Wayward Wife's Punishment
Chapter 17
My destination turned out to be some kind of a meeting hall, perhaps a
grange considering the territory surrounding it. To reach the building I had to
go through a gate and follow the winding road to the rear of the building where
I discovered a large parking lot already occupied by perhaps twenty cars, most
of them luxury or high end models. This certainly had not been what I expected.
Where were the bikes, the trucks, the modified muscle cars that I associated
with those I imagined were holding Glinda?
It got even stranger when I entered through the illuminated side door
after telling the large gentleman at the door my name, and showing him some ID
as if I was about to enter an exclusive dance club. Another gentleman, almost as
large as his buddy out front, handed me a hooded cloak. I donned the garment and
pulled the cowl over my head and snapped a flap that covered my face below the
eyes. The attendant gave me the once over, nodded his head, and directed me with
a pointed finger toward another large, wooden door.
I entered a hall that already contained dozens of robed figures who
formed small groups, chatting quietly among themselves. I looked around at the
dark paneling of the walls, partially covered by framed pictures and tapestries.
I approached one of the pictures which was of a man in his mid 50s with an
impassive visage topped off by a set of glittering eyes that seemed to see right
through me. I felt a tug on my robe and turned to confront a smaller figure,
most likely a woman. "I'm so glad you could come to Glinda's rebirthing" Cindi
said.
Before I could overwhelm her with the welter of questions that were
whirling about in my head, she waved them off with a sweep of her cloaked arm,
and continued, "The ceremony will begin in a few minutes once everyone has been
assembled. Stay with me and try not to make yourself conspicuous. Just remember
that everything that you are about to see is what Glinda has desperately wanted
for the last ten years."
We waited until the final few stragglers had arrived. A muted gong-like
signal resounded throughout the hall. Cindi and I followed the train of hooded
figures as they began to leave the large paneled holding area. What I was to
experience in the next hours was something that would remain burned into my
brain for the rest of my life. Beyond the hall lay five doors, each with a light
above it.I could not help being reminded of a peep show setting. That was not
too far from the truth. The lights above two of the rooms were already lit, a
signal that they were fully occupied. Cindi and I chose the one closest to us
that still had space, and we entered. One small bulb in the ceiling provided
enough light to allow us to seat ourselves on a long cushioned bench situated
against one of the white walls. It took a minute or two before the room reached
its seating limit, then the door swung shut and the show began.
Suddenly on the wall before us, from floor to ceiling, was something so
unexpected and so terrible that my heart almost jumped from its chest. Then the
sound struck with unbelievable force, nearly deafening me. The room was filled
with the noise of barking and snarling dogs. My eyes adjusted to the harshly lit
images flashing intermittently on the wall. I realized that it was Glinda
kneeling with her head and wrists poking through a wooden stock that held her
fast. She was being fucked by a big mongrel dog whose front paws were digging
into her flanks as his long red cock moved at an impossible rate in and out of
her cunt. Before what I had seen sank in, the picture changed to one featuring a
huge Great Dane taking his turn on Glinda's raw snatch, dripping from her
previous attacker's deposit. No, it was a German shepherd, no it was a
rottweiler, huge and black, the animals kept changing with each new flashing
image as the sound of barking, yelping, snarling and now the screams being
forced from Glinda built up to one crescendo after another. Then came the smell;
musky, musty, wet fur, that odd hint of chlorine, the stink of fish and sweat. I
felt myself becoming disoriented as one image after another strobed itself into
my memory. All I could see was Glinda's cunt becoming more and more distended
and the animal cum oozing, then dripping and finally streaming from the swollen
wound that was her cunt.
It ended abruptly, the dim light returning as my ears still echoed the
brutal sounds. I was numb. Gradually my suroundings intruded and it became
apparent that others had reacted to this assault on the senses in more basic
ways. A couple a few seats away from us were on the floor duplicating as best
they could what they had just witnessed, complete to the barks that came from
the man who was furiously drilling his companion from the rear as she moaned and
shook. I grasped Cindi's hand for some feeling of security and we made our way
from the chamber while others entered to take the few places that were now
becoming available.
We stood outside with people who had come from the other rooms. Many
were talking softly and acted almost as if they were part of a theater crowd
during intermission. It was difficult to regain my equilibrium. There was this
unsettling feeling about what waited behind the other four doors, coupled with
an urge to run from this place. If Cindi hadn't been with me, I'm sure I would
have fled into the night.
"There's one", my companion said, pointing toward one of the unlighted
doors. I took a deep breath and held her hand tightly as we entered. This place
was identical to the other, no difference in its dimensions or seating
arrangements. This time the initial onslaught did not catch me totally
unprepared. An image of Glinda, stark naked, arms raised over her head, wrists
bound with rope that was attached to a hook above her flashed on the wall for a
brief moment. It quickly disappeared to be replaced by a close up image of her
head. Then she vomited into the camera lens and the sick suctioning sound that
came from her echoed through the room, following by the sickening odor of vomit.
I was disgusted! Then we were treated to a side view of the same, or perhaps a
different incident, I could never tell.
Again and again and again images of Glinda vomiting were shown from
different angles and even in slow motion, the sound track distorting the
horrible choking and gasping sounds she made. Then there was a series showing
her stomach distended then slowly flattening as she spewed unbelievable volumes
of liquid from her gaping mouth. The sounds that she made changed over time,
perhaps her throat muscles were beginning to fail from the seemingly endless
convulsions she was experiencing. When the disembodied hand appeared and
disappeared down her throat I shut my eyes, afraid of what it might cause. Then
I heard the gurgling and the awful noise of Glinda choking and panting as her
stomach gave up its contents yet again. The stench in this closed minitheater
had reached a point where some of the audience were beginning to choke and
cough. Then the light came on and powerful fans swept the foul odors from the
room before the door opened and allowed us to leave.
Once outside we had words, not an argument, just words of concern from
me and words of confidence about Glinda's well being from her. I followed her
into the third room. In many ways this presentation was almost peaceful and at
the same time completely horrifying. There was no loud noise, no screaming,
barking ,choking sounds, just the steady drip drip of blood being drained from
Glinda's veins.
She lay on her back with eyes closed and bare breasts rising and
falling in rhythm with her breathing. Plastic tubing filled with her blood ran
from both arms,spilling this precious fluid into a pair of glass beakers on the
floor. What made this scene so disconcerting was the use of time lapse
photography which accelerated the loss of color in her face and the first
tremors announcing the approach of unconsciousness. When the camera zoomed in to
focus on her cunt it revealed the glistening evidence that somehow this process
was inducing a sexual response in the pale woman. This quickly brought forth a
response from members of the audience. One could hear the sound of fingers and
hands moving rapidly over slippery flesh and the muffled moans and groans of
ecstasy that soon followed. A musky smell began to permeate the room as the
images of Glinda slowly fading into a stupor continued to flash upon the wall.
When the light came on, a number of women quickly shielded their hot sticky
cunts from view, wiping their wet fingers across the coarse material of the
robes that now hid their bodies.
Cindi was not as confident about Glinda's health and welfare after
witnessing the blood letting ceremony. However we had reached the point where it
was necessary to finish this part of the initiation process, knowing that we
would then have an opportunity to see for ourselves how Glinda was holding up.
Leaving now would only mean abandoning the blue eyed beauty to the tender
mercies of the cult. When I used that word to describe the group that now
controlled Cindi's "slave", she winced, but did not argue the point. We waited
for another room to become available, biding our time by observing the reactions
of the others to what they had seen so far.
By now I was somewhat accustomed to the bombardment of my senses and the
frenetic pace of the activities being spooled upon the wall. This one was no
exception, beginning abruptly with a closeup of Glinda's pee hole as it
fountained a seemingly endless stream of piss into the air. This morphed into
her sphincter flowering and then passing an enormous turd. The shots alternated
between her uncontrollable pissing and ever changing bowel movements, each one
totally different as turds narrowed, fattened, shortened, lengthened, became
darker or lighter in color, were emitted spasmodically or with agonizing
slowness, then turned into violent streams of brown watery fluid, which in turn
became crystal clear. God knows how many enemas she must have taken to get this
sequence. Her piss also changed from scene to scene, dark yellow, almost orange
at other times, then gradually shifting in volume and color until there was just
a trickle of clear fluid dribbling from the hole, the droplets coating her pale
skin, glistening like dew.
The sounds that accompanied these visions rose and fell in concert with
the type of effort coming from Glinda. Sometimes her grunts and sighs were soft
and prolonged, other times the sound was deafening as her colon convulsed, its
contents exploding from her spasming, distended hole. The combination of
Glinda's voice and her body's natural sounds formed a bizarre duet that was
fully exploited by whoever had mixed the tape. I had become so tolerant of this
environment that my mind could begin to appreciate the intelligence that had
produced these terrible works of art. Later when I had some days to ponder over
what I had experienced, or thought I had experienced, it would become very clear
that this "cult" was unlike any organization that I could ever imagine.
In the previous settings either sound or sight dominated, aroma or odor
was a secondary characteristic of the work. This was most definitely not the
case in this one. The stench was at times unbearable, the smells perfectly
matched to what was flashing on the wall. How this was accomplished I did not
know. What kind of machinery could produce the abrupt changes in odors that
occurred continuously throughout this display? This was just another example of
the power that this strange group had at its disposal. The ending was not
abrupt, it seemed almost natural, even restful. I began to understand what
purification meant in this context.
My confidence that I was beginning to penetrate the meaning of these
scenes took a major hit once the last one began. There was no sound or scent at
first, just another harshly lit scene showing Glinda tightly strapped to what
looked like an operating table, legs spread and elevated, feet held in the
stirrups of wing shaped supports that flared from the sides of the table. A pair
of masked and gowned figures appeared their hands covered with rubber gloves.
The camera moved to the table located to one side of the table. A group of
clamps, forceps, small metal bars, burnished rings, and some other gleaming
metal tools were lined up in orderly rows. " My god! " I thought, "Is she about
to have an abortion. How can that be?"
My mind was still trying to deal with what I think I saw when the images
on the wall began to appear and disappear at breakneck speed. Accompanying this
was a sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Later I
understood that it had been modified and tricked up to match the speed of the
film, but the eerie wail was so intense and yet so inhuman that I actually was
frightened by it. I soon picked up what was occurring at this blinding speed.
Glinda's cunt lips were spread with the forceps, held wide in clamps, holes
punctured in the sensitive flesh with the punch and then a series of rings were
installed until the entrance to her vagina was lost in the forest of rings now
guarding it. The forceps then yanked her clitoris free of its protective hood
and the taut nubbin of flesh was skewered to allow a set of the tiny bars to be
implanted in and just above its top portion.
Between blinks the camera shifted to Glinda's full, firm breasts. The
breast meat itself was pierced with a gleaming icepick-like tool and began to
spurt blood. A large heavy ring was forced through the bleeding flesh and closed
using another clamping tool. Her nipple received a similar treatment. Then the
process was performed on her other breast as the hideous wailing grew louder and
louder. The bleeding nipples and breasts were cauterized. For a split second
there was darkness, then her tongue was pulled to its limit from her mouth and
held by the forceps. This was all done in closeups. Immediately a gaping hole
was punched through the organ about an inch or so from its tip and a ring
similar to those placed through her nipples was fixed in place. For a few
seconds there was total darkness and then the tape rolled again, this time at a
slower speed. This time the entire process perhaps took a few minutes to show.
The background sound now became a bit more recognizable. It was a shriek, a
wavering drawn out cry from the throat of someone in agony. This time as the
loop came to its end I detected a slight whiff of something overheating.
Twice more the scene played out against the wall, each time at a slower
speed, but still so rapid as to require ones undivided attention. With each pass
the amount of information that could be absorbed increased. The shrieking also
drew louder and more nuanced, the compression that was necessary to properly
link sound to sight had forced the elimination of a portion of the signal, which
was now being returned. The last loop only provided real time highlights, one or
two rings installed in Glinda's labia, the piercing of her clit, one nipple ring
installed, the other breast skewered, the cauterization of the four bleeding
wounds and her tongue being punched. The stench of sizzling flesh was by then
overwhelming. Even more terrifying was the knowledge that Glinda's throat
muscles had failed some time during the installation of the first breast ring.
The rasping sounds that issued from her toward the end were animal-like.
What I'd had experienced left me exhausted and extremely worried about
Glinda. Cindi tried to put on a brave front, but her eyes betrayed her words. We
returned to the hall where we had first assembled. Drinks were served and we had
a chance to recover from what we'd witnessed in those five rooms. Cindi and I
felt like an island, the others acted as if we did not exist, carrying on their
conversations and moving from group to group speaking in muted tones as if
fearing that we might overhear whatever they were discussing. Once again the
gong-like signal rang out and we took up our position at the rear of the line of
people who moved into still another room within this large building.
We waited impatiently for something to happen, hoping to see Glinda. At
one end of the room was a curtain that hung down from the high ceiling and
nearly touched the wooden floor. It opened without fanfare and my heart almost
stopped. Next to me Cindi began to whimper and shake, cluching my arm with her
trembling hands.
She was suspended in space, her naked body festooned with links of
chains that joined her nipples and breasts, as well as heavier links connecting
the rings embedded in her labia. She was supported by three cables, one attached
to her ankles that were manacled together, a second pulling her cuffed wrists
almost perpendicular to her straining body and the third joined to her hair
which had been woven into a single, thick braid. The cable for her hair was much
shorter than the other two, forcing her head up and back. Weights of various
sizes hung from the chains and also dangled from the ring in her tongue and the
bar running through her clitoris.
Glinda's breasts had become twin cones from the weights that hung from
the chains connecting them. Her nipples were long columns of straining pulp,
pulled taut by the weights hooked to the metal festoon that linked them. The
largest weights, four in number, had caused her cunt lips to stretch to the
point that they were nearly transparent. The weight attached to the bar in her
clitoris had pulled the sensitive lump of nerve endings free of its protective
hood and caused it to swell from the unyielding pressure placed upon it.
Glinda's tongue was extended to its limit. So great was the strain that it had
narrowed in an effort to accommodate the force being applied to the soft tissue.
Her body trembled as she tried to maintain a precarious balance between
the various forces threatening her helpless form. The brunette beauty's eyes
were wide and staring at the lights that shone down on her naked form. Beads of
sweat had begun to form on her pale skin. It had only been a week since I'd seen
her last, but her body had undergone substantial change. Not only was she pale
from the bleeding she had endured, Glinda had lost weight. It showed in her
ribcage, her concave stomach, even her stretched breasts. I wondered if she had
been deliberately starved or was this the result of the purging that was so
graphically shown in those terrible scenes we'd just witnessed.
Further speculation was tabled when the silence was broken by a voice
welcoming us to this rebirthing ceremony. "This child of Satan has come to us
for refuge. She has begged for freedom from his dominance and expressed a
willingness to undergo that which must happen in order for her to be liberated.
This will not be a quick process, nor will it be free of pain and degradation as
we battle the prince of darkness for his minion. Join with me as we begin the
struggle." The hooded speaker nodded to the two robed figures flanking Glinda. A
brazier of glowing coals was wheeled out to where she hung. Two irons protruded
from the bowl. Each of the figures picked up one with a gloved hand and without
pause they plunged them down into the naked woman's ass cheeks and held them as
her flesh sizzled and charred while her body attempted to defy gravity in a
blind effort to escape the searing pain that lanced through her.
The array of weights swung wildly from their moorings, twisting and even
tearing the flesh that ultimately supported them. She howled, she yelled, she
bellowed as the stink of cooking meat filled the air. One, then another ring
embedded in her thinned labia tore free, bringing new shrieks and cries from
Glinda. The irons were withdrawn but she continued to fill the room with her
now-raspy screams. Then with a shudder that ran the length of her straining body
she fainted. Her two tormentors quickly stepped forward and supported her body
in their arms to prevent her from doing further damage to herself.
There was one more ritual that had to be observed before the ceremony
was considered to be complete. The speaker invited us to witness the marks that
had been branded into Glinda's cheeks and to touch them with our forefingers as
a sign that we approved what had been done. He also exhorted us to be always
prepared to participate in those events that would be required to bring her back
from the darkness. When I saw the symbols that had ruined her perfect flesh I
nearly passed out. I had seen these marks on Willa. The music once more started
up in my head, playing a dirge while tinkling peals of insane laughter welled up
in the background.
