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Author Topic: Her Body, Her Fault  (Read 701 times)

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Offline CerealRapist

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Her Body, Her Fault
« on: May 22, 2021, 03:18:46 AM »
The Controller tied Dina to the wide, leather sofa for the express purpose of torturing her.  The sprite of a brunette was secured in a seated position with the Controller's ropes purposefully obligating her to thrust her torso forward.  Though they were modest in size Dina had been very proud of her attractive breasts and inviting nipples.  Up until the point just an hour or so ago when her kidnapper had showed Dina what he had in store for her extensive sex punishment.  Upon this very sofa expressly modified for the binding and torturing of naked girls in this suburban basement. 

The Controller tied Dina painfully with her arms pulled behind her and slung over the back of the sofa in the center of this room.  Other ropes kept the trembling girl's legs very tight together at the hamstrings, just below the knees and at the ankles.  The Controller had lied to Dina and informed her that he was somewhat disappointed with her body...once she had reluctantly stripped naked for his appraisal before the video equipment.  'Pain, excruciating pain' the Controller had mocked 'would be absolutely necessary prior to fucking' as Dina stomached the shame of her kidnapper's judgment of both her nudity and her newly discovered lack of dignity.

The Controller had tied Dina Merritt to the sofa in such a way that the young brunette couldn't help but notice the other females languishing in this prison of a cellar.  A very pretty blonde girl about Dina's age was moaning in agony upon tiptoe...as a type of strappado rope torture put merciless tension upon her shoulders every time the sadist lifted her body clear of the cement floor.  In the far corner another brunette who could have passed as Dina's sister wept silently as a Bunsen burner menacingly heated up the sharp tips of the stainless steel lancets clearly intended for her tanned, helpless flesh.  And Dina could just make out - through the bars of a small but sturdy iron cage - the forms of two bikini clad women kissing passionately as though they were lovers.  Dina studied the two caged prisoners...and noticed how they caressed each other's half-naked bodies especially sensually whenever their prowling captor  strutted close by in his heavy boots.

The Controller untied and then redid a series of overly constricting knots keeping Dina tightly bound to the wide, leather sofa.  His fresh brunette had to be perfect for the upcoming torture.  Her vulnerable breasts 'offered up' in just such a way that ensured a precise amount of discomfort to Dina's aching spine and lower back.  The maniac smiled and told himself that his victim with the gray eyes DID possess a very nice body after all.  Then he casually parked a wheeled tray with ordinary household implements arrayed across its top before her eyes so that Dina could 'think about' the agony that was about to be inflicted.  But first the strappado blonde required yet another lift off the floor...it was high time she groaned and writhed again.   

Dina fought the retching sensation that the invading penis gag coaxed from the back of her throat.  She had no choice but to gaze upon the torture tools atop the wheeled tray as the forsaken blonde girl screamed in agony and begged for mercy.  In crippling fear Dina's wet gray eyes took in the stationery fasteners, alligator-toothed clips, needle-nosed pliers and coarse hemp twine on display.  She remembered her kidnapper saying (as she had taken off her clothes for the first time in his presence) that he had the means to 'lace up her titties' so tight it would be almost impossible for Dina to breathe.   The hemp string terrified Dina.  And her fear blotted out the poignant screams of the helpless blonde girl as the Controller applied his ongoing rope torture mercilessly.

Dina was certain she was next.

The two women inside the cage were French-kissing intently as the sadist 'allowed' his blonde plaything a relatively more 'comfortable' perch upon tiptoe.  She was sobbing in a desperate way that made Dina certain this wasn't her first or her last session within the basement's punishment area.  The Controller then took in the pleasing sight of the caged girls humiliatingly kiss and fondle one another for a good long while...as his Bunsen burner sizzled away at the spiny lancets intended to bite at Dina's mirror image of a brunette.  Yes.  Dina had been kidnapped.  And this WAS a torture chamber.  Worthless females were being disciplined severely...

...and Dina was dead certain she was next on the menu. 
Non-submissives need not apply.

Offline theupsideofdown

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Re: Her Body, Her Fault
« Reply #1 on: July 29, 2021, 10:09:05 PM »
This tableau comes alive in my mind's eye: the strappado blonde, the bikini girls, the mirror's image, the Bunsen burner, the spiny lancets... the wide, leather sofa.

I do not know this stage's dimensions, or the precise positions of its players, yet I feel as firmly situated in it as if I were the Controller himself, striding with purpose through this exquisitely ordered microcosmos. Every thing here has its place; and by their contrasts these torments, these instruments of torment, these subjects of torment, even these adjuncts of torment ("the wide, leather sofa") describe a will and a design none of its constituents are entitled to understand.

Yes, the harmony of that arrangement is obscure to those upon whom it is inflicted, and this is as it ought to be. The Controller is no more obligated justify his design to womankind, than is God to justify His ways to Man.

Offline CerealRapist

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Re: Her Body, Her Fault
« Reply #2 on: August 02, 2021, 03:58:40 PM »
Just as this tableau comes alive in the mind's eye of @theupsideofdown so it also did for myself as the Narrator.  Quite often - as I write - you absorb this adrenaline rush of power as in an instant you introduce a secondary character (confined to the background but visible nonetheless).  And you yourself possess 100% of the input as to how she'll appear, how much misery she's to experience and how closely she may resemble someone in your own past.

It's like chess.  I'm playing the black...AND the white.  And 'checkmate' simply implies which female is the torture victim.   :cage:


 :evil:
Non-submissives need not apply.

 

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