Torture The Widow

Chapter 25 – High Tech Torture 1

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

Copyright 2004

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I'd seen more BDSM dungeons than most people ranging from the converted basements of suburban track homes through commercial establishments like New York's Hellfire Club to the more elaborate pain pens of rich families like the Donaldson's. I rated the Donaldsons the best of the best prior to walking into Portia's chamber of agony. The crazy thing was that Portia's looked nothing like an S&M venue.

Say the word dungeon and most of us think of a gloomy stone walled subterranean room with recognizable antique looking equipment scattered about. I got wide eyed as Colette led me on my leash into the brightly lit white tiled room. It looked more like a first class Operating Room than a torture chamber. It was sparkling clean. Exotic looking electronics and bizarre appearing electro-mechanical devices were placed around something that resembled a monorail.

What I hadn't realized up to that point was that Portia had a creative and innovative approach to causing pain that far surpassed anything I had ever experienced. I'd taken her for a rich thrill seeking bitch that wasn't that bright. In fact, she was the Marquis de Sade of the transistor age.

One thing I immediately noticed was the separate glass enclosed control room off to the right. There were three people inside dressed in white lab coasts watching me expectantly. Computer displays surrounded the semi-circular control desk where they were seated.

The one named Lars rushed out to be introduced to Colette and me. I knew he was Lars because that was stitched across his lab coat pocket. I was expecting a well-muscled troglodyte with a whip arm much bigger than his other. Instead I got Joe College right down to his tortoise shell glasses.

"Let's get Slave Rozz in the Frame," said Lars pointing toward a complicated piece of equipment that resembled a playground jungle gym on a movable track. While Lars and an assistant named Rory were readying the self-adjusting restraints to place around my extremities, Portia proudly explained the basics of her dungeon.

"It's called the Pain Portal. There are only five in existence. Two are in Europe. One is at a friend of mine in Tokyo. The other is in Redmond, Washington," said Portia.

"Why in Redmond?" I asked.

"It was designed by one of the founders of the Microsoft Corporation. He became a billionaire and retired to his native Russia. His hobby was BDSM. He decided that the practice of torture was light years behind in the application of computer technology and decided to create the ultimate in machine-managed agony. It would be system controlled, highly efficient, and exploit modern medicine's knowledge about the nature of pain and how best to induce it. He spent seven years and fifty million of his personal fortune to develop what you are looking at."

"How does it work?" asked Colette as she ran her hands over the equipment like it was a big cock that she hoped to get inside her.

"You place the submissive in the Frame, select a program, and the computer controls everything else. There are interface points allowing for human intervention. The Frame travels along the oval monorail from torture station to station. Each station has a particular set of implements of torture. For example, one of the stations you will program Rozz to visit is dedicated to Breast Torture. There's an interactive whipping station that resembles a video game. We can play that together if you like."

"Are all the bugs worked out?" I asked.

"We are running Version 3.43 of the software which is regarded as near bug free. Test subjects were badly injured in the days of the alpha and beta prototypes but it hasn't killed anyone since Version 3.0 was installed," said Lars.

"That's comforting," I said like a smart ass.

"Silence slut," screamed Colette slapping me so hard I started to cry. An even harder slap and a kick followed that. The top of Colette's foot landed between my legs smashing my clit against my pubic bone. I wound up rolling on the tile floor holding my throbbing pussy with both hands as I begged Colette not to hurt me anymore. From the look on her face I could tell she enjoyed slapping and kicking me.

"Let's get smart mouth into the Frame before you beat her to death," said Portia.

I felt Lars and Rory lifting me to my feet. The Frame turned out to be the modern day equivalent of the medieval rack except that it was a thousand times more versatile and could move to each station.

I'd done a stretch on a traditional rack. The rack was the staple instrument of persuasion in medieval times. Every well-equipped dungeon had its own rack. Few criminals failed to confess after a brief period of having their limbs stretched. A prolonged session would leave the individual crippled for life or dead.

The General had an exact replica of one found in a famous French chateau. I'd let Trace rack me one afternoon on a lark. It was a lark that kept me screaming for two hours. Trace cranked me to where I felt like an over stressed rubber band then proceeded to whip my breasts, drop hot wax on sensitive places like my armpits and pussy then piss in my mouth. He also whipped the soles of my feet. I couldn't walk for two days.

Still, the General's rack stretched your arms on one direction and your legs in the other. The placement of wooden block in the center of your back added to the agony. But the medieval rack was pretty one-dimensional.

In contrast, the software driven Frame could fold and stretch you in countless ways. An MIT professor with a doctorate in mechanical engineering had designed the mesh of titanium tubing, sensors, and servomotors that made the Frame the most hellish instrument of torture I had encountered to this point.

Flexibility was the key to the Frame's design. Computer controlled servo motors would stretch your limbs, bend your spine back and forth, and place you in agonizing positions that emulated classical bondage. Almost every joint including your fingers and toes could be flexed into painful postures that made you despise your own body. I can't recall everything that the Frame did to me. I know that Colette selected a DVD titled, "Agony 6" and inserted it into the DVD reader.

"Agony 6 is the most painful program we have developed to date," said Lars.

"My crazy sister and some of her disgusting friends were here last month. Charlize had always been a showoff. She decided to show her friends the Pain Portal using herself as a subject. She thought that by taking a handful of Vicodin and Darvocet she could get through it. She ordered poor Lars to process her with the Agony 6 DVD. Her friends threatened him with a pistol if he didn't cooperate. Unfortunately I was away in Madagascar looking at a slave that had come on the market. Charlize is now in a private sanitarium recovering," said Portia.

"Her mind snapped?" asked Colette.

"Yes, I am afraid so. We'll just have to hope that Rozz is made of sterner stuff," said Portia.

It took only a few seconds to place me in the Frame. Self-adjusting collars closed around my ankles, wrists, waist, and forehead. My fingers and toes were splayed wide so each digit could be addressed singularly. I recall a Master Torturer once telling me that a good tormentor never neglects the hands and feet.

"Your audience needs to hear you scream. And we need to talk to you," said Lars fitting me with a headset. A tiny receiver was placed in my ear. I got to listen to the pitter-patter between Portia and Colette as they sat in the Control Room and worked on me.

Karen told me later that my performance in the Pain Portal was so riveting that people stopped fucking to watch the monitor. The software driving the 144-inch monitor supported multiple screen division. For example if a specific body part of mine was being tortured, the screen could show close-ups of my face as I shrieked my lungs out, the body part accepting the pain, something unusual such as a muscle group being contorted by the agony and a complete image. It frequently showed Colette grinning from ear to ear as she enjoyed my pitiful suffering.

"I'm quite proud of the way the system deals with the visual aspects," said Portia. "I was the one who convinced the developer that he was neglecting the entertainment aspects of his creation. The HDTV monitor and special software to drive it were my idea. Men don't think of things like visualization but what's the point of subjecting someone to unendurable agony if others can't enjoy it with you."

"We'll begin by demonstrating the capabilities of the Frame," said Lars. "It alone is a wonderful torture device as I'm sure you will agree."

Over the next few minutes the Frame bent and folded me in dozens of positions that were exceedingly painful. I thought my spine would snap when they bent me forward to where I could kiss my own shinbone then backward where my back looked like the letter C. It repeated that sequence a dozen times. Each time the Frame took me a little further.

"Rozz, this is all computer controlled. You don't look comfortable," said Colette. "We are sitting here drinking some excellent French champagne watching you suffer."

And suffer I did. Next the Frame twisted me like a corkscrew, upper body in one direction and lower in the other. I went all the way to the right then back to the left. Each time turning a little further in each direction. It spread my legs into a split that would do the most whippy high school cheerleader proud. It was a yoga nightmare.

It worked every part of my body. I heard my toes crack as they were flexed further than they had ever been.

"I bet you wouldn't think this would be possible," said Lars before the Frame did the next posture.

My legs were lifted toward my body as it folded me like a sheet of paper. My calves were on each side of my face and my feet were on my shoulder tops.

"Perfect position for a butt fucking, wouldn't you agree, Rozz," said Colette.

I was too busy trying to deal with the pain to agree or not. Portia later told me that during the development and testing of the system they had several unfortunate accidents where the Frame accidentally dismembered somebody.

"Popped her arms right off," was how Portia expressed it. Apparently, one other reason that Russia was chosen as a test sight was the ready availability of young girls and men who were willing to take such risks for a few kopeks. It was also a place where fatal mistakes could be easily concealed with the payment of bribes to the local authorities. By any stretch of the imagination, the Frame was a unique experience and remarkably efficient. It would have taken a full day for a team of Japanese rope bondage practitioners to achieve what the Frame did in a matter of minutes. When the Frame was done with me, I hurt in every joint of my body. It was a chiropractic nightmare.

Pre-op was the name of the first station. The Frame glided noiselessly down the monorail to a complicated-looking collection of tubes and nozzles. Once there, the Frame rotated me into an upside down position with my legs slightly bent forward. Pre-op meant enema to me and I wasn't disappointed.

I felt something slick being guided toward my butthole. Everything was done from the Control Room with robotics. Cameras provided close-up views of my asshole as the technicians began the process. Something well lubricated probed until it located the center of my brown eye then slipped past my O-ring. I was paying attention to what was happening at my anus so I was startled to hear the next command.

"Open wide," said Lars.

There was a nozzle at the end of a clear plastic tube poised at my mouth.

"No, what's it for?" I asked.

At that moment I felt an electric shock on my lips that hurt like all hell. When I opened my mouth to scream, the rubble nozzle slipped inside my mouth and down my throat. If you didn't want to open your mouth they had ways to make you open it.

Karen later informed me that the devices that invaded my orifices had a tiny television camera and light source included. At that moment, the guests were looking at the inside of my rectum and esophagus.

"Ever eaten your own shit?" asked Colette.

I shook my head No. I'd drunk gallons of urine including my own. I had in the course of rimming more than my share of the human race tasted shit but I wasn't in to scat per se. I'd watched players in S&M clubs woofing down each other's turds but I didn't join in.

"Only dogs eat their own shit," said Colette. "So you must be a dog because we are going to fill your belly with the contents of your bowels."

"I can't think of anything more humiliating than being forced to eat your own excrement. Can you Rozz?" said Portia. "It brings you down to the level of lower species."

The tubes inside me began to travel inward. One moved up my bowels looping around inside my large intestines. The other passed down my esophagus through my lower esophageal valve into my stomach. As a nurse, I'd pumped a few stomachs out and given my share of enemas. I knew how those things worked.

No, I could not think of anything more humiliating than eating my own shit. It wasn't long before I felt the rush of warm water into my bowels followed by the feeling of that same water being sucked out. When I looked to my right, I could see that a clear plastic jar was filling up with a brownish substance. They were giving me a high colonic enema filling me with water then sucking all the shit out of my intestines with an evacuation tube. That was when I realized that the jar had a tube out the bottom leading through some other equipment and ultimately to my esophagus. They were removing most of the water leaving a slurry of brown dodo to pump inside me.

I heard some electro-mechanical noises felt the tube in my esophagus jerk slightly. That was followed by the sensation of something very foul entering my stomach. They were feeding me my own feces. The Pain Portal was removing the feces from my intestines and re-cycling it down my gullet. Now that is truly nasty.

I felt my stomach growing tighter. It was already filled with the butt shake I had consumed.

"You look five month's pregnant," said Colette.

"I'd hate to see any baby that produces," laughed Portia.

"The good part is that you are going to be able to taste your own shit for the rest of your time here," said Colette giggling like some mad scientist.

My stomach felt like I had just finished an incredible Thanksgiving dinner. I was stuffed to the gills. I knew what Colette meant because when the tubes were removed, I belched heavily and tasted the product of my bowels. I kept that up through the remainder of my time spent in the Frame. The taste of shit never left my mouth. I also had a serious case of bad breath.