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A DISCLAIMER
I would like to point out that this story is not BDSM and as such should not be associated with it. Role play and submission are fun and natural ways to express sexuality among consenting adults, and it is certainly not about torture and suffering. I have the utmost respect for the BDSM community, and I am grateful for the opportunity to publish on this highly trafficked site. Please take this story as the work of a lonely, angry man, and not the work of a representative of the BDSM community in anyway.
THE PROLOGUE
Jessica's head was throbbing. She didn't know where she was, or how she got there. The last thing she remembered was driving with her three best girlfriends in her jeep to the beach, excited to celebrate their high school graduation. It was going to be beer and boys for a whole week. They were all so excited, they were already in their bathing suits, drinking the whole ride over.
She shuddered as memories came back to her. It was dark, they were drunk, and they had turned off the main roads. There was a crash. A truck. Someone was there. Someone took them...
Her reverie was interrupted by a cry of pain emanating from some other part of the unfamiliar building. When she instinctively tried to move, she realized she was tied up. Thin wire cut her wrists as she struggled against them. She tried to get up but pain shot up her leg with the slightest move. Maybe it was broken. She couldn't tell. Her head continued to throb.
Again the scream. Jessica froze in fear. She recognized the voice. It was Christine.
CHAPTER ONE
The skinny, auburn haired teenager was strapped to a rusty chair in a dingy room deep within the old warehouse. She had various bruises and cuts from the crash, including a broken nose which left dried blood running down her face.
But the real danger wasn't from the injuries from the accident. The real danger came from the dozens of C-clamps attached to every part of her body: fingers, joints, breasts, ribcage, temples. She tried to move her head but it was strapped to the back of the tall chair. Her mouth gagged with a thin strap of cloth, possibly from her skimpy white t-shirt that hung onto her in tatters. A pair of skimpy, skin tight shorts was the only other article of clothing she was wearing.
Her toned limbs struggled against her bonds, but she was strapped into the rusty chair by numerous metal cuffs. She shivered in the dark cold, but it was more from fear than from the low temperature.
When she heard footsteps she froze. Tuhk. Tuhk. Tuhk. The steps were slow and echoed along the crumbling stone walls of the building. Slowly they grew louder. They approached the open door to Christine's room. She froze, terrified.
A dark figure stood in the doorway, his features obscured by the darkness. He was huge, almost inhuman in his height and mass. Over seven feet and a chest the size of a refrigerator. He moved closer to the nearly naked teenager bound and helpless in the chair. Slowly he entered the light emanating from the dim bulb hanging in the center of the small, windowless room. Christine cried as he looked upon her through a hideous mask of rusted iron and metal. She couldn't see his eyes, but she heard is deep, harsh voice.
"Hello, Christine."
Christine screamed.
CHAPTER TWO
Nikki couldn't bear the feeling of helplessness as she lay tied up in the dark. When she heard Christine's screams she knew she had to move, but her wrists and elbows were tied behind her back with sharp twine that cut into her if she moved too much. At least her legs were free. The problem was that in the near pitch black darkness she didn't know where to go.
Wherever she was it was not a very hygienic place. The room must have been filled with old food; it smelled of sour milk and rotting cheese. She took only shallow breaths to prevent herself from gagging.
And then she heard the rats. There was no mistaking the pitter patter of their feet or their squeaks in the darkness. Nikki was terrified of rats.
A rat brushed by her foot and Nikki screeched. She curled to a ball but nothing she could do would protect her. Barefoot and scantily clad in a string bikini, she was almost completely exposed to their sharp teeth and claws.
Another rat touched her, this time with its claws as it scratched the bottom of her foot. Nikki screeched again and kicked her feet. Then she gasped in pain as she felt more of the wire cut into her arms. She would have to be more careful about moving.
Oh God why is this happening, thought Nikki. She wondered where her friends were. Are they doing any better?
CHAPTER THREE
"Please, please, don't hurt me. Oh God, please..." Christine blubbered as the monster of a man loosened the cloth that formed her gag. "What, what do you want?"
"I want to make you realize your vanity. I want you to decide what's more important, beauty, or life itself?" The man reached to his right and flipped a switch on the equipment near Christine. The hum of an air compressor came to life.
Suddenly moment Christine felt the clamp on her temples tighten, alarming her that her skull was being crushed.
"AAhhhhhh make it stop make it stop!"
"The compressor will crush your head in a few minutes, but you have the power to stop it."
"How? I want it to stop now!"
"You need to press down on this switch." The man held a small device that connected to the equipment through an electrical wire. The switch was simple: squeeze it and you could hear a click. At that moment the equipment beeped in acknowledgement, and Christine could feel the pressure on her temples release.
"Now," he continued, "for the next three minutes you won't have to worry about the pressure on your temples. But soon the pressure will return and you will need to press down on the switch again. But this next time, you will feel the pressure elsewhere on your body." He ran a large, gloved finger over the clamps that gripped her own fingers.
"So you will have to chose. Your beauty," he spoke as he ran a gloved finger over the clamps on her feet and toes, "or your life."
Just then the compressor clicked back to life and Christine felt the pressure on her temples return.
"Please don't make me do this. Please, please, oh no please no..." He stared impassionate at her through the mask as she openly sobbed, and he waited until panic set in.
"OH GOD I DON'T WANT TO DIE. PRESS IT. I'll do anything please make it stop."
"Only you have the power to choose, Christine," he gripped her right ankle and inserted the pivot switch under her bound foot, making sure to latch it onto the ground so she couldn't inadvertently push it away.
In a panic she pressed down on the switch. The familiar click sound could be heard and the equipment hummed in a different tone, indicating it was shifting pressure elsewhere. Immediately Christine felt relief from the pressure on her temples, but slowly realized that her right pinky was throbbing. A small red light flashed atop the clamp on her dainty finger, indicating the machine was initiating its ruthless program. Slowly and slowly the pressure on it built; the clamp squeezing tighter and tighter on her finger. She stared at the monster in astonishment.
"You are going to have to make many choices in the next hour, dear Christine."
The man exited the room, closing the iron door behind him, leaving Christine alone with the machine. She tried to stay calm amidst the escalating pain in her hand, but when the bones in her pinky splintered and blood and tissue oozed out of the sides on the clamp, she let loose a violent scream. Then the compressor clicked again, ceasing its attack on her pinky and returning to her temples. She wept as she agonized over pressing the switch to save herself.
She clenched her jaw and triggering the switch once again. Her left index finger, beautifully manicured and perfectly slender, began to throb.
More of the story will be published next week.
Annalisa
- 22.12.2021
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