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THE CHAMBER
Part Three
Another abuse in one of the dungeons
Chapter One
Virtually immobile, the clamminess of the latex hood adhering to her face like a second skin, the dampness stifling, she again awakens, realizes even with the mounting numbness of her extremities she’s being stretched out in a severe spread-eagled position. Total darkness, ear passages sealed, her lips pressed practically flat between the double stitched slit beneath the nostril perforations, the hood drawn tight from her throat up, she’s lost tract of how long she’s been mounted in place since this latest torment began, the continuous pain having become synonymous with consciousness.
Her abuse almost constant since the first day, being sexually invaded in every orifice time and again between brutal lashings and worse, she can only contemplate what’s to happen next, even to when it’s going to happen as she remains drawn, suspended by her wrists and ankles. Having lost consciousness, regained, lost, regained again without any sort of other recent abuse while enclosed in the isolation of the dreaded hood, its impossible to calculate time, to comprehend what’s actually happened in the past days, maybe even week.
‘Thwack!’
The burning pain jolting across her breasts, the pounding reverberation resonating through her brain more from the sense of the contact rather then being able to actually hear the wide leather strap slamming across her bare nipples, she feels her torso arching outward, senses her naked breasts slapping harshly across her chest. Her numbing fingers clenching into tightening fists, toes curling, she feels her body shuddering as her breasts throb with each escalating heartbeat, bouncing, swaying till a pulsing standstill lasting but a few moments.
‘Thwack!’
A stinging smack between her spread thighs, a crisper, searing sensation resonates throughout her lower body from her flattened clit, her hips twitching; legs quivering in mid air as the ropes binding her spread extremities vibrate from their mounts. Feeling the warmth of a couple uncontrollable spurts of urine across her inner thighs, again her fingers reflexively clench, the nails scrapping, digging into her raw palms. Coughing, attempting to inhale through her flailing nostrils pressed nearly flat by the taut bondage hood, heart pounding as her mind races with abstract bits and pieces of incomprehensible thoughts, she struggles to accept the pain, to somehow prepare for what’s next in store.
‘Thwack!........................... Thwack!........................ Thwack!”
Left breast slashed, right breast flogged, followed again by the third lashing up between her impossibly stretched thighs by a snap of the wide supple leather, the searing pain of the first couple lashings passes from one bouncing melon to the other, the third directly across her vagina again causing a squirt of urine from her stretched slit. Screaming in her mind, moist air bubbles escaping her swollen lips compressed by the ever shrinking mask, again she can feel her naked body shuddering, the ropes flexing from her four taut limbs. Rasping for breathe, the mask frantically sucking in, pressing outward across her lips and nostrils, the sounds of the lashings resonate from deep within, the ‘thud’ of each flogging absorbed by her taut body.
An apprehensive respite, her body twitching in the twanging ropes, her thoughts scrambled, anticipating where the next pain’s to be inflicted, terrified, the darkness, silence all escalates her dread as she prays for unconsciousness, its sanctity. Just moments passing before the sensation of more hands on her naked body, feeling her breasts being squeezed, twisted, the painful sensation of twine being looped, bound deep against her breastbone, her breasts jerked outward, aching, obviously bulging as she feels hands slapping the swelling mounds back and forth, the hollowing sounds of each harsh smack reverberates in her head. The rough hewn ropes borrowing ever deeper into her swelling titflesh, she can only grunt, try to gasp for breath as that pounding of her breasts resonating throughout her body finally ceases.
Arms, legs virtually numb, her chest burning, her bound breasts throbbing with each escalating heartbeat, she feels the Velcro being ripped away from the slits covering her eyes. Blinking, trying to focus through her tear laden, swollen eyes, the shadowed walls flickering from the mounted torches, she sees the pair of reddish stones being held in front of her face, intertwined with hemp rope. Glancing downward, following the long slacking ropes looping around her obscenely bulging, virtually unrecognizable breasts, the overlapping welts, bruises marring her once prefect flesh, everything seems so surreal, even as in practically slow-motion the stones slide away from the in-turning hands. Barely time to understand the consequences, she watches the uncoiling ropes stretching as the stones disappear beneath her thrust out globular mounds.
“Oooooooommmmmpppphhh!”
An animalistic screech emits from the mask as she somehow jerks her head forward, cranes her neck, watches her breasts being stretched, the bulging areolas, nipples disappearing beneath the rounded mounds as the ropes snap taut, bite into her titflesh, tightens even further as the stones ‘clank’ together just below her spread slit. Still seeming in slow-motion, her breasts springing upwards, the stones grotesquely following in the flexing ropes, her naked body quivers in the bindings as the rocks bounce together in front of her heaving stomach, disappear downward a second time followed by the flailing ropes dragging her swollen breasts with them.
“Ooooommmppphhh!”
Another guttural scream from the binding mask as again the stones slam together just below her severely spread thighs. Breasts stretching, bouncing in the tightening bindings, the taut nipples bulging, her eyes roll upward in her head as a steady stream of urine spurts across the swaying rocks even as their swaying weight drags her body forward. Bordering on unconsciousness, feeling her chin lifted upwards, the gray beard of the hooded monk reflecting the torch’s light beneath his piercing eyes, she sees his other hand handling a stone, holding it near her face. A sneer, his hand twisting, the stone dropping, she tries to brace.
“Aaaggghhh!”
Her head held upright by the mask, the weight of the falling stone reaching the end of the snapping rope again rips at a throbbing breast. Blinking, grunting, another stone being lifted in front of the mask, dropped, her eyes squint shut as in less then a moment the curling rope snaps, sways, stretching taut.
“Aaaggghhh!”
Another guttural screech, her other breast jerked, contorted as the stone bounces in the flexing rope, she barely senses his fist tightening beneath her chin, the stones bouncing together, dragging her breasts back and forth as they painfully stretch. Blinking, barely on the edge of consciousness, the pair of stones again lifted across the front of the mask, rising even higher above her eyes glaring out of the narrow slots, both his hands begin to slowly turn inwards as she grunts, groans, pleads through her widening eyes.
For some reason keeping his grip on the rocks, almost gently lowering them, she feels the tautness of the binding ropes, yet the relief of the stones not being dropped again, just swaying back and forth from her tugged breasts. Staring blurredly into his eyes, she senses his fingers manipulating the bindings digging into her heaving chest, feels the searing pain of the ropes tugged, unwrapped, her breasts pounding, the blood rushing into the swollen mounds. The pain beyond description, yet the psychological relief of not being further tortured, she continues to gasp for breath as he steps behind her.
Sensing his hands around her throat, the mask unzipping from behind her neck, she feels the latex tugging, stretching at her skin as it slides up off her head. For the first time in possibly days, she feels the fresh air across her chaffed, reddened face. Her matted hair clinging to her scalp, her eyes puffy above her swollen cheeks, her chin drops limply across her sternum while she remains tautly stretched by the four ropes. The torches almost extinguished but still flickering, the shadows dancing across the stone walls as the robed individuals file out of the dungeon, shut the creaking door behind them, she glances down toward her bruised, swollen breasts, wonders when they’ll be back, how much more she can take before going mad.
End Part Three
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