Resurrection free porn video

RESURRECTION

PART ONE

BY

WALLACE

(WARNING: This story contains depictions of torture and breathplay, violence and strong language.)

Another year, another rat hole. Ten years ago it had been East End rat holes,two books and a kidnapping, a death and a lot of water under a lot of bridgesand some things had changed, I was a fair bit richer, most certainly not anywiser and much lonelier but here I was, back in the rat holes again.

New York rat holes admittedly, but rat holes all the same.

"Don't walk through Central Park!!" They said,

"But Rudy sorted that all out!" I said, staring out of the hotel window ontobare trees, lush greens and chilly looking water

"Yeah, like Ken sorted out the buses in London!" They said.

But I walked through the darkened park all the same and got to my destinationcompletely unmolested. Cold but unmolested. If London freezes in winter thenNew York experiences a new Ice Age

Hands thrust deep in pockets I found what I was looking for fairly quicklybecause I'd been there earlier in the day.

It must have been the last warehouse in the city. Well, the last one notto be turned into loft apartments anyway. Dark and nondescript, in an anonymousavenue that was a little more downtown than I would have liked. Metal shutterscovering what was once a loading bay, dirty windows seeing nothing. I pushedat the door in the dark alley that I'd found earlier and it opened easily enough.

Inside it smelt damp and musty. There wasn't litter on the floor but it wasn'texactly freshly cleaned either. In the background there was the vague cooingsound of young pigeons and if you breathed in hard the accompanying smell wasthere too

The place could have been deserted but I knew it wasn't. I started towardthe stairs but saw a movement out of my left eye. A man. A large black man,slightly the wrong side of middle age with a shaven head, coming out of theshadows at me. I stopped. As he got close I could see he was wearing a securityguard's uniform. One thing I knew about security guards in the States was thatthey carried guns. He stared at me.

"Hi!" I said, "I'm just…"

He didn't let me say anymore. He raised a hand, thumb pointing upward andthen his face relaxed into a hooded smile.

"S'okay! Up the stairs, first door to the right and mind the top step!"

I smiled at him. Two days ago I would have been surprised but not any more.The minute they heard that accent, the minute they picked you out as a Brit,the reaction was always the same. You weren't a threat any more; you were… youwere an Englishman in New York. As much a danger to them as Quentin Crisp wouldhave been to Mike Tyson.

The stairs were as dark and gloomy as the rest of the place, I didn't actuallysee or even feel any cobwebs but you somehow knew they had to be there. I mindedthe top step and trod carefully onto a landing that seemed cleaner, less gloomyand more used somehow. There were noises coming from where the man had toldme to go. Strange noises. Noises like a computer makes. And voices. The firstwas clearly female and seemed to be more narrating than just talking and thena man's, low and almost wheedling. I stopped and listened

"That's it honey, that's it! No! NO! Breathe out on the cane stroke. I'lltake the gag out to make it easier. That better? Now breathe out! Good girl.Good girl! Now look at me. Look at me! You wanna another stroke of the canesweetheart? Or d'you want me to give it to your friend? S'up to you. It's verydemocratic here. You can't take it; your friend'll take it for you. Speak uphoney, I can't hear you. You wannanother stroke? Nod your head! That's good.That's very good…"

There was silence for a few moments and then a swish and the unmistakeablesound of bamboo impacting on flesh. That in itself wasn't particularly unnervingto me but I wasn't prepared for the scream that followed. The high-pitched,pain wracked scream followed by a series of uncontrollable sobs that seemedto turn my guts to water.

I didn't recognise the voice but I did recognise the fear, the pain and theanguish in that agonised squeal. The anger that had been simmering away insideme for what seemed like years suddenly came to the boil.

I took a deep breath, trying not to let it rasp in and out of my nose, tryingto do what the girl, because, undoubtedly, it WAS a girl, had been told andtried to breathe out the pain and the anger. I knew that the chances of itworking were slim. I pushed at the door and it opened smoothly

I stepped through, out of darkness and into light. The bright lights usedfor filming. There was a kind of stage off to my right and flashguns were poppingin all directions. Also on the right, but back against the near brick wallwas a fairly impressive control desk manned by a no less impressive girl withlong black hair, black biker boots and an all in one kind of jump suit in scarletPVC consisting of shorts and a short sleeved top which incorporated a zipperwhich was currently well below her ample and fairly obviously bare breasts.

It was a big room and there were maybe twenty people in it. Suddenly self-consciousI stayed where I was and she acknowledged me with a slight nod of the head.Hers was the narrating voice. Hers, as I knew from earlier, was the acceptableface of this place.

The man on the make shift stage was younger than me by roughly 10 years andtaller by about five inches. He had the slight stoop of someone who found himselftoo big for everything, even in America. His hair was dark, he had a widow'speak and he was dressed all in black but then so was I, but his black saidsomething that mine didn't.

He was crouching next to a girl who was lying naked on a table, on his knees,no more than a few inches away from her, was a man with a video camera. Shewas young this girl, maybe 20, maybe 25 at a push and she was in a very stricthogtie. A hogtie so strict that her back was arched. A hogtie that didn't justinvolve the welding together with rope of her ankles and wrists but also includedher toes and her hair.

I could appreciate the simplicity and the ingenuity with which it had beendone and I suspected, from the other people gathered round the small tableau,that the man in black had not been the only person involved.

Off to his right and out of shot of the camera stood a shorter, fatter manin jeans and an oxford shirt and even further in the background stood a tallerwoman dressed in black jeans and a black vest that showed off both her tanand her muscular torso. She had the biggest breasts I had ever seen in reallife and a shock of platinum blonde hair. But what she and her fat friend werewas quite obvious. They were the riggers

They were the people who did a lot of the off screen tying and who to somedegree set up the shots. They did it because they were good and because theydidn't always have the charisma of the front man who could still tie a knotbut was probably involved in a lot of other things as well.

There was no doubt that the scene I was watching was intense. The girl wasyoung and I guessed that she was relatively inexperienced. She had a coupleof tattoos, one on her right upper arm in a barbed wire design and the almostinevitable inked chain on her left ankle. Her nipples were pierced and so,apparently, were her labia. Her fingers and her toenails were painted shinyblack.

Her wrists were attached to her ankles with the coarse hemp rope that wascurrently in vogue, which had been popularised by the Internet and the riseof Shibari bondage. I preferred soft white cotton rope myself but it had itsdrawbacks. The same hemp rope had been wound around and around each breastin a figure of eight configuration to make them stand out purple and plumpand oh, so sensitive.

Around her big toes were strips of rawhide that had been plaited togetherand woven into her long dark hair to tighten her obviously supple body intoa taut arch. The same type of rawhide strips had also been used to fasten herlabial rings to the back edge of the table and hold them for what they were,two flaps of skin, away from her body.

Her nipple rings were fastened in exactly the same way to the front of thetable.

She was in probably the most immobile and most uncomfortable position I hadever seen anybody endure and yet she was here of her own free will. The tallman was crouching beside her stroking her forehead, whispering to her and thenhe stood up picked up the cane from the table and began to beat it lightlyagainst her wide open vagina.

It wasn't hard but fear played a part in this. Fear of what it MIGHT feellike, of what it MIGHT do to her.

I knew he was experienced; this man in black, this undoubtedly confidentand charismatic man, but what he did just wasn't for me. I wasn't into thiskind of bondage and humiliation and pain and risk taking.

The girl's squeals were becoming more and more agonised and as he beat againsther most sensitive part tears were starting to brim up over her eyelids andrun down her cheeks, taking her eyeliner with them.

Embarrassed for her I looked around the room again and noticed for the firsttime that, contrary to my expectations, the split between men and women wasalmost exactly equal.

The man on the stage had now moved to the right of the girl, his hand nowgently touching the top of her bound and discoloured breasts. In his otherhand he held a large but soft looking red dildo.

He stooped lower to whisper in her ear.

"After pain you get pleasure Honey!" He held the dildo in front of her andit was obvious that it was already slick with lubricant. He bent lower andstroked her cheek.

"How d'you like this in your cunt huh? How d'you like to feel this slidingin an' out of that soaking wet pussy? Huh?"

At the obscenity the girl closed her eyes and moaned slightly and then didher best to nod and as she did so another tear slid wetly down her cheek. Theman stroked her head.

"What's up Honey? Cat got your tongue?"

For the first time I noticed that her tongue was pierced and that aroundthat piercing was a thin strip of rawhide that was attached to the front ofthe table. So not only had she been gagged but her tongue had been held immobileas well and just for good measure her mouth was held open by a dental clamp.A ratcheted dental clamp, the kind dentists used to use to keep their patient'smouths wide open when they were under anaesthetic.

It was the first time I had seen anyone in such a predicament. I'd tied Sheilaup in some pretty strange ways in the past and The Bishop had taught me a lotabout the restraining of willing, young and not so young women, but this, atthe risk of sounding like some kind of Victorian prude, was almost beyond mycomprehension.

She was naked and vulnerable in front people of both sexes and she was beingfilmed.

She was bound at the wrists and at the ankles. Her breasts were bound andher nipples, pierced and straining, were tied to the front of the table onwhich she lay none too comfortably, whilst her labial rings were tied in asimilar way to the rear of the table. Her bare toes were tied together andattached to her hair, pulling her back in an arch. Her tongue was being pulledand held out of her mouth by a length of rawhide and her mouth was held obscenelyopen by the dental clamp.

The man whispered once more,

"I said, "What's up honey? Cat got your tongue?"

She tried. She really tried to speak. But with her head held rigid and virtuallyany movement impossible without pain of some kind, all she could do was makeguttural sounds at the back of her throat.

I was appalled but it didn't stop me having the biggest erection that I couldremember probably since I was in my teens. My stomach fluttered and I justknew my pulse was starting to race. I watched now because I simply couldn'tlook away.

His voice was low and seductive when he whispered to her again.

"I want you to get fucked honey, I really do, but there has to be a quidpro quo. You know what that means?" All she could do was make little questioning "uhhuh" noises at the back of her throat, but the obvious fear in her eyes suggestedthat she didn't understand. That would soon change.

His face ever closer to hers. That voice so low it was almost inaudible

"See, a quid pro quo means that if I'm gonna do something for you, then yougotta do something for me. Understand?"

He was lightly stroking her bare back. He had put the dildo down earlierand his free hand had travelled all over her body, Touching her bare toes,Caressing her bound breasts, Soothing itself against her shaved crotch.

The girl did her best to nod and made a pathetic mewing noise as she didit so great was the pain that she was inflicting on herself. He patted herhead.

"Good girl! Good girl!"

And then he was crouching right in front of her and for that moment therecould have been just the two of them in that room. He stroked her cheek

"Okay, sweetheart. Now in return for me letting you have the Dildo I wantyou to take two strokes of the cane on your tits for me. Understand?"

Staring at him, her eyes big and liquid with tears she was silent for a momentand then, still looking up at him as best she could, like a trusting pet, shecroaked out a hesitant,

"Uh huh!"

From the back of what must by now have been a very dry throat. He kissedher on the cheek and stood up, cane in hand.

"Good girl. Good girl."

I looked away momentarily and when I looked back the cane was already laidacross her breasts and he was raising and lowering it, taking aim, lining himselfup for the perfect shot. "Don't look at me!" He commanded, "Look straight ahead.Look straight ahead!"

She did as she was told and looked straight in front of her, at the cameramanon his knees filming every second of this. It wasn't my imagination. She wastrembling.

"Look straight in front of you honey!" The swish of the cane turned my legsto jelly. He had raised it as far above his head as he could and bought itdown so hard her breasts wobbled with the impact. She screamed out loud whilstI screamed inwardly and he stood beside her impassively. The pain in thosebound and sensitive breasts must have been enormous.

She sobbed. She sobbed in a way that wrenched at my stomach but already hewas setting up his second shot. Tapping the cane against those tortured purplebreasts. Tapping it exactly on the site of the previous stroke. Exactly onthe thin angry red line that was already beginning to form there.

There was absolutely no pitch or resonance in his voice when he spoke. Itwas a dull monotone.

"Second stroke, honey!"

Now she broke down

She shook her head as best she could. She didn't look at him because shehad had been told not to but she shook her head and cried and cried and criedand eventually the single word," No" forced itself out of her throat.

The platinum haired woman was beside her in a second, stroking her hair,whispering in her ear, stroking her back. Comforting her. Calming her. Soothingher. Her tormentor studied her and for a second there was almost a look ofimpatience on his face and then it became impassive once more.

"Okay honey, okay. You know what I said earlier? You don't want the stroke;I'll get someone else to take it for you. Would you like that honey?" She noddedthrough the tears, nodded as if her very life depended on it. Even now theplatinum haired woman was trying to brush the tears away with her fingers andthe tall man was walking away. Walking away to the back of the set where aman and a woman, both dressed in black, were manhandling something. Somethingthat moved a lot easier with his help.

It became obvious what it was as it came into the full glare of the studiolighting. It was an ornate wooden chair. It looked like a throne that couldhave come from the back lot of a studio. Mainly wood but seat and back coveredin red velvet. From the arms and legs protruded large heavy looking cast ironmanacles and fetters joined by thick black bars.

Now that the chair was in position the man was already busy with somethingelse. Off to the left was a slim wooden cabinet about the size of a grandfatherclock only this had no face, just two doors held firm by a large padlock. Heopened the padlock with a key and laid it on the floor, he then reached inside.

"Okay Honey, you can come out now."

Guided by him and stumbling into the glare came a creature with the shapeof a woman. It had to be a woman because she was naked and she had small butobvious breasts, shapely hips and a prominent, shaven, mons veneris. Her anklesand wrists were joined together with the tough stainless steel manacles thatthey use to transport prisoners in the States.

So not only were her ankles cuffed together and her hands cuffed togetherin front of her but both sets of cuffs were joined together by lengths of steelchain so that all she could do at best was hobble and the chances of her gettingaway were even less likely because on her head and held tightly in place bya posture collar that must have been at least nine inches wide, was a thickblack rigid mask that covered her entire head leaving her effectively blind,deaf and dumb.

I knew then.

I knew but it didn't fully enter what I suppose was my still confused mind.

It was only when he had unfastened the posture collar, removed the frontportion of the fibreglass helmet revealing vaguely feminine features coveredby a blindfold and a harness gag and only when he had taken out the earplugs,loosened the harness gag and asked,

"What's your name baby?" And a voice, an English voice, and a voice thatI had known for what seemed like an eternity said,

"My name is Sheila."

That the full realisation of what I was about to watch began to truly sinkin

*

She hated being woken up. Her sleep was fragile at the best of times andthe persistent knocking was annoying her. She was already standing up, marshallingsore limbs, when it occurred to her to ask who the hell it was. Her mouth wasdry and probably smelt like it tasted.

"Room service!" Was the reply. A heavily New York accented female voice thatbought images of Jennifer Lopez into her mind. She grabbed the nearest thingsshe could find, tracksuit bottoms and a tee shirt.

It was only after she had opened the door that she realised she'd just fallenfor the oldest trick in the book.

She didn't even see them. Something was thrown in her face and a shove senther reeling back into the room. Unbalanced she fell on one knee. Somethingwas already being pulled over her head. Something that smelt strongly of leatherand then her arms were pinioned behind her back and something thin placed roundher wrists was being pulled tighter and tighter until they were pinned closelytogether.

Suddenly she realised the predicament she was in. Suddenly she realised thatshe was terrified and as she tried to scream something was being stuffed roughlyinto her mouth stifling her, making her gag against the soft material.

The tape was inevitable. It clung to the sides of her mouth and snagged herhair before the hood was pulled down and sealed around her neck with a tight,high collar. She tried to kick but her feet were bare and her ankles were soonjoined in the way her wrists had been.

Her pulse was pounding in her ears as she felt herself being lifted up atshoulders and ankles and dropped none too gently onto the bed. There was amoment of quiet, a moment of relative peace when she could have been anywhereother than a New York hotel room and then someone spoke.

Someone spoke and in one moment she felt the highs and lows of exquisiterelief and searing anger. Her fists clenched and her toes tightened and tearswelled up in her eyes as a familiar voice said,

"Come on! Get her kecks down and let's have a look at her arse!"

She wriggled as she felt hands at the waistband of her bottoms. She triedto mumble something through what she guessed must be the underwear in her mouthand then she thought better of it. Knowing whom she was dealing with, she decidednot to even give them the satisfaction of struggling. Her time would come.

She felt her trousers being pulled down and then she heard a sharp intakeof breath from what must have been the other person in the room

"Christ!"

And then the other more familiar voice again.

"Let's have a look…. Fuck me!"

"That must be really sore. The last time I saw bruises like that was whenI did a couple of episodes of Casualty and they weren't even real."

" Help me turn her over, I wanna see her fanny and her tits!"

Now she did struggle.

Now she knew what they were looking for and what they would find, she struggledas if her life depended on it. She kicked out and felt her feet drive intosomething soft and heard a muffled noise suggestive of pain. She tried to lashout with her pinioned arms but then a hand caught her collar and pressed itselfagainst her windpipe and another fastened itself over her mouth. She couldfeel a face close to hers and heard that all too familiar voice rasping inher ear, making her flesh crawl and her spine tingle, despite herself.

"Now do yourself a favour and stop it or I'll cut your air supply all togetherand we'll do this while you're out and don't worry about brain damage 'cosyour brain couldn't possibly be more damaged than it already is! Are you allright Liz? I would come and help but my hands are full at the moment."

Despite the blinding hood, in her mind was a clear picture of Liz Fisherrising, picking herself up from the floor and clutching at her stomach. Thenshe felt the bed sag as someone sat next to her. But even now her ears werestarting to ring and she wanted to breathe and she tried to but her windpipewas too restricted.

A while ago, a long, long time ago or so it seemed, she would have been scared.She tried to suck in air once more and nothing happened. Her arms and legswere moving but not of her own volition. She could feel the rush. Helplessand powerless, almost totally under someone else's control. She could hearsounds; one moment they were very, very, close and then suddenly far, far,away

Involuntarily, she tried to breathe again but still nothing happened. Herchest seemed to be on fire. Her toes and fingers throbbed. She could feel everypart of her body. The aches, the pains, the bruises and the burns, the puncturesand the wheals. And then she could feel nothing. Nothing apart from the suddengush of wetness between her legs and the explosions of a thousand stars beforeher sightless eyes.

She only vaguely heard the slap that that cracked across Linda's face, butshe felt her hands let go immediately afterwards.

She could hear but not see the surprise and pain in both their voices.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!"

"Bollocks! That hurt!"

"You were doing it again Linda. Your eyes had gone. You were somewhere else," Liz'svoice lowered, "Don't know where you were but I can guess and it frightensme Linda, it really frightens me… because one day I might not be ableto stop you." She paused and her voice went lower still, "One day it mightbe me!"

And then she heard something she had never expected to hear, the sound ofLinda crying. Not just crying but bawling and she lay there tied and gaggedand hooded listening to the strongest person she had ever known break downin a series of uncontrollable sobs and the tears, the tears that had been wellingup in her for days and weeks and months, that had recently been tapped to somedegree but still not allowed to have full reign, began to flow freely.

Now as she tried to draw breath the gag, not Linda's fingers, hampered her.The hood hampered her. Her position hampered her and she began to sob and tochoke at the same time

The collar and the hood were off almost as quickly as they had been put on.She was looking into Liz's distraught face but it was a different Liz thatshe saw. Certainly not the Liz of six months ago. That Liz had been blondeand chubby; this Liz was lean and dark, her hair longer and feathered and designeruntidy. Linda was nowhere to be seen.

Sheila looked at her steadily, relief was flooding throughout her body butshe wasn't going to show it and Liz's expression was stern. She tried to sniffback the tears but Liz was pointing an accusing finger.

"Listen to me! I'm going to take the gag out but I don't want any shit fromyou okay? And I don't care how much you cry 'cos if you knew the tears thathad been cried over you…. Oh shit! I sound like a Barry Manilow song!Just listen. I'd have left you here to rot, but he's still got a bee in hisbonnet about you and she was worried, really worried, so do us all a favourand don't scream and talk to us like we're human beings for once…Okay?

Sheila simply stared at her, wanting to cry all the more but not wantingto do it in front of her. Liz reached into a pocket and drew out a pack ofMarlboro' lites and a lighter. Sheila smiled inwardly. So she was smoking again!

Liz lit up and inhaled and blew the smoke away from her and Sheila. Surprisedthat she hadn't blown it in her face Sheila continued to stare at her.

"I'm not fucking about with you Sheila!" The hand not holding the cigaretteflashed out and pulled up her tee shirt, Liz lowered her head and studied herbreasts for a few seconds. Then she dropped the tee shirt leaving it ruckedup over her breasts and stared at her again.

"Your arse is bruised, your tits are bruised, there's a couple of tiny blistersand there's needle marks," She paused and dragged on the cigarette again lettingthe end glow red. Once again her free hand moved. This time it moved downwardand it only stopped when it was cupping her shaven crotch.

"There's marks round your fanny and your lips are swollen…" Not forthe first time Sheila felt another woman's finger penetrate her slightly soreand all the more sensitive vaginal lips but only now was she coming to termswith it. Only now was she prepared to admit to herself that it felt good. Onlynow.

"And you're wet. You're sopping fucking wet and you like it don't you?" Sheilaremained inscrutable; Liz lowered her head so that she could look into hereyes. "What going on with you? Eh?" She slipped in another finger and beganto move the pair of them gently in and out. She could tell that Sheila reallywanted to move with her but she stayed stock-still.

"Someone's abusing you, you're getting off on it and you won't tell us JackShit!" The fingers slid deeper and Sheila's eyes began to hood over. Liz'sstare became penetrating, "I'm going to take that gag out in a minute and ifyou don't talk to us…" She drew deeply on the cigarette once more andeven as she slowly and deliberately finger fucked her captive she bought thecigarette down until it was level with her exposed left nipple. Liz lookedat her and shrugged,

"One more burn's not going to make much difference is it?" Sheila tried tostay calm, what made it worse was that Liz's fingers were still inside her.All those months ago, all that time in captivity, had made her somehow associatepleasure with pain. She actually found herself wondering how it would feel.

Liz's voice was a whisper.

"You're not the only one who suffered. I had to help her into bed for thefirst three weeks after she came out of hospital. The doctor, the doctor whoworked in Belfast for six years, said he'd never seen anyone beaten so comprehensivelybefore." The cigarette smouldered no more than an inch from her nipple. Shecould feel its warmth.

Liz put her face even closer to hers.

"Every PART of her body, every INCH of her flesh, was bruised. There wereboot marks on her BREASTS!" The cigarette moved closer, the heat raw and potentiallysearing but still her fingers moved slowly and seductively in and out of hercontinually moistening crotch area

"I've had enough Sheila, not of her but of you! You can't keep ruining people'slives. A few bruises on your tits, a couple of blisters, a sore arse…itsnot enough Sheila. It's just not enough..."

Her hand didn't seem to move but suddenly her whole breast seemed to be onfire. It was worse than clamps and clothespins, much worse. Raw searing heatapplied straight to the nipple whilst the movement inside her became rougherand less rhythmic and then …

And then she didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed as a sharpresounding slap knocked the cigarette from her breast and the fingers wereroughly withdrawn and Linda, a Linda much the same as the old one, as tallas ever, dressed entirely in leather as ever, hair shorter, maybe missing fewpounds, dragged Liz from the bed and held her held her hard against her whilstit was her turn to sob and Linda's turn to comfort.

Sheila could only lay there and watch, her nipple throbbing, the musclesin her vagina spasming at the sudden withdrawal, feeling abandoned and unwantedand thinking, not for the first time, that she might have been better off ifshe had been left to die on August fifth, almost exactly six months ago.

*

Neither of them was particularly gentle with her but Liz found some ice inthe mini bar, packed it into a towel and applied it to her reddened breastwhilst Linda brushed the hair out of her eyes and pulled up her tracksuit bottomsbut neither of them even mentioned untying her.

The plastic ties were already digging into her ankles and wrists but theydidn't seem over bothered even now and as Liz applied the makeshift ice packshe said,

"It was mostly hot ash you know, I don't think it'll even blister."

Linda pursed her lips,

"Yeah, well I can't talk, but I didn't know how much you…"

Liz shrugged,

"Like I'm gonna tell you! Linda, I really think we ought to take that gagout now. If she screams the place down we'll pour the scotch over her and sayshe's drunk like we agreed."

Linda looked down at the woman she had called her friend for so many yearsand gripped her roughly by the chin.

"I want answers out of you this time and no fucking about. Bill's as fuckingstupid as you are. He went looking for you last night we and haven't seen himsince and I wanna know how you got those bruises and those burn marks, theother burn marks, and where the needles come in," She paused and as if to emphasiseher words she shook Sheila's head roughly, "And if you don't I'm gonnabeat the shit out of you. Simple as that. Because I've had enough. BecauseI'm tired and I want to stop running round after you and after him…." Hervoice tailed off and without ceremony she ripped at the tape around Sheila'smouth and pulled out the sodden black panties that had gagged her for so long.

Sheila pulled a face at the momentary pain as the tape pulled at her hairand then she began to work her jaw. In a voice she didn't recognise she askedfor some water and worked her jaw again.

Linda's eyes didn't leave hers.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't fuck around with me Sheila, I've already told you…!"

"Well what d'you want to know?"

Linda couldn't stop herself; she grabbed Sheila by the neck of her tee shirtand pulled until their faces were no more than an inch apart.

"Where is he?"

Sheila blinked as saliva hit her full in the face

"I don't know!"

Linda looked up at Liz. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds andthen Linda nodded and the unspoken conversation came to an end. Suddenly businesslike Liz sat next to Sheila and grabbed her head. She put one hand over hermouth and the other on her forehead whilst Linda pulled up her tee shirt again.

She slowly reached out a hand and caressed Sheila's right breast. Her handswere large and Sheila's breasts were small. She stroked it almost lovinglyfor a few moments, and then she pinched down hard on her nipple. Sheila jerkedin pain but Liz's hand stifled her yelp.

Linda studied the soft, shapely breast closely.

"Bruises, pinches, blisters, blood blisters and needle marks!"

Sheila was looking at her, even Liz could see that there was an element offear in her eyes but whilst she was looking at Linda she didn't see her righthand snake out and pinch down painfully hard on her already sore and burntleft nipple.

Once again Liz's muffling hand stifled her.

Now Linda was standing up, reaching for her bag, taking something out andsitting back down again. In her hand was a small box, Sheila eyed it suspiciously,Liz held her head firmly in her grasp.

"We went shopping yesterday," Linda began conversationally, "Day before wedid all our clothes shopping. It was nice. No little scrotes running aroundlike you get in Wood Green Shopping City or Brent Cross or somewhere like that.And yesterday we went to Greenwich Village. They've got a shop there and itsells S&M stuff. Exclusively. Not a sex shop. A proper little emporium.Sells antique whips, Victorian speculums, TENS units, violet wands, REALLYsharp knives, that kinda thing. Really made us welcome. Woman behind the counterknew me, which was nice. I whipped the arse off her in some film we made aboutten years ago. Made us a coffee didn't she Liz? Coffee and muffins and cheesecake,proper cheesecake, the stuff that sticks to the roof of your mouth."

Sheila couldn't see but she got the impression that Liz was smiling and somewhereat the back of her mind she wished that she could have been there with them,even though she hated cheesecake.

"Proper coffee. Not the shit you get at home. Whole place smelled of it." Shelooked to the ceiling for a few moments and then seemed to drag herself backto reality. She opened the small case in front of Sheila, "See these, thesewere made before they invented disposable needles."

Sheila looked down and saw a carefully crafted case lined with purple crushedvelvet in which lay two dozen stainless steel needles the size of Victorianhatpins that gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Each one had a kind ofhandle at the end about an inch and a half long that seemed to be made of boneand each one seemed to have a very sharp point.

Linda was taking one out.

"Now all you gotta do is buy some disposables, get yourself some surgicalgloves and you're away, but these," She held the needle directly in front ofSheila's nose, "These have to be sterilised every time," She paused for a momentconsidering the needle, "Unless you want to risk blood poisoning of course,but this is how you should do a PROPER piercing." Sheila was doing her bestto stay calm.

Linda was looking over at Liz now.

"She did say they'd sterilised these when they came in didn't she?" Sheilacould feel Liz nod, "Mmm, but they've been in the shop awhile." Her gaze fellon Sheila once more and her face brightened, "Do you still use mouthwash? Youshould do the way YOU suck cock!" Sheila flushed. Then, as much to herselfas to anyone else, "'Course you do! I just saw it when I was in the Khazi sortingmeself out. Well, that's all right then! We can use mouthwash. It'll stinga bit but it'll keep it clean."

Sheila watched in mounting amazement as Linda reached into her bag again,drew out a pair of disposable surgical gloves and snapped them onto her well-manicuredhands and then picked up the needle again.

Without any warning whatsoever Linda grasped Sheila's breast with her righthand and with her left she bought the point of the needle into contact withthe crinkled side of her nipple. Liz held her firm. One hand on her forehead,one over her mouth

"Move your hand a bit Liz. It's too close to her nose!" She looked into Sheila'sastonished and fearful eyes. "So you're into pain now are ya?" She tightenedher grip on Sheila's breast causing her to gasp. "Liz says you need it to bringabout some kind of catharsis. That it's all to do with being kidnapped andbeaten and that you need to let go of it all and that the pain is some formof spiritual cleansing," She lowered her voice and her face darkened, "Shealso reckons that you hate yourself and that you probably always have!" Theintensity suddenly went out of Sheila's stare and it appeared that Linda hadhit a raw nerve.

" But that's what Liz thinks. Me? I just reckon you're being a cunt as usual,but I'll give her theory a try".

The first Liz knew about it was when Sheila jerked. She tried to move herhead but Liz held her firm. Held her firm, kept her hand firmly over her mouthand shushed her as the needle slowly entered her nipple. She tightened herarms around her as if she was holding a child and put her lips to her ear andshe continued to hold her ever so tightly as she watched the needle begin toemerge, still clean and shiny from the other side. And as Linda continued topush so she comforted Sheila who lay against her with her eyes closed, herankles and wrists still bound.

She wanted to speak to her, she wanted to tell her that it would be all rightand she knew it would because Linda had done piercings before and that, ineffect, was all this was. She kept trying to tell herself that because of thelight headed feelings that she was now experiencing. If it was possible shehugged Sheila even closer. Her stomach was fluttering and the six inch longneedle was now perfectly centred in Sheila's right nipple.

Liz stroked her forehead, terribly aware of the liquid feelings in the lowerpart of her body, aware that her knickers were more than just damp and painfullyaware that she was now on a hair trigger to orgasm.

Linda sat back. She regarded Liz steadily.

"Okay?" afraid to speak, all Liz could do was nod, "Take your hand away fromher mouth, I think she'll talk to us now she's come!" Almost reluctantly Lizmoved her hand and she realised that Linda was staring at her and eventuallyshe spoke.

"I know you like to switch Liz but I'd be careful about topping someone toosoon." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "it's alright liking it, that's whatit's all about, but you can't afford to get carried away." Liz was still cradlingSheila in her arms and Linda picked up the sodden panties that had previouslybeen her gag. She eyed them thoughtfully,

"These are probably dryer than yours right now!" Liz flushed. Linda loweredher voice and leaned forward and touched her cheek. "Don't worry it IS okayto be turned on by someone else's pain, you just have to be careful, that'sall and under normal circumstances I'd sort you out but we have to look afterSleeping Beauty here."

She lowered her eyes for a second and then she did something she had neverdone before. She put two fingers to her lips and then pressed them againstLiz's own.

"You really care about me Liz!" There was a momentary catch in her voice, "AndI've been too busy worrying about meself and about HER… and HIM to evennotice." She looked down at the floor as if she was preparing herself to saysomething very difficult, then she looked up, regarded Liz awkwardly and saidslowly "And I care as well, about you, I mean."

Liz smiled, they both smiled. And then they both looked at Sheila still apparentlyunconscious in Liz's arms. Anxiously Liz said,

"Do you think we've really hurt her?"

Linda shook her head.

"I wrapped the gloves in a pad of local anaesthetic and made sure I rubbedthem all over her tit and her nipple The expectation was what done her, thatand coming in her pants of course. She always was a bit of pain slut but, likeeverything else, she wouldn't admit to it."

Sheila's eye's flicked open. She looked down at the needle that still protrudedfrom her nipple, looked up at Liz who was still holding her and then over atLinda, turning her gaze back to the needle she said quietly, her voice croakyand unsteady.

"I can't believe you've done this!"

Linda reached out and touched her breast lightly.

"Looks like you've had a lot worse than that recently. You've had your titscaned and your arse caned, your back's been systematically whipped, I'm sureyour nipples have been clamped and your clit's so swollen I'd say it's beenin a vacuum pump and that's apart from the fag burns! This," She touched theneedle that protruded from her breast gently, " is nothing compared to allthat and I've got a little gold sleeper for you to put in it while it heals.'Bout time you had a bit of body jewellery, specially if you're gonna jointhe S&M crowd."

"Who said…"? She began weakly.

Linda glowered at her

"Who said? Bill said that's who!" She lowered her voice and looked directlyat Sheila. "I thought I was fucked up after all that shit," Uncharacteristicallyshe raised her hand and touched Sheila lightly on the cheek, "And you've alwaysbeen fucked up in one way or another," Sheila stared at her blankly, "But he'soff his face. We were due to be here anyway, Liz had to spy out some locationsfor some cop show they're shooting in the summer and I came with her 'cos Ihad some business to do and then we run into HIM because he's followed YOU'cos he's heard via The Bishop that you're mixed up with a mob called SAM.COMwho do live torture shows on the web and so he sets off to save ya!"

Liz was still letting Sheila lean against her. She touched her bound hands

"And now he's missing!" She said quietly

Sheila looked down at her rumpled tracksuit bottoms and then up at Linda.

"Are you going to untie me?" Linda shook her head

.

"NO! I don't trust ya!"

Sheila sighed and shook her head; when she spoke again her voice was a mixtureof weariness, sadness and disappointment.

"You always were a fucking drama queen Linda. These people I'm "mixedup" with, they're actually called S&M dot COM and they're run by a guycalled Bob Jay who's one of the nicest people I've ever met!"

Linda looked at her in disbelief,

"And he does that to you, does he? Must be a really nice bloke."

Sheila stared her down,

"This from the woman who's just stuck a needle in my tit!"

"He's done a lot worse!"

If her hands had not been tied Liz was quite certain that Sheila would havetaken a swing at Linda.

"Can't you understand, that he does these things to me BECAUSE I WANT HIMTO!

BECAUSE I'VE SIGNED A CONTRACT SAYING THAT HE CAN! AND BEFORE YOU GET WORRIEDABOUT YOUR PRECIOUS FUCKING BILL I'D TRY LOOKING FOR THE TART WITH THE ENORMOUSTITS AND BLEACHED FUCKING HAIR THAT HE GOT OFF WITH LAST NIGHT. DO YOU UNDERFUCKINGSTAND?"

Liz looked anxiously at Linda and Linda looked blankly out of the windowwhile Sheila looked from one to the other not sure whether she wanted to laughor cry.

© Wallace 2004. The writer maintains the right to be recognised as theauthor of this piece. This is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance toany places, either real or imaginary or any people or characters real or fictitious,living or dead.

Sent 25/06/04