Victoria's Secrets

     VICTORIA'S SECRETS
 1.1
      Temptation

       Dr. Victoria Denning was intelligent, beautiful, successful.., and utterly
depraved.  But she did not share her perverted pleasures with everyone.   She kept her
darkest, most secret desires from everyone who mattered among the wealthy liberal
cocktail set with which she associated.  She preferred to use these pompous, self
appointed elite's in other ways and freely employed her exquisite body to advance her
own ends or distract anyone who asked the wrong questions.  Between the physical
bribe of her body and the psychological double talk she could so glibly spout, the fools
loved her.  That was how she had wangled her jobs as an abuse counselor and as a
consulting psychiatrist for the California parole board.  It was perfect.  She got to meet
people so warped that even a state famous for its lunatics had to lock them up.  And
that was exactly what she wanted.  She was particularly interested in the ones who
enjoyed torturing women.
      You see, Dr. Victoria Denning was a rabid sado-masochist.  Pain turned her
on, inflicting it, receiving it.  She particularly enjoyed inflicting pain, especially when
exercised as practice for depravities that might be visited upon herself.   The sight of
another woman writhing in torment made her pussy cream as she imagined herself in
the victim's place.  The prospect of being forced to endure the most perverted acts of
torture and rape aroused and excited her.  The best part was knowing that the reality of
submitting to such acts was always far more painful than the fantasy.  Even more
arousing was knowing that the fantasy would eventually lure her into suffering the
painful reality.  It was necessary; the fantasy would not work if there was no threat of
actually succumbing herself.  Yet so warped was she that there occasionally were
those supreme moments when her perverted mind overcame her pain and transmuted it
into glorious ecstasy.  Such moments fueled the fantasy and made the dreadful,
screaming, reality inevitable.
      Along with her job came the power to recommend freedom, freedom for
these people who liked to hurt women.  They were an important part of her fantasies,
and her plans for her future reality.
     Her interview records were full of descriptions of women brutally tortured by
her patients.  She had recorded and cataloged a wide variety of imaginative torments
as confided to her by these twisted people.  While maintaining her pose as a concerned
professional she often orgasmed during the sessions as she listened to lengthy recitals
of rape and torture that would horrify most people.  But Victoria Denning was not
most people.  She often visualized herself in the cruel hands of her perverted patients,
being forced to endure the same horrid ordeals as had been perpetrated upon those
anonymous victims, some of whom were not even cases on the books except as
missing persons.  The fate of some of these missing women was extreme indeed,
including mutilation and slow deaths in ways so horrible that even Victoria preferred
to only use the tales as masturbation fantasies, though those fantasies were dark ones
indeed.
     Still, some of the individual techniques she picked out of these confessions
were inspired in their cruelty and Victoria was sometimes tempted to try them out.
She had a place where such experiments could be carried out in privacy.  It was not a
place her society friends would care to visit, though Vicky often fantasized about that
too.  She was certain she could make the experience a memorable one for them.
     The most stimulating stories to be unveiled in her office concerned several
victims who were still alive and in the clutches of some of the inmates un-incarcerated
cohorts.  Revealed under deep hypnosis, not even the inmates knew they had further
incriminated themselves and others as yet unknown to the authorities.  It was all so
delicious.  To know that she was the only one who knew about these women's
miserable plight was an incredible rush.  It felt godlike having the power of life, death,
or continued torture and captivity over them.
     She was their only hope and that meant no hope at all.  They might as well
have been her personal sex slaves.  At any time, at any place, all she had to do was
conjure up an image of these women suffering some baneful torture and she brought
on an instant orgasm.  She could do it while shopping or driving or doing any number
of boring little chores that made up daily life and, pow, instant pleasure.
     The best part was the irony of it; those captive women would do anything to be
free to perform those same boring little chores.  But they could not be free because she
would not free them.  It was a mental game that provided too much of a kick to ruin by
letting anyone know.  The mere thought that while she was free to enjoy her privileged
life they were at that same moment suffering the most vile tortures was a tremendous
turn on.  It was fun to sun herself at the beach and tease the men ogling her
magnificent body while contemplating the hopeless situation of those women.
     At the same moment that she arched her svelte golden torso to the sun's caress
and caused men to drool at her perfect breasts she imagined these women  hanging in
someone's hidden cellar like slabs of meat, their naked bodies sweating and lurching
in response to the rude embrace of a whip across their bare tits.  There was something
poetic about that, she thought, especially at the beach where the contrasts were so
vivid.  She often came until her tiny patch of a bathing suit bottom was thoroughly
soaked without her ever going near the water.
     All she had to do to rescue the poor bitches was pick up a phone.  But she did
not.  Every day she thought about it and every day she condemned these women all
over again, sentencing them to continued agony and despair.  It was intoxicating.  It
fueled another fantasy; that she might one day fall victim to one of these merciless
sadists.  No games, no safewords, no respite or rescue, just pain.  What delicious irony
that would be.  What ironic justice.  She imagined herself, naked and bleeding, near
mad with pain as she reminded herself that she actually deserved her grim fate.  Just
thinking it made her cream. No, her 'patients' grisly secrets were safe with her.
Besides, Victoria would never think of passing on any such privileged information to
the authorities.  She had her professional ethics to observe, after all.

                                  ***

      When Victoria walked through the front door of her remote Montana ranch,
she was never sure what she would find.  A faint scream greeted her as she walked in
and she arched a curious eyebrow.  With a few notable exceptions where loud and
incoherent lamentation was de rigueur, Nick, her ramrod, got his kicks watching
women squirm and mutely beg with their bodies.  He had the most inventive collection
of gags, masks, and hoods.  She knew.  She had sampled most of them and done her
share of speechless begging and writhing for Nick.  Not that the hard core sadist ever
responded with kindness, but sometimes, if one wriggled long and lewd enough he
might be distracted into taking a little rape break from his torturing.
     The shrill octaves were familiar, it could only be her favorite 'guest':  Jane
Keller.  Jane was a cute little vixen with a face of elfin beauty which belied the evil
mind behind it.  With a wasp waist and a bust like twin torpedoes she attracted men
like flies.  Little did they know just how like flies they were to this murderous little
black widow.  Using her petite body to good effect she made a convincing nympho sex
slave, but once she had a man's cock between her teeth she bit.  Hard.  Then this
twisted bitch would thoroughly enjoy getting the shit kicked out of her.  She would
take the abuse thus meted out by her outraged lovers defiantly, feeding on a warped
sense of martyrdom as though she were an undeserving victim and letting her inner
rage simmer until her abuser grew careless or confidant of his mastery.  That was
when Keller took her revenge.
     But something had gone wrong the last time.  The drunken, overweight bar fly
might have seemed an easy mark but she had seriously miscalculated the mismatch in
body mass between her and her latest victim to be.  Howling with rage he had knocked
her to the floor and began to pry her teeth out with his belt buckle.  She'd been rescued
by the police when the neighbors heard her screams and called for help.  Unaware of
her dark history they naturally treated her as a victim.
     Victoria had no worries about such embarrassing interruptions.  Her nearest
neighbor lived more than ten miles away, well out of screaming range.  Keller was
proof of that.  Despite her small stature she was a good screamer and had been given
many opportunities to test out the ranch's isolation and soundproofing.  Ironically, she
had been referred to Victoria for help at public expense and became instead one of the
ranch's first acquisitions.
     It did not take long for Victoria Denning to figure out that the buxom little
waif was a homicidal maniac.  The kinky psychiatrist quickly spotted what the
sympathetic cops had not suspected when they referred their aggravated rape and
abuse case to the psychiatrist;  The foxy little cunt was a serial killer.  Even the
disappearance a few days later of the ad hoc dentist did not stir the suspicions of the
pea-brained bureaucrats who were so concerned for their poor little "victim".  With
access to police records Victoria quickly discerned a pattern of missing men in Jane's
travels.   Jane would first provoke the men into abusing her then she would have her
"revenge".  The men would disappear never to be seen again.
     After milking the case for all it was worth financially (the state paid top dollar),
Vicky had Nick kidnap her client and bring her to the ranch.  There, she was
interrogated, her confessions noted (and confirmed), "tried" and convicted to a life
sentence of torture in Vicky's dungeon for her wicked deeds.
     It was so delicious to have a prisoner who actually deserved every heinous
punishment they could inflict on her.  So far she had screamed and writhed her way
through three years of her sentence with Nick seeing to it that each new day of her life
was more miserable than the last as she ground through her endless round of torments.
Hearing the scream as she entered, she frowned at her foreman in disapproval.
     "Sounds like you let the door open again, Nick.  I told you about that.  What if
I were the cops or some nosy neighbor or salesman."
     "Ah, hell, Vic.  I knew it was you.  Saw you coming through the gate on the
monitors.  And I know how that sound is music to your ears."  As if on queue, a rapid
series of short, desperate shrieks erupted below and he smiled with wicked
satisfaction.
     "Good lord, Nick," Victoria exclaimed.   "What'd you do? Leave her in a cage
full of hungry rats?"
     Nick just grinned.  Victoria slowly broke into a smile.
     "OK.  I guess I have to see what you've been up to.  Obviously poor Jane is
enduring something special just so you can show off  that fiendish imagination of
yours again.  Well, let's go see what deviltry you've come up with this time."
Throwing her bags in a corner, she headed for the basement.
     Jane's predicament was both appalling and exciting.  She was naked, of course
(in fact, in three years of captivity, not a stitch of clothing had come between her
cringing flesh and her captor's implements of torture).  In a bit of a departure for Nick
(no doubt done for Vicky's benefit) her mouth was held open by a stiff wire cock
training gag which allowed her to vocalize her enchanting assortment of screams and
shrieks without letting her articulate the fervent pleas for mercy which she was
doubtlessly trying to express to her heartless captors.   She had good cause as she was
hanging by her fulsome tits.  Or nearly so, and here Nick's vicious imagination was
evident.
     The condemned murderess stood atop two short, blunt, pyramids carved from
four-by-fours set in the floor.  Her spread legs were trembling, the bare arches of her
delicate feet painfully taking her full weight.  She was forced by the intense pain and
cramping to periodically lift her aching feet from the posts, yet she could not step
down to the ground since her generous tits were tightly sandwiched between two
spiked boards , immobilized at a fixed height.  With her hands cuffed behind her, Jane
had no option if she stepped off the foot destroying supports but to hang from her
brutally imprisoned jugs, her legs kicking and spasming, toes stretching vainly for the
floor that lay just one heartbreaking inch too far for them to reach.  But that was just
the beginning of her predicament.
     Her chafed and bleeding ankles were cuffed to a spreader bar by short lengths
of chain which allowed the bar to bounce and jerk about in response to the victim's
desperately flailing legs with a lot more action than if it had been fastened tightly to
each ankle.  Besides allowing Jane's tormented feet to more easily slip off their cruel
'supports', the weight of the dangling bar actually served to make it even more
difficult for the screaming bitch to place her bruised and tender soles back on the
blocks.  But the torture's refinements did not end there.  To the bar was attached a
vertical cunt reamer which twisted about and rammed up and down in the captured
vixen's pussy with every motion.  Last, fishhooks embedded in the lips of that
thoroughly reamed hole stretched downward and outward, held by fine but strong
chains fastened to the jiggling ends of the spreader bar.  The chains were (naturally)
just a bit too short so that with every erratic motion of the bar the hooks tore and
contorted the horribly over-stressed cunt lips.
      Jane's desperately twisting wrists were cuffed to the ends of a short, spiked bar
that banged and scraped into her ass with every motion, gouging the screaming girl's
well abused buttocks.  From its center a curved steel rod ran down the crack of her ass
and back up into her bung hole,  The whole arrangement served to keep the hapless
Jane unbalanced as it unnaturally but delightfully arched her back and presented her
chest and belly for admiration and torment.
     Even her fingers contributed to her torture as each one was tipped with needle
sharp steel claws so that she constantly scratched and stabbed her hips and thighs with
each clutching motion.  This was a particularly poetic punishment since these refined
'Freddie claws' were duplicates of a set Jane had used in several of her killings.
Several of her victims had been slowly sliced to ribbons before they died.  Their
current employment as part of Jane's punishment was a little side benefit of her
therapy sessions with Victoria.
     Having gained Jane's trust by allowing her to make love to her, Victoria was
then able to hypnotize the girl and learn much that was now coming back to haunt her.
Jane's sunken and fatigue rimmed eyes showed every agonized minute of her thousand
day ordeal.  There was no hope in them at all; only the empty certainty of thousands
more of the same unending, unendurable agony for the rest of her life: a life sentence
in the living Hell of Victoria Denning's secret dungeon.
     This was one prison from which there was no hope of parole.  By a queer twist
of fate Jane's murders had ended up bringing her to the very people capable of meting
out the doom she most deserved.  It was a doom Victoria suspected Jane had always
secretly sought for herself.  In fact, the murderous vixen had often confessed to such a
desire in this very chamber while undergoing Vicky's stringent questioning.
     The spate of screams that greeted Victoria had obviously marked Jane's most
recent surrender to the satanic clutch of the spiked tit clamps as her tortured feet and
fatigued legs gave in to the inevitable once more.  In the intervening minutes since the
first screams Vicky heard upstairs, Jane must have kicked and struggled until she had
resumed her shaky perch.  But she could not maintain it.  Each new position brought
new pain and her desperate writhing search for relief caused her to lose her balance
and pitch backwards until her motion was stopped with an abrupt jolt to her squashed
and skewered breasts, her legs swinging wildly, and her whole body pivoting on her
diabolically racked boobs.
     Entering the torture chamber, Victoria was just in time to witness this latest
performance and her squeal of delight merged with Jane's abject ululation of agony as
she hung like a worm on a hook, arching her glistening body back and forth in
indescribable torment.  Clapping her hands in pleasure, Vicky walked over to observe
Jane's agonized throes more closely..  Even a worm had more hope that its pain would
soon end.  There was no hungry fish to come along and end this worm's misery.  Nick
watched as a hooded look of obscene introspection crossed his employer's exquisite
features
     "Marvelous," she breathed.  "A masterpiece of the torturer's art.  How long has
she been like this?"
      "Since this morning."  Nick shrugged indifferently.  He was watching her, not
the long suffering Jane.  "I didn't know exactly when you would show up.  Her initial
reaction to the situation was quite amusing, though.  It's on tape, of course."
     Walking around the screaming, squirming meat, Vicky laughed wickedly.  "I
can imagine.  I'm sorry I missed it, must've been fun.  We'll have to do it again with
some fresh meat while I'm here.  I'm planning a long stay."
     Nick grinned nastily.  "I think we will be able to come up with something to
entertain you."
     Victoria caught his leer and frowned, her eyes darting back to Jane and her
frightful predicament.  She stepped back a moment, a delicious little shudder of fear
running through her. Her arms folded themselves across her magnificent bosom,
hugging the sensitive mounds protectively. There were limits, after all!
     "Just remember who pays the bills around here when you feel like indulging
yourself, ramrod,"  she cautioned with an arch look.  He returned her stern gaze
innocently.
     She returned her attention to Jane, who had by now settled down to hang
almost silently, head back, drool running down from the side of her open-gagged
mouth.  Little squeaks and stuttering gasps were all the trapped bitch uttered as she
squirmed slowly in the air, her legs pumping spasmodically,  sending the agitator up
and down and back and forth in her raw cunt.
     "And you, my deadly little vixen. I suppose you would find Nick's thoughts
amusing for a change, wouldn't you?"
     She hugged her breasts more tightly as she studied Jane's extravagantly
violated paps.  She felt Nick's eyes boring speculatively into her back even as she
could not deny the seed he had planted in her warped mind;  Victoria could feel her
nipples rising under her arms and the pleasurable tingle in her crotch as she considered
the unspoken thought she had read in his mind as clearly as if she were telepathic.
Dreadful images flashed through her imagination and she shuddered again.  But was
there not a little thrill in that shudder as well?
     Seeking to throw off the obscene train of thought before she succumbed to the
fearful temptation growing in the darkest recesses of her mind, she laughed and
punched Jane hard in the belly just as she found her support once more.  The blow sent
the girl howling as she tried to bend over only to slip from the posts as her knees came
up instead.  Jane's arms twisted in agony, drawing the spiked restraint bar bloodily
across her already well furrowed and shredded ass globes and grinding the studded
hook around in her bleeding asshole.
     Spasming, her fingers raked her bare hips with the sharp tips of the 'Freddy
Kruger' gloves, adding to the damage there as well.  In response, Jane's legs flailed
again, once more reaming her raw pleasure pit with its searing steel massage.  The legs
straightened in convulsive response and the chains and hooks took their toll of the red,
swollen flesh of her tormented pussy lips.
     Losing herself in her sadistic side, Vicky smiled when she noticed a bottle of
her own special 'salad dressing' on a stand nearby.  It was her own concoction;
vinegar and red hot crushed cayenne peppers in an oil base to make it all adhere to
flesh with lingering effect.  It was the perfect thing to rub onto scratched and abraded
skin.  Jane's slender body glistened with a generous coating of the incendiary blend.
     Vicky tisked in mock concern.  She had used the stuff on her own silky skin on
occasion and usually found herself running for the shower.  Bound, with no recourse
but to writhe and suffer, the torment it inflicted was like being slowly burned with
acid, even to the point of raising blisters.  What the stuff did when it got to an open
wound or the delicate tissues of a cunt or asshole was indescribable.  Vicky noted
clinically that poor Jane was literally pumping the fiery liquid into both orifices, since
so much of it was dripping down onto the devices pronging both ends of her crotch.
No wonder her face held such a fascinating rictus of pain.  As if she didn't have
enough inflamed nerves already to keep the pain centers of her mind occupied!  In
addition, it looked like Nick had been busy applying some decorative touches of his
own to the quivering white flesh of his helpless, naked victim with a second pair of the
'Kruger gloves' and the resultant angry red streaks flared all the more hotly with the
encouragement of the blistering concoction.
     "Ooooh... those look nasty."  Victoria stepped up to stare the desperately
flailing Jane in the face, thrilling to the plaintive, mewling sounds the girl was now
making.  The wretched wench was so absorbed in her anguish that she completely
ignored her newest tormentor.  The muscles of her neck stood out as she strained to
bring her head forward, her wide, horror filled, eyes locked on the floor as she sought
to guide her feet back to the agony of the posts in order to relieve the agony in her
breasts.  Vicky loved the look of pain filled concentration she saw as Keller dangled
by her simultaneously squashed, pierced, and stretched boobs and struggled to place
her raw soles back on the pointed posts.
     Victoria's hands went out, her fingers delicately tracing their way up the slick,
squirming curves of Jane's writhing nude torso, relishing the feel of the trembling,
tortured flesh.  As she did so, a pair of powerful male hands swept around from behind
and cupped her breasts, squeezing them callously through her blouse.  The strong
fingers rolled her nipples, already hard with arousal, back and forth with brutal force.
Victoria closed her eyes in ecstasy and groaned, arching her own body and rolling her
silky auburn tresses against the powerful male chest behind her.
     "Would you like to join her?"  Nick whispered huskily in her ear.
     Victoria shuddered slightly even as she smiled at the thought.  Nick was a
persistent bastard and dedicated to his craft.  Even without her training he knew as
well as she the value (and rewards) of understanding a victim's psyche.  He knew hers.
     Truly, it was a temptation, but she shook her head and pushed the strong arms
down.  They resisted only a moment before letting go, drifting down to gently but
firmly caress her waist .  Nick knew when to play his line and when to set the hook.
Oh, did he know how to set a hook!  Victoria's lips quirked at the thought and she did
not let him see her face as she replied.  "I'm warped, but not quite that far gone...
Yet!," she added as she played with the squashed, discolored nipples protruding from
the spiked boards before her, mimicking the treatment her own nubs were getting.
Jane let out the cutest little stuttering groan in response to the manipulation and her
exotically inscribed and bruised torso squirmed with enchanting daintiness as the
captive sought uselessly to minimize her pain without intensifying any of her many
other woes.
     Vicky licked her lips.  Damn him. She * was * tempted, though this was quite a
bit more extreme than she had planned for.  Trust Nick to come up with something so
horrifyingly enticing.  It was the very extremity of Jane's plight that made it so
appealing to Victoria.  She imagined her own gorgeous body undergoing such extreme
torture and shuddered once more.  Nick was an absolutely merciless sadist.  Pleas for
mercy only encouraged him to indulge his nastiest impulses.
     She knew from experience that to even roll ones eyes piteously was enough to
elicit that evil grin and bring on even more horrendous torments.  Only the fact that
she made this dungeon (what he considered a dream come true) possible, protected her
from his most excessive inspirations.  Those he reserved (so far) for the murderess,
Keller.  Yet the thought that he might exceed his charter some day was a perverse turn-
on.  Certainly he was capable of the crime.  His dangerous presence and uncertain
control were part of his attraction to Victoria.
     What might it be like to be in Jane's position?  Vicky giggled inwardly at the
pun even as she considered the absolute despair that the girl must feel knowing that
Nick's hellish talents were free to unleash themselves on her defenseless body at any
time of the day or night, day in and day out; without hope that any torment he could
imagine would be spared her.  What was it like to be forced to endure the most
perverted desires of a criminally insane sexual maniac?  To be raped, tortured, and
degraded for months on end with absolutely no hope for respite or mercy?  Jane was
ample evidence that Nick was capable of doing to a woman the most loathsome things
he could imagine, and do them with inhuman enthusiasm.
     Feeling his hands on her, and knowing the appalling things they were capable
of, she felt that moth-like temptation to fly into the flame, but still she resisted, though
her tremble was not entirely one of fear.  She knew that eventually her fatal attraction
would overcome her and she would surrender her flesh utterly to the same sort of
endless screaming red hell that Jane endured, but not yet.  Jane's fate was not to be
hers.  At least not today.
     Such extravagant agonies ought to be reserved for that special moment of final
despair, not offered as some sort of mere door prize.  Soul wrenching torment such as
Jane now suffered deserved a certain amount of anticipation.  A proper build up was
needed.  Besides, there was room for improvement here. Changing the subject she
swept her hand across the dangling girl's bare midriff and dug a fingernail into the
suffering girl's belly button for emphasis.
     "This needs something to keep it occupied," she observed.
     Nick dropped his hands, spreading them bemusedly.  "I'm not finished," he
replied. "A work of art cannot be rushed.  Anticipation is important, as you well
know."  He grinned.  "Isn't that right little Janie?"  Stepping around Victoria, he gave
Jane a sharp kick in the right shin just as the hapless girl once more found her footing
on the sole torturing pyramids.  With a piercing wail, the victim jerked her leg up in
helpless response and dropped back off both supports, shrieking as the spiked tit
clamps once again took her weight with sudden, jolting, force.
     Nick rapped on the boards with his fist, eliciting another shriek from Jane.
"I'm also thinking of setting this tit clamp up so it swings freely instead of being fixed
like this.  It ought to make things even more shaky for the bitch."
     Victoria grinned wickedly and nodded.  "Yes, she will swing around in all
directions with every motion she makes.  It will make it damn near impossible to stay
on the posts.  Harder to find them again too, once the bitch falls off.  Also you might
try using two sets of boards so that they 'lift and separate' as the saying goes.   On the
downside there will be all that extra caterwauling and self indulgent weeping and
wailing too.  You will no doubt have to discipline the whining bitch for such
bothersome outbursts."
     "No doubt," Nick echoed
     They laughed.
     Vicky grinned, studying the victim.  The girl had seemed too concerned with
her current agonies to pay much attention to their sadistic play acting.  Pain had a way
of focusing one's attention on the present.  But it had not been a wasted performance.
     Having been shocked out of the endorphin numbed state into which she had
begun to retreat. Jane was certainly paying attention to her surroundings now.  Her
eyes caught Vicky's, begging piteously.  Victoria just laughed and stared right back,
enjoying the view as she once again pinched the trapped nipples between her fingers
and dug in with her fingernails.  She watched the sick hopelessness creep back into the
victim's face.  As a wail drifted out of the open cock training gag she said;  "Yes, I'd
certainly like to see how that works before I leave.  It ought to enhance the experience
somewhat."  She chuckled at the thought.   "And a stiff discipline collar to force the
cow's head back so she can't see what is actually happening to her udders.  That ought
to keep her imagination lively and help her concentrate on her penance."  She gave the
bare belly a meaty swat that left a bright red hand print.  "And, like I said, see what
you can come up with for this too.  It looks so ignored.  Something nice and heavy, I
should think, with lots of prickly little spikes and things to keep the old blood
circulating."
     Nick performed an elaborate salute.  "Your every wish is my command, oh
Mistress of Everlasting Woe."  Once again he caressed her with brutal familiarity,
steering the conversation back his way.  "And now, what about you, my depraved one?
Can I interest you in a little stimulating molestation of your own?  A gang rape before
dinner, perhaps?  A little Inquisition to see what perversions you've been indulging
back in Sin City?  Confession is good for the soul, you know."  He eyed Jane's
battered feet and chuckled with malign humor.  "Though a little hard on the soles,
perhaps."  His hands found their way under Vicky's blouse to her bare flesh.  His
fingers kneaded her sumptuous breasts once more.  They were strong, cruel fingers,
and would leave bruises on her creamy skin.
     Vicky groaned again at the pleasurable thought.  A woman's body never
looked sexier than when it sported an interesting pattern of bruises highlighted by
nothing more than a thin sheen of pain sweat.  And Nick was a Master of Bruises,
capable of applying them to a woman's body with ruthless enthusiasm.  He was an
artist who could maul  a woman's flesh until it became a living canvas that writhed
and moaned as it displayed his craftsmanship in the art of torture.  It was performance
art that brooked no compromise.  Pain was his perfection.
     Stepping back into Nick's arms, Vicky eyed the beautiful pattern of angry
gouges, scratches, welts and multi-colored bruises criss-crossing the writhing nude
manslayer and licked her lips.  A familiar tingling was creeping through her loins.
     "On the other hand, the last few weeks at the office have been particularly stultifying
and I could use a little massage."  She began unbuttoning her blouse.  Her fingers
trembled a bit but she only worked faster, not letting herself think too deeply about
what she was doing.  Remembering the suitcases upstairs in the hall, she sighed.  She
really ought to give up packing all those clothes whenever she came out to the ranch.
She never did get to wear them much.  As her clothes dropped to the floor so did she
shed her authority along with her reservations.  In this place a naked woman was
nothing but a slave; just meat for the whip, and the thought thrilled her.

     1.2
     .Torment

     Stroking her delectable white flesh as it was revealed,  Nick eagerly completed
her undressing.  Vicky noted with amusement the hard-on bulging his jeans.  The sight
gave her an idea.  Leading him over to a nearby cabinet, she picked out a stiff wire
cock training gag like the one Jane sported and an elastic gauze band.  The band she
pulled over her eyes.  It was harder to beg when your torturers could not see the
pleading in your eyes, even more so when the only words you could utter were
amusing and unintelligible gape-mouthed grunts and pig squeals.  Unable to alter her
fate the victim could still savor the  delicious terror of watching through the gauze as
the next torment was readied for application to her defenseless flesh.  Titillated by the
mental image, Victoria waved the wire gag in front of Nick, a fey look of abandon on
her face.  In her mind's eye she was racing toward a precipice and a voice was
screaming for her to slow down.  It was her own voice and she felt a strange sensation
of release when she realized she was going to ignore it.  'What the fuck,' she thought.
'In for a pinch, in for a pounding.'
     "Gag rule, strict rations'" she blurted before she could change her mind.  "In
effect until you've persuaded me to suck and tongue wash every cock, pussy and
bunghole on the ranch at least a dozen times.  Anything you can 'convince' me to suck
gets to ream my other holes.  The usual rules concerning such willful perversions are
in effect.  Rules infractions are punishable at your discretion, escalation clause also in
effect.  Time limit - "  She took a deep breath. This was a moment she had anticipated
for years.  Never before had she gone so far in making possible the fate she was about
to pronounce upon herself.
     What she said next would seal her fate.  She had not known for certain what
sort of ordeal she might get herself into this trip until she saw that look of utter despair
in Jane's eyes.  The idea of being held captive by a sadistic pervert who was free to do
whatever he wanted to do to her for as long as he felt like doing it had always
fascinated her.  The things Nick did to Jane both frightened and titillated Victoria.
     She had often played out little sadomasochistic scenes with Nick and others but
never had she felt utterly hopeless and abjectly crushed in spirit because she had set
rules and always knew that the game would eventually end.  She had long since
become jaded with one night and weekend bouts of torture.  More and more she toyed
with committing herself to ever longer travails.  It was a delicious game wherein she
flirted on the very edge of the abyss of that endlessly excruciating doom in which Jane
now suffered without falling in herself.  But what was it like to know that it wasn't a
game anymore?  To know, like Jane knew, that you were completely at the mercy of
someone who had no mercy, someone who relished inflicting pain on helpless female
flesh in an infinite number of imaginative and horrible ways?  Someone who had no
worry that anyone was looking for either him or his victim and thus could ply his evil
skills for as long as it took to grind that victim down to mewling, ass licking servitude?
     Always she sought to increase the amount of doubt in her mind that her torment
would eventually end.  She sought that desolate moment of epiphany wherein she
became convinced that her old life of pleasure and luxury was over and she was
doomed to be nothing more than one of her victims; a wretched, naked pain slave for
the rest of her miserable life.
      "- your discretion."
        Nick's eyes lit up in delight and anticipation as he watched her shove the gag
into her own mouth.  She relished the taste of old saliva and gism on it even as she
fought back the urge to retch.  The training gag looked like a frame for a complete set
of dentures as they fit completely inside the mouth over the teeth and came with an
insertion tool which, when twisted, expanded the joints until the gag fit snugly and
held the mouth wide open.  Without the tool it was impossible to remove the gag even
with one's hands free, especially since the tool also functioned as a key.  Not allowing
herself time to reconsider her instructions Victoria removed the tool and, sealing her
own doom, handed it to Nick.  There was no way for her to rescind her orders now.
Her deliberately vague orders.
     She had not quite tossed herself over the edge into that abyss but this was about
as close as didn't make any difference.  Theoretically, Nick would release her
eventually, but she did not know that for certain.  Her 'rules' were so ill defined as to
allow the sadist to find her in violation at any time, no matter how long she suffered,
no matter how many vile and degenerate acts she performed for his entertainment.  He
did not know what time limit there might be before someone came looking for her but
she fully expected him to quickly torture that information out of her.  She'd cleared
her calendar indefinitely and closed her office.  None of her self important California
jet-set friends knew about this place or where she had gone other than a vague
misdirecting reference to Europe.   Her only hope was that eventually he would tire of
her enough to consider allowing her to resume her practice so that she might bring in
some income and most importantly; fresh meat.
     That day was likely to be a long time coming, if at all.  The ranch was pretty
self supporting and a large bank account was available to its ramrod.  Also he would
no doubt elicit from Vicky the access numbers to several more accounts.  Nick was
certain to take the opportunity since it would be * so * much fun!  Especially since
every confession, every number Victoria gave up would only serve to make her
incarceration that much longer and her eventual freedom that much less likely.  Still,
greed and the lust for the new quail she could provide might win out in due time.
Vicky had the means and opportunity to bring home the goods.
     Even after the most evil treatment, one thing that did not concern him was the
possibility that Victoria might go to the authorities.  Nick had an extensive and
damning collection of tapes hidden away that would condemn her as well.  In her own
way, Victoria Denning was a slave even when free.  She had seen to that.  She helped
make the tapes.  It was part of her weird flirtation with making her masochistic fantasy
nightmare come true.
     Completely naked now, she offered her wrists to the grinning Nick.  She could
see his wicked imagination was already working overtime.  Reaching into the cabinet
he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and, spinning her around, snapped them onto her trim
wrists with a click of finality, locking her hands behind her.
     Carelessly tossing the gag-key over his shoulder so that it clattered unseen into
a remote corner, Nick spun Vicky back to face him.  Grabbing both of her proud, ripe
orbs, he squeezed the sensitive flesh in vice-like grips until the breast meat bulged out
redly between his fingers
     He spat in her face, the saliva entering her clamped open mouth and dribbling
down her cheek.  "Welcome to Hell, bitch."   He then slowly and with great force,
twisted the trapped boobs like a pair of doorknobs.
     "Aa-h-h-h!"  Her eyes watering in pain, she arched her splendid body, her
head tilted back.  It did not matter what angry riposte or frantic second thoughts may
have fired down the nerves from her brain to her delicate throat and talented tongue
and lips, that breathy, sibilant gasp was the only response the training gag allowed her
to utter.  Given the expression on Nick's cruelly leering face she was sure to have
plenty of time to consider the next words she *  would * speak.
     Gag rule meant that from this point until she met the 'conditions' she'd just set,
her ass (and the rest of her luscious body) was Nick's to do with as he pleased.  And
though the deliberately ill defined conditions were hers he got to judge when they had
been met.  And no matter how desperately the captive strove to please her master and
comply with his demands he could always find some violation which demanded
further inquisition.  If she complained (when she got the chance) or tried to beg off she
would be summarily re-gagged and further punishments gleefully added to her
'sentence'.
     Victoria and Nick had spent much time devising a set of 'Levels of Inquisition'
for just such situations.  Each level contained certain degrees of allowable torture such
as Level One slapping and pinching right up to the most severe methods such as
branding, flaying and mutilation.  Making the prisoner confess that she deserved to go
up to the next level was all part of the fun since all of the torments of the current level
or below could be used to persuade her.
     It was a game Victoria had enjoyed often as the captor.  The thrill of power one
felt when eliciting such confessions and then pronouncing some new sentence on a
terrified slave went straight to her loins because she always imagined the roles
reversed and herself as the bound one, gagged and desperately beseeching with mute
eyes for mercy that would not be given.  She had put herself in such straits before, but
never before was she so uncertain she would see an end to it.  If nothing else, this
promised to be her longest siege thus far.  Gagged, naked, and already feeling the first
pain of her uncertain thralldom, she creamed at the prospect.
     With each violation of the rules the levels of punishment would be ratcheted up
in severity, meaning, before too long she could very well end up taking Jane's place if
she proved unwilling to voluntarily submit to Nick's interpretation of her self imposed
sentence.  The really delightful part was; as she suffered the torments of one Level of
Inquisition, Victoria would actually end up begging to be subjected to the greater
horrors of the next Level just to escape the already unendurable throes of her current
predicament.
     Of course, the prisoner first had to be found in violation of the Rules.  The rule
for Victoria in this case being to suck and eat any prick and pussy presented to her.
For starters, Nick wondered how she would react to the interpretation that already had
him grinning so evilly.  She was not going to like it, he was certain.  But that was the
whole point.  He knew it was the very thing the perverted woman was counting on.  In
her own self damning words she had opened the door to let him use the dungeon's
varied collection of monster dildoes and any other inanimate object that a female
mouth could be persuaded to ingurgitate.
     His eyes roamed the racks of such devices lining the torture chamber walls.
Victoria was probably anticipating such a move and he would surely oblige her..,
again and again.  But first, he preferred to surprise her a little.  Surprises were always
more fun. They had a way of impressing on a slave just how impotent they were.  He
knew Victoria had hoped to set a direction for her torments and wanted to quickly
disabuse her of any notion that she was in control of her fate. He was really going to
enjoy this.
     "What do you say we take a stroll out to the stables, eh?"  He cupped his
beautiful captive's delicate chin in his hand, running his fingers into her open mouth as
he spoke.  Her talented tongue wrapped itself around the rough digits, making love to
them as she waited for him to pronounce her fate.  Victoria had a queasy feeling she
knew what was coming. He laughed as he watched the expression of growing dismay
on her face as he told her what he had in store for her.
     "You didn't say anything about limiting your oral chores to human anatomies,
did you, you dumb cunt?"  He smiled at the wide eyed, half choked grunt this elicited
as he confirmed her foreboding.  She shook her head vigorously but this only made
him grin even wider.  He would have her eagerly nodding agreement soon enough.
She had seen to that herself.
     Her tongue caressed his fingers even more delicately.  She pressed her naked
form up against him, offering suddenly eager promise of the delightful distractions her
body was capable of providing.  Nick smirked at the sudden change, relishing his
absolute power over this incredibly lascivious woman.
     "That's right bitch, get in practice because you are going to suck off every
horse in the stables.  And remember, every one you suck gets to visit your cute little
twat and asshole.  I hope they're nice and stretchable."
     Vicky's eyes were already wide with dismay at the thought.  She made uh-uh
sounds as she shook her head again.  Nick just nodded and leered.
     "How you manage the performance is up to you.  It ought to be an interesting
show," he said as his hands roamed down to her vagina and buttocks.  She grunted as
his fingers rudely worked their way into the two orifices, testing their stretch-ability.
"Yes, mighty interesting indeed.  It's also going to be fun watching you work the
chimp cage."
     Victoria moaned again and shook her head more violently.  Some of the
chimpanzees were full grown and vicious when they didn't get their way.  They would
drag a woman around their cage like she was a rag doll, biting and mauling her flesh
with their powerful paws in between frequent rapes.  Nick noticed that her moan was
not so pleasure filled as before though her cunt was wet just the same.
     'Damn bitches can never make up their minds,' he thought.
     Well, she might be more amenable when she got hungry and thirsty enough.
`Strict rations' meant that he did not have to give her food or water more than once
every forty-eight hours. And even then because of the `gag rule' she might have to lap
it up like a dog since he did not have to remove the gag at all if he did not feel like it.
But they both knew he would, just to hear her beg, and they both knew she would
eventually break down and beg.
     Gone would be the proud, defiant bitch playing sadomasochistic games.  By the
time he got around to removing the wire gag she would cry and beg with heartfelt
desperation at the first opportunity for release even though she knew it was hopeless.
Such an act of weakness would only garner her more debasement and even more
extravagant ordeals.  Even though she knew that Nick was a merciless sadist she
would beg when, after being 'persuaded' to swallow gallons of horse cum, after hours
of his unrelenting tortures, she was finally given that first chance to speak.  It was the
very hopelessness, the inevitability of the plight into which she had just placed herself
that now had her pussy wet and her nipples hardened with deviant desire.
     Jane still hung before them, panting and heaving in  pain, her feet arched once
again painfully across the sharp, pointed, posts.
     "But first, begin by sucking this cunt, whore!" Nick ordered as he knocked the
auburn beauty's knees out from behind, forcing her into a kneeling position with her
face just inches from Jane's long unwashed twat.  Victoria turned her head away from
the odor of stale sweat and great clots of rotting cum in the hanging girl's, crab and
flea infested bush, the product of countless rapes by several trained dogs, donkeys and
almost every other beast with a decent sized prick on the ranch.  The thought made her
realize that Nick would not stop at the horses and chimps.  Poor Jane had already been
at every crotch on the ranch numerous times over the past three years.  Vicky
remembered how she had laughed at the hapless bitch's first introduction to the
ranch's varied menagerie.
     While seeing such depraved acts being perpetrated on someone else had greatly
entertained her and fed her own warped fantasies, Victoria had never seriously
considered performing such acts of bestiality herself.  Not for real.  Somehow, she had
not thought that even Nick would stoop to forcing the owner of those animals to
perform the same services on them as the condemned murderess had done.  Finding
herself in that fantasy for real at last, Victoria Denning was both appalled and
stimulated.  Naked and handcuffed, the redhead trembled not with fear but with
growing excitement as she knelt before the long suffering Jane.  What she had never
had the nerve to do he would * make * her do!
     Nick left her contemplating this future while he stepped over to a bench.  As
he stepped back Vicky heard the hiss of a cane switch.  She screamed as it struck her
creamy white buttocks and started to climb to her feet only to be roughly shoved back
to her knees.  That wasn't fair!  The cane was a Level 2 instrument!  Her outraged
protest came out as nothing more than an amusing squawk.
     More blows rained down on her back and unshielded ass with machine-like
regularity.  Vicky squirmed on her knees and squealed and panted through her wire
gag as she stared at Jane's cunt.  The idea of shoving her face into that sweaty mass
was revolting, but at the same time, the idea of being * forced * to do it caused a heat
to grow in her loins even as the heat from the switch warmed her backside.  She did
not think it would be long before she broke and eagerly lapped up that mess.  She
wondered how long after that it would be before she tearfully asked to be taken to the
stables so that she could begin her oral obligations, including servicing the acrid nether
regions of her mares.  What further 'encouragement' would be required there before
she eagerly slid her naked cunt onto the thick, turgid pricks of her stallions and
wriggled her pert ass onto those same monstrous members?
     Finally, she wondered how long it would be before she ended up back at this
very spot, her own body mauled and brutally bruised, welted, and abraded like Jane's.
How long before she actually begged for the pleasure of being allowed to just hang
here in the dungeon by her mangled tits, quietly burning and squirming with the
unrelieved fire of her own 'hot' oil and left alone to suffer the agonies Jane was now
suffering rather than suck or fuck one more animal.  Somehow, she knew Nick would
manage it.
     Jane wailed as her aching feet fell from the posts and she dropped once more,
her transfixed breasts again forced into the unnatural task of supporting the weight of
her body.  The wail ended in a wavering sigh as she surrendered to her cheerless fate,
and, echoing that sentiment with a sigh of her own, Victoria Denning buried her face
in the greasy, stinking, muff.  Reveling in her degradation even as her gorge rose, she
orgasmed with the thought of the many agonies and depravities in store for her.  Nick
continued to strike at her backside even as her tongue lapped out at the disgusting
groin and she howled into the infested fur in response.  'How long?' she thought again.
How long before she looked upon Jane's current plight as a merciful boon to be
desired?
                                      ***

     As it turned out, it took just three weeks.  Three weeks of hell and continuous
torture in the stables and elsewhere.  Nick's first rule was that she had to swallow the
cum.  Naturally, she often gagged on the thick wads of musky semen that shot from
the stallion's hot, mouth filling peckers and had to start all over.  When she faltered or
hesitated from doing her chores in any way she was quickly punished.  And if she
thought sucking the great, horsy dicks was difficult then sliding her well stretched cunt
over the massive members was literally hard work.  She had laughed at Jane's antics
when she had forced the murdering little bitch to do such depraved acts.  Now she
could only groan as she lay in the same sling under the same aroused stallions with her
legs up to her shoulders and spread so that her own dainty cunt and ass presented
themselves for the brutal bestial banging.  The ass fucking was the worst and there
seemed no end to it.  A dozen times for each animal she could be persuaded to suck
and she quickly found herself requiring ever more lengthy and brutal sessions of
torture to 'encourage' her to continue her self decreed ordeal.
     Her naked body whipped and welted from her 'encouragement' sessions,
covered in cum and bitten by legions of flies, she worked the stables day and night,
sweltering in the heat, her own stinking sweat her only bath.  She finally could not
bring herself to fuck another horse, so raw were her cunt and asshole.
     As punishment, Nick chained her spread-eagled in a stall heaped with manure
and left her there with her horse cum and sweat slicked flesh crawling with green
horse flies and the lips of her cunt twitching with their bites.  Her bare feet kept sliding
even farther apart in the stinking muck so that most of her weight was taken up by her
out-stretched arms.  She would struggle back to the limits of the tethers binding her
ankles only to slide back again.  The enforced split kept her snatch wide open and the
insects had her constantly writhing and tossing her hips in desperate efforts to drive
them off, but she could not.  The same held true for her boobs which she constantly
flopped and jiggled about in the most vigorous and entertaining ways but all these
efforts were to no avail and she would howl and thresh her entire body in maddened
frustration.
     Feigning sympathy, Nick dropped by with a few spiked weights attached to
saw-toothed clamps by short chains.  Whistling a merry little tune, he cavalierly pulled
up her nipples and chomped the clamps down on her already bruised tit meat.  Staring
into her watering, pain filled eyes with an expression of total indifference on his face,
he held up the weights so she could see them, then dropped them one at a time to the
full length of their chains.  It was only a matter of inches but to Vicky it felt as though
the weights were going to tear her nipples clean off as they jerked and bounced to
equilibrium between the inexorable demand of gravity and the reluctant resistance of
her excruciated breast flesh.  The crushed aureoles burned with unrelenting, throbbing
fire as every little movement caused the weights to swing, sawing the vicious clamps
back and forth, digging the wicked teeth ever deeper into her helpless, pain overloaded
titties.
     Ignoring Victoria's cries of anguish and vigorous head shaking, he did the
same to the swollen lips of her pudenda.  Once again he displayed the weights,
weighing more than a pound each and viciously spiked. Trapped in her bondage, she
could not swivel her hips away from his rough, groping hands as they pinched up and
drew out her already raw nether lips.  She screamed in agony as the first clamp bit into
her supersensitive flesh, arching her whole body in response to this latest torment.
Nick dropped the weight, bigger than the tit weights and on a longer chain, and with a
fading scream his victim slumped into unconsciousness.  Tisking in mock annoyance
he merely went on with his task.
     When Victoria came to her tormentor was gone.  She moaned as she realized
he had clamped the fourth weight to the other side of her vagina.  Her nether lips felt
as though they were stretched halfway to the floor.  A horse fly chowed down on her
ass and she yelped and jerked her body, unthinking of the catastrophic result.  The
chained weights swung violently, the force of their swing tearing with agonizing result
at her tits and cunt.  Then the four spiked maces that were the weights slammed into
her flesh, stabbing her thighs and ribs and she convulsed in helpless reaction once
more, setting the small maces once more into action against her defenseless body.
     The weights hanging from her tits did the most damage, whipsawing back and
forth across her torso at the ends of their chains, lashing and gouging her chest as they
tugged her bleeding breasts violently back and forth.  The treatment was particularly
fiendish in that it denied the captive even the small relief from the flies that shaking
and jiggling her delectable body had provided.  Now each motion was a new torture in
itself.  But so desperate did she become that, despite the pain, she eventually resorted
to deliberately flogging herself with these wicked chains, screaming at the torment
they caused that was every bit as bad as the stinging bites of the swarm of flies.
     After nearly a day of this treatment she was ready to agree to anything.  Instead
Nick simply brought in a trio of chimps and left them chained in the stall with her
despite her frantic (if unintelligible) efforts to get him spare her this particular ordeal.
She recognized the chimps.  She had trained them to rape and abuse Jane.  But had
been when they were young and pliable.  She had not seen them in over a year and had
put them out of her mind, but not Nick.  She was shocked to see them now; they were
full grown and dangerously powerful.  And she was alone, naked, and chained
helplessly in the same stall with them.  Victoria trembled at the thought of the things
they might do to her.
     They proceeded to do everything she imagined, and more.  They raped her
whenever the fancy took them, and it took them often.  They climbed all over her
helpless body like it was a fucking tree, sticking their slick, rigid members into her
every orifice and demanding satisfaction. Vicky shuddered and howled in agony as the
chimps also played with the weighted chains, jerking on them in fits and starts until,
one by one, the clamps were dragged, with great and agonizing reluctance, free of her
suffering flesh.  She bucked and heaved in her chains as they scoured great red gouges
in her most sensitive places as first one, then another of the saw-toothed clamps were
dragged free of her stretched and burning flesh without benefit of being squeezed open
first.
     Then the real fun began.  The apes had been trained for this sort of bestial gang
rape and Nick had obviously continued their education in Victoria's absence.  They
knew all the ways a woman could be used to give them their violent pleasure and used
them all with vicious enthusiasm.  When they didn't get full cooperation they would
bite her breasts and anywhere else that fancied them, hanging on like leeches to the
mindlessly screaming, writhing woman.
     All this time, Nick never said a word, never asked a question or made a
demand.  He would simply walk by, smiling and ignoring her desperate, inarticulate,
attempts to gain his attention. If only he would let her speak!   Victoria would have
begged and groveled, gladly agreeing to any demand in order to end her vile ordeal in
the stall. Once he brought a small tape recorder and replayed Victoria's own words
from when they had established the conditions of the 'gag rule; "Make the bitch
desperate to a fever pitch and beyond to beg for mercy, then deny her even that pitiful
hope.  The gag stays in.
     "Let her perceive with absolute certainty that her doom is sealed.  That no
appeal will be considered.  That she must continue to suffer whatever torment has
driven her to this extreme state of despair even if it should drive her mad.  Our victims
are deserving of their fate and ought to be reminded of that fact.  The sadists for their
crimes, the masochists for their sins.  The masochists especially, for they have truly
asked for it and we must oblige them.  And-" there was an anticipatory pause.  "if
that desperate, woeful bitch should one day turn out to be this particular
masochist-.well-, imagine the delicious irony of reminding me of this conversation.
It would only be fitting that the architect of the heinous ordeals conducted in these
chambers be made to endure even more extravagantly than her own victims, all the
while being reminded that she deserves every interminable minute - hmmm-?"
     Victoria remembered how she had played with herself and orgasmed when she
had said those damning words.  She had fantasized that if she got careless or carried
away with her masochistic urges she might one day actually find herself in such an
irrevocable predicament.  It had been stimulating to plant such a personally explicit
condemnation in the gag rule.  Now her words finally played for real on ears unready
to hear them.  Her jaw ached as she worked it uselessly on the gag she had placed in
her own mouth.  The words of denial as she sought to disown her earlier decree
remained trapped in the back of her throat. She whined and squirmed in her adamant
bondage as though each syllable of that earlier speech was a stroke from a brine
soaked lash.
     That was not her!  That was another woman who was free, her flesh pampered
and clean and unblemished.  A haughty and cruel stranger dressed in fine clothes said
those awful things, not one whose naked skin crawled with insects as it bled and
trembled in pain!   Victoria Denning hung her head and sobbed.  She had finally done
it.  She was truly doomed, condemned by her own words.  Her wretched suffering
would never end.  In that moment of supreme hopelessness, she came even as she was
raped by a chimp.  And when a second ape roughly entered her ass she accepted her
fate and swung her hips in erotic response, stimulating the bestial sodomite to even
more energetic and painful efforts.    After all, it was no more than she had asked for.
     Finally she realized Nick was standing before her, hands on hips and head
cocked as he surveyed his handiwork:  Bleeding, glistening with sweat, monkey, and
horse cum, she stood with arms and legs extended at chain's length, trembling with
pain and fatigue, her eyes sunken and red, her auburn hair hung down onto her
shoulders and over her face in wet straggles. The three chimps clung to her, one using
her tits as handholds as he pumped her vagina with his rampant tool.  Another slung by
his long arms from her shoulders and rammed his throbbing member in and out of her
ass.  The third hung from a trapeze Nick had set up above her and played with her hair,
pulling up tufts and yanking her head back and forth like a kid with a broken doll.
     When she saw him tears ran down her cheeks and she mewled and whined
piteously.  The training gag prevented anything more articulate.  Gobs of monkey cum
gushed from the open mouth to dribble onto the bruised and chewed swell of her
heaving breasts.   He knew then that he had broken her.  He looked around the stables.
     "Lots of work here for you yet," he observed casually.  "But maybe we ought
to give you a little break before we get back to it.  How would you like to hang around
the dungeon for a while?  I have to go into town for a day or two. You'll have the
place all to yourself.  Get cleaned up a bit and put something on those nasty bites
before they fester.  Maybe I'll even let you demonstrate on me your latest technique
for fucking horses.  What do you say to a little sack time, eh?"
     Victoria hung her head in defeat.  Even through her anguish she knew exactly
what Nick was talking about.   She would be hung up in a leather sack with only her
head protruding and her wrists and ankles tied together behind her.  There she would
be left to get some rest, if she didn't mind her sackmates;  the hundred or more
cockroaches that would be dumped in with her.  Then she would be brought out to the
tithanger that had so thrilled her with Jane's antics the first day she had arrived.  She
would be given a choice; return to the barn and its many equine delights and
'enticements' such as this stall, or accept Jane's fate.  She would accept it.  Eagerly.
     His agenda ought to have terrified her but she could not bear another minute in
the stables without going mad.  She tried to nod her head in acquiescence but the third
chimp had other ideas.  Just then he dropped down with his legs around her neck, his
erect pecker in her face.  His intent was obvious and he would brook no delay.
Grabbing her hair even more tightly, he forced her head forward until her locked open
mouth engulfed his tumescent rod.  She had no choice but to respond.  Her tongue
ached with fatigue but it could not ignore the demanding presence in her mouth.
     Nick watched the show as Vicky simultaneously serviced all three primates,
her naked form convulsing in the midst of  their screaming, pistoning attentions.
     "Well," he said in a mockingly miffed voice.  "It looks like you are having
such a good time I guess it would be a shame to interrupt your fun.  See you in a
couple of days."
     "Ummmf..."   A couple of days!  She could not see Nick and her stuffed mouth
could not utter another sound.  His only view of her nodding head was past the
monkey's pumping rump.
     "Good head technique," he observed.  Desperately she worked the chimp's
prick until it exploded with cum, nearly choking her.  When the animal finally moved
Nick was gone.  She whimpered like an abandoned puppy.  Two days!  To be so close
to relief from this torment only to be casually left to suffer for twice as long again!
She would go mad.  Hunger and thirst also gnawed at her.  She was surviving on a diet
of cum and shit already.  The chimps had the darling habit of stuffing their shit into
her open mouth whenever they weren't raping it!
     Out of her sight, Nick smiled at the soul damned wail of despair that filled the
stables.  The wail quickly cut off as one of the chimps demanded her oral attentions
once more and she was forced to resume her three way bestial rape.  He gunned the
engine of the pickup as he passed the barn a few minutes later just to rub it in.  Inside,
Victoria Denning sucked monkey dick and whimpered as she listened to the
diminishing sounds of the retreating vehicle.  The silence that followed was perhaps
the worst torture of all as she hung there in the stall and realized he wasn't coming
back.


                                       ***

      He did not return to collect her until after noon the following day.  Though it
was less than the two days he had threatened she was sure he had been gone even
longer.  He found Vickie hanging exhausted in her bondage.  Eyes closed, she
moaned from time to time, barely rolling her hips in response as one of the chimps
explored her cunt with his hairy paw, pushing his muscular arm well up into the
much violated cleft between her spread legs and working it around inside her.  He
had been pumping her this way for over an hour and she had long since given up any
effort to dislodge him.  It was another of the many "trick's" she had taught the beasts
when Jane had been the 'training dummy'.
     She remembered how much fun she had had showing the animals how to fist
fuck the helpless, screaming woman, one after another until they learned to do it in
relentless rotation for hours on end.  She had masturbated as she watched Jane suffer,
fantasizing about what it would be like to be in the murderesses place but never
seriously considering giving Nick the chance to put her there.  But, to Vicki's horror,
with Nick away in town the chimps had remembered their lessons on their own.
Gagged and unable to command them to stop this latest debasement, Vicky had had
no choice but to endure the bizarre rape.  With no human guidance she had no hope
of being spared a single minute of the dreadful performance.
     Nick did nothing to interfere.  For over an hour he watched as the apes took
turns ramming their forearms up into Vicki's bulging cunt, all the while smiling
indulgently at her for her eccentric sexual habits.  He immensely enjoyed the mute
pleading of her eyes.  They were most eloquent in their expression.  He smiled as he
held up the little recorder and watched as the flicker of hope in them was crushed
once more when he hit 'play'.
     "You deserve this fate, don't you bitch?," he demanded when the tape ended.
"You want suffer like this, don't you?
     Without argument or denial, Victoria Denning meekly nodded mute
confirmation.
     "Good.  Then suffer for me.  Perform for me.  Already you are one of my
finest creations.  Your agony becomes you, but we have only just begun.  You are my
latest pain sculpture and there is much more to be done to mold you into a
masterpiece.  Your suffering is performance art in its purest, simply watching you is
a most enjoyable way to pass an afternoon."  He went back to the barrel on which he
had been sitting and resumed his observation.  Vickie threw her head back and closed
her eyes.  She hardly noticed when her mouth was crammed with a fistful of
horseshit and monkey dung, simply sucking at the mass and letting the brown juice
dribble down her chin and neck.
     Nick watched her until she passed out, then, after caging the chimps he cut
her down.  She collapsed bonelessly into the mess of horse and monkey shit filling
the stall, trembling and moaning as she weakly wriggled about in the stinking mass
of excrement.  Watching her, Nick licked his lips.  Tossing off his clothes, he dove
down on top of her, driving her even deeper into the filth as he raped her, ramming
his massive, rock hard boner into her raw, swollen, and cum dripping cunt.  Her
screams became grunts in time to his thrusts as his body mashed itself down onto
hers again and again, the shit and slime smearing and lubricating the action of their
two bodies.
     Afterwards, he carried her inside.  Exhausted, she slumped her head against
his shit streaked chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, as though she were a
grateful maiden in the arms of her rescuing knight rather than a victim in the clutches
of her torturer.  Inside Nick forced Jane to lick both of them clean from head to foot.
That was an interesting diversion in itself.  Then, true to his word, he had Vicky ride
him.  She bounced up and down on his dick while he groped at her chewed and
mauled breasts, eliciting an interesting ritornelle of  gasps, wails, and cries of pain-
ecstasy.  That last amazed him.  Her cunt was so raw and swollen any action in it
ought to have been pure agony yet the warped bitch was still managing to transmute
some of that pain into pleasure.  She finally collapsed and he gave her a rare
undisturbed night's rest in which to recuperate some of her strength.  She was going
to need it.  He would save 'the sack' for a night when she was conscious enough to
appreciate its exquisite torments.
     The next morning Victoria was led into the torture chamber.  To Nick's
satisfaction she quailed at the sight of what waited for her.  "You agreed to 'hang
around' here," he reminded her.  "Shall we get on with it or are you reneging in
which case we shall 'discuss' going to Level Seven?"
     Vickie shuddered.  Level Seven was the first fire level: Red hot needles and
some of the smaller branding irons.  She had hoped it would have taken her much
longer to reach this level but Nick had exceeded himself in the ingenuity of his
tortures so far.  She knew now that there was no way she was going to avoid the fire
and her flesh simultaneously crawled and tingled at the thought.
     But not yet.  Convinced now that there was no hope, she walked bleakly over
to the apparatus hanging from the ceiling and could not supress a little shuddery
moan of dread as she studied it.  She had known for some days now that this moment
was inevitable.  By now she had been convinced there was to be no reprieve or
escape for her.  Her cringing flesh would be inexorably subjected to every torment in
Nick's baneful repertoire.
     Her inventive ramrod was handy with tools, damn him, and had made some
changes since Victoria had seen Jane suffering so extravagantly in the cruel grasp of
this very device.  The changes insured that Vickie would suffer even more
extravagantly.  Mentally she cudgeled herself,  She deserved every shrieking minute
that lay ahead.  Angry with herself, she stepped up onto the two posts, wincing as the
points dug into the soles of her dainty feet.  Throwing her head back she tossed her
auburn tresses over her shoulder and glared back at Nick in a momentary show of
defiance.  "Do your worst,' her eyes challenged.
     He did.
     Hours later, (she had no idea how many), Vicki gurgled and moaned as she
slowly twisted in the air, her outstretched toes vainly seeking the pyramid topped
posts somewhere below her so they could once again torture her raw, delicate feet.
She would welcome that pain because it meant she could (at least, temporarily),
relieve the exorbitant agony in her breasts.  Nick had been right, it was much more
difficult for the victim to support herself this way.  Jane had had it easy in the fixed
tit clamps.
     As with her foreboding comments about masochists, the bastard had taped her
reaction to Jane's plight that first day.  As her naked body was introduced to its
newest afflictions, he replayed her suggestions.  Laughing at her obvious dismay he
introduced her to each 'improvement' as  the recorder faithfully reproduced her
original recommendations.  She could only roll her eyes and moan as he showed her
the devices he had made in accordance with her own instructions.  She had meant for
Jane to 'enjoy' these 'improvements'.  Or had she?
     As she had predicted and now learned first hand, with the tit clamps
suspended from a cable instead of being fixed the victim was free to turn and swing
in any direction, making the once difficult act of regaining the oppressive perch even
more formidable.  Turning slowly this way and that, it was almost impossible to do.
Vicki tried to look down to spot the posts and immediately squealed as the spikes
arrayed along the edges of a stiff discipline collar stabbed at her throat and neck.
Another effective idea!
     "-And a stiff discipline collar to force the cow's head back so she can't see
what is actually happening to her udders.  That ought to keep her imagination lively
and help her concentrate on her penance."  Her own words echoed in the torture
chamber, mocking her.
       Trapped by the oppressive collar, she could only stare hopelessly up at the
ceiling and contemplate her own contributions to her present set of woes as the
beams above rotated in and out of her view. Her chest burned with the strain of her
weight and the cruel spiked boards clamping down on her poor breasts magnified her
every motion, translating the vibrations into shocks of purest agony.
     But Vicki was getting used to even this distress in her perverted sort of way.
She could even contemplate the horrifying certainty of her next 'break', hanging like
so much meat in this dungeon.  She knew it would happen. Several times more would
she hang here like this and she would welcome each opportunity with bitter tears of
relief.  A 'dozen times' she had said.  So easily, so blithely.  A dozen times at each
cock, a dozen times at each cunt and a dozen times at each filthy, greasy asshole.
Even now, her mouth tasted like the living sewer it had become.  Jane's crab infested
pussy would taste like vanilla pudding right now by comparison.  Vicki writhed her
hips.  Her own bush crawled with vermin, almost driving her mad at times because
she could not touch it. The claws on her fingers scratched painfully at her hips as
they made the useless effort anyway.
     She concentrated instead on her other distractions. As she squirmed and
twisted in mid-air her slender legs slowly churned as though she were riding a
bicycle as they ceaselessly explored for the posts.  This action in turn constantly
pumped the massive flanged and ridged cunt reamer in and out, around and back,
twisting and ramming it against the raw, bleeding membranes within.  The fishhook-
ended "Hellraiser" chains clawed ever deeper into her labia, tearing at her nether lips
until they were sacs of blood.  Her arms twisted helplessly in response.  Cuffed hard
to her hips, they ground the short, spiked crossbar around against her buttocks and
drove its oversized, ridged hook deeper into the ruptured tissues of her rectum.
Again the claws on her fingers raked involuntarily at her hips and buttocks, drawing
blood.
     She squalled and shook but this only rocked the massive spiked iron ball that
Nick had affixed to her navel with four large fish hooks.  Here was another one of
her cruelly clever ideas turned against her!  Again Nick had grinned as he replayed
the fateful scene-
     Victoria heard the crack of her own hand smacking Jane's bare belly and
remembered the bright red hand print she had caused.  Impaled and hanging
helplessly by her tits Vicky could only anticipate what was to come with a strange
mix of dread and anticipation.  Nick let her wait for the blow she could not see
coming because of the collar.  Despite herself she tried to look and once again was
painfully thwarted.  Nick laughed and struck with a blow that set her swinging and
screaming.  With much amusement he watched her resultant, desperate struggles.
When she finally settled back into some sort of trembling, mewling tranquillity, he
played the rest of the fateful scene on the tape:  "-And see what you can come up
with for this too.  It looks so ignored.  Something nice and heavy, I should think, with
lots of prickly little spikes and things to keep the old blood circulating."
       Each of the fish hooks was big enough to land a tuna and entered the center
of her aching belly button so that they pointed outward in a cross pattern.  Then the
shanks of the heavy duty hooks had been bundled together and drawn up through a
small shaft in the iron ball where they were pulled tight and locked in place so that
the ball clung tightly to her firm belly.  Whenever she moved, the heavy ball bobbed
and rocked about, the hooks tearing at her belly button, but the belly ball was deeply
moored; the curved points plunging through hefty chunks of her flesh before probing
painfully back up just under the skin.  Though the flesh around her navel protested
with angry heat the massive ball did not tear loose, though in time the points worked
their agonizing way back to the surface.  Simultaneously, the many spikes of the
heavy iron ball drove into her tender belly flesh again and again with delightful effect
as it bobbed and wobbled in time and counter time to her every motion.  Even
through the agony Vicky regretted that she could not see the sight she presented.  She
remembered vividly her anticipation of torturing Jane in just this fashion.  Nick had
got the heinous device just as she had imagined it!  Her belly screamed with pain.
That it was supposed to be Jane's belly and not her own was no longer important.
Only the image in her mind of female flesh under extreme duress filled her mind.  In
fact, perhaps it was better this way.  Cringing Jane might only have ruined the effect.
     Drawing in her breath, Victoria deliberately lifted her feet from the posts they
had so earnestly sought and arched her back, stretching her legs behind her.  Caught
up in her own self image of exotic anguish she ignored the many new and renewed
pains this pose created; the excruciating agony in her magnificent breasts, the fire in
her labia as her nether lips stretched taut, the wrenching in her gut as the rod in her
cunt shifted until it pressed against the inside of her abdomen.  The arched pose
showed off her latest torment to her captor and she deliberately writhed her belly to
set the balling rolling about. Gasping and moaning, she soon had her entire body in
motion in a dance of pain and perverted pleasure.  She wished in that gloriously
transcendent moment that she could speak just long enough to beg Nick- to remove
the posts!  She wanted to hang there and experience this magnificent agony forever!
     She knew the moment would pass but that was part of her twisted pleasure;
knowing that the agony would go on and on until she had paid for her perverted
gratification with massive interest.  She thought of how she had felt out in the stable;
broken and hopeless, and creamed at the prospect of returning to that abject state of
mind that was the nadir if mental and physical despair.
     Eventually, as she knew it would, the depraved mood wore off and she once
more found herself with too much pain to absorb and too much time to think about it.
     But, as Nick had said, it was anticipation that was perhaps the worst torture of
all.  Hanging there, staring at the ceiling, she could only suffer and wait for the next
horror that would be done to her.  She waited, trying not to think of the incessant
agony constantly broadcast by her impaled, crushed and stretched breasts, the
burning ache in her belly, or the jabbing pains in her ass and hips.
     She tried not to think about Jane either.  Jane, who Nick had chained nearby,
returned again and again with her own set of claws to decorate the helpless torso
mewling and hanging like so much raw meat in the very dungeon it had designed.
Using only one or two fingers at a time she slowly scratched, scraped, and carved
thin, shallow slices of skin from the captive body, imprinting new patterns of pain on
the fevered flesh.  Ignoring all her other torments, Vicky threshed and wriggled
violently as she tried desperately to put off this latest assault.  It was no use.
Squalling with agony, writhing in response to each new cut, she could do nothing but
suffer under the merciless hands of her former victim.  And that was as it should be.
A hand rose into view and casually plopped a lump of shit into her upturned mouth.
Victoria gurgled and accepted her degrading breakfast with resignation.  After all,
had she not spent three years preparing Jane for this moment of revenge?  Had she
not all the while secretly desired this just fate? Without further complaint Vicky
mashed the bitter lump with her tongue and swallowed her captor's excrement as she
accepted her wretched fate.
       After carving each new set of bloody designs into Vicki's cringing flesh,
Jane would take the basting brush and the jar of 'salad dressing' and apply a fresh
coat of glistening, spicy oil to the scored and reddened meat, making it writhe and
howl mindlessly in even more pain just as it was beginning to think no more pain
was possible.  Then Jane would remind the flailing Victoria that this was all her own
idea; playing the tape recorder Nick had given her, emphasizing that she was not yet
half done with her ordeal.  The tables deliciously turned, Jane's victim had no choice
but to listen to every horrible promise of even greater torments to come.  The
murderess gleefully basted her former mistress with the fiery spiced oil and reveled
in the resultant screams and howls as Victoria Denning writhed anew in futile effort
to alleviate the searing agony that blistered her naked body from neck to straining
toes.  This time there was no pleasurable sensation, perverted or otherwise, only
unholy agony and retribution and woeful penitence as the prisoner hung by her tits
and waited for the next escalation of her travails.
     Then Jane would leave, but not before mentioning that she would return with
some nice long needles to slowly force up under Victoria's toenails so she could all
the more easily find the posts.  Such consideration.
     Such anticipation.
     Swinging back and forth, her gleaming, naked, body burning with agony and
torment as it constantly arched and twisted like a worm on a hook, Victoria Denning
stared up at her unbreakable chains where they anchored solidly in the heavy ceiling
beams of her prison and thought of her jaded California friends idly stretching their
unfettered bodies on windswept beaches and sunned themselves.  Tears ran down her
face as she thought of her mindless, carefree, society friends and how they must be
chattering in envious tones about her mysterious vacation and how she must be
enjoying herself.   Coming through the training gag her anguished, hopeless sobs
sounded almost like laughter.

                                    ****


   A soft fade of lights as we close this scene....  The third and final (for now) excerpt
from Victoria's Secrets.  A work in progress.  Never fear, Victoria will return with
even more travails in store.

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