The Institute of Advanced Sexuality

            The Institute of Advanced Sexuality - Chapter 16

       The ladies adjourned for lunch and to discuss the slave Frieda who remained in the cellar trussed up and awaiting further punishment for her sins. Those sins that were seemingly known to every woman in the settlement and were discussed in private by their husbands made for a lively topic to discuss. The more they talked among themselves the angrier they became over her blatant behavior. Each lady's husband had at one time or another been involved in the weekly barn meetings where Frieda, naked and securely restrained, was the main attraction. Rarely were there less than half a dozen men in attendance, and on one or two occasions upwards of a dozen were present. Knowing about their husbands' participation and doing something about it was a distinct and seemingly impenetrable issue. Basically all they could do was bide their time and hope for an event that would change the men's attitude toward the sinner.

       They discussed methods for making Frieda less attractive, most of them centering on causing permanent damage to her genitals. Despite the unanimous approval of this approach, in reality it would not be acceptable to the men, who in truth were her champions. If an overt approach such as mutilation and the like would not be tolerated, perhaps a sexual disease might be more acceptable. This too was probably not feasible due to the isolation of the settlement from the general population of the region, which was widely separated like their own group. They fell back on the idea of appealing to their spouses that Frieda's behavior was ultimately going to harm the upbringing of the children of the settlement. There were already stories going around among some of the teenagers about what went on in the barn on the weekend and in the fields during the planting and harvesting seasons. However, in any previous discussion of this matter, their husbands chose to be deaf to what they were told by their wives, thus ending for all practical purposes that method of ending Frieda's influence and bad behavior. Completely frustrated and filled with rage the ladies returned to the basement and Frieda, determined to put the fear of God into this creature.

       Some women in this group were not as well endowed as Frieda, and they took this opportunity to make her pay for what was in fact caused by the genes their ancestors carried. This did not stop them from punishing the settlement's slave for their physical imperfections. It was the cleric's wife who provided the materials these women would use to make Frieda wish she had never been given her firm, melon shaped breasts that seemed to taunt those ladies less endowed. Lengths of leather strips were looped around the base of her full breasts and tightened by small wooden dowels until the leather nearly disappeared into her flesh. Strong thread designed to sew everything from animal pelts to quilts were offered for the slave's nipples, which were stiff from the chill of the unheated cellar.

       Next weights that had formerly been employed as doorstops and the like were attached to Frieda's swelling mounds and hung over the edge of the table to which she was bound. She gasped when the first few weights began to stretch her swollen breasts, bringing smiles to the faces of her tormentors. Another set of weights were added and her gasps turned into a steady moaning and tears began to trickle down her cheeks much to the delight of the ladies surrounding her naked body that was beginning to shake from the cold and the stretching of her tender breasts. Now Hilda came up with a handful of lead sinkers used for fishing during the summer months. These were tied carefully to the thread wrapped around Frieda's stiff nipples. The new pain increased the level of moaning, which was occasionally turning into a hoarse scream as the weights swung back and forth from her nipples and breasts.

       Gradually the circulation of blood to her big breasts was reduced, causing changes to occur in the color of the skin. It had gone through most of the shades of red, now crimson, and her cries for mercy had increased. The skin of her swollen bags was tight from the swelling, almost waxen in this dim light. Her once pink nipples had turned black and were insensitive to the touch. To give the ladies some idea of just how benumbed her blood-bloated mounds had become, Hilda selected a long needle from a pincushion she had removed from a cabinet located against one crude wooden.  She smiled coldly at poor Frieda and then plunged the nearly three-inch needle into one of the slave's swollen breasts. A jet of dark blood spurted from the area the needle had struck, but outside of a gasp, there was no reaction from Frieda, the leather strips had effectively deadened her bosoms.

       Hilda suggested the ladies play a game with the slave involving pins. She would provide four pincushions, each with fifty needles that were two and one half inches in length. Each team would be made up of two women selected by lot. All the pins were to be stuck in Frieda's bulging breasts without contacting the nipples.  The teams would be given forty minutes to use their needles on the breast they selected prior to the start of the game. When the first team was finished, the leather strip pinching off the circulation would be cut to begin the blood flow anew. The group was cautioned that Frieda would scream herself hoarse once the circulation was restored. When she recovered her equilibrium the other team would repeat the process on her other breast, which by then would be bordering on a purplish black color, a sign of potential gangrene beginning in the flesh.

       Frieda began sobbing and begging as the first two ladies began inserting needles into her breast, each one creating a small pool of blood encircling it. Their efforts were random in nature and as Hilda had predicted, there was little reaction on the part of the naked victim. After a time the two began a contest to see who could come the closest to the nipple. This contest proved most entertaining to the rest of the ladies, who urged the two women to more daring maneuvers to get even closer. Finally one attempted an oblique attack that accidentally skewered the nipple, drawing laughter from the group. Not to be outdone, her teammate followed with another needle on the opposite side of that punctured nipple, drawing more comments from the crowd. Hilda stepped in at that point and declared the first team to be disqualified, bringing even more challenging comments from the group.

       It was Hilda who cut the leather strip that had disappeared into the slave's swollen flesh, leaving a bleeding circle of broken skin caused by the terrible pressure put upon it by the relentless swelling of the flesh beneath. It took a few minutes before the first gasp of pain came from Frieda, then it accelerated into a steady keening as the pain flowered like some loathsome weed and overcame her sanity. The noise she made was so loud and eerie that the ladies put their hands over their ears in a vain attempt to block the sounds that emanated from their victim. Finally Hilda resorted to gagging the hysterical woman to shut off the terrible din she made. Even then, the ladies were still badly shaken at what they had just experienced. In fact the other team refused to participate unless Frieda was gagged to prevent a repetition of what had just occurred.

       The second team was obviously reluctant to put much energy into skewering Frieda's breast. Many of the needles were driven less than halfway into the target, and they stayed scrupulously away from the nipple. Hilda sensed that things were not going as she had planned and made short work of the efforts of the second team of ladies. Once more they all watched as Frieda screamed herself hoarse into the gag that had been stuffed into her mouth and held in place by a strip of tightly knotted leather. Frieda thrashed mindlessly against her bonds and the tears streamed in torrents from her eyes once the strips were cut from around her breast. There were no cheers or smiles while this scene ran its course. Hilda was determined that before her guests left, they would be satisfied that the fornicator had been properly punished for her offenses against the women of the settlement. Hopefully other women would follow her lead when it came their turn to have Frieda as their drudge, performing the most menial, backbreaking tasks.

       Hilda dragged out another pincushion and explained these pins were for Frieda's fingernails and toenails. Since the weather was still cool enough to keep even the drudge indoors, it was only fitting that she suffer a higher level of pain than just to have her big breasts skewered. The hostess took the lead, showing her guests how to slip one of the long needles under the slave's fingernail and then once it was securely anchored, thrust it as far under the nail as possible. Naturally Frieda's hands and feet had to be immobilized to give them a steady target. Even in this area Hilda had an answer, a small vise left by another settler who had given up against the cold, heat and isolation. With help from two of her guests, they managed to clamp Frieda's hand in the vise, ready for the next little game they would play with the hapless settlement slave.

       This demonstration by Hilda was carefully observed by her guests, who were eager to have a turn. Hilda also pointed out that on average four to five needles could easily go under each nail. She estimated that close to one hundred would be used before there was no additional room. Then she grinned coldly and added that the skin between each finger and toe could easily accommodate two or three additional needles. With that as the outline for what she had planned Hilda let the ladies have their fun. It took a few tries before they were able to use the needles properly, but they caught on quickly enough. Soon Frieda was shivering from the pain that radiated from the tip of the needles as they worked their way deep under her fingernails. Even with the gag, they were able to hear her screams and it was a simple matter to observe her tears and the way her naked body trembled as one needle after another burrowed deep, reaching the quick and in some cases even penetrating further. More than once their victim passed out and had to be revived. In those cases the needles were shifted to her labia and once or twice even probed her shrunken clitoris. Toward the end of the first part of this session, Frieda was beating her head against the table in hopes that she might knock herself senseless, but she failed and was tortured with even more enthusiasm by the ladies. When they finished with the drudge's fingernails, she looked like some exotic creature from the mysterious East. They took a break for tea and let their victim think and worry about what was to take place once they returned.

       While this was going on, Hilda's unfaithful husband was using his position within the settlement to take advantage of the newly wed wife. It had taken a while before she disrobed and allowed him access to her body. Being much more knowledgeable than the poor wife's young husband, it was an easy task for him to seduce her in the same way as previously. This one had passion and a fire burning inside her that needed plenty of quenching. He poured water on those flames for nearly an hour, filling her with his seed twice and enjoying her attempts to restore his hardness. Today she had gone beyond her hand and was now eagerly suctioning his limp rod into another erection and more animal sex, as she described what was taking place between them. He left still disappointed that she had yet to allow him to use her anus. Still in all there were three loads of his cum percolating inside her tight, barren cunt. There would be other times, he was sure of that. As he made the long journey back to his home he wondered what kind of mischief his wife and that gaggle of lady friends had created for poor Frieda.

       The ladies had shown her no mercy, driving as many needles beneath her toenails as was physically possible. Frieda body's was shaking continuously from the constant shocks she was receiving every time one of those sharp barbs worked deep beneath the nail and eventually submerged into the very sensitive flesh normally protected by that hard surface. Her biggest reactions were reserved for those moments when a needle was deliberately driven into the toe itself, moving from the bottom and attacking the quick below, adding more pain than normal. Fortunately most of the needles had already been utilized, so she escaped with perhaps a dozen needles lodged in the bottoms of her toes. Hilda called a halt to the fun when she observed some of her visitors trying to pull out needles so they could be used again to create a new and more terrible level of agony for their helpless victim.

       It was past dark when Damon returned from "counseling" the farmer's bride. His wife had lost interest in Frieda once her visitors took their leave. No sooner was he inside the house than he asked about their live-in slave and her response to the visit from Hilda's peers. Hilda heaved a sigh and said no more on that subject, leaving her husband slightly confused and growing angrier by the minute. For a few brief moments he reasoned that perhaps she was exhibiting some form of jealousy over his visit to the young newly wed. He had been hearing ugly rumors over his less than priestly behavior when it came to the young women of the settlement. His wife had acted as if it was just idle conversation fueled by his exalted position in the community. In truth, both knew better and ignored the issue since it had no great influence on their daily lives. Damon and Hilda were one of the pioneers in practicing an open marriage.

       Damon knew where he might find Frieda, and so he went down to the cellar and found her still on the table, a human pincushion, the needles still embedded in her breasts, plus her finger and toe nails. The slave's naked body was covered with goose bumps as the temperature had dropped substantially once the sun had set. The cleric was still angry over his inability to get the new bride to allow him access to her asshole. Initially he had planned to have Frieda substitute in the newlywed's place. Instead he freed her from the table and then strung her up by the wrists to a hook in the cellar's earthen ceiling. Still not satisfied, he pulled her legs apart and tied her ankles to pegs that had been hammered into the hard dirt floor. He went to a cabinet located in the corner of the room and used his key to open it to reveal a leather paddle, tawse and his favorite, a cane imported from Europe. His mentor had originally owned the cane, but now in the twilight of his life, was unable to use it properly. Frieda had experienced each of these implements many times and trembled at the prospect of enduring another frightful beating at his hands.

       He began with the paddle, using it on her bottom. He rained blow after blow onto her cheeks and watched as they grew scarlet and then began to swell and bruise from the relentless assault of the thick leather covered paddle. It didn't take many blows before she started to grunt, groan and finally yelp with each stroke of that heavy paddle. Damon was sensitive to the energy he had to use as he beat Frieda's bottom until he was satisfied that more would not be productive. Before continuing the beating, he examined her skewered breasts, hefting them in his hands and watching as her eyes bulged from the pain he was inflicting without even trying. He debated on removing her gag so as to enjoy her screams when he caned her swollen bottom. Regardless of that decision, she'd remain gagged while he used the tawse on those pin-cushioned tits.

       Frieda screamed into her gag as the cruel implement scored hit after hit on her skewered tits. Damon was enjoying the sight of those tits bouncing from every blow he delivered. He paced himself since this beating would last quite some time. In fact the chill in the room helped to conserve his strength. He whipped the tops of her tits and worked down to the lower edges, making sure that her stiff nipples received plenty of attention. On occasion he would make a perfect hit and the sound was akin to a gunshot. Those always brought a smile to his face and muffled gasps from this slut who seemed capable of absorbing the most stringent whippings and still do her best to tempt all those who came into contact with her. He was looking forward to the time when he could hang her out in the back area of the house and beat her senseless under the bright sun and watch the sweat spray from her skin after every stroke of whatever whip he was using.

       He now redoubled his efforts, criss crossing those swollen tits in an effort to make the skin break and the blood flow. He finally realized that she was unconscious, and so he stopped the beating long enough to revive her. Her eyes flew open when he dug his fingernails into her hard nipples and twisted those fat lumps of pebbled flesh. To make sure she remained awake and alert, he decided that her fat cunt could benefit from a quick session with the leather paddle, which seemed to fit perfectly when properly struck against that evil entry where no doubt some demon was hiding. His first few attempts with the paddle were unsuccessful as she managed to move just enough for the blows to glance off her hipbones. He threatened her with the tawse if she continued to be uncooperative. The poor drudge was on the verge of total exhaustion and the prospect of more whipping than she could imagine made her docile for a time.

       Damon stepped back and then launched his next blow and struck her swollen cunt dead center bringing more tears from her eyes and a steady moaning from her gagged mouth. The next three blows also hit the target and Frieda was once more close to passing out. Damon realized this and gave her a minute or so to recover her strength before finishing this phase of her beating. The last two blows sounded like gunshots as they landed flush and drove the few needles still lodged in her genitals to go even deeper. She would be in agony for days afterward as the needles slowly worked up to the surface and were able to be crudely removed.

       The cleric was getting a comfortable grip on the cane, using short strokes as a means of controlling the arc of this nasty weapon. He began the mental part of the torture by tapping her clenched ass cheeks and then moving the cane away, causing her to begin trembling in anticipation. Then back he would come to tap her bottom again, this time a slight bit harder. Frieda was lulled into a false sense of security and unprepared for the first vicious stroke of the cane as it exploded against her left cheek, leaving a mushrooming welt that grew rapidly. The second blow ate into the tender region just below her rounded cheek on the other side. Her entire body stiffened from the pain and she shook uncontrollably. A third and fourth blow followed quickly, leaving fresh weals that changed color almost as fast as the blink of an eye. Now he used his cane to move vertically, creating a cross hatch of crimson ridges of swollen flesh. In the middle of what looked to be a fit, Frieda lost consciousness and remained that way for many long minutes as Damon at first watched, and then tried to bring her around once more. When she did open her eyes, he gave her one last cruel stroke across the middle portion of her swollen cheeks and declared this beating to be ended. To Frieda there were interruptions in her beatings, but they never seemed to end.

                       (To be continued - jethro jodhpur)