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Advisory! This story describes repressed memories of an adult woman recalling her abuse as a 13 year old girl.
If this sort of thing disturbs you, don’t read this story.
Nancy’s Memories
Agnes O’Brien was perplexed by Nancy’s behavior. From a woman of Nancy’s wealth and bearing, Agnes would have expected control and composure. Instead, at the prospect of having to undergo bondage and discipline, Nancy reacted like a child. Before they proceeded any further Dr. O’Brien wanted more background information. Therefore, she instructed the maid to get a couple of bottles of white wine and some glasses. She told the cook to take a liter of white distilled vinegar and add half a kilo of salt and bring her the solution. And after the maid brought the vinegar brine to her, she was to bring some snacks for everyone. It was time for a break. Once the vinegar brine arrived, Dr. O’Brien began to sponge the cuts on Nancy’s backside. The astringent did the trick. It not only staunched the bleeding but revived Mrs. Wilson from her faint. Not that she enjoyed the revival but bound to the table there was not much she could do about it. Normally, Agnes did not like to fiddle with any of the hypnotic programming Steve had put in place, but this would be one exception. She would not be making any changes but just obtaining information. Dr. O’Brien whispered into Nancy’s ear “Dreamtime, Nancy. When you wake up I am going to ask you some questions and I want you to tell me the truth. Now count to twenty and then wake up.”
Agnes boosted herself up onto the laundry table so that she could comfortably chat with Mrs Wilson. That is comfortably for Agnes. As for Mrs Wilson, cuffed and bound across a table is not usually the most comfortable position in the world but at least no one was currently beating her. Agnes began asking a series of questions:
“Nancy, did the nuns or anyone else in school ever beat you.” “No”
“Did your mother or father ever beat you” “No, they died when I was young.”
“When you were younger did any one ever beat you” “Yes”
“Who beat you” “My cousin Anthony”
“How did he beat you” “Usually with his belt as part of games we were playing”
“How old were you” “I was thirteen”
“How old was he” “He was fifteen”
“Did he beat anyone else” “My thirteen year old non-identical twin sister and my thirteen year old cousin”
Nancy, I want you to tell me all about these beatings, all the details, leaving nothing out.
“It was summer and there was no school. There was an abandoned building in a corner of the family estate in Malta where no one ever went. My cousin Tony had discovered it. We made a windowless room behind a heavy wooden door in the back of the basement our secret play room. There we acted out the secret plays we made up. Tony, Angela my sister, and Maria, Tony’s sister. There we had our secret games the favorites of which were ‘Doctor’ and ‘Captives’.
Playing Doctor
“One of our uncles, Fredrico was a physician and in one part of the estate had a rather substantial clinic. Tony would pretend that he was his uncle Fredrico and we were his nurses and patients. At night, when everyone was asleep, we would sneak into the clinic and borrow medical things. We would stash them in our secret hiding place for a few days. We would play with them before returning them. Some we kept for several weeks. Like Tony’s green surgical scrubs. Like Maria’s nurse’s top. Ang and I had pediatric patient gowns. Of course that would be all we were wearing. Marie’s top came down barely to cover her ass and her pussy. Ang and my gowns came down to mid thigh but were so small that they couldn’t really be closed in the back. So they were just tied at the top and our butts were exposed for the most part. All of this was OK because usually the first thing after we changed into our costumes was the spanking. You see we were all bad nurses and patients. So right away it was bend over and hold you ankles and Tony would ‘tan your hides’ with his belt. That was to warm us up. After a while you got used to the spankings and they didn’t hurt as much as they excited. And we were excited because we were always playing different games depending on what we had borrowed from the clinic. We had found an ancient table and we pretended it was an examining or operating table. So by the flickering lights of the candles we filched we played medical games.”
“What kinds of games?”
“It depended on what we had. Sometimes it was taking the patient’s temperature with a rectal thermometer. After the spankings Tony would always inspect our holes with his finger. All three of us girls would often take off our costumes and do exercises while naked. Things like jumping jacks, squats or upside down bicycling. When we had no medical equipment available we would practice bondage using what rope we had.
“Onetime we borrowed a big pair of surgical forceps. We would use these as nipple clamps. Particularly on me. Angela had not yet started menstruating and she had no tits. Maria had been having periods for a year but still had nothing in the way of boobs. I had just started having monthlies but already I had something to show for it. Tony said that I didn’t have boobies yet, but I had buddies. I remember once having mouse-toothed forceps clamped onto my nipples and then having these strung up. I was wrenched up on my tip toes, naked with my hands tied behind my back. The forceps had sharp jaws with teeth in them. This caused my nipples to bleed. And it was that time of month for me. Tony made Angela and Maria alternately sucking the blood from my pussy and licking the blood from my nipples while he whipped my ass with a switch. That was a really wild afternoon.
“Once we found a Foley catheter and really had fun with that. Tony made sure we did a thorough cleaning and disinfection. Then he inserted the catheter and inflated the bulb at the end to hold it in. We all used to get the giggles when the clamp was released and the urine tinkled out. Then we used to pull the catheter out without deflating the bulb. That would really cause the patient to jump as her urethra was dilated. We would see what the limit was as to how large the bulb could be inflated and still be pulled out. Angela won that contest when we were able to inflate the bulb to fifty cc and still pull it out. But poor Ang lost control of her bladder for a week afterwards. She was always having to leave the dinner table and run to the bathroom. Her panties were urine stained for weeks afterwards. We thought it was so funny.
“Often, when there was nothing else to do, either the patients or the nurse got enemas. Before the enema there was always an extra vigorous spanking. Then cleaning the bottom with strong soap and a surgical scrub brush and then the enema. Sometimes they were single bulb enemas but other times they were bowel wrenching colonic bag enemas. And always, after an enema, Tony would take us up the arse. He never fucked our pussies, only our arses. Of course, we had to suck him every day. He would pull out his penis and say, ‘clean up time’. It was really gross to have to such him after he had just buggered your sister or your cousin. The taste of her shit was all over his penis. Sometimes it was so bad, between the taste and you gagging on his dick that you barfed. It was really neat to watch your sister barfing.
“But playing Gynecology was the most fun. Tony managed to pinch a speculum and we used ropes to restrain the legs of a girl in the splayed out position. Then it was time to play pelvic exam. While the nurse held an electric lantern to illuminate the vagina Doctor Antonio would sometimes scrape the cervix with a wooden stick for a Pap smear. If Maria or I were having our periods there would be douches with straight vinegar or bleach. But not until we would make Angela remove the tampon and suck it dry. Then there were the vaginal scrubbings with a bottle brush and Lysol. And the day that we decided to open up Angela’s hymen with a tampon applicator. I found the sight of the blood from the torn hymen particularly exciting. Every girl had her chance to have her clit and lips licked and sucked until they swelled with the excitement. Then Tony would squeeze the swollen genitals with pliers until the blood ran.
Captives
“The other game we played was captives. I guess that everybody plays some form of captives but we had a particularly Maltese version of the game. It was called Christians and Arabs and it was based on our history when for centuries Malta was the often attacked Southern Mediterranean bastion of Christendom. Corsairs from the North African ports would attack commerce to and from the island and it was not unusual for female passengers to be captured by the Muslim pirates. Countless stories repeated the outrages perpetrated on the helpless victims.
“We knew all the stories and played out our versions of them. All three of us girls had elaborate native Maltese costumes for the various festivals throughout the year. We snuck these down to our secret playhouse, without the drawers of course. But blouses and bodices, skirts and petticoats were donned. We even had special corsets for girls designed to pinch in the waists but not to support the breasts which we, of course, didn’t have. Tony didn’t need any costume. As an Arab all that he needed were sandals, a loincloth, and a rag on his head. And our costumes never stayed on for long. They would be shed in elaborate ceremonies with profuse protestations of our innocence and virginity when each item of clothing was removed.
“Then would come the inspections. Every Arab knew that Christian women, upon the approach of corsairs would hide their jewels in their most intimate cavities. Therefore upon capture all women needed to be stripped and to have their cavities probed. This would of course be accompanied by further tears, shrieks and protestations. As part of changing into our festive dress, we would insert candies into our anuses and vaginas. After our stripping and examinations, Tony would make us eat the confiscated “contraband” he had extracted. Not our own but the candies recovered from the other girls cavities. We naturally competed to see who could secret the most candy. I managed once to insert an entire half a kilo of rock candy in my pussy. Maria got almost a kilo of peppermint candy up her ass and Angela was forced to eat it all. She got sicker than a dog which Maria and I found endlessly funny.
“But the main part of the captives game was the torture. The reasons for the tortures varied. Sometimes it might be to reveal where the treasure was buried. Sometimes it might be to tell when our father’s battle fleet would sail. Sometimes it might be to renounce our Christian faith and become a Mohammedan. Sometimes it would be to induce us to couple with the foul Sultan. Sometimes it was punishment for disobeying the laws of the Harem. But torture was always the lot of the captive Christian women.
“Here our ingenuity was put to the test. We could not incapacitate the victim for fear that our custodial aunts and uncles would notice. And there was always the peril of a trip to the beach where bruises would be noticed. So the thighs as targets were off limits. Some leeway was provided by the ability to wear modest shorts and a halter top when sea bathing together rather than a bikini. This meant that the whip (God knows where Anthony got that from) could be employed down to the tender junction of bum and thighs, but no lower. Of course the butt, nipples and genitals could be beaten until they bled. And they were. No captive would ever break down under torment, no matter how fiendish. We never played captive more than once a week. It took too long afterwards to recuperate.
“Then there was the play about being skinned alive. A favorite torment that the Arabs used on Christian captives was to string them up by their wrists and flay the flesh off. They would then tan the hides and stuff them, hanging the effigies from the yardarms of their ships. The nuns used to tell us stories about how it might take several days for the victims to die screaming in constant torment. The sisters said that the Arabs particularly loved to skin women. They would always start by slowing flaying the skin off their breasts, starting with the nipples. Then they would strip the flesh off their buttocks. Finally they would slice off their genitals starting with the hood of the clitoris, then the clitoris itself, and finally the inner and outer labia. This process was called infibulation. The nuns said that even today the Muslims still perform this operation, without anesthesia, on their women. It was obvious that we could not exactly repeat this procedure but we toyed around with the idea. One of us girls would be tied down to the table and a stick for her to bite down on would be placed between her teeth. We would make tiny cuts in either the nipple and areola or in her genitals. Once the blood started to flow we would alternate sucking the blood with rubbing salt into the wounds. All three of us loved to get our chance to have a go at the knife. I think that I had my first orgasm playing infibulation.
“One piece of equipment made our last several episodes of captive special. Tony managed to find a chain hoist. This, when attached to a ceiling beam of our basement secret playhouse enabled the poor Christian virgin to be suspended in the air in ways that constantly challenged our imaginations. My favorite was to have my hands and ankles secured behind my back in a position referred to as ‘the hog tie’ and attached to the chain. I would then be hoisted about three feet into the air. Only if you have been in this position can you realize the pain to the joints of this suspension. To make things worse you are completely immobilized and your most sensitive parts are wickedly exposed. Maria and Angela used to be delighted to take lighted candles and play the flames under my nipples and genitals. Maria was always scared that she would badly burn me but my sister had the uncanny ability to apply the flame until small burn blisters would just start to form and then back away. My howls of pain drove her into a frenzy. Tony had a different approach. He used a needle to pass thread through the out lips of my pussy. He then spread my labia by tying the thread around my thighs. With the outer portion of my vagina thus exposed, he would see how many times he could light, and then extinguish a cigarette by snuffing it out on my vaginal skin. After about a dozen vaginal burns I usually fainted.
The Branding
“But the last torment we played was the most exciting. One of the books that Anthony had to read that summer was about the slave trade. In one chapter they described the branding of slaves. One evening in early August was the eve of Maria’s fourteenth birthday. We decided to honor her with a branding. First we hung her by her wrists and gave her the good whipping that every slave deserves. We had earlier fashioned small branding irons out of pieces of wire coat hangers stuck into wooden handles. We started a small charcoal fire in our secret playroom and procured some olive oil. After her whipping Maria was tied to our sturdy table. Her freshly shaved pubis was coated with olive oil so that the hot branding iron would not stick to her flesh. The rest of the oil was put in a small pot and placed on the charcoal fire to heat. Maria was given a folded piece of leather to bite down on while we waited for the oil to come to the boil. Anthony declared that hereafter Maria was to be his slave and we would burn an A into her mons veneris to acknowledge her owned status. Then Tony heated a 3-4 cm long piece of wire in the boiling oil. After a minute or two he grabbed the wooden handle of the makeshift iron and pressed it into her pubic flesh. Maria writhed and cried out until Tony removed the wire leaving a livid scarlet / in her skin. I took the wooden-handled wire and heated it again. When I thought it was hot enough I made the second mark on Maria’s mons, almost at a right angle to the first. Now she had a ^ burned into her pubis. Angela now took a second, shorter piece of wire, heated it in the boiling oil and burned a crosspiece into Maria, completing the A. This truly was our finest hour and Maria was faint, sweating and shaking when we were done.
Out of Eden
“Childhood never lasts forever and neither did our adolescent idyll. I will never know how the elder generation became aware of our secret playhouse and the games we engaged in. But learn they did. Angela and I had gone to visit distant relatives on the other side of the island. After two days we came back to discover that Anthony had been sent off to boarding school in England two weeks earlier than expected. Maria had been pulled out of the Ursuline School in Valetta and sent off to a convent school in Naples, Italy. Angela and I were trooped off to our secret playhouse by two of our aunts. There we were forced to strip and were strung up by our wrists. ‘So we understand that you two girls like to taste the whip. Well you are going to get a surfeit of it now.’ And with that began the worst whipping of my life. I have no idea how many times my two aunts hit me. I do remember losing consciousness three times and being revived with smelling salts twice.
“After the last time I woke up in my bed in the big house and it was the next day. My wounds and the wounds of my sister had been expertly dressed (I suspect by our Uncle Fredo). But when I removed my nightdress to bathe, the agony of freshening the scabs caused me to once again faint. The next day I counted the number of cuts on my sister’s body. There were one hundred and two of them. I didn’t even attempt to count the bruises as they all basically merged into one gigantic bruise that covered her body from just below the armpits to just above the knees. Angela was uninterested in counting the cuts on my body but I think that I took the worst of it. I know that my pussy was so badly lashed that it was three weeks before I could urinate without grinding my teeth because of the pain of spreading my labia. Angela and I were in bed for a week subsisting on broth and bread alone. It was another week before we could walk without pain. We were excused from gym class for a month after classes resumed that fall so that the marks of our punishment would not disgrace the family.
“The family never talked about what went on between the four of us that summer. And with time all memory of it has been repressed. Anthony, not surprisingly, became a doctor and now is an under-minister in the Dept of Health. Maria, ran away from her Italian convent school at seventeen. She never did develop much of a figure but got an obscene pair of silicone breast implants. She became a Eurotrash Porn Star called Messilina and is currently the Hostess of “Wheals of Fortune” on the S&M Network. Her name is anathema in the family. I was married off to Andy Wilson immediately after graduation from the Ursuline School. Angela was married two years later to a Maltese family as wealthy and distinguished as our own. Today she is the mother of one son and five daughters. I am not close to her and upon my infrequent visits back to Malta I have never asked her about her sex life. And I have no desire to know.”
Dr O’Brien whispered in her ear. “When you are next punished you will imagine that you are once again a little girl. Anthony is punishing you. You are once again in the secret play house.“ And with that Nancy Wilson dropped off to sleep.
While Nancy slumbered, Agnes instructed Maggie. Maggie then directed the three muses to untie the somnolent lady and reposition her on her back on the table. A rope was passed around Mrs Wilson’s waist and secured to one edge of the table. Because this left her hips and legs dangling off it was necessary for Anne to grasp Nancy under the knees and keep her up or she would have slid off the table. Kathy and Mary working together were able to pull Nancy’s hands over her head and secure them to the far side of the utility table. Now Mary gave Anne a hand and they lifted up Nancy’s long but full legs so that Kathy could secure them to the far side of the table. Kathy pulled the ropes so tight that Nancy’s legs were almost by her ears. Never had the three ladies seen a woman so shockingly exposed. Agnes was happy and nodded her approval to Maggie. She then whispered some instructions into Mags ear. Finally Dr. O’Brien went over to Nancy and whispered to her, “Nancy wake up”. The dark haired woman woke with a start and looked around her dazedly.
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