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She had always justified her masters' terrible cruelty before, but since her clit and gash flaps had been cut away, now leaving just smooth, shiny scar tissue, she had realized finally that her masters did not love her, did not care for her. Her masters only wanted her to hurt, wanted her to suffer and scream so they could take pleasure in her suffering. She had realized that nothing she could do would save her from being tortured, that perfection was neither possible nor desired. They did not want her to serve.
And there was nothing she could do about it. If pleading and begging her masters had not worked already, nothing would. Escape was impossible; this room was the only one she had ever been in. Tough her masters presumably lived beyond that door, she had no idea where any other exit could be. Her only hope now was that her masters would kill her; let her die so she would stop feeling the constant, horrific pain from her brutalized, scarred, emaciated body.
Her masters came into the room and she saw they were both reeling from the stink of her effluvia. Her first master went to get the hose and began to hose her down. The water was a shock. It was bitterly cold, so cold she screamed when she felt the icy fluid wash over her. Still, she was grateful that she was finally being washed off and did her best to turn her body so all the waste could be washed off her.
She cried in shame and pain as her master directed the stream of cold water up into her anal passage, held open by the speculum and the water went in and rushed right back out. They continued to aim the icy water into her bowels until she was almost unconscious from the cold, then turned off the water.
She was spread-eagled again on the cold floor and she struggled, sobbed, pleaded with her masters to not hurt her, but her masters ignored her cries and tied her tightly face-down on the floor, her thighs spread. She couldn't see what was going on behind her for a long moment and wondered what her masters were doing…and then got her answer when a series of huge objects was pushed past her anal ring and into her rectum. A stabbing pain erupted on the side of her asshole. She screamed, jerked, but was unable to stop her masters from doing whatever they were doing. They didn't stop until her entire anal ring was a burning mass of pain.
"Think that'll do?" her second master said finally.
"Yes, it'll be fine," her first master responded. "Those stitches are in there pretty good. And I stitched the string to those balls to the side of her anal ring; they won't get lost. There's going to be a lot of pain when the pepper mixture in those balls gets to work, though and she might scream. We'd better do something to keep her quiet."
Pepper! She could now identify the burning pain deep in her bowels. She knew it would only get worse. She squealed in agony and burst into fresh sobs.
"Please!" she begged. "Please, masters, please do not leave that thing in this slave's shit chute…" She was abruptly silenced by a brutal kick to the side of her head.
"Shut up," her second master said roughly. "You will take whatever we say you will take. What you want, feel, or wish doesn't matter to us at all. You are a thing, an it, an object. You have no feelings, no purpose other than to take whatever we want do to you. And just for that, you will be going into the box."
Tears welled up in her eyes and she wailed in misery. She hated the box. The last time they had put her in the box, she had been so sick, dizzy and disoriented when she came out that she had thrown up for a long time. She had promised her masters that she would do anything, submit to anything, as long as she was not put back in. But now, before her tear-filled eyes, the box was being opened.
The box was wooden shipping crate, just large enough for her to lie in if she curled herself up tightly. Once she was inside her masters would fill it with some rubbery foam that would prevent her from moving even the tiniest bit and close it up. Trapped inside, she would be unable to move for as long as they chose to keep her inside.
But she had to be packaged first. Her masters came forward with wax earplugs that prevented her from hearing; heavy black eye patches sealed her eyes in a cocoon of darkness and a long, thick penis gag that was forced into her mouth and down her throat before being buckled into place behind her head. The gag had a tube running through to allow her to breathe while her nostrils were blocked with heavy plugs of wax. She had experienced this before, so she knew what was going to happen, but she still couldn't quell her irrational panic as her nostrils were stuffed and closed.
Her masters insured that the breathing tube worked adequately by bringing a vicious bullwhip down across her bare back and buttocks several times. A whistling sound came from her gag as she screamed in pain, but the whistling sound was the only sound they could hear. They then pulled a black leather hood over her bald head, lacing her tightly up the back of her head so that no sound, light, or air would penetrate except by the tube that fit into the hole in the penis gag.
Satisfied, they picked her up and easily lowered her into the box. Her limbs had to curl uncomfortably around her body, almost immediately causing muscle cramps and spasms, but they didn't pay attention to the agonized whistling from the protruding tube. They tugged the end of the tube through a hole in the side of the crate, ensuring that air would still be available to the inhumanly trapped captive inside the box.
They lowered the lid onto her. Locking the lid by means of the clamps around the edge, they then ran a hose into a special port in the side of the box, filling it until the volume of foam inside the box was pressing brutally against the thin, battered body held within. Much to her relief, the foam suddenly stopped flooding The Box. Already her body was in agony from the pressure and her torment had just begun. She had no idea how long she would be kept in the Box this time, with the pepper irritating her bowels, her anus sewn closed and her throat painfully filled by the huge gag thrust into her.
*****
Chris stood back, smiling.
"All right, packaged and ready for transport."
Rob walked around the box.
"With all of that foam pressing on her, she'll never feel the box moving when we load it in the back of the truck. And the pain in her ass will be too intense for her to concentrate on anything but the pepper causing it. She won't know a thing until we get her to the club to show her off. Come on. Let's go get dressed."
"Are you sure this is wise?" Chris asked Rob as he pulled on his black leather pants and vest. "I mean, we have done some pretty extreme things to her and her body's pretty scarred up and battered. And she's thin. Are you sure the owners of the club aren't going to object when they see what she looks like?"
"Hey, she's our slave, right? We can do what we want with her. Besides, if we tell everyone she's a pain slut and she likes it, they're not going to object. They won't know this wasn't voluntary unless she tells them. And since I don't intend on taking that gag out of her throat, we're pretty safe. Just follow the plan, Chris. We can't go wrong."
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