Condemned to Slavery (21 page)
With a sharp pull she was led aside, forced to crawl and keep up the demanded pace to ease the strain. Shown to a rounded pole that ran from floor to ceiling, her captor hauled upwards until Lydia was erect and then placed her back to the wood.
Afraid to resist for fear of the consequences and knowing that any attempt at escape would be useless while she was naked and bound, she did nothing, allowing herself to remain as a passive subject. Her elbows were maneuvered back until the chain of her cuffs was taut across her belly, the metal edges sawing painfully into her joints. A rigid leather manacle was applied above each elbow and connected to its fellow via a short coil of rope. With a stern pull they were dragged up to be secured to a protruding hook on the far side of the pole. Her shoulders throbbed with a deep ache from the twisted position, but there was little she could do, the elevation of the hook was far too high for her to get off of it. Still not satisfied with Lydia’s helplessness, the woman began to buckle thick fetters to her ankles, the feel of the suede interior upon her skin causing Lydia to believe that they were a tool to trap her feet to the base of the pole. When rope was threaded through the D rings of the cuffs, she still continued with this notion until a yank to the rope hauled her feet into the air. The villain dragged them up and slipped the length of rope connecting her feet over the same hook that held her elbows, suspending her upon the anchor, her limbs contorted painfully to hold her as the pole pressed firmly to her spine and rear. Gasping, she gritted her teeth and held to her silence, intending to deny this woman the pleasure of her begs or howls.
However chilling the bondage was, her resentment of this affair only boiled over when she saw the woman set aside her crop and select a short brass pole. Over a foot in length, a leathery waterfall of yard long strips spewed from the tip, the impassive torturess combing them through her fingers, the metal stave that was the hilt sparkling in the weak light.
“You can’t do this, I’m innocent, I—” she began, her dissent being transformed into a croaking yowl, the whip having laid a plexus of angry weals following a capricious though heavy-handed flick.
Another followed, and another, the flat leather tentacles making her breasts and belly reverberate with pounding waves. Lydia stretched her fingers out onto her chest to take away some of the assault, but the weapon afflicted such a large area with its searing touch that she only really succeeded in opening her hands to harm.
Throwing herself wildly in her bonds, her wrists were plagued with gnawing agony, the cuffs responding to her dance with mordant intensity. Her legs kicked into her bonds, the muscles straining, the flesh rippling with her battle to evade the methodical targeting of her body, her breasts bouncing wildly, her eyes clenched shut within her mask of duress.
The flogging ended abruptly and Lydia sank upon her bonds, torpid and phased, having wrenched her muscles and ligaments with her fight upon her bonds.
Hanging upon the hook, her body held like a stringed puppet awaiting use, she dimly noticed the woman fetching something new, and then as the fires of her trial started to ebb, her hair was being smoothed back before being trapped in a stern pony tail. The sides of a latex hood were gathered in and the garment forced down over her head with careless intensity. As the contours of the molded item were steered to the correct positions and her mane hauled from the designated opening with a brutality that made her wince, she found that it offered no sight.
“Open your mouth,” demanded the woman, cradling Lydia’s chin and lifting up her slothful head upon a curled forefinger.
Rendered cooperative by the abuse, she willingly parted her jaws, her chest still possessed of penetrating rawness. The opening was not satisfactory so the woman sank her fingers into Lydia’s cheeks and squeezed, forcing her maw to its limits, the nails digging spitefully into her cheeks to leave flushed indentations.
A flaccid balloon slipped in, borne upon a plate of metal. The riveted straps that were thrown from this barrier were cast about her skull and tightened by degrees until she feared her head would implode, the leather creaking with the heavy stresses being placed upon it. The restraints were secured and then locked to prevent any interference, each buckle and strap ready and able to provide such security.
Lydia detected the application of something to the exterior nozzle and suddenly the trespasser was welling in her mouth under a steady rhythm of pumps. As her tongue was ground beneath the globe and her jaws were strained
against the straps, panic set in and she began to jolt against her limb-warping cuffs, her fingers clawing at her skin as sheer panic descended within her. After imposing a slight crimp to her breathing from its bloated bulk pressing against the back of her throat, the procedure stopped.
Battling to find a way to defeat the gag, she wheezed through her nose and listened as her captor spoke, her senses reduced to this last one, for it was certain that her sense of touch would be occupied with trauma at any moment. Drool started to escape the gag and stretch from her chin, her body reverberating with discomfort and heat, her skin growing damp with sweat.
“I am your Mistress. I do not care if you are innocent or guilty. I am not here to determine verdicts I am here to break the enemies of our country. Now, you will eventually be conditioned to adore me. The program works just as well for women as for men, and once you are groveling at my feet in worship, we will determine your final fate.”
The song of metal being moved permeated the muffling hood and she felt some sort of full steel helmet being closed about her head. The item fitted snugly, its structure sculpted delicately to follow the contours of human features. Hinged at the crown into two halves—that of the face and the back of her skull, the seams of the device closed over her ears and the latches were firmly and irrevocably locked at her neck. It was light, but the added weight was still unwelcome in her current suspended predicament.
It was only in the quiet after it was installed that she heard the whispers. Just at the very limit of her hearing she could detect words, a seductive litany that continued without pause. As she slowed her breathing and listened to the audio-education she began to discern the sentences contained therein. The subliminal brainwashing was not to pledge her allegiance or give up her supposed secrets, it was to inspire devotion to this woman.
“You can feel your lust burning when you look upon my body. The contours that entice, presented in latex to shield me from your worthless presence. You will do anything to grovel at my feet, to abase yourself and lap at my heels, to taste the gleaming fabrics that coat my frame. I am a goddess, a divine empress who you will do anything to please, endure anything to gain the most meager favor from. You are a worm beneath contempt, lower than a slave, and you are blessed beyond measure when I give you attention, and you will obey without pause or question to show how much you love me. You w—”
She shook her head to dispel the sounds, so offensive did she find them. Noticing the excessive volume, the Mistress decreased the tune slightly, reducing it to an almost inaudible murmur in the background, a weapon to assail her subconscious without relent.
A cry left Lydia’s lips as the woman grabbed her ankles from behind and stole away yet more rope, lifting her feet higher from the ground and then fastening them at this increased height, her buttocks being splayed against the beam. The ascent in twisting pain gnawed at her joints and her teeth chattered uncontrollably upon the gag, her breathing quickening into uneven rasps.
A jolt traversed her hovering form as a terrible bite drilled into her nipples, the clamps the torturess applied being drawn tighter by the effects of a leaden weight that dangled from their chains, stretching the pert assets downward, the cold burden chilling her whip-marked torso. She spasmed again with greater motion as another set of cruel jaws nipped her clitoris, the sensitive morsel throwing out more pain than she could stand and maintain her silence. Her shaking fingers clawed for the implements, the one hanging from her sex far out of her range. When she reached for the ones blighting her mamilla, all she could do was snag the weight and its chain to bring more pain as she tugged on it, failing to get access to the actual clamp or any chance to get the terrible tools off.
Gurgling upon the gag, she cried desperately to get free, all to no avail, the woman being a veteran of such abuses and so her callous heart was as stone to them. The sharp initial shock of the clamps began to settle into a dull heat that bore its own lethargic pulse, one that was slowly starting to ascend in potency. The mechanisms were stashing away a secret reserve of anguish that they would save for her when they were removed, each minute they remained with her boosting this stash.
Blind, mute, and near deaf, Lydia’s first awareness of the incoming strap was gained only when the stiff appliance impacted upon her presented belly, the smooth surface applauding the virulent blows with thunderous claps and a vehement maelstrom of havoc.
Under such attention her skin adopted a flushed rosy glow as though it were the very manifestation of the fiery heat within the tissues. Squealing and suffering abominably, Lydia’s addled thoughts were concentrated solely upon prayers for an end to the ordeal and when the attack stopped after an infinity of harrowing, she almost gave a sigh of gratitude to the villainess responsible.
The clamps were starting to swell with a more intense discomfort, their pinch serving to make her squirm. To free herself of them she cast her cleavage from side to side, quickly discovering that this made them ache all the more. With this increase in pain she foolishly renewed her fight to get them off. This caused the effects to spiral until she was forced to give up, having failed to dislodge them and having magnified the rigor of the baleful parasites as well as harming her elevated limbs all the more grievously. All the while the woman merely studied the effects of her torment.
The rope at her ankles was cut at the hook and her feet fell to the floor, stubbing her toes, the shock almost unnoticed for it was such a paltry one compared to her current levels. With some ailing shuffles she propped herself back up, only to have the joints snagged yet again. This time she fought the pull, knowing that it was useless but determined to show her lack of submission to this lot.
The affixed ropes were used as reigns and hauled upward until her knees almost touched her pinched breasts. The strain upon her arms was now beyond anything she could have imagined and it felt as though they were sure to snap from this diabolic contortion.
The limbs were tied off upon the pole, the severed laces being knotted on the opposite side, trapping them in this impious and lewd pose. The hope that this sadist had finished her deeds was annihilated as a leg spreader was employed, the latches on either end of the wide rod clipping to the manacles to form a most stringent set of restraints that forced her bound legs apart.
With legs splayed, she gurgled and listened as the Mistress drew forth a chair and sat down before her suspended frame, the squeal of wooden legs and the creak of timbers being burdened explaining all in the absence of Lydia’s vision. Noticing just how vulnerable her loins had been rendered was a cause for even greater concern, and Lydia trembled with consternation at the prospect of what might come.
Some sort of soft plastic tube was screwed onto the vents of her nostrils, the helmet having the necessary means to forge an airtight seal. She needed to breathe more ferociously to respire because of these tunnels that extended each route to air, but it was clear that the Mistress merely wanted an easier control over the workings of her lungs.
The tube suddenly denied intake, the pipe having been blocked or squeezed shut. Lydia sucked with all her might, gaining pitiful hisses of air from the chinks in her hood, but these measures were woefully inadequate for her needs.
The strain for respiration was lost as she spent her reservoir on a howl, the Mistress having reached forward and armed with some manner of tweezers she had yanked out a tuft of pubic hair. The intensity of the removal made it feel like a chunk of flesh had been stolen, the eruption of heat within the afflicted roots being more than she thought possible from this mere act of plucking. Her legs jerked and her body bent itself more acutely against its trammels, her crotch wiggling as it sought to rid itself of the mordant sensations coursing through the tiny bald patch.
Breath was restored and she gasped in as much as she could, expending some on prolonged muffled cries while the plucking continued. At sporadic intervals her respiration was cut off, leaving her to the effects of scorching suffocation, her very essence aflame from this dreadful maltreatment. Spasming on her bonds she shrieked for a way to evade this atrocity, her mind bellowing for it to end.
Only once the clefts of her loins were fully cleared did the attacks stop, the brutal shearing no doubt having left her bald skin aglow and flecked with spots of red from the more savage removals.
Even this gave no end to the session, for the snap of surgical gloves reached her ringing ears and thumping mind, a sound that was followed by the smearing of a cool cream across the punished regions. Volcanic lances of fire drilled deep into the flesh, the embrocation cream making every pore and nerve shriek their hatred of the substance. Lydia bounced upon her bonds, the baking touch beyond all concept of endurance. The pain was so severe that her hindquarters could have been dissolving in flames for all she knew, and the reaction to a mere medicinal cream was impossibly acute.
The rounded bulbs of her tormentor’s fingers evaded the clamp and carried the smears of gel into her sex, depositing it upon the tender tracts to have them join the chorus of outrage. They were accompanied in turn by her rear as more of the caustic substance was laid down internally.
There seemed to be no end to this woman’s need to cause agony, a conclusion amply supported when she moved away and returned to begin basting Lydia’s exposed and upturned soles with a cane.
