s voice.

Cold neon-light flared up, hurting their eyes.

“Quit!” Vanessa hissed.

LOADING ZONE

Grand Mistress Gillian was in stress the whole day. In the early
afternoon She had raced the 80 kilometres from the Heaven’s Gate
Exhibition to Her Domicile of Pain in under forty minutes to check
things at home – among other things to make sure that Her tonight’s
actresses start off on their journey in a suitable way.
The whole week She had been busy and hadn’t left the HGE-area.
First She had prepared Her own presentation (as exhibitors, She and
Her staff had rooms near the fair halls at their disposal), then
had coordinated the supply with fresh flesh for Her shows. She had
to call for replacements till the accumulator of Her cell phone had
been red hot. The first two days of the fair had been mostly
occupied with slave auctions, but the last three traditionally had
seen untold bloodbaths. At least Grand Mistress Gillian had been
able to transact some very advantageously sells and buys at the
slave market.
Now the Grand Finale was near, and the Master promoting the
exhibition had asked Her to be His Mistress of Ceremonies and
furthermore to carry out the penultimate part of the main event.
Grand Mistress Gillian just had the perfect subjects in mind for
this occasion…

She opened the small steel door leading to the platform, followed
by two slavemaids. With strained muscles under stretched skins
carrying lusciously the fading marks of glorious whipping sessions,
Her three beauties half hung, half stood in the hard
neon-brightness. Light covers of fresh, odourless sweat accentuated
their quivering bodys’ details.

With an electric hum the outer roller shutter opened to let in a
huge black van with tinted windows. The car, leaded by yellow
markings on the concrete ground, drove backwards up to the
platform’s edge, then stopped. Roaring sounds escaped the four
tailpipes, indicating a massively souped up V8-engine. The gate
came back down, and the frightening vehicle was trapped tightly
between roller shutter, platform and right wall.
The left front door opened and the dark-haired driver, one of the
Inferior Mistresses, got out. Her slim body looked mouthwatering in
Her skin-tight black leather skirt, matching jacket and boots. The
young woman approached and jumped onto the platform; a risky
venture wearing five inch heels. She opened the tailgate a bit and
stepped back to let it swing up.

Being last in the file Vanessa saw least of all, but what she saw
let Kate’s earlier considerations of escape appear laughable.

From the outside the big car with its huge black rims looked more
or less like a normal Mercedes-Benz Viano. But the bigger engine
and the reinforced drivetrain were the most harmless modifications.
The German van had been transformed into a high-security
transporter. The passenger’s sliding doors had been
weld-shut to the car body. Behind the front seats a steel partition
had been installed. A lockable spyhole and a camera informed the
driver about the wellbeing of the involuntary fellow passengers.
Walls, floor and roof were lined with additional steel plates.

Behind the original tailgate a high-grade steel grille came to
light. The Inferior Mistress opened it, too, and the slavemaids
took Michelle from her hook and removed her bounds.
Immediately the cute brunette kneeled down.

“Prepare the next one! I’ll do my little darling myself,” the Grand
Mistress ordered. She walked towards Her submissive pet, Her
six-inch-heeled stiletto boots clicked cruelly on the concrete.
The gleaming latex of Her black (what else?), ultra-tight cat suit
reflected the neon-light in a diabolical manner.

She saw the 2×3 blue prints of Kate’s knees on the brunette’s upper
legs.

“What’s happened to your thighs, Beauty?”

“Come on, Beauty!” Kate thought bitterly, “tell your Great Fucking
Mistress, you sneak!”

“Your slaves had collided with each other at the end of their rail
transport, Grand Mistress,” Michelle answered, being sure the
pounding of her heart was clearly audible outside her body.

“Ooohh, my poor sweetie! But I have a present for you to console my
little pet about its pain. Don’t fear your journey to the
exhibition. There only a good friend of mine will take your
measurements for a tailor-made puppy equipment. Do my little pony
like to become a puppygirl occasionally?”

“Oh yes, Grand Mistress!” Michelle was relieved. “Whatever Grand
Mistress wishes!” (Actually the slave liked cats more than dogs.)

Grand Mistress Gillian looked at Kate who just got her right tit
electro-shocked with a cattle prod by the Inferior Mistress for
bitching around. No single black or blue mark on her thighs.
“Collided, three times, with both knees?” She thought, resting Her
eyes on Michelle’s youthful body. “Wait, you little liar, you’re
already on the list!”

One of the slavemaids had brought in a big box tidily filled with
exquisite bondage gears.

Grand Mistress Gillian took a leather head harness, nothing else
than a bridle, and put it on Her pet’s skull. Michelle willingly
opened her mouth to welcome the bit gag as the Grand Mistress
buckled up the degrading accessory and fitted it to the collar. The
metal-decorated straps now ran tightly over the brunette’s fine
face, forehead and neck, under her chin and around her head. On
top, a huge black plume, like on the heads of circus horses, rocked
slightly with every motion. Left and right of it, two faked horse
ears stood in the straight upward-forward position that signalled
attention. Two leather-made devices, looking in profile like
blinders, were mounted on the harness. But unlike real blinders,
these gadgets completely took their human victim’s vision away.
Through a metal ring, high at the back of the head harness, the
Grand Mistress led most of the girl’s long hair to create a wavy
ponytail. She then tightened the sexy face-bondage once more,
forcing the bit gag even deeper into the slavegirl’s cute mouth,
bridling Her pony into true submission.

A breast&crotch harness was next, highlighting the slave’s curves
without covering the breasts or the genital area, including the
ornamental branding on her mons veneris. The body harness, too, was
connected to the collar and tightened to the edge of brutality.
A moan escaped the slavegirl’s gagged lips.
Special knee high leather fetish boots were fitted to her legs. The
extreme form straightened the bridled girl’s feet in line with her
lower legs just like in ballet boots. But the soles, starting at
the slave’s pointed toes without any heels, had the form of hooves
and were designed to leave horseshoe-like imprints. Indeed real
horseshoes had additionally been fitted.
Grand Mistress Gillian laced them up the way She liked it…TIGHT.

She helped Her mute and blinded pet onto the aching feet and led
her towards the opened van, using the leash chain on the collar.
The brunette’s special fetish boots created a hollow sound with
every step, not unlike the tones of shoed hoofs on asphalt.
The floor of the van was nearly at one level with the platform, but
the roof was just about 1.2 metres above them.
“Don’t stub your head, honey,” the Grand Mistress warned
and protected Her pony with Her gloved hand as the girl
teetered in.

Where the rear passangers’ doors had used to be, a polished metal
pole had been mounted in waist high, running from side to side.

The Grand Mistress let Her plaything bend over it with straightened
legs and hooked the collar chain to a ring welded onto the van’s
floor. The slave now was nearly bent double.

Willingly the petite girl let her owner fit black latex opera
gloves, with straps dangling down along the sides, to her arms.
When Grand Mistress had buckled all straps, the slave’s arms were
bound in front from above the elbows to the wrists – once again
very tightly. They were stretched to the same ring as the collar
chain.

A calf binder, locked to a second ring, trapped her lower legs
effectively…and, sure, tightly.

As a special gift, the Grand Mistress hooked tiny bells on the
brunette’s nipple rings, then pressed a running egg-shaped vibrator
deep into the vaginal slit between Her slavegirl’s closed legs. The
love passage was already wet due to the intensity of the erotic
bondage session.

“Come how often you want. But don’t you dare loose it!” She
whispered into Her pony’s ear.

She tenderly parted the girl’s bum cheeks to reveal a cute puckered
anal flower. Grand Mistress took Her time to very gently lube up
the tiny, sensitive opening with Her finger, then inserted an two
inches long object. She elicited a long moan between pain and
pleasure from Her slave as Her finger pushed deeper and deeper into
the helpless secret hole.

“This is a ginger horse suppository, darling. It will make you
wiggle your beautiful tail for your Grand Mistress, so everybody
can see what a lovely pony you are. And on the whole journey you
are remained who’s loving you.”

With this words Grand Mistress Gillian took a rather big butt plug
with a very long ponytail made of the girl’s natural auburn hair.
She completed the brunette’s transformation by slowly sliding the
bulbed end into the soft, enslaved rectum and securing the plug to
the harness.

“Now you are truly a real ponygirl!”

Beauty imitated a high-pitched neigh.

Grand Mistress Gillian turned around and left the van. She had
obviously enjoyed putting Michelle into bondage.
And the next task She would enjoy, too.

Kate was down on her knees, her hands metal-cuffed in front, feet
also bound like before. The slavemaids had forcefully inserted a
heavy inflatable gag into her mouth and buckled the straps running
around her head and under her chin.
The down-taking and gagging of Kate hadn’t went as peacefully as
Michelle’s. She had fought and swore, and even after she had been
tit- and cunt-shocked repeatedly, the reddish-blonde wasn’t
cooperating completely.
Then the Inferior Mistress had started zapping Vanessa’s genitals.

Hearing her lover’s stifled shrieks, Kate finally had bowed to the
inevitable and led herself be prepared for more pain.

Grand Mistress Gillian examined the extensive collection of nipple
clamps in the Box of Pleasures, then chose a set of saw-toothed
ones with weights and locking screws.
Slowly, to let Her victim experience every nuance of pain, She
tightened the vicious instruments simultaneously on both of Kate’s
hardened nipples. With the standard nipple rings still in place,
there wasn’t much space left between the serrated jaws. Small
pearls of blood appeared, sensually contrasting with skin and
metal.

Kate pressed her breath sharply through the nose, but didn’t utter
another sound.

Nevertheless Grand Mistress Gillian knew that it hurt terribly.

“Tough bitch, I have to admit,” She thought.

Kate had been the only one ever who had really attacked Her, and
that was past her phase of enslavement which normally should left
the slaves broken.
Of course, sometimes wilder ones among newly arrived fresh-meat
gave Her names, spat on Her or tried to kick Her, but all learned
proper behaviour fast.
The sporty blonde, however, had waited month for the right moment.
No “I scratch out your eyes”-girlfight but hard kick-box punches.
Grand Mistress Gillian finally had knocked her out, but this whore
had even managed to bite Her!
That was now ten month ago and the Grand Mistress wasn’t nearly
through with her yet.

“Tough bitches need special attention.”

A simple hand pump was dangling on a rubber hose at the gag.
The Grand Mistress grabbed it and gave Kate a squeeze.

“Bitch.”

The rubber bulb in the slave’s mouth extended a bit.

She pumped it up some more.

“Whore.”

The gag forced Kate’s jaws open wider, now creating real pain.
Furthermore the expanding bulb effectively prevented breathing
through the mouth.

Another rush of air followed.

“Slut.”

The merciless wall of rubber tried to crush the blonde’s tongue and
pressed against her front teeth. Still the kneeling woman even
refused to groan, but now the pain was evident in her face.
Her mouth was opened unnaturally wide and the first cracking sounds
could be heard from her joints.

Grand Mistress Gillian made it last long. Waiting half a minute,
She studied the hate in Kate’s eyes, then inflated the awful gag
further.

“Cunt.”

A long, agonised moan escaped the kneeling woman’s throat. but
didn’t find any resonating cavity in her over-stuffed orifice.

“Please stop!” Vanessa yelled and immediately received a shock
from the Inferior Mistress.

“Thank you, my dear,” the Grand Mistress said to Her female
paladin, then devoted Herself again to Kate’s suffering.

“Another one? Yes? Okay.”

She had to press quite strongly now.

“Ungrateful scum-hole”

The gag had alarmingly grown in size, pressing hard against the
back of Kate’s mouth, making her want to retch.
The limits of her oral capacity had been reached.
Underneath the look of hate fear became visible, and the woman
lifted her bound hands towards the rubber hose.

“Hold her!”

The slavemaids grabbed her at shoulders and arms, the Inferior
Mistress positioned Herself behind the slave, holding Her beloved
cattle prod.

Cold sweat appeared on Kate’s skin, her hot breath let the metal
surface of the nose ring piercing her septum steam up.

The Grand Mistress pleasurably pressed more air into the bulb,
parting the aching jaws to their anatomical maximum.

Now even breathing through her nose was hard for Kate.
True panic rose and she started to struggle and wriggle in earnest.

Once more, Grand Mistress Gillian’s latex-gloved hand closed to a
fist around the pump.

With a dull, wet sound Kate’s lower jaw dislocated, first the right
side, immediately followed by the left. The slave howled.
Grand Mistress Gillian gave her three more squeezes until She
stopped.

“Into the van with her!” The Grand Mistress tightened the clamps
once more, brutalising the nipple flesh till pearls of blood
appeared between the metal jaws.

The two slavemaids disconnected the pump and dragged the
pain-weakened blonde away.

In the van Michelle/Beauty was groaning into her gag as the hot
suppository had started to melt in her anal tract.
Kate was sat behind her on the ground, facing the brunette’s cute,
tail-wiggling arse. Slavemaid One blindfolded Kate, slavemaid Two
passed a short metal bar under her knee hollows and over the bound
arms, then hooked cables running to a mechanism in the van’s roof
to the rings at each end.
The mechanism hummed for some seconds, drowned out by Kate’s
guttural sounds, then the slavemaids left the van, glad not to have
a place in there, too.

Grand Mistress Gillian stepped in the van once more and She liked
what She saw there: The torture-gagged bitch was obviously in even
more pain than before, hanging upside down on the Parrot’s Perch.
Her medium-long hair was spread on the floor, but her head dangled
freely like her squirming body.

Grand Mistress Gillian set the tip of Her boot to the pumped up gag
between Her slave’s stretched lips and gave Kate a strong push.
Rocking slightly forwards and backwards on the metal bar, the
blonde tried hard to scream through her useless mouth.

“There’s something else I want you to enjoy during your ride.”

The Grand Mistress forcefully dry-rammed a metal device into the
hanging woman’s defenceless arse.

“That’s a soldering iron…” She informed, found a car’s
12V-socket and plugged it in. Immediately the iron started to head
up. Kate panted in known horror.

“Don’t panic, there is a possibility to switch it off. The switch
is built as a push button inside a…what is it called? Come on,
help me with that word! I know you have it on the tip of your
tongue…Rubber bulb! Yes, that’s it!” (Very weak pun, Gillian!)
“However, you have to squeeze it to cut out the current, and you
have to hold it squeezed, of course. Since the cable is to short to
reach your hand, we have to switch to your whorish cunt.”

With no hurry She generously lubricated Kate’s lovehole
knowing exactly that the lube would make it far more difficult for
that bitch to hold the bulb in a pressed position.

Meanwhile the iron’s tip, resting deep in the colon’s last bend,
had become unbearably hot. Kate’s moans turned more and more into
cruelly muffled screams.

“Keep still, slut!” Grand Mistress Gillian pretended having
difficulties to guide the bulb into Kate’s slit, then finally

pushed it in with two fingers.

Instantly the anally burning slave clenched her vaginal muscles
fiercely, switching off the iron but grabbing Grand Mistress
Gillian’s fingers, too.

“You are indeed a greedy little whore!”

The Grand Mistress pulled Her fingers away. They popped out with a
wet, vulgar sound.

Vanessa’s face was moist with tears when the slavemaids released
her from her hook. Watching her lover getting electro-shocked and
mouth-tortured had made her suffer just like corporal pain.
The screams coming out of the van had told her everything, though
the Grand Mistress’ enviable body had blocked her view.

Now it was her turn. One of the slavemaids removed her collar, the
handcuffs and the ankle chains. Vanessa hesitated a moment, then
got on her knees willingly. She had to save her strength.
The second slavemaid brought some interesting devices which made
the beautiful Italian groan in despair.

Again the clicking of high heels on concrete – then the Grand
Mistress stood in front of her.

“I bet you can’t wait to join your companions, right, slavegirl?”

“Yes, Grand Mistress. This slave is ready to take whatever its
Grand Mistress gives to it.” The girl’s voice was weak and thin.

“We’ll see.” Grand Mistress Gillian let Vanessa’s long blonde hair
flow through Her gloved hands.
“We’ll see…”

With a quick, unexpected motion She had made a ponytail, plaiting a
strong, thin rope into it. She tugged at it a few times and Vanessa
let out a short scream, moving her head backwards with every jerk.
The mass of hair knotted to the rope gave her no other chance.

The Grand Mistress let go of the girl’s hair for the moment.

“Lie down. On your belly.”

Vanessa obeyed, just to feel her arms being painfully laced
together with wetted leather ties, hands to elbows.
The slavemaids buckled strange, heavy metal devices to her naked
heels. More leather, wider, but as wet as the thinner ties, were
wound around her ankles, then used to pull her feet to her
buttocks. Now the blonde slave could tell what these cold gadgets
on her heels were:

“Spurs!…I guess this things are normally used by Grand Mistress
to discipline Michelle, Yee-Haw!” she thought with gallows humour.

A spreader bar was placed and fixed into her knee hollows to hold
her knees wide apart. Now there was no chance for her to turn
herself to her side.
The ankle ties were then tightly secured around Vanessa’s upper
thighs, forcing her spur-bearing heels deep into her arse cheeks.
Formed similar to little gearwheels, the multi-teethed discs
weren’t just piercing the slave’s soft skin but were eating into
the full flesh with every motion like sawblades. An ideal,
automatic long-time torture that will get a tiny bit worse with
every breath. Not to mention cramping leg muscles, the car’s rapid
manoeuvres, hidden potholes…

Again wet leather, this time from her big toes to her arm bindings.
Vanessa was panting, her firm breasts flattened by her body weight,
her nipple rings stamped into the aureoles.

In her hogtied/frogtied position the tall blonde had to hold up her
head by straining neck muscles to see what was happening next.
But Grand Mistress Gillian was already taking measures to fix that
problem.
The large metal device in Her hands was called an arse hook, in
this version fitted with a 2-inch-sphere at the end instead of a
simple rounded tip. She lowered it to the girl’s face.

“Lick it!”

Vanessa reached out her tongue to lubricate the metal ball, but
after only two licks the Grand Mistress pulled the hook away.

“That’s wet enough for you, cunt!”

Insufficiently prepared, the sphere pressed against the Italian’s
rectum, parting the petals of her unwilling rosette, trying to take
them with it. So the hook started its painful journey into the
anal darkness of the unprotected passage, loosing its poor
lubrication on the first few centimetres.

Grand Mistress Gillian didn’t stop this unnatural insertion until
the globular tip was resting all dry at the far end of the girl’s
ampulla recti. Now the hook’s bend was fully embedded between
Vanessa’s shapely bum cheeks with the second, ringed end laying in
the small of her back.
Smiling about the whimpers the nasty inversion had elicited from
the young, bound female the Grand Mistress took hold of the
hair-rope and yanked the slave’s head sharply back.

Further and further Vanessa had to bend her head backwards. She
arched her back into a painful bow. Her scalp burned like fire, her
mouth opened automatically due to the strain. Then she felt the
Grand Mistress running the rope through the hook’s eye. Now her
arse was attacked, too. The spherical metal in it followed the
outer force, finding the entrance to Vanessa’s colon and sliding
even deeper into her body. The hook’s bend crushed her arse cleft
as every single hair of the blonde’s long mane was turned into a
red hot torture instrument. The front of her neck was stretched
tightly and her larynx was pressed deep into its place. The strain
increased once more, now the hook tilted, the inner end pressed
downward, trying to rip through the belly. Vanessa’s screams found
a straight line from her lungs, through her windpipe, out of her
mouth.

Grand Mistress Gillian knotted the rope which was now taut like a
string chord.

Vanessa tried to avoid any motion, but just moments later severe
cramps in her back and legs announced themselves.
Suffering from her hardened muscles, she saw the Grand Mistress’
boots in front of her again. The sadistic redhead bent down to her
and showed her a obscenely long rubber dildo.

“Open wide!”

Vanessa knew much better than to refuse. She took the first two
inches rather easily, but then she started to choke. With all might
the blonde slavegirl fought back her gag reflex and allowed the
monstrous toy to penetrate her pharynx. The dildo pressed hard
against her uvula, then pushed itself past her tonsils and into her
oesophagus. Deeper it went, beyond the point where the windpipe
branched off. Grand Mistress Gillian gave her an additional two
inches, then pulled out the dildo an inch again to re-open the
girl’s epiglottis. Performing a permanent deep-throating, Vanessa’s
only protection against death by suffocation were small channels
running lengthwise and radially through the phallus. Hectically she
gasped for breath, but then forced herself to calm down, reducing
her need for oxygen. She consumed the essential element in tiny
bits, every breath a silent battle against panic and rubber.

“Be thankful that it’s not a spiked one!”

Holding herself in a state between gagging and swallowing,
Vanessa’s options to express her gratitude were limited.

One channel, running lengthwise through the rubber cock’s middle
from one end to the other, was separated and with no radial holes.
So this one wasn’t for breathing, but nevertheless Grand Mistress
Gillian had use for it. She plugged a clear plastic tube to the
dildo’s base sticking out of the stretched mouth. Then She
competently inserted the evil-looking catheter on the tube’s other
end through Vanessa’s urethra into her full bladder, adding another
source of pain to the Italian’s body. The new intruder caused an
even sicker feeling than the anal hook. Immediately a yellow stream
of urine could be seen trough the tube’s clear material, rising
pressurised from its origin, over her back and into her synthetic
mouth-lover, moistening her throat.
Just for good measures, the Grand Mistress stuffed the hogtied
girl’s vagina with a short but thick rubber plug, coated with
undefinable stuff. Grand Mistress Gillian often liked to spice up
the lube used on Her toys. Over the time, Vanessa had learned to
differentiate the various mixtures, almost tasting the “secret
ingredients” with her nether openings: Tabasco, Chile powder, even
pure capsaicine…
Today the Grand Mistress was in a gentle mood: black pepper.
The plug’s tight fit pressed the burning material deep into the
delicate membranes, forcing the tissues against arse hook and
catheter. Vanessa screamed anew.

“No blindfold for that one. Let her see her lover suffer.”

The slavemaids placed the sobbing blonde on the van’s floor, so her
face was only centimetres away from the left inner wall, her knees
just touching the right. This action ripped some hairs and some
muscle fibres but at least the girl was quickly stowed away.
Catheterised, arse-hooked, froggie-hoggie, orally dildo-gag-raped,
forcefully piss-fed; Vanessa couldn’t complain.
Half bending, half turning her head to her right until the extra
pain got too much, she could see Kate in the corner of her eye,
centimetres away. The dangling woman was suffering, too.

Grand Mistress Gillian was satisfied: all nine slave-holes plugged,
ten with the teenager’s urethra.
She gave a signal to the Inferior Mistress and the younger one
closed first the grille, then the outer tailgate.

“Hurry,” the Grand Mistress commanded, “I’ll follow soon.”

“Yes, Grand Mistress,” the younger, leather-clothed woman answered.
Seconds later the roller shutter opened remote-controlled and the
van’s engine started anew.
The journey began.

ON ROAD

Inside the horrible vehicle it was absolutely dark. No lamps, and
the original windows had no correspondence in the inner steel
walls. The blindfolding of her two companions had just
psychological reasons. But soon Vanessa discovered that not being
blindfolded was no mercy at all. Sensing the wall centimetres in
front of her face, she tried in vain to focus her eyes on a point
in the darkness. This and the constant paining of her scalp quickly
created a nasty headache. But she also couldn’t keep herself
from vainly searching for Kate’s form in the dark every time her
lover’s metal shackles rattled or the hanging woman’s body touched
her own. From the front of the mobile prison Michelle’s nipple
bells rang sweetly with every bump.

But already after some minutes other sensations took Vanessa’s
attention. Her position, formerly painful, threatened to turn into
pure agony. Muscles she didn’t even know having cramped horribly.
The car’s vibrations worked her spurs slowly deeper and deeper into
her flesh till tiny rivers of blood were forced out of her bottom
cheeks. That wasn’t all: from experience Vanessa knew the wet
leather’s unpleasant characteristic of contracting while drying.
And she wasn’t getting disappointed. Slowly, mercilessly, the
leather sliced its way into her soft body. The Italian tried to
control her breathing, to hold it steady and even.

Please don’t vomit!

If she threw up, she would suffocate, that was for sure. And
because the dildo gag wasn’t bad enough, the acid taste of her
bladder had crept out of her pharynx into mouth and nose, during
the pepper was spicing her body’s far end. The burning sensation
was overwhelming now.

But she wasn’t the only slave in pain. Nasal, wheezing sounds came
from Michelle, mixed with gagged moans due to the suppository
taking effect. The petite brunette struggled in her bounds and
sexily wiggled her bottom, but despite all her jerking and pushing
she couldn’t get rid of the chemical heat because of the arse plug
locked tightly in her firm, little bum.
At least the indefatigable vibrator donated her sweet, draining
orgasms in regular intervals.

Behind her, Kate was in real agony. Due to the long-lasting upside
down position blood was pulsating in the blonde’s head with the
force of a sledgehammer. Her dislocated jaw ached beyond believe
from the large inflated sphere plugging her overstretched mouth.
She had to fight for every breath with her air supply almost
completely shut off. Her abdominal muscles hurt and cramped when
contracting to hold the soldering iron in her rectum switched off.
In shorter and shorter intervals the ripping pain forced Kate to
relax her vagina. Soon the iron wouldn’t cool down fully between
the pauses. She knew what that mean – from former experiences and
from fresh memories when she had let her quivering love canal rest
too long.
Slow anal burning was one of Grand Mistress Gillian’s favourite
tortures. And Kate was one of Grand Mistress Gillian’s favourite
torture toys. The blonde never had taken shit from no one, and that
made it easily for her to get into trouble. It had been impossible
for her to accept her enslavement, and so she had waited just for
the right moment for escape and revenge…and had failed.

Again the rising heat in her rectal tract became unbearable and the
pain-gagged slave clenched her vaginal muscles, exchanging one
agony for another. Too late. The soldering iron was cut off, but
still emitted heat and gave Kate the first of many serious burns.

A miserable scream gurgled out of her mouth’s destroyed mechanism.

Vanessa could hear her lover’s sounds of terrible agony, and this
only increase her own ordeal. Every movement of the van echoed in
her straining body. Now the leather was cutting deep into her and
her feet and lower arms had become numb and dark red. The pain of
the bondage being undone would be horrible!
Eventually her overstressed nerves gave up, the burning in her
vagina dulled to a tingling sensation, and Vanessa’s ability to
form thoughts wasn’t totally crushed by suffering any more.
So she started a poor try to escape her multiple tortures, letting
her mind drift away.

Where are we taken to? – No! Better don’t think about that!

WHERE are we?

Vanessa had been abducted in the bright daylight, from the open
street. With no advance warning. She never had visited adult book
stores or sex shops or even internet porn sites. She hadn’t talked
to strangers in chatrooms and never had spot a stalker.
She didn’t care about BDSM or the odd pony play Michelle was into
(she knew Kate had liked kinky stuff, but this was over now, for
sure, too).
A beautiful, sunny day in Milan was her last memory of freedom.
Her captivity had taken many month, but still she didn’t even know
the country she was in. She had heard numerous languages being
spoken in the slave camp, both from slavegirls and Mistresses.
The weather was mostly cloudy and rainy, some sun, some snow. Not
the Mediterranean warmth she had enjoyed during the summer month,
or the fresh breeze in the mild-sunned vineyards along the Mosel
river when visiting her German mother’s family. A sole tear found
its way over her strained face.
From the climate she guessed here weren’t high mountains or an
ocean nearby. Maybe North America or Continental Europe. She didn’t
recognised the van’s number plate, but the car seemed to be left
hand driven. And it seemed to slacken speed…

Indeed the van got constantly slower.

Behind her, at the car’s right side, Vanessa could more feel than
hear the crunch of the street’s shoulder. The van stopped.

The blonde girl tried to listen, fading out the sounds of the other
two slaves. The van’s holding cell was more or less soundproofed,
but pressing her forehead against the cold steel, she believed to
sense the vibration of human voices.
But they couldn’t be at their destination, not after maybe fifteen
minutes! Why had the Inferior Mistress stopped. Apparently to talk
to someone, on the road.
The realisation hit her like a white hot lightning and she almost
swallowed the phallus gagging her.
They had been stopped by the police! The Grand Mistress had said
“Hurry” and this dumb bitch had been too fast and now a patrol car
had stopped them and FREEDOM WAS NEAR!

Because Vanessa wasn’t born as a slave, she knew the meaning of

freedom and escape. Ignoring the legions of newly awakening pains

in her body she started to struggle and wriggle in her strict

bondage. She mmpfhed and grmmpfhed through her gag like a

mad-woman, not caring about the danger of vomiting or the damage

the dildo caused in her throat. She didn’t know if she could be

heard outside, but the heavy van rocked in its suspension like a

ship in a typhoon.

Something was happening! She sensed it! She knew it!

The tailgate swung up, bright sunlight fell through the bars, and
there stood two police men! Knights in shining armours, ready to
rescue the virgin princesses kidnapped by the fiery dragon!
They wore dark uniforms and had parked their car, coloured in an
never seen design, behind the Mercedes-Benz. Real police! Vanessa
didn’t care which country they were from. Police!

Both police men uttered sounds of absolute disbelief. In front of
them were three naked beauties in hottest bondage, sexily moaning,
groaning and screaming into their gags!
Their hands wandered to their holstered weapons.

“WHAT’S THAT ?!” the first asked, his English carrying an accent
unknown to Vanessa. The Inferior Mistress, now standing next to
them, was obviously nervous, but didn’t seem to lose Her head.

But before She could even answer, a third car arrived – a black
coup?stopping behind the patrol car. The cruel clicking of
extreme high heels on asphalt reached into the opened van.
Grand Mistress Gillian’s fire-red hair glowed in the warm daylight,
contrasting with Her fair skin and dark sunglasses.
At the sight of Her, Vanessa’s heart missed a beat, her skin went
white and cold, like in shock.

“No. Oh, please, NOOO!” These words pumping in her skull, letting
her vision blur.

But then, surmounting her mind’s first reaction, she realised the
meaning of the scene! Euphoria, close to hysteria washed away any
pain that her car-rocking had created:

“Yeah, join us, BITCH! I hope they’ll perform the Rodney-King-show
on Your arse!”

The first police man shouted at Her in his mother tongue, most
likely telling Her to drive away.

Now the Grand Mistress had arrived at the two men and one woman
behind the van, Her body language signalled pure domination.

She was in a sinfully tight anthracite woman’s business suit, but
Her gloved hands indicated that She was wearing one of Her latex
body cat suits underneath.

Grand Mistress Gillian talked to the wildly gesticulating police
man, obviously in the country’s language. At first he was shouting
and yelling, pointing with one hand into the Viano while letting
the other rest on his pistol. His colleague unsurely observed the
whole scene, his weapon ready, too, not knowing if he had to call
reinforcement. Police man One talked much less loudly now, and
though Vanessa couldn’t hear him or see his face, she realised that
things went south. Finally he pensively went to the second police
man and talked to him. visibly Number Two became even more
bewildered.

During this Grand Mistress Gillian had relaxed Her posture and
leaned against the police car’s front, half sitting on the bonnet.
Vanessa could see Her in the corner of her left eye, could see Her
smile She was giving Her slavegirl. A smile, cold and cruel and
knowing.

Then the unthinkable happened. The police men came to a conclusion.
Trying to avoid any eye contact with his new Grand Mistress, Number
Two hurried to the patrol car’s front-passenger seat.
The first one walked back to Grand Mistress Gillian, talked to Her
for a few moments..and then submissively took Her gloved fingers
for a kiss on the hand!

Vanessa felt loosing her grip on sanity.
It can’t be! IT JUST CAN’T BE! WE ARE HERE!
Doesn’t anybody see what’s going on in this word gone crazy?!

“HLLP! HLLPPPP!” she managed to form around the mouth-dildo, but
the police men, just some metres away, opened the driver’s door and
got into the car. His face was pale and his eyes searched a point
in the infinity.

The Grand Mistress rose from the bonnet and didn’t even cast
another look at the two, just kept fixing Her tall, blonde,
rebellious slave. The engine started, and the car with both police
men left.

Vanessa saw in her vision’s periphery the sadistic woman
approaching, and fresh urine found its way into her oesophagus.
Even without the catheter inside she couldn’t had held back the
flow.

Grand Mistress Gillian watched the bound beauty from behind the
bars, noticing the yellow stream running through the clear plastic
tube on her back.

“You have a loose tongue, fuck-mouth!”

That’s what She said, and nothing more!

She throw the tailgate into its lock, leaving Vanessa alone with
her body suffering in pain and her mind tortured by desperation.

The Grand Mistress talked to Her younger assistant, let Her
describe what had happened. She told Her to better observe the
speed limit for the rest of the journey and gave Her some other
renewed instructions. Then the Grand Mistress got in Her Jaguar,
restarted the engine and kick-down’d the accelerator. With a
supercharged whirr the dark XKR shot past the horror van, which
speeded up some moments later, too.
Inside the British coup?Grand Mistress Gillian was glad having
chosen a business suit to wear over Her fetish outfit.

‘Serious appearance is a key element in an official talk.’

Of course She hadn’t expected to be plagued with the police.
Actually She had put on the office dress so the latex of Her cat
suit wouldn’t get in contact with the leather seat. Else both
materials would stick to each other, and that would be unerotically
uncomfortable on a long drive.

When the slavegirls had been loaded and the van had left Her Temple
of Torture, the Grand Mistress had taken a short shower.
Then She had dressed in fresh clothes before heading back to the
exhibition centre by Her Black Jag, whose V8 had been still warm
from the ride earlier that day.
Strictly speaking, the Jaguar wasn’t completely black:
Bonnet, roof, wings and doors carried an extravagant airbrush, all
anthracite and gun-metal silver, ghostly standing out against the
metallic black base. Only with the light in the right angle
surreal torture scenes, like visions of H. R. Giger, appeared in
the paint. For the normal viewer this was a fantasy artwork of
fascinating morbidity. But for those in the know it was an
unmistakable signal of forbidden pleasures.

Grand Mistress Gillian LOVED this car, a 2005 model year XKR
R-Performance Coup?the last one that looked good.
It was tongue-bathed by slavegirls after every spin, including the
20″-BBS alloy rims, the tires along with the tread, and the insides
of all four tailpipes. Although addicted to be in control of
everything, the Grand Mistress even liked the automatic gear box
because She couldn’t operate a clutch in such extreme high heels.

Still 60 kilometres to go. Time for a little sprint. She flashed up
the main beam and under the supercharger’s howl the Jag heaved
itself past the 200 km/h mark. She loved this car!

The sun stood low in the west as the black van entered the
outskirts of the old industrial area. Ignoring the detour signs on
both sides, Inferior Mistress Zo?ollowed the road’s original
direction through single ruins pulled down long ago and unused
buildings with hollow window openings. Eventually the van stopped;
barriers and beacons on both lanes signalled road works.
One of those little excavators stood by the side of the road
between heaps of sand and gravel. Construction workers were running
busily through the scene. One of them, carrying a clipboard,
appeared at the driver’s window. He greeted, tapping nonchalantly
on his yellow helmet.

“Sorry, ma’am, you’ve to turn around. We’ve a pipe burst here,” he
rasped with a grin, knowing about the van.

“Oh, is that really necessary? I’ve loaded perishables.”
The Inferior Mistress pretended to be distressed and noticed that
the “workers” had slowed down again.

“Do you have many unannounced visitors here?” She asked.

“Not a single one since I’m on duty. This place is godforsaken.
You’ve papers for me?”

She handed over some documents.

Yellow-helmet checked them, then made a note on his clipboard.
“All right. By the way, your boss came through twenty minutes ago.”
He gave back the papers.

“Have fun!” He again tapped on his helmet.

“I will.”

The alleged construction worker whistled, and some of his
colleagues cleared the road from the barriers.

The outskirts had been formed by buildings standing mostly alone or
in loose formations, but the area’s centre turned out to be a
labyrinth with vast amounts of storehouses and shops. The dirty red
of brick walls, broken by ugly concrete-grey, thronged all around
the road. Bedraggled shanties leaned against factories overgrown by
dead ivy. The oldest buildings had to be from the age of
industrialisation, and above all of them a unknown number of
chimneys, funnels and water towers rose into the dusk. It took the
Inferior Mistress another ten minutes and some looks at Her map to
find the way.
Under an archway, more like a tunnel, another checkpoint have been
set up. This time the van was controlled by armed guards in black,
then was allowed to move into a large storehouse.

She had had enough time to get rid of Her business dress, and now
the Grand Mistress welcomed Her exquisite load in the clothing that
was due to Her.
In the storehouse Inferior Mistress Zo?ad parked the van at its
designated place and opened the tailgate and the grille.

The pains in her muscles and scalp were cruel, but after the
incident with the police Vanessa had been in some kind of
paralysis. She hardly noticed Grand Mistress Gillian freeing her
from her bondage. Like a lightning pure agony raced through her
body, ripping her out of her trance, as fresh blood shot into
her stiff limbs. The awful pepper plug and the oral dildo, the
catheter, the spreader bar and all leather ties were removed, but
the arse hook stayed in place. The blonde was pulled out of the van
and took some wobbly steps, feeling the cold floor under her bare
feet. The hook turned itself repulsively in her rectum so the eyed
end was now dangling between her quivering legs.

The Grand Mistress collared the Italian again: “Don’t let the hook
come out, slut!”

“Yes, Grand Mistress,” Vanessa managed to croak.

Meanwhile the Inferior Mistress brought Kate, who was freed from
all but her collar, the nipple clamps and the horrible gag. The two
slave’s collars were chained together while Grand Mistress Gillian
disappeared to get Michelle.
Vanessa looked around, searching for any sight of hope.
The storehouse was huge, maybe 30 by 100 metres. Along this wall
the slave transporters seemed to be parked, side by side. Most of
them were rather inconspicuously; normal delivery vans or discrete
estate cars, all in muted colours. But some dozen metres ahead
someone hadn’t been so reserved: two women in martial black latex
uniforms were unloading a dark Porsche Cayenne turbo. Like most
seventeen-year-old girls Vanessa didn’t know much about cars nor
was she interested in, but she was sure that none of these vehicles
had left factory with two by two boxes similar to those body
freezers in a morgue instead of rear passenger seats and luggage
space. Through the tailgate, each box was opened like a drawer, and
on each bier lay a slavegirl in foetal position. The one who had
incarcerated them hadn’t been so imaginative as the Grand Mistress.
All four girls wore handcuffs and ankle irons with hobble chains.
Another longer chain ran between the hand and foot bondage.

Chastity belts and red ball gags completed the outfits. They were
led under unnecessary whip lashes through a door in the near wall
and out of the hall.
Vanessa swallowed hard, her swollen throat ached. This scene had
driven her deeper into desperation. But as she looked up to the
storehouse’s other side, powerless rage flared up in her for some
moments. There stood, again side by side, the cars of the
slave-owners: everything German, British, Italian and French
motorcar nobility had to offer, reinforced by cool accents of
Scandinavian design, American power and Japanese technology.
Dead objects, paid by the pain, the blood and the grief of innocent
girls. Vanessa turned away with an embittered look in her eyes.
To run organisations for sexual slavery seemed to be a lucrative
activity!

Standing in a pool of sweet-smelling cunt juice, Beauty awaited her
owner. She was continuously wiggling her tail; the suppository had
molten away some time ago, but her tender rectum still housed the
deep-burning sensation. Grand Mistress Gillian caressed the girl’s
buttocks for a moment, then slid Her hand between Michelle’s legs.

“Having fun, Little One?”

She rubbed Her slave’s slippery vulva, sensing the high-frequency
vibrations of the vaginal egg.

“Out it goes.”

With a long, lustful moan Michelle let the vibrator easily glide
out of her hot body into the Grand Mistress’ hand. The redheaded
woman put it away, then loosen the straps of the tight opera
gloves, just to refasten them on Her pony’s back again.
She unhooked the collar chain and removed Michelle’s
blinders/blindfold, but let everything else of the girl’s fetish
outfit in place. The brunette was led out of the van and took some
faltered steps to the two other slaves. Soon all three were chained
together again.
Grand Mistress Gillian gave Her Beauty a tug.

“Let’s go.”

The slaves started to move, followed by the Inferior Mistress.
Again Michelle made hoof sounds, still with wobbling steps, her
legs tired. The nipple bells rang rhythmically. Kate behind her had
far worse problems to walk. More than the strict suspension she had
been in, the severe burns in her rectum made every movement
agonising. Vanessa had a hard time holding the paining hook up her
arse. With every step it screwed and bobbed and worked in her
rectum, then slid out to the point where only the metal ball was
inside her orifice. Now her poor, sore rosette had to carry the
whole weight.
Instead of using the door through which the four ball-gagged slaves
had been disappeared, the Grand Mistress led Her property to the
far front side of the storehouse. There stood, rear to the brick
wall and separated from the others, three more cars, obviously
vehicles of high-ranking persons. All were black, but one seemed to
have ghostly graphics in its paintwork, gleaming in the building’s
weak lighting. Vanessa recognised in passing the Jaguar emblem
on the still hot bonnet, but didn’t care.
Near the VIP car park was an exit and cool, fresh air poured inside
as the heavy doorwings opened automatically.

Vanessa was surprised that the night had already started to fall.
First stars had become visible in the darkened sky, but the whole
horizon behind the main building glowed in cruel orange.
Violet shreds of torn clouds seemed to melt in the dying sun’s
fire while a column of black smoke was promulgating the work of a
nearby crematory.

They crossed a huge, wall-surrounded yard, following a street or
drive that led them towards a colossal turbine house. Being built
in the industrial design of the early 20th century, it rose frightening
against the western sky.
In this area were no guards, just some fair visitors here and there
which got some fresh air, not caring about the weak, but clearly
noticeable smell. A light wind came from the east and took most of
the crematory’s smoke with it.

Grand Mistress Gillian was greeted by every single guest with
highest respect.

“With you I would normally use one of the side entrances, but they
are all crowd, mostly with replacement meat. So you are receiving
the undeserved honour to enter through the main gate.
Of course, you will pay with pain for that later.”

“These unworthy slaves thank their Grand Mistress,” Vanessa
uttered, acting for all three.

The closer they came to the main entrance area, the better Vanessa
could make out the scenery. The seventeen-year-old was more worried
than ever. Till now she had thought (better say: hoped) of this
fair as some kind of perverted tupper-ware party: whip producers
were presenting their summer collection, maybe with a bound
slavegirl draped at the stand so the prospective buyers could test
the new products on her back. But what she saw told her in utmost
cruelty that her ideas had been far from reality.

On the last twenty metres the way was flanked by twelve wooden
crosses; six on the left side were facing six on the right. And
each was carrying the pain-flooded body of a slavegirl. The poor
victims had been nailed (historically not fully correctly) through
palms and soles. At least the coarse nails had been driven into the
flesh at a special angle to avoid contact with bones or medianus
nerves. This was saved for TRUE punishment.
Apart from the four rough irons only ropes around the upper arms
and a small ledge under their maltreated feet took the slave’s
weight. Each girl had been crucified at dawn, replacing the
predecessor from the last day & night. Without the ledges they
could never manage to hold up their ribcages to keep on breathing
for 24 hours. Nevertheless every breath took extreme efforts, their
lungs seemed trying to slide into the girl’s viscera. All twelve
girls had stopped screaming long ago, not due to the lack of pain
but due to the lack of oxygen. And still more than 9 horrible hours
to go…

Grand Mistress guided Her retinue into the Lane of Crosses.
Now, with the rising darkness, an additional attraction was shown
to advantage. At the crosses’ bases fires had been lighted to
illuminate the gruesome scenery. Under the crucified girl’s feet
concave heat shields run inconspicuously around the heat-proofed
beams, so the girls wouldn’t burn slowly to death. Nevertheless
the hot air waved up to their cramping bodies, adding itself to
their sufferings.

Michelle turned her eyes away, shunning the sight, while Kate
sought every detail with a hardened face. This was the lowest level
of cruelty she’d expected. Eventually Vanessa had to pass by the
first two crosses. She felt sick confronted with this exhibition of
slow agony.

Leaving the crosses behind, they approached the main entrance: not
a normal door but a huge portal with stone steps in front.
To the left and right of the steps ashlars served as pedestals
for two motionlessly cowered naked slavegirls. Held by heavy,
mediaeval-looking chains, they rest on their knees and elbows.
Their heads where forced backwards in the same manner Vanessa had
been introduced to during her ride. With their smooth, black hair
bound to the arse-hooks the slaves had to look straight forwards.
Both seemed to be very young but fully developed and both were
adorned with a full body-painting in a dark, marbled grey. They
were draped just like these statues in Europe, on old bridges’
parapet and wall ends or in front of palaces. No gargoyles, but
stony gate keeper in form of lying or sitting lions or fabulous
creatures.
The closer Vanessa was forced to get the more of the odd details
she made out at the girls: contact lenses gave them yellow
reptile’s eyes. Large ring-gags held their mouth open permanently
and disclosed deeply split tongues and sharpened teeth filed to
pointed fangs. Semen indicating recent oral rapes ran from the
corners of their mouths like slaver. Black lips and heavy eye
shadow created sharp contrasts to the anthracite face colour,
additional dark make-up let the cheek bones stand out dramatically.

The effect was amazing. In the unsteady, mysteriously flickering
light of the flames the two girls indeed looked like made of stone;
sculptures of enchained and enslaved succubi.

The Grand Mistress dragged Her slaves up the steps and spoke to
Kate and Vanessa:

“What’s up? Thinking about girl-girl-action with such tongues and
teeth? Maybe I’ll give both of you these modifications, just for
your pleasure, of course.”

Again it was Vanessa who answered for them:

“Anything Grand Mistress wishes.”

The Italian girl was highly shattered and had at more than one time
nearly lost her grip on the evil hook in her behind.
One thing was for sure now:
this was no stylish inner city SM-In-club where bored, hip yuppies
got a little bit kinky – this was REAL!

All five entered the building with Grand Mistress Gillian
mercilessly pulling at the chain while the horizon was turning its
colour into blood red.

Actually there were two portals, one after another. The first led
them into some kind of vestibule with only a huge antique counter
on the right as single equipment. Behind this furniture a petite
young woman stood, not older than twenty and with a sweet smile on
her pretty face. She was the same type of girl as Michelle. Though
not so stunning beautiful as the long-haired slavegirl, she was
doubtless attractive; like the nice, innocent girl next door. So
you didn’t expect her wearing such a kinky outfit – not that it
didn’t look good on her! The long, almost elegant dress made of
shiny black rubber and fitted with a noble corset was clearly a
Mistress’ outfit, but around her neck she bore a heavy leather
slave-collar. Due to this combination Vanessa wasn’t sure of the
woman’s status.

The receptionist welcomed the Mistresses and let Them sign in,
handing first Grand Mistress Gillian, then Inferior Mistress Zo?n
electronic writing pad similar to the boards couriers had.

That had been the last hurdle. By pushing a hidden button, the
receptionist opened the inner portal. She smiled her sweet smile,
the same she had greeted her neighbours this morning with:

“Welcome to our church where we pray to pain!”

HEAVEN’S GATE

The turbine house’s interior was a hall of titanic dimensions.
The ancient turbines and generators were still resting in their
positions, but between their foundations all forms of abnormities
took place, behind every corner unspeakable monstrosities mocked at
humanity in the worst ways imaginable.
Racking, stretching, pain-bondage. Piercing, branding, watersports;
you name it, you’ll find it.
Slavegirls got fucked with rotating wire brushes, had their nipples
slow-cooked and their bodies flayed with burning whips.
Women were twelve months pregnant with boiling enemas.
Flesh showed all degrees of destruction:
beaten, strapped, switched, birched, caned, tawsed, lashed,
whipped, cropped, flogged, flagellated, castigated, scourged.
Slavemaids regularly sprayed the different areas with water from
high-pressure hoses, washing away gallons of blood into drains. A
powerful ventilation system took the different smells of sweat,
urine and other body wastes out and left only the musky odour of
leather and the sweet, light scents of blood and fear inside the
complex.
Hell and paradise had never before come so close to each other.

The very first impression that hit Vanessa was the screaming.
A cacophony of agony from thousand throats was creating a deafening
loudness though most of the victims were heavily gagged.
The blonde hobbled behind her slave-mates through scenes of pure
horror. There seemed to be no organisation, no program and no
allocation of places. Wherever space was, a girl was tortured.

Unknown to the Italian, the fair followed a strict plan to regulate
the course of events. A place had been assigned to every exhibitor
and all knew what they wanted to show to the audience.
But now, with the fair be heading for its climax and with more
visitors than ever, thronging and celebrating their perversity,
this Sodom & Gomorrah just had to blast an inexperienced
slavegirl’s shattered mind.

To her left a stocky, bearded man, looking like a biker, and His
assistants had found their territory. To Them the Heaven’s Gate
Exhibition owed the charming crossie-girls which were welcoming all
arrivals using the main gate. At the moment the biker was working
on a slave being crucified upside down. Since the heavy wooden
cross stood in a normal, upright position, the poor girl hung with
wide spread legs from the cross beam. Her hands were nailed to the
vertical beam’s wood just some inches above the floor. And there
was another difference to the girls crucified outside: the nails
had been driven through wrists and ankles, the cramped postures of
her fingers and toes indicated the injury of the melianus nerves!
The sensation this cruel treatment caused was similar to burning by
fire. As if this wasn’t enough agony, her clitoris, vulnerable and
at the height of the biker’s face, was stretched and clamped into a
small, polished device. A flat metal form was moved by the bearded
man’s hand forwards and backwards, guided by the device. It seemed
to run smooth, requesting no force due to its immense lubrication
by blood. Vanessa felt puke shooting up her oesophagus and
swallowed violently. The flat metal on its guiding device was a
plane fitted with a razor blade, slicing away incredibly thin
layers of flesh from the fixed clitoris. Bloody, circular wounds on
the victim’s breasts proved that this instrument had already been
successfully used on her nipples.
The girl was beyond screaming. Her eyes had glazed over and
with every movement of the blade she retched clear slime which
filled her nose and eyes. A mechanism set the blade a tenth of an
millimetre deeper after each run, and soon, but not too soon, her
clitoris, like the girl’s nipples, would be gone completely.

“Do you like what you see?”

“Yechhg…”- again Vanessa fought against the urge to vomit –
“Yes, Grand Mistress.”

“Little liar. Let’s go to our ‘showroom’!”

And again they passed torture excesses and pain orgies on their way.
Infernal atrocities flooded the three slave’s minds.
Visitors were invited to stick hollow needles into the unnaturally
bulging breasts of a non-pregnant, but hormone-
doped woman. Having done so, they used the needles as straws,
pleasurably sucking milk or blood or both from the discoloured tits.
The nozzle of an extruder had been forced deeply into the vagina of
a dark-haired Spanish girl. Terrible screams escaped her
ball-gagged pout as her cervix and womb were crammed with a
plethora of pepper paste. Soon her colon would get the same
treatment.
The crowd was enjoying these heinous performances, and even at the
sixth day, you couldn’t had seen everything. With over eighty
exhibitors and to all times at least 300 slavegirls under torture,
this year’s HGE excelled the legendary one two years ago by far.

As a Grand Mistress the sadistic redhead had a first-class area at
Her disposal. At the far wall of the hall a HUGE concrete block,
maybe a former machine’s foundation, overlooked the scenery. It was
the stage for the main event to come. Grand Mistress Gillian’s
stand was occupying a third of the block’s front wall, about
fifteen metres, and reached five metres into the hall. Vanessa
shuddered. This seventy-five square metres mirrored and outdid all
the horrors seen during the painful walk through the overcrowded
turbine house. Like at the other stands this one hadn’t a real
demarcation. It needed just a step from the aisle to be newly
surrounded by suffering.

Hanging on her arms by chains, a female slave was watched by a
group of spectators. Her legs were spread by a bar at her knees and
bound at her feet. Though they weren’t fixed further, the young,
gagged woman had decided to hold her knees bent and her feet
bottom-high behind her to touch a special part of the
sophisticated device hanging there.
With trembling knees and cramping calves she pressed her feet’s
balls from below against the underside of a piston. This way she
tried frantically to hold it up in its glass cylinder, otherwise it
would follow gravity, producing an even stronger vacuum than
already existing. Indeed she had a very good reason to do so. Her
clitoris had been sucked into a thin glass tube connected to the
cylinder. Dark red, almost violet, her pleasure bud had been
painfully elongated and was now only millimetres away from tiny,
swirling blades rotating inside the tube. A little more
low-pressure, and the centre of her womankind would be minced like
in a mixer.
Clit-cutting must be a new torture trend!

One Mistress was working over an East European girl with a bullwhip
in the most brutal way. The slave had been mercilessly stretched in
a metal frame, her long blonde hair bound to the structure’s top so
her shoulders and back could receive the hateful kisses of the
extra-cruel leather. From personal, painful experiences Vanessa
knew about this Mistress’ horrible abilities with Her instrument.
Under the teaching of Grand Mistress Gillian She had brought Her
skills to perfection – a true Whip Mistress. She could de-nipple a
breast with the first lash, aiming with a three-metres deathwhip
like with a sniper rifle.
At the moment She was determined to turn the howling slave’s back
into raw meat. The Whip Mistress had even changed part of Her
clothes, wearing a sleeveless silken black blouse to Her gleaming
latex trousers for more freedom of movement. So no spectator stood
next to Her when She swung back for the next stroke. Like all
before this one draw blood. The miserable slave was mangled from
her neck down to her knee hollows, but the area between her
shoulder blades had been totally spared the leather tongue. The
tattoo on this spot showed a cat of prey’s face, and not one single
lash lied inside a circle of fifteen centimetres in diameter around
the finely executed motive.

Artworks on skin.

Worked out by the whip, the spot was a white-stranded island in a
sea of blood.
The Whip Mistress took a break to wash Her slow-killing instrument
in brine, then started anew. The slave’s screams got lost in the
omnipresent noises of the fair as her bleeding flesh was
inexorably kissed, licked and eaten away by the whip.

The last one in the Grand Mistress’ staff was a Novice, a young,
dark-blonde woman in leather who was an aspirant to the status of
an Inferior Mistress.

Grand Mistress Gillian detached the chain from Vanessa’s collar.
“Pull out your arse hook and put it to the used toys over there.”

“Yes, Grand Mistress! Thank you, Grand Mistress!”

Vanessa hurried to grab the metal end. With an embarrassing ‘plop’
the hook came free and she laid the slightly wet, but clean
restraining device onto the rack as told. Her poor arsehole felt
numb and severely swollen, but seemed to refuse closing. Vanessa
didn’t dare touch it.
The Grand Mistress took her by her upper arm, dragged her next to a
coal filled brazier and forced her to kneel. She chained the
blonde’s wrists to a ring in the floor between Vanessa’s legs, then
left without a word, taking Michelle, Kate and the Inferior
Mistress with Her.

Soon Vanessa discovered that this kind of bondage was as well
simple as effective, holding the beautiful slave on her knees and
made her legs and arms useless. On the other hand this position
allowed her to cover her breasts and crotch with her upper arms or
hands respectively – a luxury she had missed far too long. Her
shame and decency were something the Grand Mistress hadn’t tortured
out of her…yet.
Since Vanessa was kneeling in the stand’s left part, having the
concrete block behind her and facing the far front wall where
they had entered, she couldn’t see where the Grand Mistress had
taken Kate and Michelle to. The big brazier to her left blocked her
view. At least this spared her the sight of the girl being whipped
to slow death and the other one getting the vacuum torture.

Though it wasn’t too warm in the turbine house, thanks to the
ventilation, Vanessa soon was covered in sweat. The heat emitted by
the brazier dried her out, except for her own tasty urine she
hadn’t drank anything for the last eight or nine hours, and the
acid from her bladder was still burning in her dildo-ripped gullet.
She wouldn’t be at all surprised if the pepper in her vagina had
increased her thirst, too!

Vanessa closed her eyes and tried to suppress her premonitions,
tried to forget where she was. The noise became a torrent of sounds
without any details when she opened her mind to her desperation.
Vanessa didn’t know what was coming for her, but it would be
horrible. The Grand Mistress had brought them to this hell for a
certain reason. Michelle had talked about a ‘main event’…

Vanessa turned her head in a scared motion as far as her collar
allowed it when she felt fingers gliding through her golden hair.
A man leaned over her, checking indecently her attributes.

“What’s up, sleepyhead?” His sardonic sneer told Vanessa all the
things he wanted to do to her.
“Does nobody take care of you?”

“She isn’t for sale! And don’t touch my property!”
Grand Mistress Gillian approached, followed by a slavemaid.

“Excuse me! Of course not!” and gone he was!

The Grand Mistress fixed Vanessa’s hair gently.
“Just another short-dicked idiot. We girls have to stick together,
right?”

“Yes, Grand Mistress.” For a brief moment she truly wanted to thank
her tormentress! “You dumb cunt!” she scolded herself immediately,
“don’t you see that She is manipulating you! She is fucking your mind!”

Meanwhile the slavemaid had kneeled next to the Grand Mistress,
head submissively bowed. With outstretched arms she held a silver
tray with a carafe and a glass in front of her.
Grand Mistress Gillian filled the glass with water from the carafe
and held it to Vanessa’s chapped lips.

“You must be really thirsty – just drink.”

Greedily the blonde gulped the freezing cold liquid, even swallowed
the ice cubes. What a relief! The water moisten her dry pharynx,
the coldness took away the roughness in her throat.

The glass was refilled and again Vanessa emptied it in a second.
Water ran from corners of her mouth and dropped from her chin.

Drinking the third glassful, she slowed down a bit. The coldness
had started to hurt her teeth, but she didn’t care. Who knows when
she’ll get some water again.
She could feel the water travelling down her oesophagus and into
her stomach where it was spreading its coldness.

The fourth glass was offered, and Vanessa supposed that the Grand
Mistress was refuelling her for some more watersports. Now it took
her longer to empty the glass. Not that her body didn’t need any
more liquid, but she had drunk too fast at the start, and now her
already shaky stomach rebelled.

She had to force herself to accept the fifth and last glassful of
water, but if she didn’t, the Grand Mistress would do it for her.

Grand Mistress Gillian set the glass to the empty carafe onto the
try and dismissed the slavemaid.

“A little better now?”

“Yes, Grand Mistress. Thank You, Grand Mistress.”

“And since you have drunk your water like a good girl, I will not
add even more to your punishment.”

Vanessa looked scared, not understanding why some little relief
had to be paid with amounts of suffering.

“Do you think I’ve forgotten your little show with the cops?”

With more brutality than necessary She shoved a far too large ring
gag into her slave’s mouth and buckled it extra-tightly. Once
again, like many times before, it was unbelievable for Vanessa how
far her jaw muscles could be stretched.

“Let’s see if we can make you a little less noisy.”

The Grand Mistress put a heatproof mitten over Her gloved right
hand and grabbed a glowing piece of coal out of the brazier with it.

In sheer panic Vanessa tried to rise and crawled on her knees as
far away as her wrist chain allowed it, what wasn’t much.

With Her left hand Grand Mistress Gillian seized the slave by her
hair, then brought the angrily burning coal to the blonde’s
twisting face.
For a moment She enjoyed the tension, the panic and fear of Her
victim going to be punished. Then She stuffed the heated carbon
into Vanessa’s defenceless mouth.

Though the Grand Mistress was holding Her mitten-protected hand
over the slave’s mouth, Vanessa’s howls were deafening. Her
hysterical breathing transported light steam and smell of burned
flesh through her nostrils.
Grand Mistress Gillian allowed the blonde’s head some movement, but
let Her hand pressed on the mouth while Vanessa tried frantically
to push the glowing coal out with her tongue.
The howling turned into a guttural gargle.

“Swallow it, cunt, or it will burn away your tongue!”

Again Vanessa pushed the coal in vain against the mitten over her
mouth. By now the top of her tongue felt like burning by itself and
the suffering girl, knowing no other way out, tried to scream and
swallow at once. But collared and with her mouth being so wide
opened, swallowing was more than difficult, especially with the
agonising pain preventing any coordination. The intense heat burned
her palate, then the back of her tongue and mouth. She managed to
get the glowing coal into her throat, but gagged and retched it
into her blistering mouth again. Nearly insane with agony, the
blonde thrashed around like a berserk, then Grand Mistress Gillian
hauled Her slave’s head all the way back. With her last fragment of
will Vanessa swallowed again, pure pain ripped down her oesophagus,
so slowly, then stroke the insides of her stomach’s walls, reached
the organ’s lower part – then died there in the still cold water
Vanessa had drunk.

Grand Mistress Gillian removed the ring gag from the seriously
damaged mouth.

“Too bad you haven’t left some of the water. It would ease your
pain a little.”

She let the sobbing and whimpering slave on her knees, removed the
mitten and turned away. That bitch will think twice before she
opened her mouth again.

A horrible scream could be heard from the girl at the vacuum
device. The inner wall of the thin glass tube was splashed in red.

The spectators cheered.

COOPERATION

Grand Mistress Gillian headed to the far end of the colossal
foundation block where a good friend of Her had His stand.
Unfortunately He had been unable to come in person – until now.

Master Nathan had arrived just one hour ago from Japan and was
still impressed: in the Land of the Rising Sun slave trades and
torture fairs in the dimensions of the HGE took place three or four
times a year. Nevertheless it was a matter of honour to be
represented at the HGE and furthermore taking part at the main
event. This year it would be exceptionally pleasant since His
esteemed friend Grand Mistress Gillian wasn’t just going to host
the main event, but moreover show something by Her own.
Master Nathan smiled. The fire-red waves of hair could be seen for
miles.

The Grand Mistress entered the stand and held out Her right hand.
The dark-haired man in a tailor-made suit and waistcoat, some years
younger than Her, with a youthful appearance and a beard like the
one of a musketeer, stepped towards Her and kissed Her hand. But
instead of letting Her arm go, He pulled Her close to His body,
grabbing Her by Her waist.

“Hi, Grand Mistress,” Nathan whispered sweetly.

Gillian had slung Her arms around His neck.

“Hi, Master.”

He let His fingers travel to Her bottom, Her cat suit seemed to be
molten on Her. His hands cupped both Her arse cheeks, fondling them
through the obscenely tight latex, feeling every perfect detail of
Her imprisoned buttocks.

“Did You miss me?” Nathan asked.

Gillian’s hand was sliding between His legs.

“What do You think?” She put Her chin on His shoulder, resting Her
face in Nathan’s long hair.

“I think we should go to a silent place where nobody can watch us.”

Gillian pressed His testicles.
“Then think again…” She breathed into His ear.

As She stepped back and saw Master Nathan’s face, the Grand
Mistress couldn’t suppress a smile. The cute boy! He tries it each
and every time.
She grabbed His hand:
“Come on, I’ve got a present for my brave Asia scout!”

Master Nathan let Himself guided to the Grand Mistress’ stand.
Seeing poor Vanessa kneeling alone at the far end, obviously in
pain, He asked:

“What’s up with her?

Grand Mistress Gillian told Him.

The Inferior Mistress led Michelle on her chain to Grand Mistress
Gillian and Her guest.

“And that must be Beauty!” Master Nathan knew from His redheaded
friend.

Acting coy, the pert brunette performed a kittenish curtsey which
let her bells ring most lusciously.

“How sweet you are! And you look sooo CUTE with these pony ears!”

The Grand Mistress was clearly proud of Her pet and relished the
effect Beauty had on Master Nathan.

“Try her arse!”

Master Nathan looked at Her, irritated.

“I donate You her arse for one round. She is the best fuck in this
building – except for me, of course.”

A honest smile appeared on Master Nathan’s handsome face.
“Of course!”

He studied the petite pony-slave in front of Him. She was real
cute, her angelic face emphasized by the strict gag-harness.

“Right here?” Master Nathan asked.

“Yes, I won’t give her out of my hand. And something else…”
Grand Mistress Gillian got close to Him and whispered into His ear.

He smiled: “As you wish.” He opened His zipper.

In seconds Michelle was bent over a wooden horse, tightly bound to
it at wrists, elbows, upper arms, at ankles, knees and thighs, her
arse in perfect high for what was to come.

Master Nathan stepped behind her and passed His hands gently over
the warm, stretched flesh of her firm, juicy bottom.
He took hold on the butt plug and slowly worked it out of her still
lubed orifice, watching it appear from between the petals of her
rectal rim.
Beauty moaned behind her bit as the widest part glided trough her
narrow ring of muscles.
Having freed the nasty device from its cute tight prison, Master
Nathan enjoyed the sight of the tiny rosette, sexily swollen due to
the long-time embedded pony plug.

For over a minute He rubbed His impressive penis against Beauty’s
damp vulva, moisten His tool with the gathered wetness. Not exactly
necessary for Beauty’s backdoor, but highly pleasurable for the
Master’s member.

Michelle’s breasts, hanging without sag at the sides of the horse’s
top-beam, got massaged by tender hands to relieve the initial pain
of her rectal re-opening.
She felt Him flick her stiff nipples into greater hardness,
tugging at her rings, twisting them and turning the metal in her
flesh.

During this, an exquisite pressure invaded her deep, then deeper,
then even more deeper.
Beauty relaxed her anus completely and moved her abdomen in a
better position, as far as the strict bondage allowed it, to
prevent the severe cramps which accompanied fast and deep
penetration.
Now she was impaled to the hilt, and her temporary Master started
to move out for the first time. Controlling each section
separately, the buggered slave clenched her muscles with surprising
force, highly trained in the art of anal cock-sucking.

It was unbelievable. The little filly was massaging Him with her
arse! Like a velvet fist her rectum worked its magic on His cock,
every single muscle was adjusted individually to cause Him the
highest pleasure possible. A hotter, tighter place wasn’t
imaginable.
Master Nathan hoped to last long in Beauty’s dark passage, feared
that He would burst any second, knew that the experienced
pony-slave wouldn’t let Him come in a short eternity.

Chewing on her bit, Michelle concentrated fully on her task.
His manhood hurt inside her small body, fully embedded it felt like
pushing right into her tonsils. Her nipple-bells rang sexily with
every cock-stroke, her plume waved above her head as Master Nathan
was breaking her in.
After six solid minutes of high-class arse-fucking she knew the
time was right to release the Master using her so hard. Any longer
and she won’t have the strength to pleasure Him maximally during
His climax.

Master Nathan hadn’t consider it to be possible but Beauty even
increased her efforts to an unbearable level. Not in the condition
to control Himself anymore, He exploded deep in her guts. The very
last drop was pressed out of Him as He inseminate the girl’s
rectum. He almost collapsed onto the brunette’s back and buried
His smooth face in her long hair.

It took Master Nathan some moments to rally His breath.
Slowly He straighten Himself up and pulled His tired phallus
carefully out of Beauty’s rear hole.

Signs of waste were visible on His manhood

“WHAT’S THAT?!” Grand Mistress Gillian yelled in faked fury.
“How dare you soil my guest! Wait, I’ll teach you manners…!”

The whole action, right from the start, hadn’t been unnoticed by
groups of spectators nearby and everyone of them knew that there
was much more to come.

Now Michelle knew why she was here and why she hadn’t received an
enema like the others. She remembered the Grand Mistress’ words:

‘…take your measurements for a puppy equipment…’

“In my arse, or what?!” she thought bitterly, realising that she
was getting fooled. Just for a good show!

Grand Mistress and Master both went to the exhausted slave’s head.
The sadistic woman put two fingers under Michelle’s chin and lifted
her face so their eyes met.

“I already had planned something for my little girl, but since you
have lied to me in the cargo bay, I’ll go extra-hard on you:

First you are going to clean what got dirty by your fault.

Then we’re going to make sure that something like that won’t happen
again. This will be combined with a severe punishment for your
dirtiness.

Eventually you’ll compensate Master Nathan for His trouble with
you.”

She removed the bit by using its quick-snap function, but let the
head harness in place.
Michelle worked her tongue and aching jaws. Today the unpleasant
mouth-bondage had been worn by her extraordinarily long. Not longer
than ever, but long enough to loose its erotic thrill.

Master Nathan took her chin and looked roguish into Beauty’s doe
eyes, then guided her view to His stained penis.

“Do you see that?”

“Yes, Master.” She tried to talk clearly.

“Why did this happened?”

“Because Master had fucked…because this pony is a dirty little
pet, Master.”

“Louder.”

“This Pony Is A Dirty Little Pet, Master!”

“At least you understand your fault. I agree with your Grand
Mistress to let you fully take the consequences, don’t you think?”

“This slave craves for fulfilling its Grand Mistress’ and Master’s
wishes.”

“You know what to do. And don’t be a biter.” The start signal for
her tasty task…

Michelle closed her eyes, forced herself not to hesitate and
opened her soft mouth widely.
Master Nathan filled her oral cavity with His cock pulled freshly
from the anal depths of her colon. Slowly, but steadily pressing,
He soon reached the back of her throat. Her lips grabbed His meat
and He pulled out some centimetres so the petite slavegirl could
worship the invading part with her tongue.
Being as talented with her mouth as with her opposite holes, Beauty
let Master Nathan’s member rose again while she cleaned His manhood
from all traces of sodomy, tasting her own arse.
From time to time she overcame her revulsion and swallowed her
flavoured spit, the wicked aroma nearly making her puke.
The disgusting act took her two or three minutes, then the Master
removed His now spotless penis.
Michelle let her head sink, the rectal odour heavy in her mouth.
She knew that Grand Mistress Gillian and Master Nathan weren’t
nearly through with her.

The Grand Mistress circled her, letting the bit gag dangle between
Her fingers.

“We don’t want you biting off your talented tongue, do we?”

She first slipped the bit deep into Michelle’s vagina, then set it
back in its cute original place.

“So it tastes a little sweeter.”

Michelle sunk her teeth into the rubber layer around the steel rod
and waited for her next torment.

A long and rather thick nozzle was rammed up her spent arsehole,
far too deep to be pushed out by herself.
She heard the Grand Mistress talk, not just to Master Nathan, but
also to the increasing number of spectators.

“Our sweet slave here has a little trouble with her rear hole…”

The spectators laughed, knowing exactly that Michelle was innocent
of her situation.

“…so we have to take severe measures to fix this. This fluid…”

Michelle gasped behind her bit as a cool liquid started to rush
into her bowels.

“…is heat-activated: reaching a temperature of 28°C it will
change its pH-value from ‘neutral’ to ‘low’. The delay created by
this guarantees an even cleaning effect.”

“How ‘low’, Grand Mistress?” someone asked from the audience.

“About the level of acetic acid.”

Getting the idea, Michelle yelped and thrashed against her bounds.

“If we use normal acid, especially the lower regions of her
viscera, which are the first in contact, get burned, and that very
badly. This technique here allows us to remove just the membranes’
inner layers, simultaneously in the whole intestines.”

Michelle howled, the sound clearly audible behind the gag.
She started to beg through her bit while her tender guts received
more and more of the cruel enema. The watery liquid, already over
one litre, crept further and further into her, now filling her
lower colon completely. Horrible cramps ripped her digestive
system, trying to tear her intestines to shreds.
Two litres.
She felt her abdomen bulging out in earnest and screamed as her
bowels were crushed between the fluid’s pressure and the unyielding
horse-top. A sick sensation of bursting let her body tremble anew
as the liquid forced its way into another section of her bowls.
More than three litres, and Michelle was sure that her entrails
were about to detonate, she KNEW that in the next second her body
would tear from the inside in pure, fiery agony.
After administering Her dainty slave almost five litres, Grand
Mistress Gillian gave a signal to stop to the Inferior Mistress at
the enema machine. Fitted with a pressure/suction pump and a number
of different tanks, this machine was going to serve the Grand
Mistress well.

Michelle, weeping and sobbing, tried to hold the pain in her
innards bearable by not moving at all. But after a few minutes a
additional sensation broke its way through her suffering; not the
tearing burning of stretched tissues, but the eating burning of
BURNING tissues!
The young woman freaked out as she felt her colon’s inner surface
melting away. This was more than pain, more than anguish, this was
mindblasting agony!

Master Nathan was impressed as Beauty literally exploded in her
bounds, tearing at the leather holding her, ringing her sexy bells.
Inhuman sounds, not being muffled by the pony gag, shot out of the
poor victim while she lost control over her bladder.
Another signal from Grand Mistress Gillian and the heinous chemical
was sucked out of the nearly insane girl, its now dirty pink
colour, caused by waste, blood and liquid flesh, visible through
the clear hose.

Michelle bit down hard on her gag, then screamed again. The pain
was still much more than she could bear.
But in a moment of shock and total disbelieve she became silent as
new pressure raped her bowels.
Two and a half litres of a milder solution tortured Michelle’s
viscera for nearly three minutes before they left, this time mixed
to a lighter shade of pink.

The third enema, three litres of pure ice-cold water, immediately
gave her torturously severe cramps, but cleaned her out fully. Just
the slightest traces of blood. The Grand Mistress was satisfied.
An incorrect timing, a wrong compound, staying too long inside the
victim: all these contain the danger of perforating her intestines
and the hazard to harm her beyond healing.

Grand Mistress Gillian ran Her hand through Beauty’s hair to calm
her down. With shrill, but soon dying shrieks of her broken voice
the brunette had reacted to the body heated water. Now she was too
exhausted to do anything else than endure the final two-litre enema
in silence.

The Inferior Mistress was about to let the machine suck Michelle’s
bowels dry when Master Nathan made one of His highly welcomed
suggestions:

“Is Your blonde slave over there still thirsty?”

“Yes, I think she has a dry tongue.” Grand Mistress Gillian
sniggered mischievously. She went back to Vanessa and loosened the
Italian’s chains.

Since the bondage horse wasn’t blocked by the awful brazier,
Vanessa had been able to watch Grand Mistress Gillian and the
handsome Master who had corn-holed Michelle. She had wondered (not
really!) about the sadistic redhead’s strange ways to show Her love
to Her favourite pet but had been understandably more busy with her
own ordeal.

Now she was dragged towards the sawhorse-like device Michelle was
still bound onto and was pushed to her knees again behind the
brunette’s sexy arse, right into the puddle of girl-urine.

“Does your traitorous tongue still hurt? Though you don’t deserve
it, I’ll give you the chance for some release.”

The Grand Mistress took the wide ring from Vanessa’s mouth and
ripped the nozzle painfully out of Beauty’s rectum, then pressed
the blonde’s head against the arse in front of her, making sure
that lips and rosette met each other.

Michelle didn’t need to be told to share the source of her bowel’s
irrigation with the Italian. The tortured slave hurriedly expelled
the warm water, striving to end her high-colonic nightmare.

Vanessa tried to suppress that she was drinking right from
Michelle’s rectum. She only hoped that the water could ease her
oral pain. But no mercy was permitted: the pressure hurt her
burns, the swallowing ground her cooked tongue and tore her
blistered throat.

The enema was released far too fast to be completely swallowed by
Vanessa, so most of the clear water was running over her chin, onto
her breasts and over her flat, sporty tummy. The spectators vied
with each other in cruel comments.

Panting, Vanessa freed herself from Beauty’s anal fountain to
gather some breath, but was immediately pushed back by her Grand
Mistress.

“Hhhhmmm…yummy!”

Again and again the tortured bowels pulsated and fed warm water
from their inner depths to the blonde girl.
Eventually, at least five minutes later and after a long, painful
sucking on Vanessa’s side, Michelle’s arse ran dry.

Grand Mistress Gillian pulled the Italian away to the left.
Vanessa followed and stayed at her new place, still on her knees,
her young body glistening with rectal dishwater.

Again the Grand Mistress removed Beauty’s pony gag, looked at the
deep imprints of Michelle’s teeth in the bit’s rubber jacket, then
asked with a cruel, mocking voice:

“Do you want to try again pleasing Master Nathan with your arse, or
do you still feel dirty?”

“NO! ANYTHING! PLEASE NO MORE!”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, Master, fuck this slave’s arse!” she begged with her
hoarse voice.

The Grand Mistress wasn’t yet convinced.
“What kind of arse?”

“…this slave’s…dirty arse…?”

“So do we need another flushing?”

“NO! PLEASE, NO!”

“Then, what kind of arse?” the Grand Mistress insisted.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Michelle croaked shrilly.

Smiling, Master Nathan bent down and whispered the right answer
into her false pony ear, loud enough so that she could hear it.

“CLEAN!” she cried, “FUCK THIS SLAVE’S CLEAN ARSE!”

Master Nathan stepped back to her bottom.
“Almost sounds like an order!”

“Then better do what she tells You!” Grand Mistress Gillian giggled
as She re-gagged poor Michelle.

The audience cheered as Master Nathan entered Bound Beauty once
more, eliciting a high-pitched yell.
Since the long nozzle had ejaculated the awful liquid directly into
the far end of the slave’s rectum, her used sphincter was swollen
and sore, but not nearly as raw as her inflamed intestines
certainly were.
Master Nathan didn’t expect Beauty to do her trick with her arse
muscles once more, so He just enjoyed her rectum’s naturally
tightness, now intensified by the further swellings of her abused
passage.

It had to be an eternity for Michelle till Master Nathan’s semen
moisten her secret orifice for the second time. He pulled out,
stowed away His clean member, then kissed Beauty onto her forehead.

“Your Grand Mistress can be proud of you!”

She squealed as He re-tailed her with the pony plug.

A slavemaid loosened Michelle’s bounds and took the girl from the
wooden structure. Immediately the long-haired brunette tried to
bent into a foetal position, but was held upright on her feet. She
couldn’t walk without the help of the slavemaid, the lingering
bowel-pain let her stagger on her mean hoof boots. The slavemaid
was ordered to take the poor slave to the non-public area. There a
medicament was going to be administered to her avoiding infections
caused by Michelle’s sexy arse-to-mouth action. At least for
Beauty, this hellish fair was over.

Master Nathan expressed His thanks to the Grand Mistress.

“I can’t imagine a sweeter present! You are sure You won’t give her
to me?”

“Absolutely.”

The Master sighed, then excused Himself.
The main event’s start was near, and Both had to make final
preparations. But They didn’t have to wait long for working
together again.

UNDER THE SCOURGE

Grand Mistress Gillian spent some moments for organisational
decisions. The Whip Mistress was still savagely slicing up the
East European girl. The Novice was doing business with some
visitors, showing them the vacuum clit-cutter, where the poor,
sexually mutilated female was still hanging.
That meant Kate got a visit from Inferior Mistress Zo?because the
Grand Mistress had something in store for Vanessa.

Behind the huge concrete block some kind of backstage area had been
set up. Rooms, separated by subsequently built walls, were at
disposal for the main event’s performers.
In one of them, vertically chained and spread-eagled, Kate had
suffered for the last hour and was still suffering. Red fogs of
pain blurred the concrete wall some metres in front of her, her

torn jaw joints were swollen terribly. The brutally tightened

chains tried to quarter her alive while she fought against

suffocation caused by the monstrous gag and her hanging position.

At some point, after dreadful pain and before even more dreadful
pain, the door behind Kate was opened and the clicking sounds of
high heels proclaim the promise of further horrors.

Inferior Mistress Zo?pproached poor Kate with a clear mission and
She was highly motivated and eager to fulfil Grand Mistress
Gillian’s order. That She let Her do the final preparation of this
bitch groaning in front of Her was a good sign. Soon She wouldn’t
be an Inferior Mistress any more, but the youngest Mistress ever
being in Grand Mistress Gillian’s service.

It had been fun electro-shocking this cunt earlier in the loading
zone, and now She would have even more fun. She surrounded the
cramping, pain-sweat covered body, running a sharp fingernail over
hot skin and twitching muscles.

“Not so tough any more, hmm?”

She twisted the tit clamps, noticing the clotted blood, and played
with the imprisoned nipple rings. Hoarse stertorousness indicated
that Kate hadn’t lost the ability to feel pain in her breast tips.

“I bet there goes more…” the Inferior Mistress thought and
pulled at the clamps without loosing them first. Fresh blood
gushed out of the deep scratches, which were torn by the clamp’s
teeth, while Kate’s breasts were pulled to cones. Both women
expected the nipples to be ripped off, the blonde one shrieking in
horror, the dark-haired running Her tongue over Her lips in
delight. Eventually the metal came off, the stretched breasts
snapped back, but left blood and skin on the clamps’ jaws.

“Whooo-Haa!”

Cheerful like a little girl the Inferior Mistress put the clamps
away and took an instrument of which Kate had so much dread that
she almost wet herself.

At first, Inferior Mistress Zo?ad doubts that a petite person
like Herself could handle the extra-heavy scourge. But after some
training lessons She controlled the heinous weapon and could make
use of it most effectively. She was a natural in these things.
She shook the torture device to separate its single chains from
their tangle. They rattled and clanked with a massive sound.
Seven chains, each sixty centimetres long and each fitted with
spikes, blades, thorns, hooks and morning-star-like weights –
all for you, Kate!
No more playing chauffeur and babysitter for these slave-sluts!
Now She would prove to be worthy. After the incident with the cops
She didn’t want to disappoint the Grand Mistress. She was going to
show Her skills to Grand Mistress Gillian – on Kate’s body!

Letting the evil instrument lie in front of the panting slave, the
Inferior Mistress took off Her tight leather jacket, revealing a
waistcoat with plunging neckline. Though made of leather, too, and
being tight as hell, it allowed enough mobility.
She put a slide between Her teeth, then reached with both hands
into Her dark mane, which wasn’t unlike Michelle’s, but far not so
long. Having forced back Her hair, the young sadist grabbed Her
cruel toy with cat-like agility.

“Let’s see if I can make you scream like Grand Mistress always
causes you to do, despite your little gag!”

She positioned Herself behind Kate, taking measurements for Her
first stroke.

“Anything to say before we start?”

Of course, She didn’t expected nor waited for an answer.
The first lash was crushing. And it was the lightest one…

Simultaneously to Kate’s ordeal under the scourge Vanessa was
hanging in the next room. She had been chained some minutes ago in
the very same way as Kate. A female body, stretched out real
tightly, would be split open by the whip so beautifully.
The slender slave was already in serious pain. Shoulders and hip
were aching, her whole mouth swollen and blistered. The itching on
her legs from having kneeled in Michelle’s urine was by far her
smallest problem.

“I want you to welcome my newest toy!”

The Grand Mistress held some kind of razorwhip in front of
Vanessa’s face. The blonde had been razorwhipped before, with a
model carrying blades on its lashes. But this instrument had
chains, and each chain link was a blade itself.
Grand Mistress Gillian let the metal whip run over the slave’s
beautiful face without adding any force. Vanessa clenched her eyes
shut as the impossibly sharp edges cut her skin due to the mere
contact. Thin red lines appeared, filled with blood, but actually
too fine to bleed.

“Imagine the experience when I pussywhip you with this joy giver!
It would take everything away: you would be blank down there after
the first dozen of strokes.”

Vanessa shuddered at the thought of her last pussywhipping. The
Grand Mistress had used a needlewhip on her freshly shaven vulva
after tenderising it first with the strap, then with a ‘normal’
multi-thonged pussywhip. After having worked her genitals over for
centuries, She had chosen vinegar to make Vanessa’s most female
parts nice and clean again.

Grand Mistress Gillian hadn’t change anything of Her clothing for
the forthcoming session, just opened the zipper of Her cat suit,
so the inner sides of Her perfect breasts became visible.

“But first things first. Since you are born in Italy I would like
to introduce you into the history of that country. This device…”

She loved to show Her victims the instruments before starting with
the torture and let a second, longer, three-thonged whip dangle in
front of Vanessa’s eyes.

“…is inspired by the roman ‘flagrum taxillatum’. Like the ancient
original my eager slavekisser has a dumbbell-like lead weight at
the end of each leather tongue. There is no problem to use it for
executions. Now you understand why it’s so important that you are
tied up tightly. So I can aim properly and wouldn’t tear any
useful organs inside your sweet body. Letting you escape this way
would be a shame.”

Grand Mistress Gillian’s last words were escorted by an
excruciating, gag-filtered howl as behind the wall Kate couldn’t
suppress her screams any more.

“Sounds like your lovely friend has a little lead. So let us start,
too.”

Vanessa knew what was necessary to make Kate scream and that she
was in for a similar treatment. The hissing sound behind her let
the pitiful blonde shriek before her back was actually licked by
the first stroke. The horrible kiss of the leather tails sliced
into her as she had it felt uncounted times before. but then, with
highest acceleration, the lead pearls found their aims. At the very
first moment she felt just coldness on the hit parts as the blood
was pressed away, but then an agony of unbearable sharpness
exploded, radiating through her tissue and into her bones. The
violated spots felt like the lead balls had lodged in her flesh.
Slowly, so slowly, each fiery spot eased off to a dull, pulsating
pain, but was replaced by three new in the same time.

Due to her body’s extremely tight stretch, the lashes didn’t just
draw bloody welts but open up her back and flanks completely. With
every stroke a blood-curdling scream rose in Vanessa’s burned
throat, but then the lead tips let her skin burst open and her
flesh explode and the pain became so bad that it crushed her lungs.
If the Grand Mistress wouldn’t paused after each stroke, the blonde
would had been fainted from the lack of oxygen long ago. But as a
true sadist the redhead woman gave Her victim enough time to savour
every single detail.

Without any hurry She let the savage whip play around Vanessa’s
rips and trace her shoulder blades while dotting her breast and
belly in the most heinous ways.
Vanessa’s shredded screams echoed shrilly in the ugly room as she
was disciplined like a real roman slave. By now new urine had
arrived in her bladder and sprayed out of her body with every
second or third lash.

After forty strokes the Grand Mistress forced Herself to stop.
The blonde slut was impudently at the edge of passing out.
Grand Mistress Gillian let the wicked scourge sink.
Her face was wet with blood, Her crotch wet with excitement.
Not many things were more erotic than a sexy blood-whipping.

Setting aside the bloody flagrum, Grand Mistress Gillian gave Her
pain-wrecked slavegirl an injection.
Vanessa’s eyes got an insane expression as the stimulant coerced
her back into full consciousness.

“Feeling warmed up, my dear?”

Vanessa’s only answers were sobs and incoherently stammering.

The Grand Mistress disconnected the feet chains from the ground,
fastened them to a pulley and raised Vanessa’s still wide-spread
legs until the crying slave was hanging nearly horizontally.
Suspended by aching arms and legs, the Italian had her defenceless
vagina obscenely opened and perfectly positioned in height and
angle.

Grand Mistress Gillian poked with a finger on some spots of the
bald pussy, where the lead tips had done their dreadful work.
Each time She was rewarded with a high-pitched scream.

She had decided to prepare the blonde beauty with the tawse.
The broad, split leather strap reddened the mons veneris most
nicely. On the yet unharmed flesh it created a deep, almost
unbearable stinging, but on the scourge-licked spots it felt like
getting hammered blunt nails right into the pelvis bone.

The Grand Mistress was pleased and impressed that Her victim was
still able to scream in highest octaves.
Twelve hits, and Vanessa’s crotch was prepared for REAL pain.

Grand Mistress Gillian took the razorwhip.

“NOOOOO, PLLEEAAATHHH NOOO!” Vanessa’s burned
tongue managed to articulate.

The Grand Mistress hit her across the breasts, slicing up her tit
meat.

“Yes, of course, cute-cunt! What do you think you are here for?”

Then the first stroke whipped her pussy, and the pain was beyond
anything her mind was able to recognise; beyond former sessions
with a razorwhip kissing her back, beyond earlier pussywhippings,
beyond the recent scourging. The agony made her puke out some of
the water she had been forced to drink, the gastric acid in it
burned in her breast’s and belly’s wounds. But Vanessa wasn’t able
to realise the burning, there was only the sensation of having cut
out her femininity.
Again the Grand Mistress struck, and red hot pain raced through the
Italian’s vulva, trying to tear her abdomen apart. Her muscles
cramped horribly, then relaxed, and what was left in her bladder
spilt out.

“What up with all you young girls nowadays? Don’t you have any
manners?”

Grand Mistress Gillian caught a handful and deeply rubbed the
urine into Vanessa’s beaten pudenda. Then She waited and let it
sting revoltingly while listening to the girl’s shrill shrieks.
After half a minute She took a glass bottle.

“I don’t like my slaves smelling like piss-whores.”

Vanessa’s screams reached unbelievable heights as her split
genitals were meticulously cleaned with pure alcohol. The demoniac
liquid even washed out her vaginal cavity and the urethra’s

opening.

The tortured blonde got insane as the Grand Mistress used the
razorwhip again. The stimulant boiling in her blood forced her
experience the deep-flaying of her cunt-lips and clitoris. The
blade’s tips dug into her, then cut cleanly through her flesh.
Unwillingly they let their wounded prey go as Grand Mistress
Gillian pulled them away for the next stroke.
Again the girl was hit. One of the thongs invaded especially deeply
and stuck in near the anus. It was brutally pulled away and opened
a horrible gash from the right labium’s outer side, along the
clit’s root, almost to Vanessa’s belly button, splitting her
clitoral hood. The scream rose into the most extreme spheres of
sounds a human being was able to create, then broke down as the
slave’s voice failed with a ugly scratching. More blood than ever
poured from the cruel wounds and ran down between the arse cheeks
to rain onto the floor.

The Grand Mistress knew that, if She ever wanted any more fun with
Her blonde slavegirl, She had to stop now and staunch the serious
bleedings the abominable whip had caused.

While Vanessa’s body was melting in torture-pain, her lover was
crossing hell, too. It would have been unimaginable for the
Italian, but the scourging of Kate’s flesh was even far worse.

With the stamina of a true fanatic the Inferior Mistress was
systematically carving Her hate into the helpless victim.
Kate had found some slack, not in her bondage but in her body
itself, to struggle violently under the impact impulses. The
extra-heavy scourge didn’t slash like the razorwhip Vanessa was
enjoying right now. It was a even more perverted version of the
flagrum, but able not just to torture with whip-thongs and weights,
but also truly ripping away the flesh with claws and hooks. Even
without the additional parts the highly accelerated chains would
let the hit skin burst open immediately.
Due to Inferior Mistress Zo? outrages several of Kate’s ribs were
broken. Now the dark-haired tormentress aimed for the kidneys.

“Piss blood, whore!”

The slave’s lower flanks got uglily coloured and Kate uttered a
retching sound into her gag.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” The Inferior Mistress let the air out of
the torturous device that had tormented Kate’s mouth for over two
hours. The gag was taken out and left the lower jaw freely dangle
in the muscles and tendons. With sadistic pleasure the young
pain-giver reached with both thumbs in Kate’s mouth, grabbed the
jaw with all fingers and smashed it back into the swollen sockets.
Kate cried.

“Say ‘Thank you!’, ungrateful bitch!”

But Kate didn’t dare move her aching jaw and crushed tongue, being
sure to damage the joints and muscles even more by forming words.

“Ohhh, wait! You WILL speak!”

Another stroke to one of the last spots which hadn’t been destroyed
yet. Kate’s tightly stretched body split once again.

“Beg for mercy!”

Only unintelligible noises came from the reddish-blonde who was
choking on her own shrieks.

“Come on, bitch! Beg!”

She gave her the by far cruellest stroke till now, ripping lines of
flesh from the bleeding woman’s body.

Kate searched desperately for breath, then screamed, screamed, and
begged.

The muscle of her right arse cheek was being half ripped away.

“Beg me to stop!”

Frantically she screamed for an end while her urine washed the
blood from her inner thighs.

The left arse cheek…

“Beg me to hurt Vanessa instead of you!”

“NEVAAAHHHR!” Kate articulated in a scream of pure agony.

“Beg me, and I will aim for your vital organs; and after ten or
fifteen strokes there will be no pain for you any more.”

“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHNNnnnnNNNOOOOHHhhooo!”

The scourge had reached over her right shoulder and had for the
sixth or seventh time punished what had been left of Kate’s right
breast.

“You just begged me for mercy, didn’t you? That’s my condition.”

This was mindfucking, of course. The Inferior Mistress was far away
from being permitted to let Kate die.

Instead the sadistic woman was beating the screaming slave to near
death with repetitive strokes around the flanks to tear away tits
and belly-meat, but masterfully avoided to drive any bone splinters
of the destroyed ribs into inner organs.

Kate’s latest inhuman sound was mixed with a really impressive
scream from Vanessa next door. The young torturer hoped that Her
victim had heard and realised this shriek.
But all good things had to come to an end, and at some point the
beaten bitch didn’t react any more. Smelling salt let her get clear
a little bit, but the Inferior Mistress had to apply the stimulant.
It was obviously, even to a gory, raging devil like Her, that the
blonde slave had reached her absolute limit of endurance. There was
no doubt that the stimulant would force Kate to suffer even more,
but that was needed for what was to come. Inferior Mistress Zo?
nearly slipped out on the blood-flooded floor as She granted Kate
an extra-cruel Good-Bye-stroke between her legs.

HELLBOUND

There was no better choice for a presenter of the “Heaven’s Gate”
main event than Grand Mistress Gillian. Her full, rich voice
reached with the help of the small microphone clipped to Her collar
the farest end of the crowd turbine house. The monolithic concrete
block had been turned into a full-equipped stage. Two huge screens
at the back were showing simultaneously the pictures sent from the
camera slaves. Three docile slavegirls had been chosen for this
task and had got their arms cruelly laced up in leather single
sleeves until their elbows had met. Over their latex-masked faces
digital video cameras which looked and were worn like night vision
gears had been fitted. Now they were on the stage, too, busy to
catch the best views of the carnages taking place.

When the main event had started, the activities at the stands had
come to an end, and now everybody was trapped by Grand Mistress
Gillian’s tasteful aura of cruelty. Like the archpriestess of a
pagan cult She hosted the fair’s finale. To get the public in the
proper mood, the show had started with the obligatory “Whipping of
the Virgin”-session.

Now Master Hektor, the bearded biker with the preference for
crucifixion, was making His contribution to the crowd’s
entertainment. A fully masked, gagged and blindfolded slavegirl,
being kept in sensory deprivation for the last three days, was
doing the splits: her left leg behind her, the right in front, each
resting on a separate beam, the toes of both feet extremely
pointed. The slender teen’s arms were steel-cuffed, wrists to
elbows, behind her back, and her already opened vagina was widened
by a metal speculum. An ostensibly stabilising rod had been
inserted into her most female hole and fixed to the ground half a
metre below her. The sweat-covered ballerina-slave used all her
strength she didn’t need for keeping her position to scream
incredibly into her penis gag. Her own trembling legs were
torturing her with cramping muscles and overstretched tendons while
she despairingly tried to keep still and not to roll sidewards. Due
to her previous treatment she hardly knew where ‘up’ and ‘down’
were. All of her efforts were orientated to not let the thin pussy
rod touch the speculum’s prongs, or worse, her vaginal walls. She
had a good reason to avoid the contact with the inserted metal. The
vertical rod was, nobody would be surprised, unbearably hot.
Tilting her body too far to the left, the invader burned the
vagina’s right inner side, arching her body too far to the other
direction, the left of her love canal got kissed. When she was in
luck, the rod rested against one of the speculum’s prongs and her
were given some seconds until the heat had travelled through the
gynaecological instrument. But after endless minutes under this
torment, the speculum was cruelly heated up by the touches and hot
air had filled the madly crying girl’s cavity. Her pain-torn face
could be made out under the strict latex mask filling the video
screens. The hissing sound of vaporising urine sizzled
extra-loudly from the big loudspeaker cabinets. The spectators
roared with delight, flashlights of photo cameras and mobile phones
flared up.

By putting Her index finger on Her smiling lips, Grand Mistress
Gillian told the audience not to give a hint to the victim. She
handed Master Hektor a razorwhip, the very same instrument that had
sliced up Vanessa, and it was still bloody.
The poor, disoriented slave, insanely squirming during her awful
gymnastics, didn’t even know what was coming for her.

One lash over her belly, and she screamed in searing pain, multiply
opened up and again burning on the rod.
One lash over her breasts. Now her blood was running freely.
One lash between her most extremely spread legs. The razor chains
avoided the undesirable contact with the pole; the blades could get
damaged. Instead, the metal tails kissed the shaven crotch’s soft
front, each one licking blood. The shriek was inhuman.

The audience uttered “Oohhh” and “Aahhh” as Master Hektor held a
fifteen-centimetre nail in the air. He went to the beam behind the
pain-overloaded ballerina and ran the nail’s tip over her left
foot’s sole. The slave hyperventilated behind the gag under her
mask and the brute set the tip to the sole’s middle. Twisting left
and right, He literally drilled the first centimetre of metal into
the girl’s pained flesh. Blood spluttered. His victim was in true
agony now and He changed His tactic. Pressing with both hands and
His full body weight onto the nail’s head, Master Hector forced the
steel almost completely through the foot, scratching bones and
ripping muscles – and tearing the medianus nerve.
One powerful hit with a hammer, and the nail was driven into the
beam.

The girl was close to be torn away from consciousness by lack of
oxygen and extreme pain, so Master Hektor hurried.

Nail number two was presented. This time, on the instep of the
right foot, He used the heavy hammer right from the start. A wet,
nasty splash could be heard, but the sound of splitting bones was
muffled by the pierced flesh and howled away by the ballet-slave’s
last, horrible noise.

“Master Hektor, split-crucifixion!” the charming Grand Mistress
proclaimed with true admiration. The spectators cheered and
applauded. The few with seats gave a standing ovation.

The maybe dead girl hung limp to the left side, smoke was emerging
from the vaginal orifice. Hastily the nails were removed by
slavemaids, then the stage was cleared from the beams, the victim
and most of her blood.

While the mono-glove armbinders contorting their limbs, the camera
slaves captured the arrival of the next protagonists.

“I have the honour…”

The crowd became silent when Grand Mistress Gillian started to
speak again.

“…not only to present You the just elected ‘Torture Of The Year’
but furthermore perform this with an absolute majority voted
activity with the help of two very lovely young ladies. Applause!”

Encouraged by the Inferior Mistress’ cattle prod, Kate and Vanessa
limped up the stairs which let them enter the stage from between
the video screens. The hundreds of people hesitated a moment, then
loudly gave vent to their enthusiasm and whistled at the two
bloodied blondes. They had expected untouched slaves, ready to
be taken down on stage from start to end. Instead the gorgeous
Grand Mistress presented them warm gore on tender skin; red on
white, every welt outlining the female attributes. Ready to suffer
only for suffering. Just like a slavegirl should be when having
arrived ultimate torment.

From the moment the stimulant had flooded her system, it had
created terrible effects to Vanessa’s mind. The pain, the sensation
of being pained, had become most invasive. In the so created
paranoid condition she already had felt the razorwhip before it’s
chains had slashed her flesh. Now, standing on the stage in
glistening spotlights, the drugged up girl was highly confused.
From the darkness beyond the massive concrete structure faceless
creatures thirsted after her.

At least, she saw Kate standing next to her – and wished in the
same moment she hadn’t. Her sweet lover had been heavily scourged,
too. There was no part of her body below her neck that wasn’t
covered with lacerations and contused wounds. Black and blue marks
disfigured her flesh where the skin mercifully hadn’t popped open
under the whip weights. Kate’s right nipple had been nearly cut
off. Clotting blood formed a broad sickle in her aureole. With the
gruesome wound a little deeper or with just another stroke to the
target, her breast would had become nippleless.

Vanessa turned her head away. Knowing what her Katie had endured
was by far the worst torture for her. Against her will, the Italian
looked down at her own body. Her flesh was decorated over and over
with uncounted welts and purple bruises. Cuts and tears, some of
appalling depth, allowed her blood to run freely. She also was
still bled slightly from the pussywhipping, her inner thighs
completely covered in red.

The Grand Mistress was highly pleased with Her assistant’s work.
This bitch Kate had never looked more beautifully…till know.

She spoke to the audience again:

“On this two beauties here we are going to perform the following
torment in a traditional and in a new way…
The ‘Torture Of The Year’ is: ” She made a dramatic pause…

“Anal Impalement!”

Rejoicing echoed trough the turbine house.

Vanessa registered her ability to see colours fading as the silent
fear let her blood pressure drop. Soon it would rise again, to
unknown heights, driven by pain and panic.
Before her weakening knees could fail her, the Inferior Mistress
pressed the blonde into doggy style position in the middle of the
stage. Kate had to kneel in front of her fellow sufferer.
The Italian heard Grand Mistress Gillian’s velvet voice.

“Lick her, and lick her good! She’ll need it!”

Vanessa knew there wouldn’t be no other lube for her lover. So she
reached out with her blistered tongue to moisten Kate’s tormented
anus. It was not the first time she made love to another girl’s
rear hole, changing oral attention into anal pleasure when allowed
by the Grand Mistress. But today the young slave performed a very
poor rim job. Her dry mouth didn’t even provide enough salvia to
wet itself, and the pain-crazed woman in front of her wasn’t able
to open up her clenched, swollen rear hole.

“Oh, pleeeaase, Katie, relax! Don’t make it even harder for both of
us” Vanessa thought.

She furtively licked Kate’s clit trying to spend at least some
pleasure, but this action was immediately detected.

The Grand Mistress kicked her in the ribs. Vanessa rolled to her
side, bending in pain, and caused one of the camera slaves to fall.
The bound maid managed to struggle back onto her feet without the
help of her arms while Vanessa stayed in a foetal position on the
ground, sobbing.

Grand Mistress Gillian let her. She was going to give her a real
reason to cry soon enough.

“Mistresses and Masters, for the first demonstration we will use a
wooden pole with a rounded tip, just like in the old days. This way
the pole won’t pierce internal organs but push them away and the
victim will last for dozens of hours.”

On the stage’s right side Inferior Mistress Zo?ulled a black
cover from an upright object. A smooth, wooden post appeared, one
and a half metres in height and nine centimetres in diameter, with
a pointed, but at the last centimetres rounded tip.

The Grand Mistress forced Kate to her trembling feet and pushed the
reddish-blonde slave towards the post. Kate’s tries of resisting
were more than weak. Thanks to the stimulant her mind was receptive
for more pain, but her physical strength had been scourged away.

Chains with manacles were fasten to a D-ring on the back of her
collar, then Kate’s hands were cuffed most painfully into some kind
of reversed prayer and rested between her shoulder blades.
A gallows with a pulley swivelled round and lowered its hook.

One of the camera slaves succeeded an excellent shot of Kate’s face
and it was presented as a close-up on the screens. So everyone
could see the cold horror in her expression when the Grand Mistress
showed her how she would be fixed to the hook.

The redheaded tormentress looped the barbed wire She held in Her
hands three times round each breast’s base. The spiked metal acted
like a chainsaw before it nestled deeply to the tit-flesh. The
crude thorns draw fresh blood, finding raw holes from the scourging
or opening new ones. Kate cried and breathe stertorously while her
maltreated breasts bulged out in a colour between pink and purple.
The rising pressure forced additional blood out of the multiple
wounds.
Between the breasts, over her sternum, the wire crossed itself a
few times and the Grand Mistress hooked the pulley’s chain to this
junction.

“Rise and shine!”

It was a sight of fascinating cruelty as the beaten woman was
slowly lifted by the pulley. She arched her slashed back into a
luscious bow and rose to her tiptoes, clenching her teeth while her
broken ribs were scratching the surrounding tissues. But the draw
at her breasts was merciless, and with a scream Kate lost contact
to the ground.

Like an answer a similar scream came from Vanessa, witnessing her
lover’s ordeal. The blonde slave was now on her knees with the
Inferior Mistress holding her by her collar.

At first Kate wriggled in vain to find hold again. But when the
movement caused the barbed wire to sink deeper into her flesh she
ended her efforts. Meanwhile the pulley had stopped and the woman
dangled only two inches over the concrete surface.

Grand Mistress Gillian grabbed Kate’s right lower leg, and the
suspended slave started to kick again.

“Stop struggling or I hang Vanessa to your feet by her own breasts
and pull you both off the ground!”

Her victim croaked but kept still as the seductive torturer bend
Kate’s knees and bound each ankle to the matching thigh with broad
leather straps. The posture created by combination of the cruelly
bound arms and the frogtied legs gave the slightly swinging woman
something hovering.
But this ethereal lightness escaped Kate’s notice as she was lifted
again. Her centre of gravity’s changing now stressed her flesh even
more and she emitted a shrill cry as her mangled breasts started to
tear at the underside.
To the crowd’s delight fresh blood poured on the slave’s belly like
a red curtain.

The gallows turned and the howling woman was positioned over the
pole. Slowly the wire-bound victim was lowered and, stepping behind
the post, Grand Mistress Gillian parted Kate’s arse cheeks to guide
the hidden entrance precisely onto the rounded tip.

The Grand Mistress had already seen that both slaves’ arseholes
were sexily swollen, Vanessa’s due to the irrigation of the anal
hook, Kate’s by the glowing kiss of the soldering iron.
Nevertheless the barbed-wired whore in front of Her was far too
deep in tit-pain to react to her beginning rectal reaming.
The first two centimetres went in rather unnoticed, but then the
tip passed a diameter of an inch. The inner and outer sphincter
muscles reacted with pain strong enough to reach the slave’s brain
and Kate tasted the first delights of dry impalement.

As the pulley’s chain was given slack, the woman’s own body weight
forced her mercilessly down the pole. At first slowly, then rapidly
her pain shifted from tits to arse. And once again the changing
loading of her body let her splintered ribs send red hot spears
through her flanks.
Both video screens showed simultaneously her journey back to earth.
On the left one the reached depth in the metric system was faded
in, on the right screen values in imperial measures informed about
the impalement’s progress.
Being no stranger to hard backdoor abuse, Kate suppressed new
screams for the next four centimetres. But then she trembled with a
long agonised wail. Opened up to almost two inches now, her
over-violated rosette started to tear, and lubricating blood
speeded up the awful invasion.
When the first five inches had disappeared in the tight darkness of
Kate’s anus, the conical tip passed over to the post’s cylindrical
form.

Grand Mistress Gillian was pleased to see the wooden stake’s full
thickness in action now.

“Nine centimetres across, that are about three and a half inches! I
guess she feels opened and stuffed at the same time!”

Now that the poor hole was stretched to the pole’s full diameter,
the invading wood’s length was responsible for Kate’s further
torture.

The post soon reached the end of her ampulla recti and forced its
way into the lower part of the colon, tearing at her anorectal
junction. In a most painful act the bent tube of the colon
sigmoideum was straighten out and stretched over the pole like a
organic condom over the far too big phallus. The tortured bowels
reacted with terrible cramps which dipped the body’s inside into
molten agony. Kate desperately tried to stop her movement by
pressing her bloody thighs and calves against the post but slipped
away on the even surface, again and again.

Thin rivulets of venereal fluids ran down the horrible shaft, but
inside Kate’s plugged viscera a considerable amount of blood was
impregnating the smooth wood.

Twelve, then thirteen inches were displayed to the encouraging
audience. Kate breath between her unsteady screams was stertorous
and shallow. Involuntary she inclined to the right to lessen the
ripping in her body as the post continued the occupation of her
colon descendes, which ran vertically in her left side. And still
her own weight forced the woman inexorably further onto the pole,
slower now, but also much crueller. The linings of her digestive
system stuck like rubber on the wooden invader and though the pole
was smooth, the surface felt like being covered with acid
sandpaper.
The increasing adhesion interrupted the sliding motion of Kate’s
body. Now she would travel the last part by gradual jerks,
experiencing the final inches as excruciating hammer strokes.

She went down an extreme painful inch, then stopped, just to take
another one, then screamed with torn vocal chords, then received an
half inch of wood, then another half inch – and staid.

The screens showed forty-six centimetres – over eighteen inches!

Kate was maximally sodomised by the pole.

The wire was now just used to stretch her breast up for pain, so
the main part of her body weight was held by the friction between
the pole and her intestines. The post’s rounded tip pressed through
the distorted entrails against her diaphragm, making the breathing
even harder. Through a red fog of agony she realised how deeply she
was impaled and this shock unleashed an inhuman, insane howl.

The crowed cheered like mad and Grand Mistress Gillian had to wait
long moments until She could begin to speak again.

“That was nice, wasn’t it?”

The asking of this question was a mistake. Almost a minute of new,
exuberant cheers passed.

“Shut up, You perverts!” the Grand Mistress mocked.

Boisterous laughter.

“If You have liked that, then wait for our little ‘Fuck The Pole’-
contest.”

The public was highly pleased as the pulley tightened up the wire
and lifted the frantic slave. Kate rose some inches, then the wire
got slack and she sank down again. This entertaining horror show
was repeated a few times.
In fact Kate wasn’t yet gliding up and down the pole and the pole
wasn’t yet sliding in and out of her. Her “outer” body moved, but
great parts of her intestines were clung to the post. Her anal
ring was so tight around the wood that it first seemed to stay and
be ripped away from the flesh. But then it rolled over the wooden
shaft so the first centimetres of her rectal tract were turned
inside out. At the reversed motion the bloody-pink lining seemed to
be stuffed and sucked in again.

While bouncing on the disgraceful shaft, Kate had started anew to
struggle. Her useless legs were thrashing and throbbing against the
pole, then clutching it in vain. But barbed wire and gravity were
vile enemies, the metal breast-bondage was now working almost an
inch in the woman’s firm meat. By now, the blood lost took its toll
and the effort of the tormented slave weakened rapidly. Soon no
stimulant in the world would make her scream again.

Grand Mistress Gillian enjoyed Kate’s performance, watching her
sexy little dance of pain. She thought about increasing the
amplitude, but there was no doubt at all that this would disembowel
the slave and tear away Kate’s guts from and out of her body. Even
the removal of the pole after the event would become a real
task. She let the pulley stop. Kate was left impaled, drowned in
unbelievable pain.

“Slave Kate featuring The Old-Style Pole!”

The audience, being in high spirits, applauded wildly.

Vanessa’s stomach had knotted into a tight, aching ball from the
moment the pole had been revealed. She had screamed, shouted for
her lover, but her cries had been swept away by the crowd’s cheers.
She had begged, but the Inferior Mistress twisted and tightened her
collar to choke her. She had tried getting to her feet but the
young sadist put the cattle prod to her beaten flesh.

At least Kate was still alive. Vanessa hoped that this was
something to be glad about.

Now it was her turn…

The Grand Mistress presented the tool She was going to use on Her
next victim, Her sinister smile curdled Vanessa’s blood.

“I like to call this ‘The Winder’, at least till I’ve found a
better name for it.”

The screens showed a close-up. The whole device had a phallic shape
and a length of half a metre. It consisted of a dozen of single
segments, each one a metallic cylinder of four centimetres in
diameter. They were loosely connected to each other by a steel wire
running axially through them. The cable was fixed only inside the
first segment but secured in the last one with some kind of
mechanism Vanessa soon would learn about. This characteristics made
the device quite flexible.

The enslaved Italian had to lie onto a waist high torture table
that had been brought in during Grand Mistress Gillian’s last
speak. She winced when her scourged back touched the cold hardness
of the surface.

“Bind her.”

The Inferior Mistress followed the order by securing Vanessa’s
grazed wrists at the table’s far end, stretching the arms.
Leather straps bound the slave’s long legs at knees and ankles.
Vanessa then was forced to pull her knees to her chin and felt the
knee strap connected to the front ring of her collar.

Her naked and abused body was now bend double, her bum hanging
freely with the near edge of the table painfully digging into the
small of her back. Her lower legs were the only parts which were
allowed a little mobility.
Grand Mistress Gillian had thought about letting chain the blonde’s
knees to her nipples and her feet to the clitoris’ ring. But pain
and cramps would surely rip this valuable flesh during the
forthcoming session.

Tears had formed in Vanessa’s bloodshot eyes. She felt sick with
fear. Her body hurt beyond believe, and this red-haired sadist was
already about to inflict new atrocities on her. The strain in her
neck let her croak hoarsely. It was hard to breath in this obscene
position, with legs pressing and neck being pulled, and it would
get even harder…

The Grand Mistress had noticed her sound.

“Something to say to your fan club?”

But the blonde preferred not to speak. No word her burned mouth
could form was able to change her fate. And soon she would make her
comments anyway, with loud and hard screams.

Grand Mistress Gillian stood in front of the table, the audience to
Her left and both entrances to Vanessa’s Inner Sanctum in front of
Her. Unprotected and swollen, the opening that was originally made
for one-way business only was again chosen as target.
Not a smooth wooden shaft, but the metallic coldness of the Winder
would arrange the next phase of the evening. The Grand Mistress was
the last who granted a slave any alleviation, but the sharpness of
the cylinders’ edges and the way Her new toy worked made
lubrication indispensable – unless She didn’t want to have fun with
Vanessa’s -living- body again. So the sadistic woman poured cool
gel over Vanessa’s mistreated rosette, then slipped a coated finger
up the slavegirl’s arse. The beautiful blonde sucked in air with a
hissing sound and involuntary clenched her anus. Adrenaline flooded
the inner core of her being and in former times she maybe had got
sexually aroused. But certainly not yet.
The Grand Mistress bend and twisted Her gloved finger inside the
hot tightness to make the preparation as invasive and unpleasant as
possible. Finally the finger left with a vulgar “Plop”.
She didn’t use two or more fingers because She didn’t want Her
victim to loosen up.
The Grand Mistress lubricated the heavy instrument thoroughly and
wiped Her hands with a towel.

“Make sure you have a good angle,” She told the camera slave next
to Her, then She put the Winder’s tip to Vanessa’s forbidden hole.
The first segment of the cold gadget wasn’t cylindrical but
cone-shaped for “easy entry”, and indeed the secret tunnel opened
up quite nicely.
Nevertheless Vanessa uttered a sound of pain as her waste chute
was quickly stretched to a width of four centimetres. Segment after
segment found its way into her body, and soon the Winder bottomed
out in her rectum, causing very severe cramping.
But the Grand Mistress continued to press with cruel zeal and the
intruder inevitably entered the loop of the colon sigmoideum.

Unlike during Kate’s ordeal, this time the invading object followed
more or less the organ’s natural form, but the cylinders worked
like a rasp, even lubricated. Their edges scratched the sensitive
tissue raw while stomping heavily through the tender entrails.
Vanessa whined loudly, her guts suffering an inner burning of
unknown fierceness. The volume and weight of the metal parts inside
her viscera created the sensation of an abnormal, hellish
constipation. And still the Grand Mistress was feeding more and
more into her bowls. The sodomised girl was being penetrated deeper
than ever as the phallic device conquered new territory. The
vehemence of her nausea was overwhelming and she vomited water and
bile. The mixture, bitter and clear, ran down her chin and dripped
hotly into the wounds of her chest.

The Italian’s colon descendes was brutally attacked, the Winder now
describing an “S”. In her body’s left side this torturous
instrument forced its way towards her rib cage.

Vanessa’s horrible screams were only interrupted by dry heaving.
Her bound lower legs waved like a mermaid’s fish tail, a most sexy
sight for the spectators.

Grand Mistress Gillian let Her slave struggle and listened to her
beautiful screaming-voice while finishing the intense invasion.
the terrible device was almost completely inserted into the
agonised girl, the rectal ring was tightly gripping the last
segment. The first element, however, was settled in Vanessa’s colon
transversum, the part of the intestines that ran from the right to
the left, directly under the diaphragm. That was DEEP.

The Grand Mistress relished the sight of the cramping,
sweat-covered blonde, so did Her audience. But there was so much
more to come.

“That was the easy part.”

She put a hand on the camera slave’s shoulder to make the obedient
girl kneel. On the video screens every detail of Vanessa’s stuffed
hole became visible.

“Please notice some interesting properties of this instrument,”
the Grand Mistress started to explain with a meaningful voice.

“The end of the last segment is designed as a hand wheel to operate
a little winch inside. This winch tightens the steel cable on which
the segments are lined up. When the cable runs out of its slack,
the segments are pressed to each other and align with a tolerance
to the sides of two millimetres. This way the Winder looses all its
flexibility and straightens out.”

Vanessa was in far too much pain to grasp the meaning of Grand
Mistress Gillian’s words, but the cheering spectators turned out to
be fans of innovative techniques.

“Though all the intestines are clenching around the Winder, there
is still a little mobility.”

She proofed it by twisting the end that stick out of the girl’s
rectum. It resisted like being trapped in hard rubber while Vanessa
emitted a high-pitched shriek.

“To give it some extra hold, spring-loaded spikes will pop up from
the last cylinder when I do this…”

The Grand Mistress actuated a lever near the hand wheel.
Thin, sharp spikes radially pierced Vanessa’s sphincter and engaged
the intruder into the stretched muscle rings.
A fresh scream, long and rough, hinted at the extreme pain that was
hitting the poor blonde.

“The spikes went in one and a half inches deep for stabilisation,
so one hand is enough for turning the hand wheel.”

Although the orifice was cruelly plugged up, some blood trickled

out and ran along the slave’s cleft towards her back.
The Grand Mistress caught a few drops of it with Her index finger
and wrote a red “3” onto the white, but bruised and cut skin at the
back of Vanessa’s left thigh.

“Three full turns of the wheel are needed to let the Winder become
fully erect.”

The picture of Vanessa’s tummy was sent to the left screen by a
standing colleague of the still kneeling camera slave.
The blood-writing was just for show, but served its purpose.
The crowd wanted more.

Grand Mistress Gillian turned the wheel for ninety degrees, just to
give Her victim a taste.
The sensation of the cylinders’ movement so deep inside Vanessa was
equal to getting her guts shredding by glowing razor blades.
It took long for her terrible screams to fade…

The Grand Mistress waited patiently till the blonde’s brain was
able to receive fresh impressions. Only then She gave Her slave the
full first turn and painted a short vertical line onto Vanessa’s
trembling right thigh.

The Italian’s belly was torn apart by cramps, directly sent from
deepest hell. Her abdomen seemed to implode, the strain in her
bowels never-ending. Vanessa uttered strange noises, her vocal
cords now completely damaged.

The first turn had thrown her into mind-splitting agonies which
were impossible to heighten; the second turn was ten times worse.

Even with an intact voice this sensation was “unscreamable”;
the suffering blonde couldn’t make it bearable by screaming the
pain out as the fierce agony paralysed her mind and lungs.
Inside her the diabolical instrument was shortening further,
dragging raw tissues with it.

The Grand Mistress draw a second bloody line parallel to the first
one and started slowly the final turn. Too fast, and Her charming
victim would end with burst entrails.

Viscera tore at their inner foundations creating severe twinges
which rapidly grew to extreme burnings. The Winder straightened out
almost all parts of Vanessa’s colon. It rearranged her stretched
intestines in worst ways, digestive organs were forced into places
and positions they never belong to or made for.
The savage tip pressed unbearably against the blonde’s diaphragm,
her breathing broke down almost completely. Under pain from the
outside she had always tried to imagine curling up deep inside her
core, but with this THING literally and proverbially sticking in
her innermost being, there was no refuge left from pain.
Her mind cracked and she wasn’t herself anymore.

Three red lines were clearly visible on her right thigh’s back.
The bloodthirsty crowd cheered frenetically.

“Slavegirl Vanessa versus The Winder!”

Grand Mistress Gillian loosened the knee strap from the Italian’s
collar and guided her still bound legs carefully down, making sure
not to rupture the raped entrails. It was one of Her cachet not to
unintentionally loose any victims under Her tortures. She checked
Vanessa’s respiration. It was flat but stable. Some drool ran from
the slave’s slightly opened mouth, her once beautiful face was
frozen to a dreadful mask of pain.
The blonde bitch’s eyes had glazed over and Grand Mistress Gillian
knew that She had made a good work.

SPITTING AMY

She had given the audience some five minutes to cool down again,
then the Grand Mistress demanded silence once more.

“For the Heaven’s Gate Exhibition’s Grand Finale we are glad to
welcome one of our most skilful friends. Back from Japan, the
homeland of erotic bondage and sexual perversions: Konichiwa,
Master Nathan!”

Respectful ovations.

Master Nathan entered the stage, followed by two slavegirls.
The first was a slavemaid holding some long devices, wrapped in
black velvet, in her right hand and a silver chain in her left.
The sparkling metal band ran to the expensive patent leather collar
of the other girl, the star of the forthcoming performance.

While their Master was welcomed by the Grand Mistress, this time
officially, the slavemaid placed her load on a marked spot on the
stage and let her fellow sink onto her knees. Then she unfasten the
gleaming collar and kneeled, too, but some metres away in the
background.

The Master spoke some dutiful words about His informative journey
into the mystic East, but was evidently endeavoured to start His
show.

So Grand Mistress Gillian ring in the next round.

“And who’s this lovely piece of tit-meat?”

This was the question He had waited for.

“Sweet Amy here would like to assist me in a little bonus
impalement.”

Looking at the two massively penetrated women still serving as
decoration, He added:

“But You have already set standards. I see You’ve given them what
they deserved.”

“No matter what they were given, they deserve worse. Every time
slaves scream ‘No!’ under torture, they deny their reason for
existence.”

“True words! But it’s unbelievable that both are still alive!
My heroines tend to die from their awful experiences, as, no doubt,
should yours.”

The Grand Mistress chatted with Master Nathan like during a walk in
the park while both headed for the kneeling Amy.

“I like them breathing and suffering.”

“Nevertheless I consider taking my victim ALL the way to be the
ultimate turn-on. Watching a sweet slavegirl giving herself up to
the horrors of death for her Master. Like Edgar Allan Poe wrote:

‘The death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most
poetical topic in the world.’

But beyond all this likings: what we wish to do to them we do, and
granting no mercy.”

“Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore!’,” the Grand Mistress cited.

Master Nathan kneeled next to His cute victim-to-be who had heard
Her Master’s statement but kept absolutely still. Amy was a truly
beautiful slave. Her face reminded of the young Cindy Crawford’s
one’s, but was more oval and fitted with slightly more massive
cheekbones. She had been told to empty and clean herself
thoroughly, so her hazel-coloured hair was still slightly wet and
appeared darker than it actually was.

The black-dressed man opened the velvety bundle and brought some
chrome-plated objects to light.

The first one was a broad metal collar that went firmly around
Amy’s slender neck.

“Spread your arms, horizontally.”

She obediently stretched her arms away from her tasty body, and the
Master fixed a one and a half metres long bar to them. Metal cuffs
were closed around both wrists and both upper arms near the elbows.
A lock in the middle of the bar was connected with no slack to the
back of Amy’s collar. Her shoulders, arms and neck were effectively
trapped now. In the glaring spotlights the chrome, contrasting with
her pale skin, seemed to be a sparkling liquid.

Master Nathan took a second bar and slid it between Amy’s closed
lower legs, so the far end was maybe thirty centimetres in front of
her on the ground. Around her ankles, then around the legs below
her knees He cuffed His slavegirl to the chrome rod.

“Forehead to the ground.”

Again she obeyed and her Master propped up her torso so she
wouldn’t fall over uncontrollably. With her head resting on the
cold floor, Amy heard the metallic click as the rod’s end was
fasten to her collar’s front. Finally two chains, one from each end
of the arms’ bar, were tighten and fixed to rings in the ground, so
the slavegirl couldn’t roll to a side.
Amy was in the ideal position: so helpless, so open.

Master Nathan motioned the Grand Mistress to inspect the slave’s
revealed advantages. Over the hairless slit of Amy’s womanhood
Grand Mistress Gillian discovered one of the smallest, cutest anal
openings She had seen. With its tightness and light shade of pink
it looked deliciously. No hole had ever appeared more virgin to Her
than this one.

“If I don’t know it better, I would tell she didn’t ever have a
bowel movement in her whole life. Are You sure this tiny hole is
even able to open up?”

“If not, we’ll help.”

The Master took the last bar from the floor and examined the
pointed tip. As the other bars were, this one was made of
chrome-plated steel with a round cross section of one inch in
diameter. But it was one metre long, had the sharp tip on one end
and no visible features disturbing its smoothness.

Amy seemed to have a rough idea about what she was in for, so the
Grand Mistress decided to play with her, just a little bit. Without
resting the sole of Her boot on the girl’s coccyx, She dipped Her
right heel some millimetres into nervously pulsating arsehole.
The wonderfully submissive slave cringed and shrieked, not knowing
what was touching her. The audience roared with laughter.

“Grand Mistress, please!” Master Nathan mocked.

She stepped back and pretended to sulk.

The Master went to one knee at the girl’s left side, so He didn’t
block the audience’s view. Holding the spit, and nothing else the
third bar was, with His right hand, He guided the sharp end to
Amy’s unprepared arsehole, teasing the sexy opening with the tip.
This elicited a breathed moan, and one last time the slave’s anus
got a pause while Master Nathan applied antiseptic lubricant to the
chrome surface. Then, carefully, but rather fast, He gave Amy the
first six centimetres of the spit. She gasped at the sudden
invasion, but reacted surprisingly calmly.

“Yes, that’s my good girl! Just stay relaxed.”

He leisurely let seven more centimetres of the bar glide into her,
and the tip reached the end of Amy’s rectal cavern.
The feeling of the metal sliding deeper and deeper made her sick
and, as the rod hit ground in her rectum, a hot pain flashed
through her abdomen.

“Oouuhh!”

The pointed tip scratched the tender tissues till it found enough
grip to settle and tear. The poor hazel-haired slave squealed even
more when she assessed the feeling in her guts.

“Please, Master, not deeper!”

But the spit went deeper. It mercilessly bore into the soft lining
of her rectum, stretching, then ripping.

“OOUUUHHHH! PLEASE, NO MORE!”

“Shhh, I know you can be a brave girl for your Master. Now don’t
scream any more, or I have to punish you afterwards.”

Then the tip broke through the rectal wall and reached the inner
package of Amy’s small intestine.

“AAAAAAAARRGGGGGHHHHH!”

She tried to wriggle away, but her metal bondage was awfully
effective and allowed just the slightest bit of movement.
Furthermore Master Nathan had grabbed the screaming slave, feeling
the tip inside her with His left hand on her belly, while guiding
the spit deeper and deeper with the other one. He incessantly
repositioned her body in details and making sure that she was
ruptured at the right places. He had to lead the thin pole along
her spine in a certain angle so the metal could be driven through
her whole body.

“Hold your chest a little bit lower, dear.”

The young woman in pain just rolled her head on the floor, giving
no sign that she had heard or understood her Master.

He addressed her with a strict voice:

“Amy, Do As I Said! You’ll cause yourself much unnecessary pain if
you obstruct a clean spitting. And you’ll shame me in front of all
these people. Do you want to do that?”

“Arghnn…”

“Do you want to shame your Master, Amy?”

“Nn…No, Mmmmas-terrr!”

The pain in her guts was horrible, like someone had cut open her
tummy and had stuffed her whole viscera in a mixer. But she wasn’t
yet in so severe agony to not obey her beloved owner. She just had
to try really hard. So Amy’s submissive mind forced her nearly
ruined body into a better angle for advanced slave-spitting.

The bar continued its fatal journey into unexplored depths,
multiply piercing the girl’s ileum and jejunum.

The chains rattled as the slave, now in real agony, fought
furiously against her bondage and her pain. But this outburst
didn’t last long. When her cramping anus swallowed the fortieth
centimetre and the spit had violated all parts of her entrails,
she wasn’t able to do any movement that wouldn’t tear her innards
completely. It was unbelievable that Amy had so much air in her
lungs, but when the metal bored through her colon transversum and
into her empty stomach, she started to howl and couldn’t stop for
minutes.

The terrible bar was now stuck too deep to be moved without
violence, and besides the spitting had reached a very tricky point.
Further penetration in a wrong angle could damage the diaphragm,
what would mean suffocation to Amy.

Once more the pulley was brought into action as it was positioned
right over the noisy slavegirl. The chains at the ends of the arms’
bar were detached from the rings in the ground and hooked to the
pulley. Master Nathan disconnected the legs’ bar from Amy’s collar,
then released her ankles and knees from their bondage. He put the
metal construction to the side, not binding the slave’s legs in any
other fashion.
The pulley started up, and Amy had to rise her upper body.
But when her abdomen changed its angle to her thighs during this
motion, cramps from vicious intensity stroke through her body. So
she despairingly held her practically useless legs in the same
position they had been during the first phase of her spitting.
Master Nathan, of course, had knew about this reaction and that He
didn’t have to tie Amy’s legs again. Since still half a metre of
the spit projected sexily from her rear, her bowels would be
leveraged by the impaling bar touching the ground. Because Amy’s
legs couldn’t avoid this contact, her Master would ensure adequate
substitute.
Saucily He grabbed His slender slave under her bottom cheeks and
lifted her lower body as the pulley raised her shoulders. Little by
little He lagged behind, more stabilising than lifting, until Amy
hung upright at the chains, the spit’s free end some inches above
the floor. In this very place a steel-reinforced drill hole was
located in the concrete.
Slowly, and very carefully, the bar’s end was inserted for about
ten centimetres into the ground. Amy’s body had to shifted somewhat
as the spit was now exactly vertical. Like the lifting the slave
endured this without too much screaming, but with her angled legs
still twitching. She was now in a grotesque and strangely distorted
crucifixion posture, facing the amused audience.
Master Nathan stepped in front of her.

“Grand Mistress, would You like to assist me?”

“Of course, as long as You don’t have an assistance like Amy’s in
mind for me.”

She went to Her friend and His panting and wincing slavegirl.

“Would You please stand behind her and hold the arms’ bar from the
underside?” He asked Her.

Grand Mistress Gillian got close to Amy’s sweat-covered body and
spread Her arms like the girl in front of Her. She supported the
bar with Her palms while Master Nathan detached the chains from
the ends.

“Yes! Just like that. A lot of her weight can be carried by the
spit inside her.”

Indeed Grand Mistress Gillian didn’t have any difficulties to hold
up the unlucky victim.

The Master gave a sign and the pulley moved away together with all
chains. He passed His hand over His musketeer beard and prepared
His next step in His mind.
Master Nathan put both His hands onto Amy’s upper belly, searching
and finding the spit’s tip. Still in her stomach; perfect!

“Now, please let her down. Slowly!”

The Grand Mistress just had to put less force to the bar, and Amy
glided down gracefully.

“Stop!…Further…further…”

The work of His sensing hands was being caught by one of the camera
slaves for the big screen. Again and again Master Nathan changed
His slave’s posture in details between and during the glides.

“Stop!…Now VERY SLOWLY further!”

Grand Mistress Gillian was about to feel ridiculous, but then She
felt the trembling of Amy increase dramatically. She slightly
pressed Herself against the slave’s body to absorb this powerful
sensation. The tip had touched the cardia, where the oesophagus
lead to the stomach – the only point where the spit could enter the
upper body without puncturing the diaphragm.
The pointed metal forced its way into the tight muscle tube, driven
by Amy’s own body weight. Once again an organ was brutally
stretched from its inside and straightened out by an instrument of
untold torment. The spit passed her pounding heart in a safe
distance, never leaving its natural passage. Amy felt the
unbearable pain rose higher and higher, a bursting, ripping pain in
the central axis of her thorax. Not only the intensity of the pain
was torturous. Though the Grand Mistress didn’t let her down very
fast, the agony’s source seemed to race towards her head. Amy tried
to scream out her pain and her desperation, but her throat hardened
in some kind of cramp. Instead she suddenly had the tremendous urge
to swallow, to swallow again and again.

With an expression of dismay and absolute disbelieve on her face
Amy bend her head backwards, her quivering lips parted. Her throat
seemed to swell, and then the spit’s bloody tip emerged from her
mouth.

The audience freaked out.

The slave slid further down until her bottom rested on the ground,
the spit jutting out ten centimetres from her mouth. Grand Mistress
Gillian, still standing behind her, kissed Amy onto her forehead.

Master Nathan took a moisten cloth and cleaned the tip thoroughly,
paying special attention that none of the breathing holes were
stuffed.
Still able to breathe and with most of her organs intact, the young
woman was being held at the edge of snuff. The spitting had caused
internal bleedings, but due to the seal of her virgin anus she was
sitting in just a small puddle of blood.
The experience of this ultimate arse fuck had left the victim in
some kind of shock; not accessible or being able any more to
respond to normal stimuli.

Grand Mistress Gillian was fascinated by this deepest penetration
possible.

“A new meaning for arse-to-mouth!”

For some reasons poor Amy couldn’t laugh about this joke at her
expense.

Now Master Nathan wanted to proof that His slave was still useful
after her ultimate arse fuck. From His arsenal He took a chrome
ball with a diameter of two inches and an inch-wide hole through
it. He sat the metal sphere onto the spit’s tip and it glided
perfectly along the shaft, right into Amy’s mouth. At least, it
glided into her mouth after her Master had forced her jaws open.
But then a metallic click was audible, and the chrome gag was
locked securely to the spit, filling Amy’s oral cavern most nicely.

“Spitted like this, with both ends of the spit fixed by muscle
structures, our lovely guest can’t rip herself to death anymore, no
matter how hard she struggles and strains.”

He gave a sign to His slavemaid and she approached holding a silver
tray she had prepared just a minute before. She kneeled next to her
master and presented Him the tray and the objects on it with both
outstretched arms. He ran His hands over Amy’s trembling breasts,
and despite all the sufferings her nipples got stiff. Master Nathan
took the heatproof gloves from the silver plate and put them on
while a camera slave caught the two other devices on the tray.
Dully glowing clamps lay on the mirroring surface. He took one in
each hand and simultaneously applied them to Amy’s nipples. A
hissing, first from cold sweat, then from branded skin filled the
microphones, immediately drowned out by the spitted slave’s barely
muffled screams. Her whole body vibrated on the metal pole in pain
impossible to bear. Almost half a minute Master Nathan let the
flesh of her tit-tips be eaten away by the heat before He took the
clamps off. Amy was out of her mind and continued screaming as the
agony dug into her globes. The Master waited till her frantic
thrashing subsided to hysterical sobs.

“I think she’s waked up now.”

He called His slavemaid, who had put away gloves, clamps and tray.

“Show the audience that you two are still friends though you’ve
prepared those nasty clamps. Give her a kiss!”

The slavemaid stepped to Amy and lowered her head, unsure how to
fulfil her Master’s order.

“With tongue, please!”

She started French kissing Amy, taking the spit’s tip deep into her
mouth until she reached the slowly dying girl’s metal-ball stretched
lips. The gag reflex was strong as the slavemaid deep-throated the
chrome pole.

Master Nathan smiled at this sexy scene. It was always enough time for a
little lezzie action.

“Okay, that’s enough, you two turtledoves.”

He sent His slavemaid away to kneel again in the background.
There was still something at Amy’s posture that didn’t please Him.
Her rump was fixed, as were her head and arms. But her legs…

Luckily Master Nathan had still some unused items. He buckled flat
metal straps around each of the slave’s big toes, then raised her
long legs, straightening them and forcing Amy literally to bend
double. She shrieked most miserably from this newly stressing of
her abdomen and the tearing sensation in her hamstrings. Finally
her feet came into view of her upturned face.
Again a metal click – and her feet’s bondage was locked to the tip
of the spit. Now the steel-gagged slave was folded in the middle,

her slender legs parallel to her maltreated body, toes seductively
pointed. Her whole weight was resting on her bottom and on the pole
through her arsehole.

Grand Mistress Gillian was curious about Amy’s extreme fixing.

“Can You turn her?”

“I don’t think so. But give it a try!”

With one hand She used the arms’ bar as a lever and pushed against
its end. Under intense screaming Amy started rotating around the
spit for some degrees. But her body offered surprisingly high
resistant due to the friction and sticking of her innards. The
Grand Mistress let go of the bar, and the tension in the slave’s
tissues turned her back.

“A quarter of a turn, and her entrails would rip…” Grand
Mistress Gillian considered. “But You said her other fidgets
wouldn’t speed up her dying?”

This question was just a peg to hang Master Nathan’s next
performance on.

“Exactly. And to proof this I would like to introduce a special
feature. As You…” He was addressing the spectators, “… can see
on the screen, the spit is locked in a metallic holding device.”

A camera slave hurried to make a close-up.

“But this isn’t just a holding device, but also a heating element.”

Whistles and cruel suggestions for the temperature cascaded from
the audience.

Master Nathan raised His arms in a placating gesture.

“No need to heat it up to some hundreds degrees like during a
classical burn-fuck. A temperature of 50°C touches the pain limit
on skin, so it already smarts in a tender back hole. But since our
Amy is a healthy young girl, I think 60°C are okay.”

He kneeled next to the spit and its charming load and adjusted the
heating element.

“Instead of being cooked to death in horrible minutes, she’ll
squirm nicely for hours and hours – if we let her.”

While waiting for the spit to heat up, Master Nathan took His last
item. With force, He let the flexible steel whip cut the air.

“Your punishment for screaming without permission is still pending.
I decide ten lashes to be suitable, and since your feet are in the
right height…”

He laid into both her soles with the dreadful instrument. Ghastly
pain erupted in Amy, strong enough to be suffered in her
agony-filled mind. She shrilly screeched into her cruel ball gag
and Her Master waited to let her relish the full effect of the
stroke. Only when her shrieks had subsided, He gave her the second
lash. This one, like all others to follow, opened a awful gash on
each of Amy’s tender soles. She pulled like mad at her bondage, the
metal bands around her toes cutting her flesh deeply. Again the
whip whistled through the air.

The audience counted boisterously, and as the “Ten” was reached,
blood was running freely from Amy’s slashed soles over her calves
and thighs.

Master Nathan, putting the bloody whip away, was glad that He had
gagged His pretty victim. Still she was crying earsplittingly.
Just to make sure she wouldn’t miss any of her torments, He set the
heating element to 70°C.

LOTTERY LUCK

Three impaled girls, all bleeding and suffering, were embellishing
the stage. The work of this final night was nearly done.
But one more part was ahead, and that was why Grand Mistress
Gillian couldn’t dismiss Master Nathan yet.

“I need You to hand over the prize to the winner of our lottery.”

He pretended ignorance:

“Oh, and what could this prize be?”

“The winner of this year’s Heaven’s Gate Lottery gets a free
session with Amy in our operation theatre!”

“Oh, and surely we have provided enough anaesthetics?”

“Ssss…, I fear, that’s the weak spot…”

Laughers from the spectators. Many of them had an obsession for
useless, but painful operations.

For the drawing of the winning lot’s number something special had
been prepared. A buxom, redheaded slavegirl entered the stage and
was led by the Grand Mistress to a spot in the middle. The
green-eyed female had been forced into an extreme corset, the
circumference of her waist now only twenty inches. Her full
breasts, bulging out over the edge of the black rubber, appeared
grotesquely huge. With her arms trapped up to the back-bend
shoulders in the cruel tightness of a mono-glove, they stuck out
even more. And they sagged. Not by their own weight, but by the
load hanging on the one-inch nipple rings. A big, flat,
half-transparent LCD-display was stretching the voluptuous slave’s
flesh. The outfit was completed by a huge, black-shining ball gag
with chrome studs. Someone had definitely dislocated her jaw to put
this torturous device in place.

Grand Mistress Gillian pushed the buxom beauty to her knees,
letting her face the audience.

“Lovely Lindsay here is eager to help me finding the winner. Soon
the numbers of all lots will run at random on this nicely carried
display. A special trigger will stop the counter, and the lucky
girl or boy with the corresponded lot will get the chance to rescue
Amy and to become her heroine or hero.”

She pointed at the squirming carcass. Amy was now fully suffering
the stinging pain of the hot spit running through her whole body.
Though the metal wasn’t hot enough to actually burn her innards, it
was hot enough to damage the sticking tissues and to send the
crazed slave into slow agony. And there was just one possibility to
escape her multiple torments from spitting, branding, whipping and
heating…

The special trigger Grand Mistress Gillian had mentioned was
integrated into Lindsay’s stiff fetish corset. A battery, two
electrodes and a sensor which could detect amperage were molten

into the rubber. The Grand Mistress reached between the kneeling
Lindsay’s legs and connected a thin, short steel cable to the
slave’s clitoris ring. The tightened cable was linked up with an
electric source hidden in the ground directly under the
spike-gagged slave, setting the girl’s body under a not too high
voltage. Since Lindsay knelt on concrete, she was insulated, and no
current flew through her body back into the ground. The battery in
her corset worked with exactly the same voltage as the source in
the ground, 10 volts. The two electrodes, anode and cathode, were
pressed onto Lindsay’s skin at different places, with no contact to
each other but the slave’s body itself. The anode was directly
connected to the battery’s (technical) negative pole by wire, the
cathode’s wire ran first through the sensor, then to the battery’s
positive pole. As long as the green-eyed girl was connected to the
cable, a harmless current of some milliamperes ran from clit to the
corset’s anode and to the battery’s “-“-pole, but not between the
battery’s “+”-pole and cathode due to the equal voltage level on
both sides. If the body-voltage vanished by removing the
clit-cable, this equality would disappear. The cathode would led a
current into the body, through the anode and to the negative
battery pole. This current could be detected by the sensor between
battery and cathode and formed into a trigger signal for the
counter.

That was the theory; the reality would be far more bloody…

Although Lindsay pressed her thighs to her calves to ease the

strain on her clitoris, the steel cable was tight and without any

slack. Her shaven pussy wasn’t more than twelve centimetres away

from the floor.

The Grand Mistress turned on the display and started the counter.
Numbers in an opaque colour flashed over the plane surface,
transmitted to the video screens by the camera slaves.
As smart the circuitry for the trigger was, as simple was the item
for motivating the busty slave to cooperate. Grand Mistress Gillian
pushed a burning tea candle between Lindsay’s legs.

The slave gave a lasting howl through her permanently gagged mouth
as the cruel little flame licked her labia like a true lover.
Instinctively she tried to rise, but the steel cable didn’t let her
clitoris ring go. Pain raced through her nerve-rich flesh, but she
had no choice: the fire burned Lindsay’s already blistering vulva
without mercy, sending the redhead into terrible agony. Again, now
in blinding panic, she tensed her leg’s muscles. She rose some
centimetres, her clit-hole not tearing, just widening. But that
wasn’t nearly enough to escape the greedy heat. Lindsay fell back,
her luscious arse again at her heels. She screamed louder than
ever, then tightened the muscles of her thighs and took a leap
straight upwards. Her final shriek even outdid her last one as
Lindsay landed on her left side and writhed on the ground in agony,
blood pouring from the mutilated organ between her clenched legs.
The heavy display scratched over the floor, the steel cable, with
clitoris ring and shreds of flesh, lay where the crying girl had
kneeled.

Grand Mistress Gillian twisted Her hand into the red hair of the
bleeding slave and dragged her into a kneeling position again.

Most luckily for Lindsay, the display was still intact.

“We have a winner! May the owner of the lot with the number ‘073’
please enter the stage to accept Her or His prize!”

The spectators did what they had done the whole night long:
They cheered and whistled.

A Master in His late forties, dressed in casual black, found His
way onto the stage, troubled not to step into the bloody trail
Lindsay created as she was led away by a slavemaid.
The winner gave Grand Mistress Gillian a kiss on Her hand, then let
Master Nathan show Him His prize up close.

For poor Amy, there were good news and bad news.
The good news were that her winner was a former surgeon.
The bad news were that He was highly addicted to morphine.
The good news were that He had just consumed the right dose to have
a steady hand.
The very bad news were that He was in the mood for slicing
girl-meat with a scalpel.

AFTERMATH

Vanessa, who was at this time still tasting hell’s torments, but
again owner of her senses, noticed Amy being taken away to her
rendezvous with the Doctor.

“That could have been me…” flashed through her shattered brain.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since then as she heard
the voice of Inferior Mistress Zo?

“This could hurt…” She said and started to remove the Winder.

And it Did hurt…

It took them over half an hour to pull Kate’s barely living body
from the pole, not using the barbed wire any more. The Grand
Mistress had supervised the de-impaling of both Kate and Vanessa,
but seeing that She had trained Her team well, She had left after
ten minutes to the operation theatre. As a member of the Inner
Circle She owned the privilege to witness the good Doctor’s work.

The operation theatre was a re-build of one of those old anatomical
lecture halls, where in former times the students of medicine
watched the professor from concentric terraces. Now these places
were being filled by the Mistresses and Masters of the Inner Circle
and down in the middle a huskily screaming Amy lay on a surgical
table. Two guests had volunteered to assist the Doctor. One of them
was heating up the spit with a soldering lamp to cauterise the
uncounted wounds inside the girl’s body. The slave rewarded him for
this selfless effort with a cascade of cries.
Then the Doctor Himself entered the theatre, holding His gloved,
sterilised hands up shoulder high to avoid contact with any unclean
objects. His moth, nose and hair were covered, just like in His old
days as a surgeon. Not that sterility was necessary today;
His sexy patient surely wasn’t going to die of an infection.

For the first twenty minutes Amy held out bravely, strapped to the
cold steel table. A spider gag replacing the chrome ball allowed
her hoarse voice to blossom as the spit was professionally and most
carefully removed. But the following vivisection that she was also
forced to endure without the mercy of anaesthesia…let’s say that
neither the procedure nor the result would ever be found in a
medical handbook…

After receiving rudimentary medical attention from someone more
caring than the good Doctor, Vanessa and Kate were more dragged
than walked to the black van. Michelle was already lying inside the
car, being unconscious or sleeping. She was still bridled and
bit-gagged, her hands bound with hinged police handcuffs, palms
facing outwards. The Novice headed towards the driver’s door.
Inferior Mistress Zo?nd the Whip Mistress stuffed Kate’s and
Vanessa’s bleeding arses with lubricated plugs and their sobbing
mouths with standard two inch ball gags. Finally the pain-weakened
slavegirls were put into simple hogties and fitted with leather
hoods. Both blondes were laid onto their beaten bellies into the
Viano, and again Kate was suffering harder due to her broken ribs.

They had arrived in this storehouse the first time eight hours ago,
but it had been an eternity for Vanessa. As the van left the old
building the sun was rising in an unnatural red.

Before in some hours most of the torture equipment would be
dismantled by workers and sent to their owners, the Heaven’s Gate
Exhibition ended with sexual excesses among Mistresses, Masters and
remaining slaves. This orgy was a mirror for the last days’
perversions but not bound to any organisational limits. And in this
boundless blast of pain and hard sex Grand Mistress Gillian finally
allowed Master Nathan to rape Her with His tongue to an incredible
orgasm.

EPILOGUE

Torture instruments, unnameable for normal human being, filled the
dimly lit room. The air was cool but humid with sweat of fear.
Vanessa was standing naked in the middle, hands clasped behind her
head, the Grand Mistress encircling her with a cruel look in Her
eyes. The Italian’s beautiful body still showed the brutal traces
of her ordeals at the Heaven’s Gate Exhibition.

“You may speak, slave.”

“Grand Mistress, this slavegirl knows that it will most likely face
additional, well-deserved tortures for its question, but what did
Grand Mistress say to the two police men?”

Grand Mistress Gillian smiled wickedly while She pulled a red hot
poker from the nearby brazier.

“Bend over and grab your ankles. I’ll work over your pussy and
arsehole with this until it’s cooled down, then I’ll tell you.
Stay conscious, and you will know…”

END

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

Mercedes-Benz of Germany

Jaguar Cars Limited Coventry

Quotation: E. A. Poe: THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMPOSITION, 1846
E. A. Poe: THE RAVEN, 1845

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