Part One
I hadn’t heard the door open and so the feeling that I was no longer alone in the room sent a strange chill up my back. I looked up and went even colder as I found myself looking down the barrel of a gun. I had thought I was alone in the building but I had forgotten about the security guard. Why a two-bit firm needed a security guard I don’t know, but here he was, all 200 pounds of him to prove his existence.
“It’s just me, Andrea. I, er, work here; in the administration office” I offered as way of explanation. “I just needed to get back a letter I typed earlier for Mr. Mazzoni. Look, please don’t tell, it’s just I made too many typing mistakes and I need to get the letter back before he reads it. I wasn’t snooping honest” I realized I was gabbling; something I did whenever I was nervous. And being caught looking through the bosses’ desk after hours was enough to make anyone nervous. Never mind having a gun pointed at them.
“Shurrup” is all the guard said. I realized of course that I’d never actually seen the security guard before; I was usually long gone before his shift started, so of course he wouldn’t know who I was.
“I have a passkey. Look!” I offered pointing down at my identity card complete with my picture and name emblazoned across the front. Again, strange that such a small outfit would insist its staff wear ID cards at all times. We were small enough that everyone knew everyone else anyway. But then again there were many strange things about Mr. Mazzoni’s Import/Export Company. In my wildest moments I suspected maybe the whole thing was a front for nefarious Mafia operations. But the mundane nature of the paperwork that daily passed across my desk for typing or filing had soon put an end to that sort of speculation. Shame, as deep down I had rather hoped there was more to this most boring of jobs than met the eye. Even if Mr. Mazzoni did receive a regular stream of visitors; most of who would not look out of place on any ‘most wanted’ bulletin.
“Shurrup” is all the guard said again. The gun did not waver. I opened my mouth to protest the innocent nature of my being in Mr. Mazzoni’s office but wisely decided I would have to wait until the guard had finished deciding what to do about the situation. It was obvious from his furrowed brow that he had never actually expected to encounter a problem on his rounds and now was struggling about what he should do next.
Eventually he made up his mind and, keeping the gun aimed squarely at my heart, he slowly moved round the other side of the desk and picked up the phone. “Mr. Mazzoni” a pause.
“It’s Frank here. Yes, down at your office. You said I was to call you if anything unusual happened. Well, I found a young lady going through your desk” Another pause.
“Yes, Mr. Mazzoni. Yes thankyou Sir” He replaced the receiver. Then to me; “Sit”. I sat in the chair behind the desk. Fine. I would just have to wait until my boss turned up to sort out this overzealous idiot. Then I remembered the reason I was in Mr. Mazzoni’s office in the first place. Damn! Now I would have to fess up to mistyping another letter; my third bad piece of work in less than a week. At this rate, I was going to get myself fired. I had hoped to rescue this particular mess-up before it was discovered; having realized that I put the wrong address at the top of the letter two seconds after the post tray had been emptied, and then having to wait until everyone else had gone home for the night, before risking sneaking into Mr. Mazzoni’s office to retrieve the letter and retype it.
So I had screwed up (again!) but it didn’t call for this overreaction did it? Boy, was this guard, Frank, in for it, dragging Mr. Mazzoni back to the office just for a simple mix-up. I wanted to get home; I was already late but now I would have to wait for Mr. Mazzoni to arrive and sort out this mess. I suspected he wouldn’t be happy with me either, even though this wasn’t my fault. I cursed Frank under my breath. Then I thought I should try and talk some sense into him.
“Look Frank” I said in my best seductive tones “We don’t really need to bother Mr. Mazzoni with this simple mix-up, do we? I tell you what, I promise to talk to him in the morning and sort out this little misunderstanding, and you can get back to your donuts or whatever, and I can go home; I’m already late for dinner. What do you say, Frank?”
All Frank said, was “Shurrup”. Great! I sat back in resignation and waited for Mr. Mazzoni to arrive; there seemed little point in trying to make small talk with the tightlipped Frank. We both heard the front door open and the sounds of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Moments later, Mr. Mazzoni was standing in the doorway – and he wasn’t alone. I recognized his well-built companion as one of Mr. Mazzoni’s regular visitors. What was he doing here?
There then followed a most bizarre exchange between Mr. Mazzoni and Frank in which Mr. Mazzoni quizzed the security guard as to whether he had searched me for wires and cameras. I started to defend my presence in his office but was silenced with no more than a hard stare from my boss. I realized at that moment he was far more than the overweight man ho occupied the office across from mine, he was a dangerous individual who was used to getting his own way. There was a mean glittering in his eyes that I realized, could silence an opponent without a word needing to be said. I didn’t consider myself an opponent of course, but I shut up all the same after being on the receiving end of one of those looks.
After the brief interrogation of the guard, Mr. Mazzoni nodded to his companion who had been leaning against the doorpost the whole time, while sizing me up and sown in a way that had made me feel very uncomfortable. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was about him, but I knew I wouldn’t want to be left in a room alone with this man. The silent man came over to me and motioned for me to stand. I wasn’t about to argue with him. Then he subjected me to a thorough search. Presumably looking for wires and cameras, neither of which I had of course. Who the hell did they think I was? “She clean, Boss” the man finally declared. He looked slightly disappointed, as if he would have liked the opportunity to search me further. His boss nodded and I was pushed back down into the chair.
“So Andrea, if that’s your real name” Mr. Mazzoni said, “I’ve had my eye on you for a while. I knew you would slip up sooner or later. Are you going to tell us who you’re working for?”
“If I knew what the hell you were talking about!” I replied a bit sharply; but then I was starting to get worried about the turn of events.
Mr. Mazzoni just smiled slightly as if he were expecting this answer. “You’ll be sorry” he muttered and turning to the third man in the room he said “I think she needs to see the doctor”.
What??? I thought. But whatever Mr. Mazzoni meant by this cryptic remark would have to wait as his companion strode over and grabbed my arms pulling me to my feet. This time he didn’t bother about being gentle either. I considered resisting but out the corner of my eyes I could see that Frank was still pointing the gun flatly at me. The man roughly pulled my arms behind my back and held both my wrists in one of his large hands while he reached into his coat with his free hand and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. When I saw these I panicked and tried to pull away but his grip on me was too strong. I stamped down on his foot with my stiletto and was gratified to hear a grunt of pain but his grip on me didn’t loosen and I was nearly knocked senseless as he swiped me across the back of my head with his fist still holding the handcuffs. I regained my senses to find the metal cuffs clicking around my wrists. The click, click, click as they ratcheted shut had a sound of finality that filled me with dread. It was only as he clicked the cuffs a couple of notches tighter saying it was payback for hurting him that I started to fight back. There wasn’t much I could do though, other than curse the three of them and try in vain to land a knee in his groin. “Shut the bitch up!” commanded Mr. Mazzoni “before she has the cops here”. He opened his desk and produced an item that I could see was a full leather hood. “Try this on for size, sweetie” he said and threw the hood over to the man still easily restraining me despite my most urgent wriggling.
I was pushed hard against the wall, taking the breath out of me and this gave my captor enough time to pull the hood over my head and fasten the strap around my neck. He spun me round and the last thing I saw was a flap of padded leather descend over my eyes. I tried unsuccessfully to land another knee in the man groin but now I couldn’t see I was having to guess at my target. “Get off me, you fuc..mmpph” I said as a hard plug was pushed against my teeth. I clenched my mouth shut but I felt a blow to my throat and I gasped with the pain and shock of it. This gave my assailant ample opportunity to push the gag past my slightly open teeth and into my mouth. I felt the intruder experimentally with my tongue, and discovered it was in the shape of a huge penis. I hated it instantly; I had never allowed a man to put his dick into my mouth and everything in me rebelled against this invasion. My distraction with this new indignity allowed the man to push me back against the wall, holding me there with a hand around my throat. He pushed until my feet were nearly off the floor and I was choking.
“Now, we’re going on a little trip and I don’t want any trouble off you. Understand?” I merely wriggled my legs and tried to breathe.
“Understand!?” he demanded again and I managed a slight nod of my head. Anything, as long as he let me down before I fainted.
And so, I found myself bundled down the stairs and into the car that was waiting by the back door of the offices. As I was pushed out of the door I overheard a final conversation between Mr. Mazzoni and Frank the security guard; “This never happened, we were never here, you never saw this girl. Is that clear, Frank?”. “Of course Mr. Mazzoni sir, whatever you say, sir”. Thanks Frank! I thought as I was pushed into the trunk of the car.
If they thought I was going to go along quietly they were very much mistaken. I spent the entire journey which I estimated at half and hour kicking with my heels against the lid of the trunk and making as much noise as my gag would allow. I kept my best efforts for whenever the car slowed presumably at traffic lights, hoping that anyone stopped alongside us would see the commotion or, even better, hear me.
By the time we pulled up for the last time I was exhausted and hot and out of breath – I wasn’t used to breathing just through my nose.
The trunk was opened allowing fresh air to cool me but then I pair of hands reached in and grabbed me. I fought back, kicking out wildly hoping to connect with my kidnapper but I only found thin air.
“You’re a trouble, you are” said the familiar voice of the man who had overpowered me “you’re going to be a very sorry girl by the time I’m through with you. And if you think that’s bad, wait ‘til the doctor arrives”
I didn’t know what he meant by the ‘doctor’ but it didn’t sound good. His intention was to subdue me with his threats but it just made me struggle even harder for my freedom. Quite what I thought I could do even if I did mange to escape the man I didn’t know. I certainly wouldn’t get far, blindfolded and with my hands cuffed behind my back; I didn’t even know where I was. But that didn’t stop me trying. I didn’t know who this doctor was, but I wasn’t keen to find out either.
The strange sounds around me, muffled though the hood, told me I wasn’t in the city anymore. He had brought me somewhere into the countryside. I suddenly had a fear he had brought me out here into the wilderness to kill me and dispose of my body where it wouldn’t be found. I racked my brain to try and remember if they were building anywhere. Would my final resting place be in a support column of a new road or building? I trembled at the thought. But what was this talk of a doctor; it didn’t make sense. The realization that these could be my last moments on earth calmed me. I decided not to give this cruel man any excuse to hurt me further. He sensed my change of attitude and said “better”.
With that, I was pushed along what sounded, and felt, like a gravel driveway; any thoughts of flight dispelled by the large hand squeezing my left arm.
My foot hit something and I nearly fell over but the hand on my arm kept me upright and pulled me up, helping me navigate the stone step in front of me. I heard a door being opened and closed again once we were inside. It sounded quiet inside the building. I reached out with my senses to try and work out where I was. What kind of building was this? Where was I? But I got nothing back. A second later I heard another door open and I was pushed through a doorway. I took a step forward, and felt the ground disappear beneath me. I squealed in fright and pulled my foot back. Was I to be thrown into a pit? I pushed back against the man but he simply held both my arms in his hands and lifted me off the ground. I felt myself go forward and down and then my feet banged up against a solid surface. Ah, I was on stairs going down. I got the idea and carefully felt for the next step. I slowly made my way down t he stairs until I felt a firmer surface beneath my feet. It sounded like stone. Where could I be? Finally, impatient with my slow progress, my captor dragged me across the floor and in my high heels I had trouble keeping my balance. He let go of me and not knowing where I was or what dangers lay around me I stayed put while I listened to him working on something. I heard the clinking of metal and it sounded like chains to me but I couldn’t be sure. Then I felt him at my feet and he pushed my ankles until I was standing with my feet about three feet apart. I felt something flexible but strong being wrapped around my left ankle and I considered kicking out while he was bent there but I was already in enough trouble and I knew I stood little chance of succeeding in any bid for freedom now.
It was leather, I realized. He was wrapping a leather cuff around my ankle. I felt a buckle being closed and moments later heard the click of a small lock, before he moved to cuff my right ankle in a similar way. Then I felt something being attached between my ankles. I moved my feet experimentally and found my ankles were locked to a bar or something that kept me standing with my legs three feet apart. I knew at this point that any illusion of freedom I’d had was now totally gone. My wrists had matching cuffs placed around them and locks were also added there before he unlocked the handcuffs and brought my hands around to my front and raised them above my head. I heard a click and when I pulled on my hands I found they were stuck above my head. I felt around and realized my hands were locked to chain that hung down from somewhere above me. Now I was really trapped.
I felt my kidnapper do something to the bar between my ankles before telling me to lift my left foot and placing something thin beneath the ball of my foot. “An extra treat for you as you’ve been such a model captive” he said, his voice echoing slightly in this underground cavern or wherever else he had chained me up. “I’m off now, and the doctor will be with you shortly, but I suggest you don’t move your foot off that rope or you’ll be really sorry”. I heard footsteps retreating across the stone floor and up the stairs before I heard the door slam and the faint sounds of a car driving off up the gravel road.
Now I was really worried; What if no one came to rescue me? What if someone did come? What if it were the ‘doctor’? What had they got in mind for me? What would happen to me if I moved my foot off the rope?
But there was only silence. I shouted out but there was nothing. Somehow I could sense I was alone in this building, far from anywhere, and I was frightened. I stood for what seemed like hours, and waited for I didn’t know what. My arms ached from being held aloft for so long and my legs were starting to tremble from the strain of standing with my feet so far apart in these heels. Eventually, of course I had to move my foot and I instantly felt the rope that had been trapped under my shoe, pull away. I desperately tried to get my foot back on the rope but it simply slipped out from under my heel and then I felt my legs being jerked off the ground. What was happening?
Before I knew it I was hanging with nearly all my weight on my wrists and with my feet rising up to join them. In a few seconds I was completely off the ground with my legs in the air, and no matter how much I struggled, I was stuck there.
The man had been right; I did regret moving my foot. I wondered how long I could cope with being suspended like this; bent in double. But then I didn’t have much say in the matter did I?
I hung there for what seemed like hours, before I heard a car pull up outside and the sounds of someone making their way down into the basement where I hung waiting. This time the sounds were not the heavy footsteps of my abductor but the clicking of a pair of high-heeled shoes in no hurry to come over to me. For some inexplicable reason this made me feel even more frightened; it was so unexpected.
I heard a soft voice “Hello my dear. Welcome to my laboratory; I’m the doctor and I’ll be performing your surgery today”. The voice was at odds with the intent of the message and I was momentarily confused.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, what’s it to be?” the doctor continued. Despite my predicament I couldn’t help but marvel at the use of cliché. Was this woman for real? I responded with a grunt; not about to play her silly games. I’d had enough of my situation and just wanted this to end.
“Ah, yes, I prefer the hard way too, my dear; good choice” the doctor said in a voice that managed to drip with honey and implied menace at the same time.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream but I suspected neither would have any effect, so I kept quiet.
The doctor came closer and I felt a hand lift my chin, as if she were trying to look into my eyes. “Personally, I don’t think you’re ready to talk yet, so I think I’ll leave you here a bit to think about your situation.”
I definitely didn’t want that my arms already felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets so I yelled as best as I could through my gag. Not much noise escaped my lips of course due to the size of the gag, but she seemed to get my meaning anyway.
“Ready to talk after all then?” she asked sweetly. God! What could I say? I really had just been trying to retrieve my spoiled letter from Mr. Mazzoni’s office. I would have to make something up; anything, to get out of this place. I nodded my head vigorously.
“So let’s start simple, shall we? Who are you working for, the police, DEA, FBI?” I suddenly realized how serious this was. If these people were prepared to risk kidnapping an agent of the DEA they were probably capable of anything. I realized I was in serious trouble here. My best policy was to keep quiet after all, or maybe I should just tell the truth. But what if they just wouldn’t believe the truth? Oh Shit! I was screwed either way.
The doctor had somehow sensed my change of mind, and said “you’re wasting my time; I think you need a little reminder of who’s in charge here”. Then I felt my legs being lowered. I thought for one wonderful moment I was going to be let free but, once my legs were back on the ground, the movement stopped and I realized I was as trapped as ever. At least my shoulders weren’t on fire anymore, but I longed to be able to rub them back to life. That would have to wait though.
What now? I wondered moving my hooded head round trying to work out where the doctor had gone to and what she was up to. I didn’t have long to wait to find out as a sudden stripe of fire landed across the tops of my thighs. It was so unexpected that I jumped and my feet left the ground and I found myself swinging freely hanging from my wrists again. I lowered my feet and tried to stop my gyrating only to be rewarded with another line of pain across the backs of my knees. This made me scream with a mixture of pain and terror. I had never been whipped before and I had no idea what was being used on me and what damage was being done to my legs. This was terrifying; I was sure I must be bleeding from the two lashes I had received.
Those lashes were joined by four others and by this time I was hanging by my wrists again my legs were dragging along the floor. The doctor sensed my low tolerance for pain and my fear and she played on it. “I can whip you all night; until you give me what I want. I only get paid for results and I’m good at my job so you will tell me what I want. Why not make it easier on yourself?”
But I had noting to tell so I just whimpered through my gag.
“Right another twenty lashes then?” she taunted. I was convinced I would die from the pain of the six lashes I’d already received and the thought of more was too much for me. I felt my bladder give way and a warm stream of pee ran down my leg. My tormentor laughed, “I see agent training isn’t as good as it used to be! You’re just not worth wasting my skills on, you weak-minded child!”
I heard the whip being dropped on the ground and I sighed with relief and attempted to regain my footing with legs that felt like they were made of rubber. The shock of the freezing cold water hitting my body took my legs from under me again and I hung there while a high-pressure hose was played over my body. All the time the doctor complaining about the mess I had made of her floor, and berating my lack of fortitude. Eventually the freezing onslaught stopped and I hung in my chains dripping wet, and shivering.
The doctor came back over and pulled my sodden skirt up over my hips. What next, I wondered? I felt her pull my panties away from my body and suddenly they were loose and fell away from my body. I could only assume she had cut my panties off with a knife or other sharp object. This was confirmed a moment later as she ran the blade of the knife along my thighs and across my now naked pussy. I froze in torror sure I was going to be cut and a whimper of fear escaped my gag.
“So you like that do you, my lovely?” the doctor cooed. I certainly did not! But there was little I could do to prevent her playing the knife over the rest of my body. She lingered a while as she held the knife to each of my nipples and all I could think was; “don’t cut me there, please don’t cut me there” but eventually the knife continued its journey upwards and I felt the blade pressed against my neck, under my chin. I lifted my head as far as I could but the knife just followed my head up so that it was still pressed firmly against my neck.
“Just so you understand your position here. Are we clear about that?” the doctor said; all trace of gentleness gone from her voice. I had found the soft tones of the doctor incongruous and a little disturbing, but this new harsher tone of voice was worse; I could hear, in this voice, the evil this woman was capable of.
I started to nod but thought better of it as the knife was still pressed against my neck. I swallowed nervously and that seemed to be all the response the doctor required. The knife was moved away from my neck and I heard her retreat across the room. What now?
The doctor returned, the clicking of her heels now inspiring a fear in me that made me tremble above the shivering already caused by being wet and cold. I felt something press against my pussy and a strap was passed under my legs. Without the use of my hands and with my legs still held apart by the bar I was unable to prevent the leather device from being placed over my pussy and locked to a strap that she had put around my waist – far tighter than it needed to be. I worked out that the doctor had placed a leather chastity belt on me. What on earth could the purpose of that be, I wondered? Then my hands were finally released from the chain hanging down from the ceiling and my arms just fell to my sides; I had no strength in them. The doctor took this opportunity, while my arms were useless, to cuff my hands behind my back and attach them to the back of the chastity belt she’d just put on. My ankles were released from the bar that had held my legs apart for so long and I was marched across the room to a place where the sound was different. The echoes had gone and I guessed I was in a much smaller space. At least it seemed marginally warmer in here.
The woman pushed my down onto a bed and locked my ankle cuffs together. Then I felt a chain being locked to a ring on the side of the collar attached to my hood and I heard a click, presumably as the other end of this chain was locked to something solid.
The sound of heels walking away was followed by a loud clang, as if a heavy metal door or grate had been closed. There was a sound of a lock being turned.
“I have other things to see to; we’ll see if you’re more talkative in the morning” the doctor said, and I heard the sounds of her retreating across the room, up the stairs and the door at the top of the stairs being closed before I was enveloped in silence. I lay there with only the sound of my heart beating for company. After a while I decided to test the limits of my captivity and started to pull on my restraints. My wrists weren’t going to come loose from each other or from the belt and as far round as I could feel there were no buckles to undo or locks to work on. I was trapped. My ankles were likewise stuck together and no amount of pulling with my legs was going to separate them. I managed to wriggle to the edge of the bed but, there, the chain locked to my neck went taut and I could go no further. So I spent a few more minutes wriggling back into the middle of the bed so that I was as comfortable as I could be and tried to sleep.
Sleep was not going to come easily though. I was not used to being chained up and I desperately wanted to stretch out my arms rub my sore shoulders. But most of all I needed to check my wounds, where I was sure I was bleeding freely from the whipping I had received earlier. Also the way my hands were cuffed behind me meant it was impossible to lie on my back, the way I usually slept so I was limited to lay on my side. I curled up as best I could, and contemplated my situation.
My options were limited, I realized. I could continue to tell the truth but the doctor seemed unlikely to accept that as the whole story. She obviously already presumed my guilt, and anything less than a full confession wasn’t going to appease her. I could confess I supposed; but to what? I could make up a story about being an FBI agent, but I knew nothing about such things so how could I make it convincing? And what would happen to me after they had all the information they wanted? Would I be then be ‘disposed of’? – back to my nightmare scenario of bulking out concrete poured into a road support.
No my best defense was to keep quiet. I had nothing to tell anyway. But I knew my tolerance for pain was very low. How could I expect to survive this? I trembled some more thinking about the unbearable horrors I would inevitably have to face over the coming hours and days and, maybe even, weeks. I started to cry and, with this release of my emotions, sleep was finally able to claim me.
Part Two
It couldn’t have been more than an hour later that I felt my ankle being released and I was pulled to my feet. At first I didn’t know who was there but them I caught the unmistakable musky perfume of the doctor. I wondered if she had a name other than the ‘doctor’ then I remembered that Mr. Mazzoni had referred to her as ‘Doctor S’. Ha! Like that would help track her down, once I got free and told the police about my kidnappers. I could picture it now; “so you say you were tortured by a woman you never saw, but whose name might begin with an ‘S’, in a place you never saw, but you think might not have been somewhere in the city?”. “Yes officer, do you think you will be able to catch her?” Great!
I was dragged back into the basement room and brought to a halt. The knife reappeared at my throat. “I’m going to uncuff you” she said “don’t you dare try and run off.” The knife was enough to convince me to comply and anyway where could I run to? My cuffs were removed. “Now strip” she commanded.
There was no way I was going to strip in front of this stranger. My clothes might be uncomfortable where they had dried sticking to me but at least they were dry and keeping me a little warmer in the chill of the room. But the knife was quickly back at my throat and this time I felt the point of the blade pushed hard against the side of my neck. “Don’t make me say it again” the doctor hissed. So I stripped; removing my blouse and unbuttoning my skirt so that it slid down my legs onto the floor. I slipped my shoes off and worked my tattered stockings down my legs. I stood back up wearing just my bra and the leather chastity belt.
“All of it” the doctor said, and so I reluctantly unclasped my lacy bra and dropped it on the floor, then instinctively crossed my arms in front of me to hide my nudity. I heard a scraping sound and a hard object hit the back of my calves. “Sit” the doctor commanded. I sat; feeling behind me and recognizing the outline of a wooden chair. Then I felt something being wrapped around my arm that was resting on the arm of the chair. I couldn’t work out what it was, it felt like tape but it was slippery and cold to the touch and it wasn’t sticky at all. This strange tape was wrapped around and around my arm all the way up to my elbow, trapping it against the chair and then the doctor wrapped my other arm in the same way. After that my legs were wrapped too so that I was fastened to the front legs of the chair. The doctor wasn’t finished yet and so the tape was wrapped over the rest of my body melding me to the chair. I couldn’t work this out. The tape was definitely not sticky and yet I couldn’t move a muscle where I had been taped to the chair. The only parts of me not wrapped were my head and pussy, both areas already being covered in leather, and over my nipples. I could tell this as there was a slight breeze in the basement room and I could feel the chill against my nipples.
Once I had been wrapped nice and tight the doctor removed my gag with a plop. I worked my sore jaw trying to get my mouth to work. “Are you ready to talk yet?” the doctor asked.
But if the doctor had thought a couple of hours chained to a hard bed would change my demeanor she was sorely mistaken. I told her just what I though of her treatment of me in terms that I’m too polite to recount here. After a while I realized my diatribe was having no effect, so I stopped and clamped my lips together in a final act of defiance.
“Nothing to say?” the doctor asked. I shook my head.
“Fine, if you’re going to keep your mouth closed, let me give you some incentive.” She said and I felt a sharp pain on my nipple. I yelled and tried to pull away but the pain didn’t recede. Something was biting into my nipple and no amount of the small shaking movements I could make was going to dislodge it. Without warning, my other nipple suffered the same fate and I yelped with pain again. Then the doctor pinched my nose. I still hadn’t learned from last time so I opened my mouth to breathe only to have a long piece of rubber pushed into it. I instinctively bit down on this intruder and the doctor held my jaw closed while she leaned down to my ear. “I should tell you the clamps I’ve attached to your nipples are connected to the stick in your mouth. I’ve added some weights too, just to give you a good reason not to let go of your gag.” I got the idea, if I dropped the gag; I could expect the pain in my nipples to become unbearable – I was just managing now, so I couldn’t begin to imagine what adding a weight to my predicament would do. I’d heard of people having pegs placed on their nipples for fun but I now thought they must be mad; this was just pure torture.
“Oh and so you don’t get too bored” the doctor said and I felt her unlock the front of my chastity belt and slip a vibrator in my pussy before locking it in there. “see you later” she said cheerily and I heard the sound of her heels retreat across the room. So I gripped the rubber gag between my teeth as if my life depended on it. Of course this was a bad idea as my mouth started to cramp after a while and I had to relax my grip on the bit between my teeth. I loosened my grip until I could just feel the rubber bit slipping out of my mouth, and then I clamped down a little bit harder to make sure it didn’t fall. For some reason this simple act seemed to take all my energy and focus; I was determined not to drop the gag and risk damage to my nipples. The clamps were biting in so hard that I was sure the weight would rip my nipples off or something, if I let go.
The witch had set the vibe on low so that it just provided a constant source of distraction. And with my concentration taken up with this otherwise seemingly simple task, I had no idea of the passing time. I just knew the task was getting harder and harder and I knew it was just a matter of time before I dropped the gag and regretted the consequences. It was simple a battle between my will power and my physical endurance. The outcome was inevitable unless I was rescued soon.
I found my saliva was making the gag slippery and harder to hold on to so I tried to swallow while not letting go of the gag. It was during one of these moments of trying to throw my head back and swallow that I felt the rubber slip, and I quickly moved my head back down to try and stop it slipping out of my mouth. I just caught it between my lips and I tried to roll the rubber back up into my mouth so I could grip it with my teeth. But it had become too slippery and I felt the gag slowly edging its way out from between my lips. I held on as long as I could, suddenly finding renewed strength and resolve, but gravity was always going to win this fight, and soon I felt the gag slide free of my lips and fall away. Instantly, there was an excruciating pain in my, already tortured, nipples. I cried out with the pain, but no one came to free me. After a while my cries were reduced to sobs and I sat there willing the doctor to come and free me even though I knew, if she were to free me, it would be to impose some other torment.
I don’t know how long I sat there trying to hold onto sanity; I was totally disoriented and the only sensation in my life right now, was unbearable pain. Bear it I must though as freed from the need to keep still, I fought hard against my binding but discovered I could make no headway in gaining my freedom. I was still at the mercy of the invisible doctor and so far she had shown little of that.
Eventually, the doctor reappeared and told me she was disappointed in my lack of fortitude. I had managed to hold on for much less time than the others, apparently. The others!?? So I wasn’t the first to be tortured by this sadistic woman. Somehow that thought wasn’t at all comforting.
She asked me again to give up information about my operation but as I had nothing to say her I was gong to be in trouble again. I realized the doctor would just keep increasing the level of torture until I broke down and gave her the information she desired. Of course she could just have really hurt me so badly that I would be forced to confess, but I guess she enjoyed her job too much to make it that simple. This way, she could torment her captives for days, maybe even weeks, aiming to break them down slowly until their minds cracked and they gave up their secrets. In my case this was going to be a problem. I wondered how much torture I would have to endure before she finally realized I knew nothing of use. I also wondered what would become of me then. I was trapped; as long as the doctor believed I had information, she would keep me alive at least, but the longer I let her think that, the longer my torture would last. My last hours on this earth were doomed to be ones of pain and physical and mental torment, and that thought alone was almost enough to make me give up all hope. I hung my head in despair.
“Trouble keeping your head held high, huh agent?” the doctor taunted “I can help with that.” I felt a thick leather collar being fastened around my neck. I was so wide that my chin was forced up high and I found it difficult to even turn my head slightly from side-to-side. The doctor left this on me a few minutes an as soon as she thought I had adjusted to its presence, she tightened the straps so that my breathing was restricted. I could hear the air rasping in my throat but she had allowed that I could breathe, albeit with difficulty.
Then I felt a bottle being forced against my teeth so I allowed the top of the bottle to be pressed into my mouth and I drank greedily. I needed that! The bottle was withdrawn and I felt the penis gag being forced back into my mouth. I resisted as best I could but restrained as I was, I could only put up a token fight and soon I was gagged as well, making my breathing even more difficult.
“You will tell me what I want to know eventually, why not make it easy for yourself? The doctor asked rhetorically, as she walked away.
I concentrated on my breathing and again lost track of time so I was caught unawares when I suddenly became aware that the doctor was standing next to me again. I must have been daydreaming, because I hadn’t heard her approach. She tapped the chastity belt just over the place where the vibrator was humming quietly away bringing me out of my reverie. “Time for a change of position don’t you think?” she said, “can’t have you sitting around all day”
She started to remove the tape that had welded me to the hard chair for the last who knows how many hours. I was pulled unsteadily to my feet, only to be moved a few steps backwards before being sat down again; this time on the floor with something thin and hard at my back. The floor was hard too, but at least I could stretch my legs out and so I kept them there while the doctor moved behind me and pulled my arms behind what felt like a post and clicked handcuffs around my wrists.
Then she moved to my feet and I felt my ankles being tied to each end of a long bar. More ropes went around my breasts tying me tightly to the post at my back and then more at my waist and yet another around the collar, tying my neck to the post. I felt my feet move and it was obvious something had been tied to the middle o f the bar holding my legs apart. This was pulled tight until my legs were at full stretch. I grunted with the strain and the doctor gave the bar a last tug before tying it off somewhere. Having my legs pulled out so tightly meant the ropes around my body were digging into my flesh and I tried to wriggle about unsuccessfully to relieve the pressure.
My chastity belt was loosened again and the vibrator removed. The batteries were almost dead anyway and the low buzzing had long ceased to be annoying. I heard a screwing sound before the vibrator was inserted back into my pussy, this time with what were obviously fresh batteries and turned up high. Before long, despite my best attempts to keep myself in check I found myself responding to the vibrators insistent attentions and I started to hump the thing as I came closer and closer to the massive orgasm I could feel building up within me. But as I approached my long-awaited climax, I felt the vibrator abruptly turned off and the doctor gave a little chuckle before locking the belt back over my damp pussy. Damn!
I felt the cold of the clamps against my breasts but my nipple still felt like they were on fire so I squealed through my gag in fear. I couldn’t take those any longer. “Still sore huh?” the doctor asked in mock concern. “Tell you what; I could whip those delicious breasts of yours instead, would that be better?” No it wouldn’t, I thought indignantly! But in the end she made me choose so I had to suffer having a bullwhip taken to my delicate breasts. The pain was intense, especially when she landed strokes on my nipples, I’m sure that was her aim, but at least the torture ended and I didn’t have to wear the clamps as the doctor was good to her word and left my nipples unadorned as she walked off again after advising me to think hard about my situation.
Part Three
Hours later the doctor returned. I hadn’t slept despite my exhaustion and she could tell I was at the end of my endurance. “Ready to talk yet?” she asked, in what was becoming a ritual questioning. I shook my head slightly. I still had nothing I could say, and I was far too tired to try and make up a believable story anyway. I expected her to take advantage of my situation, and start the torture of my weary body again. But instead, she released my bonds and took me upstairs to what I realized was a kitchen. There, she fixed breakfast for herself and, when she had finished eating, actually allowed me a bite to eat and another much-needed drink. Breakfast over, the doctor told me to make myself useful and wash the dishes. This would have been easier if I’d known where anything was or, even if I hadn’t been wearing handcuffs, or most of all, wasn’t still blindfolded.
So it was probably inevitable that I would drop something. I think I must have used too much detergent, it was hard to judge, and I felt a plate slip out of my grasp and smash on the floor. I froze expecting the worst, and, sure enough, the doctor’s mood instantly changed and she was on me in a second.
She dragged me back don into the basement and I felt my cuffs being locked to something about waist height. My ankles, still cuffed and joined by a short chain, are also fixed to a point on the floor somewhere. I wondered what would happen next. My curiosity didn’t last long as I felt something hard hit my exposed behind. The pain wasn’t as bad as the earlier whipping of my breasts but it did go on a bit longer. Slowly my bottom started to warm up from the unrelenting attention it was getting; but I still refused to ‘give up my handler’ when the doctor asked again. The doctor changed tack and now I felt what I assumed was some sort of crop or cane land on my backside. This was far worse, and before long, I was squirming and wriggling; trying to avoid the blows. The whipping went on for a long time, until I could bear it no longer and broke down into tears, at which point the doctor stopped. I thought she would press her advantage here and ask me to reveal the information she required. I think right then I would have told her anything to make the whipping stop. But it appeared she was not ready for another questioning session just yet and I heard her leave the room.
When the doctor reappeared, it was to sprinkle something on the floor at my feet. I could hear a whooshing sound and occasionally feel something hit my foot, but I couldn’t work out what she was doing. Then my wrists and ankles were released from the fixing points and I was turned round and made to kneel. Straight away I realized the doctor had been pouring some small, hard, round objects on the floor and I was now kneeling on a small pile of what felt like rice or grains or maybe even small stones. While I got used to this, the doctor pulled my hands up over my head and reattached my cuffs to the fixing they had just been released from. This time, however, my hands were held above and behind my head and I was forced to remain in a kneeling position. She pulled my feet behind what felt like a thin post and small metal cuffs were closed around my big toes. I pulled on these experimentally but my feet were stuck there.
The doctor then started lashing my stomach with a whip and I was soon writhing around trying fruitlessly to dodge her blows.
“Talk!” she demanded over and over, as each blow landed, but I had enough trouble just focusing on breathing, never mind responding to questions to which there were no answers.
Eventually, the doctor gave up this attempt and told me I would have to just stay there until my attitude changed. I heard her walk off and I was left kneeling in agony, desperate to sooth my abused stomach but unable to do anything about the fire I felt all over my skin. I spent the next however long, trying to dislodge the grains on the floor from my knees so that I could at least be as comfortable as someone made to kneel forever could be, and desperately trying to think up a way out of this situation. But every story I came up with just didn’t sound plausible enough to be believed. I realized I just didn’t know enough about the seedier side of mafia life to be able to make up something convincing. I decided that the truth would have to suffice. It might take a while for the doctor to work out that I really was telling the truth, but eventually she must realize that the torture was going to get her nowhere. I don’t know how long I knelt there, but I came to feel that the rice or whatever I was kneeling in was a far worse, if more subtle, torture than the whipping I had received. The longer I knelt there, the harder the floor seemed to get, and the more the rice dug into me. I simply couldn’t find a spot where my knees and shins were not pressing into the stuff.
So, it was almost a relief when the doctor came back over to me. I say almost, because I was starting to dread what might be in store next.
“I’m bored with this. A girl needs fun too” she said enigmatically. “I’m going to a party. Want to come?” Huh!?? Whatever next? Were we going to get dressed up and go out partying like old friends; like none of this had happened? Was she mad, or just taunting me in some strange manner? I could tell the doctor was sadistic but I sincerely hoped she wasn’t totally mad. If so, I was in real trouble; there might be no limit to what she would do to me. This strange turn of events was the most unsettling thing yet.
Despite her polite invite I guess I really didn’t have a choice, after all. It seemed the doctor really was intent on taking me out and so she dragged me upstairs and proceeded to dress me; all the time describing what she was doing. I could feel the clothes she put on me, even if I couldn’t see them, so I had no reason to doubt that I was being dressed up as some fetish version of a school girl. Fishnet stockings, plain skirt, button up blouse, ankle socks and all. I expected at some point, she would finally remove the hood that had been covering my head for so long but, instead, I felt a wig being pulled down over my head. What sort of party was this to be, I wondered? I was cuffed back up and bundled outside and into a car. We drove around a while and I realized this was probably my best chance to escape but I couldn’t work my hands free and reach the door handle. Perhaps when I reached this ‘party’ I could attract someone’s attention. Surely a girl, all tied up and gagged, must draw someone’s attention? I would have to find a way to call for help with out use of my mouth or hands or eyes.
It turned out we were going to a fetish party as I heard the doctor address someone with “Hi, George, didn’t bring your slave today” an exchange took place that I had trouble hearing over the pumping music but I’m sure I heard the doctor addressed to as Sara. Aha, that was useful information to be filed away for later when I finally got free and could inform the authorities about what had happened to me. The conversation came to an end with doctor ‘Sara’ telling ‘George’ that “never mind you can borrow my slave for the night”. At this, I moved as far away as I could on the leash that Sara had attached to my collar. I felt behind me for a wall and when I found it, I flattening myself as best I could, and tried to become inconspicuous. Of course, not knowing who else was in the room or, what else was going on in there; that was probably less successful than I hoped.
The last thing I heard was “yeah, sure, take her upstairs. Have fun George, but please try and bring this one back in one piece, I haven’t finished with her yet.” Then I felt a sudden tug on my leash and I was dragged upstairs. I resisted as best I could but the person was too string for me and before long, I found myself being pushed face down on a bed. Whoever had my leash, tied it off at the head of the bed and then attached my ankles far apart. I felt my chastity belt being unfastened and then a huge cock forced its way into my pussy. I fought to keep it out, but I couldn’t keep my muscles clenched for ever and eventually my attacker won out and the cock slipped into my pussy. He pumped away for a while and then pulled out and tried to gain access to my butt instead. This time, I put up an even stronger fight, but the result was the same. I screamed and bucked as much as I could, but I could nothing to stop this rape of my ass.
When he had had his fill of filling my holes I was untied and flipped over on my back. Then my arms and legs were pulled out to the corners of the bed and tightened until I was stretched out, tight as a drum.
I could tell Sara, the doctor, was back in the room with me and she unbuttoned my blouse and started to play with my nipples. Over the next hours, she used a mixture of torture and tenderness on me. Playing me like a musical instrument. I felt pads stuck to my inner thighs and these were used to send jolts of electricity through me, making my legs and stomach, twitch and jump around uncontrollably. A vibe was used on my pussy and a variety of clamps, sharp objects and soft caressing was used on my breasts. I came over and over with Sara trying different combinations to get me to react to her attentions. Some of the combinations were just painful and some just pleasurable while some seemed to be both at the same time. These were the worst of all, yet I found myself responding to this mix of pain and pleasure despite trying to stay calm.
I’m ashamed to say now, that the doctor found my buttons and pressed them all. I was overwhelmed as orgasm after orgasm swept over me and I was lost to the rest of the world and time and, the world outside of my body, simply vanished.
Then sleep finally claimed me, and I awoke to find myself in the bed I had been chained to earlier.
Part Four
At least my hands were cuffed in front of me this time and my ankles were free. I tried to get off the bed but found my neck pulled back by a chain that was obviously connected to something solid. I felt along the chain and found padlocks at my collar and at the other end where the chain met a ring fixed to the wall next to the bed. So I was still stuck here. Some time later I concluded the hood was not coming off and that even my blindfold and gag were impossible to remove without a key for the tiny, but adequate locks that secured them to buckles on the side of the hood. I turned my attention to other things and my hands naturally gravitated towards my pussy. I could still feel the tingling sensations brought on by the orgasms I had experienced at the hands of Doctor Sara. That had been the most intense feelings ever and I was curious to experiment for myself to see if I could replicate those feelings on my own. I was so intent on my work that I didn’t hear the doctor approach and the first I knew that I wasn’t alone was when the crop landed on my breast. I jumped and squeaked with surprise and shock.
“You dirty little bitch!” the doctor scolded and at that moment, I was almost glad to be wearing the hood; at least it hid my embarrassment. “Well, I have a cure for girls like you”
The doctor unlocked the chain at my neck and removed my gag. I considered making a run for it but my chances of escape were still too slim, and I knew it would only make things worse for me, were I to try. So I just stood there, while the doctor began to undress me. Of course she could only partly undress me because of my cuffed hands, but instead of releasing the cuffs, she used her knife again to remove my blouse and bra.
The knife was run over my naked body and this time the blade was pressed even harder than before. I held my breath and stood as still as I could, fearful that the doctor would cut me. She was obviously playing with me, merely demonstrating the complete power she had over me; the power of life and death if she chose. But I knew it would only take an involuntary twitch on my part or a careless move on hers for me to be badly cut. The knife was finally withdrawn and I took a deep breath of relief. I was marched out into the main basement room and my neck clipped to a chain hanging down from above somewhere. Now the doctor removed my cuffs and warned me not to move. Of course my hands instinctively went up to my neck but I couldn’t find a way to unlock my collar from the chain and so I was stuck. The doctor slapped my hands hard and reminded me to stand still, so I reluctantly put my hands down at my sides.
Then my arm was pulled out to the side and I heard a ripping sound before I felt something being wrapped around my outstretched arm. The wrapping went round and round my arm all the way up to my shoulder. My other arm got the same treatment as did my legs. While my legs were being wrapped, I surreptitiously moved my hands behind my back and used my fingers to feel the wrappings on my other arm. It felt like plastic, and I realized I was being wrapped in Saran wrap or something like it. What was this about, I wondered?
Once each of my legs had been wrapped up to the tops of my thighs, the doctor started on my torso. This was very odd; I felt constricted but the wrappings didn’t really restrain me, or hinder my breathing. I couldn’t work out the purpose of being wrapped in such a way but I assumed the devious doctor had further plans for me and that this was just the overture to a more extreme torture.
I was now completely covered in saran wrap from my neck down to my ankles, although I could detect a slight breeze over my pussy and nipples too, so I guessed these areas had been left uncovered. Presumably to allow the doctor easy access later. After instructing me to move my legs together, the doctor added more layers of wrapping; this time winding the plastic around both legs, effectively welding them together. Then I was made to place my arms back at my sides and the wrapping continued up my body so that my arms and even my fingers were taped in place. The extra layer of wrapping constricted me further and now my breathing was a little harder. But worst of all, was the fact that I was starting to get a little warm under all these layers of plastic.
The doctor wasn’t finished yet though and she proceeded to add yet another layer of wrapping until I felt like I was like a mummy, all bound up in bandages, and about to be placed in my sarcophagus. I felt the doctor’s arms around me and suddenly I was lifted in the air. I panicked and wriggled madly but the wrappings were doing their job and my movement was very limited.
My panic receded as I felt my feet rest on a flat surface again but I had the definite feeling I wasn’t standing on the floor any longer. I stood as still as I could, finding just standing up straight hard work, without the use of my legs and arms to help me balance. My back was pressed against a post of some kind and I used this as a support to keep me from falling over.
I felt yet another layer of plastic being wrapped around my legs, and this seemed to go round the post I was standing against too. As the wrappings were wound further up my body, I found I didn’t need to lean against the post as I was now taped to it anyway. Now I found I couldn’t move at all other than to wriggle my toes. A few more wraps were added at strategic places, around my waist and knees, presumably to strengthen my fixture to the post and then the box or what ever I was standing on was whipped away and I found myself hanging off the ground. My bindings slipped a little, and I felt myself slide down the post about half an inch. I pointed my toes down but I couldn’t feel anything, so I guessed I must be still some distance above the floor. The doctor wasn’t finished with her wrappings yet and now I felt my feet being bound with the plastic wrap. Now I was stuck with my feet pointing down like some demented ballerina. I was still hot under all the wraps but it wasn’t getting any worse and at least I was starting to get used to it. A good job because I assumed the doctor hadn’t put all this effort into wrapping me to this post just to let me go a few minutes later. I guessed I was going to be here for a while.
“Ready to talk yet?” the doctor asked, standing back to admire her handiwork I guessed.
“Uh, huh!” I answered in what was becoming a ritual exchange. I had decided during the night (if indeed it had been night) that my best policy was to say nothing and hoe that the longer I could withstand the doctors torture the greater the chance that someone would miss me and therefore my chances of being rescued would increase. It was a slim hope but the only one I had. Thankfully the doctor was in no hurry to extract the information she required and I believed I could keep this up for a while. Well, at least until she grew impatient, and used more drastic measures on me.
“Fine, you won’t need to be talking then” she said, pushing that hateful gag back into my mouth.
I felt clamps close on my nipples. Oh no not again, I thought, but at least they didn’t seem as bad as the ones she’d used before. Little did I know that the doctor was saving those particular instruments of torture for my pussy. I screamed through my gag as I felt the evil clamps close on my labia. First one, and then the other, and finally a weight was obviously added
“That’s for playing with yourself, you dirty little whore” the doctor chided, before the sound of her heels clicking off into the distance told me that I was alone with my agonies again.
Part Five
I don’t know how long I hung there but it seemed like forever. At first I tried everything I could to get free. After all I reckoned I was restrained by no more than a few layers of thin plastic wrap. It ought to be easy to worm my hands free or simply tear the thin material. But it wasn’t. Eventually I did manage to free a few of my fingers, but that was all I could accomplish. It was so frustrating to know that all that lay between me and freedom was a couple of layers of flimsy plastic wrap and yet I was totally, completely, utterly trapped; like a fly stuck in amber.
In the end I had to give up my struggles because I was just getting too hot and worked up and partly because I was exhausted. I had managed some sleep over what I guessed must be the last few days or so since my kidnapping but I also guessed that Doctor Sara had deliberately being messing with my head, as far as actual passing time went. I couldn’t tell whether it was two or four days since my capture, or even longer; although if pressed, I would have to say it had been no more than three days. I had slept a few times, but I still felt so tired.
And so here I hung; immobile and still in darkness, warm and exhausted, but the sleep my body craved so much, eluded me and I simply hung limply in my bonds trying to think clearly about what I could do next. Not that I had many options, still the same few; all of which seemed to lead to a bad outcome for me. My mind was so tired though, that I just kept thinking the same few thoughts round and round in my head, and this just added to my state of mental and physical exhaustion. I was dimly aware of the thought that maybe this was the doctor’s ploy; to wear down my resistance so that I couldn’t fight her anymore, and she could extract the truth from me. I realized it would probably be my mind, and not my body, that finally betrayed me, and that I would soon be helpless to avoid telling the doctor whatever she wanted. I thought I could hold out a bit longer, but I also felt the end of my defiance approaching; like a gathering storm out in the distance.
I was still hanging there in my exhausted but sleep-deprived state when the doctor finally reappeared. She gave a little tug on the chain hanging between the clamps on my labia and I found fresh energy to scream again. I found even more reserves of energy when she removed the clamps as the blood rushed back into the previously clamped parts of my anatomy, bringing with it an unbearable pain.
“I don’t suppose you’re ready to talk yet?” the doctor asked, in a manner that suggested she already knew the answer. But strangely, the fresh pain had snapped me out of my despondent mood and I vigorously shook my head; as much as the collar would allow.
The doctor sighed and started to remove my wrappings. Eventually, the wrapping were loose enough to release me from the post and I simply collapsed to the floor, the doctor catching me in her arms, and slowly lowering me so that I didn’t hurt myself. I just lay there in a heap, while she continued unwrapping my limbs from their plastic encasement.
As I lay there, I heard her move closer and sniff. “Ugh, you smelly bitch” she exclaimed. And so, I was dragged upstairs to the bathroom and handcuffed to the bath rail while the bath slowly filled. My gag was removed but not the blindfold. Once the lovely warm soapy water was deep enough I started to wash myself and the doctor said she had things to do. She left me to bathe after giving me dire warnings of how she would flay the skin right off me if I attempted to tamper with the hood. This was difficult as there was nothing more I wanted right now other than to wash my face and hair. The threat of another whipping was enough to keep my hands away from my hood, though. I managed to reach the faucet and get myself a much needed drink. By the time Doctor Sara returned, I was nice and clean and just starting to doze off in the lovely water. Releasing my cuffs, she pulled me from the bath and again I thought about making a bid for freedom, but my legs were too tired to make a break for it and instead, I allowed myself to be directed into another room where I was sat down on the edge of a bed and toweled dry.
Once I was dry the doctor pushed me back on to the bed and started to caress me. I know this might sound strange now, but at the time, in my drowsy, recently relaxed state, I found myself responding to her overtures and, before long, I was panting and squirming in response to her expert kissing and caressing. I was amazed at this sudden change, and used the opportunity while the doctor was in a more intimate mood to appeal to her better side.
“Please, just let me go, Sara” I pleaded “I don’t know anything, honestly. I’ve never even seen your face so I won’t tell; just let me free, please. I’m so frightened. I’m just a girl I don’t know how I got caught up in all this”
“You have to just spoil everything, don’t you!” the doctor shouted, suddenly pulling away from me and, before I could anything to stop her, she had the cuffs back around my wrists and pulled me to my feet.
I admit I started to cry then. If I had ever had a chance to be free it had been that moment and I had blown it.
“Shut up, you whimpering little wretch” the doctor snapped, and dragged me back down into the basement. She maneuvered me in to what felt like the middle of the room where I felt a rope stretching across the room, laying taut against the side of my waist.
“Damn! Too high!” I heard her say and so my leg was lifted and I felt a shoe being fitted onto my foot. By the time my other foot had been shod, I realized these shoes had heels that were far taller than any I had worn before. Then the doctor lifted one of my legs and I felt it slip over the rope and come down on the other side. Now the rope pressed firmly on my pussy and I tried to lift free of this unwelcome intruder. But the doctor bent down to fasten leather cuffs around my ankles and I just had to teetered there in the precipitous heels, even more so when my ankle cuffs were clipped together.
A wide collar was fastened around my neck, this one wasn’t as bad as the last and I could at least move my head a little. I felt the sharp pain of clamps going onto my nipples. Not again! I thought, but then the chain to these was yanked up, and I felt it being threaded through a ring at the front of my collar. I felt thumb cuffs closing on my thumbs and then a chain was connected to my handcuffs and pulled up until my hands were over my breasts. When I pulled on my hands I could tell the chains locked to my cuffs and the chain on the nipple clamps had been joined so that I had to keep my hands held under my chin to avoid pulling on the nipple clamps.
To make sure I didn’t just remove the clamps, the doctor wrapped my hands into balls with the shiny plastic tape she had used the other day to bind me to the chair. I had no choice but to keep my hands held high and this was difficult as I really need my arms to help me balance on these heels. As long as I stood completely still, though, I reckoned I would be alright.
The doctor soon put paid to this and explained in detail my task. I had to walk to one end of the rope and collect some fruit and then walk to the other end and drop it in a basket.
I realized the rope would rub my pussy and I was reluctant to move until she explained the consequences for failing in this task. I quickly got under way not knowing ha0ow far I wuld have to move or how much fruit need to be transported. Moving as fast as I could, given the tiny mincing steps forced on me by the high-heels and the link between my ankle cuffs, I winced against the pain of the rope and moved forwards. I had only gone a few steps when I felt an obstruction on the rope. What now? I tentatively pushed forward to try and work out what was blocking the rope and discovered it was simply a knot tied in the rope. I say simply, but of course getting over the knot was far from simple. In the end, I had to edge forward on my tiptoes, though given the height of my heels; I was already almost walking on tiptoes, so this didn’t help too much. The knot rubbed painfully against my clit as I pulled my pussy over the blockage and I frantically had to wave my arms for balance pulling painfully on the nipple clamps.
As I made my way along the rope I found more of the knots and, combined with the fact that the rope seemed to be getting slightly higher, progress was very slow. Reaching the end of the rope, I cast around for the basket and found some fruit just under my chin. I tried to grab a piece of fruit between my taped hands but the slippery tape made this impossible and, in the end, I had to bend down slightly and bite into a piece of fruit with my teeth. This is when I found out the fruit was rotten and tasted disgusting. But I was determined to avoid the threatened whipping for failing to move the fruit and so I just gritted my teeth, and set out on the journey back. After many short steps, I realized the return journey was twice as long; I had evidently started my adventure in the middle of the rope. Reaching the other end of the rope, I tried unsuccessfully to drop the fruit in the basket, but it was behind my head, and I simply couldn’t turn all the way round to ensure a clean drop.
I heard the fruit hit the side of the basket, but seconds later I also heard it splat on the floor. I hung my head in defeat; Oh well, I would just have to better with the next one. My progress however, was far too slow; the pain caused by the rope rubbing against my pussy and the difficulty of getting past the knots, was proving too much and so, after a few steps, I came to halt. I simply couldn’t go on, and would have to face the consequences. The doctor, though, was reluctant to end the game so soon and so she rubbed something slippery onto the rope and onto my pussy. I tried to move forward and found my journey much easier.
Returning to my task, and now I was able to go somewhat faster. In fact, whatever ointment the doctor had rubbed into the rope, not only stopped the awful rubbing but transformed the feeling into an almost pleasant one. Indeed, I found, as I worked my way up and down the rope, that I was starting to rub myself to an orgasm. In fact, each time I pulled my pussy over one of the knots a not unpleasant tingle went through my body and I started to give a little squeak as I moved over each knot. I could tell the doctor was enjoying the show; but let her. I wasn’t going to give the bitch the satisfaction of seeing me fail, and give her an excuse to use that dreaded whip on me again.
I was making good progress along the rope now but I knew I was also dropping far too much fruit and I needed a break. I dropped the latest piece of fruit into the basket – my aim was getting better – and so I stopped to catch my breath. I felt the rope move and guessed the doctor was lubing it up again. That would help I thought so I set off again towards the far basket that I was slowly but surely emptying. After a few steps I realized something was terribly wrong. Where the extra lube should have made my journey easier, I was now burning more than ever. Maybe the doctor had been rubbing the ointment off instead of adding some as I had assumed. I stopped but the burning continued. In fact it got worse. After a minute or two it got so bad that I was jumping around, trying to get my pussy off the rope, and cursing loudly. This was different from rope burn and I realized the doctor must have been putting some evil stuff on the rope instead; some lotion that burned. In desperation, I rubbed my pussy against the rope, hoping to rub off the source of my torment but that just seemed to make things worse. I had to just wait it out and after a few minutes the pain subsided somewhat and I was able to continue. At least the doctor hadn’t put the stuff along the whole length of the rope and, as I progressed, and my pussy ran over the previous ointment, it helped sooth the burning a little. And then I reached the other end of the rope and the burning started again. I just cried in frustration and nearly gave up my allotted task right there but I heard the doctor laughing and this just made me angry and I decided I wasn’t going to let her get the better of me. I pressed on; ignoring the pain as best I could.
At last, I found I couldn’t reach any more of the fruit. I could just feel a piece with my tongue but I couldn’t get to it with my teeth or hands ands so I had to admit defeat. “I’m finished” I said, desperate for this torment to be over.
I felt the lash of a whip across my back and I jumped with the shock of it.
“Who gave you permission to talk, slut?” the doctor asked “You’re finished when I say so, not a minute sooner”.
Then there was the sound of her walking around the room, and slight squishing sounds, as she prodded fallen fruit with her foot. I heard tutting sounds as she conted up my failed attempts at trasposrting the fruit safely from one basket to the other. “I count fourteen you missed” she said, leaving me to do the math. Fourteen; the doctor had threatened ten lashes of her bullwhip for every dropped fruit. That added up to one hundred and forty lashes. I quaked with terror; there was no way I could endure that – it would kill me, surely?
“Please don’t whip me” I whimpered, “I’ll do anything. I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just don’t whip me again”
The doctor laughed. “I know you don’t know anything you stupid woman. I’ve known for ages! I’m just having my fun with you now. I consider it part of my payment” She continued, “but ok, I won’t whip you that much but you have to agree to other consequences instead.”
She went on to list a number of degrading acts I would have to do, to earn a respite from the whippings. I guess they were things she could make me do anyway, but it seem dot please the sadistic doctor to make me beg ands plead to do them; to volunteer myself for such humiliations.
Her list started with me promising to lick her pussy and ass – something I’d never dome before of course, and the thought of which, made me recoil with distaste. Then it moved on to having me beg for her to piss on my face; something I knew I could never bring myself to do. And then it got worse; but my mind was already reeling caught between the terror of the whipping and the sheer horror of the acts she was proposing as an alternative.
The doctor decided I needed time to think about her kind offer and pushed me back along the rope until my back was pressed against the basket at the far end where she left me to consider my options. Before she left the room, she covered the rope in front of me with lots more of the burning stuff, a fact I only discovered when I tried to walk to the middle of the rope where I knew it sagged a little and wouldn’t rub against my pussy so much. Of course I soon wished I had stayed still, where the doctor had left me.
Sometime later Doctor Sara came back down the stairs into the basement and asked me for my decision. I’d thought hard about her ‘offer’ and had managed to convince myself to accept a few of her proffered tortures. Enough to, reduce the number of lashes I’d receive to fifty or so; a number that still filled me with dread, but that I thought I could, maybe, survive. More to the point is that, I just couldn’t bring myself to do some of the things Sara was asking of me, and therefore I couldn’t find a way of reducing that number any further.
“Good choice” she responded “I think your bravery deserves a reward, don’t you”. I did; but the doctor’s idea of a reward was to free me from the rope and dress me in an old sack and baggy blouse, lacing a tight corset around my waist before forcing a large dowel between my teeth and cuffing my hands behind my back with some ancient manacles. All this was a prelude to pushing me head first into some dank, narrow hole after adding heavy ankle cuffs to my feet and lastly tying my thumbs and my big toes to each other.
And there I was left to rot, for what seemed like days.
Eventually, the doctor came to release me from my solitude, but only to strip me and take me back to the metal-framed bed so she could strap me to it, spread-eagled, laying on my back. She tied me down so tightly (even my fingers were separated and tied to something immovable), that I couldn’t move a muscle. The doctor offered me a drink, but I found this was an energy drink and I found myself lying totally immobilized but with my head buzzing. There was no way I could sleep, and that made my total restraint harder to bear. I wondered how long I would be kept like this, and I almost wished for the promised, degrading, tortures to begin. I wasn’t looking forward to them at all, but the waiting was even harder. I guessed she knew that and that it was all part of her depraved.
I was still bound on the bed like this, when the FBI burst in and found me. Of course I was freed straight away and had the satisfaction of seeing my captor taken away in chains of her own. But I still had to suffer the leers of the agents as I waited for one of them to bring something to cover my naked body.