 |
|||
|
|
Beware: The following story involves extreme torture applied without conscience to sometimes unwilling victims. Some of the scenes depicted could be illegal, dangerous, or lethal. If you’re even thinking about trying this shit at home, please sign off now and go see a shrink, because you’re out of your freaking mind! If you don’t like this kind of no-holds-barred extreme sadistic kink, please don’t read it. Seriously.
Chapter 11
Slave 4 Prepares for Lactation Service
The new member of the Secret Lords told her brethren in the club to call her Doc, leaking perhaps more of her identity in that suggestive syllable than the pseudonyms of the others. To work her fetish, to play the scene that made her cum so hard she squirted, she sacrificed that much anonymity. She proposed a demonstration. The others advised that she work with slave 4, whose small tits made her a good candidate and whose eager mouth and nether holes might amuse them while the good Doc tortured them in the name of science and perversion.
The service slave, harnessed for that duty with strips of leather to accentuate her bare breasts and curvaceous naked rump, led in slave 4 on a metal leash clipped to 4’s clit hood ring. 4’s tenure in the Secret Lords’ dungeon exceeded five years, making her the longest surviving, continuously serving sex slave in the six century history of the Secret Lords. Despite twice weekly sessions with the dungeon’s chief Trainer, weekly group service, and frequent private sessions with many of the Lords, they’d yet to plumb the slender girl’s limits for either pain, privation, or humiliation. She was a sacred treasure to whom they never admitted her value, lest they disturb her charming humility. Lord Revulsion, Lord Pain, DragonLord, and several of the nine who participated as witnesses and extras laid wagers on whether Doc’s demo would bring the renowned slave 4 to those limits.
The service slave, as bidden in Doc’s instructions for the scene, removed the woman’s nipple rings—two through each long protuberance—and replaced them with fine, supple stainless chains to mark their place. 4 was outfitted for sexual service in a cupless leather tit harness with sturdy leather bands buckled around her neck, waist, thighs, wrists, and ankles, with five-inch stilettos adding to 4’s willowy stature. Her dark hair had been shaved in a deep humiliation session with Lord Revulsion three weeks earlier, so her perfect skull bore only a shadow of her once-lustrous deep sable tresses; all of her body hair had been removed using a painful chemical process, so she stood perfectly, satiny smooth from her lovely toes to her rather plain, innocent-looking face. Her most remarkable feature was her pale golden-tan eyes. Her bare cleft was adorned with numerous rings on inner and outer labia with a barbell and two rings through her clit hood. Someone—perhaps the last Lord who had used her—had placed a heavy padlock through one of her labia rings. Its weight stretched the flesh as it swung between her thighs with each step, which she performed with consummate grace in the exaggerated sway required when first-rank slaves are permitted to walk upright in the presence of the Lords.
The service slave positioned 4 in the center of the medical room. Nine people—eight Lords and one guest, a Lord candidate on the verge of becoming an initiate who attended a membership function for the first time—wearing dark robes and masks of varying descriptions occupied chairs and stools arranged in two rows where the room’s fourth wall would have been. Doc wore her lab coat buttoned closed over a thick, curvaceous plug of a body. Her mask was a realistic rubber rendering of an alien with green-tinged, reptilian skin and huge, bulbous eyes that gave the wearer very acute vision. Doc’s masks were often the topic of discussion among the membership and among the slaves in the rare moments when they were permitted idle chatter among themselves.
Doc gave the slave—her subject, in her mind—one brief glance at the mask before she slipped a latex hood over the girl’s face. She didn’t like to look at her victims’ faces, but she did like to hear their screams, so she removed the zippered circle over the mouth. The nose protruded through a small hole to allow breathing, and the eyes were covered, also by zippered patches. The hood fit snugly around the jaw and down a couple inches of neck, then clipped to rings in the throat collar. The slave didn’t move or speak but stood motionless with her posture erect and elegant, her small, harnessed tits accentuated by a seductive arch of her back. Checking the mask’s fit by pressing her hands and slipping the excess downward, Doc leaned close to the subject’s ear and whispered, “This is going to hurt . . . a lot. Feel free to scream, to cry, to beg for mercy—though it won’t help a bit, and I might punish you for it.”
4 kept her silence but inclined her head ever-so-slightly in respectful acknowledgment. DragonLord had spent six hours with the cane, the singletail, and enough voltage to leave burns trying to get a primal reaction from slave 4. He was eager to see whether the lady Doc could do better, eager to see what instruments lay beneath the cover on the tray by the restraint table.
Doc turned the subject to face her audience. “Yes, I do see the problem,” she said, and raised a gloved hand to 4’s right breast, first to cup it, taking its measure, then compressing the flesh by pushing with stiffened fingers until she felt the chest wall. “Small,” she noted. “Nicely formed nipples—excellent for the milking machine, substantial and thick as they are, I’d say in the range of third percentile—maybe a full half inch longer than the average. The milk bags themselves are unimpressive, to say the least.” She palpated the pert A cups, then closed two fingers and her thumb around the nipple, squeezed, and tugged, gently at first, then, tightening her grip, harder, pulling the flesh into an elongated cone. “This is a big job. I’m going to demonstrate the procedure to enlarge by three cup sizes. The subject will end up with substantial teats that will hold eight to twelve ounces of fluid.” Doc addressed her audience as if they were a gathering of perverted specialists. “The purpose,” she continued, “is to fill the bags, either with milk—injected or created by the body following an intense series of hormone injections—or with whatever fluid you want. We can then enjoy torturing a fine, large tit, appreciate its appearance, or express the fluid either with pressure to the tit flesh or any number of extraction devices, suction by pump or needle, or flesh-embedded taps that I designed for the purpose. Imagine: fill the tit with ambrosia, champagne, brandy, push the tap in through the nipple, and allow your guests to fill their snifters by milking the slave’s teat. I’ll walk you through the entire procedure on the subject. I understand she’s a seasoned pain slut, but I assure you, parts of the protocol will elicit a strong reaction, to say the least. I’ll need assistance at various points in the procedure. I’m assuming I’ll have ample volunteers?”
Chuckles emanated from beneath the masks of the onlookers. Lord Rant gestured at that moment to the service slave stationed by the door, harnessed and kneeling. She approached on hands and knees, her luscious plump butt accentuated by a leather thong, and knelt up in front of Rant’s chair with her head under his robe. He leaned back and slid his hips forward so the slave could suck him while he watched the spectacle in the medical theater. While Doc and her first volunteer, Lord Lash, escorted the subject to the table and strapped her down, using clips, hooks, and criss-crossing straps to secure the leather bands around her torso and extremities. Her bindings deprived her of any movement except of her hands and feet.
The service slave plied Rant’s long staff with an eager, wet mouth. He touched her only to force his cock deep into her throat, held her head while he raked her with a dozen small, tight thrusts. He wouldn’t look at her face until he came across it, which would be sometime later, but he slapped her head and drove the toe of his boot into her naked mound, grinding against the girl’s clit.
Doc positioned a microphone hanging above the table and began her narrative, facing the audience with the table and the immobilized, spread, and exposed subject. “Although the procedure focuses on the subject’s teats, we use the hormone system and the subject’s sexual urges to support the change in the breast tissue. I assume you’ve provided someone, as requested, who is hormonally inclined to be orgasmic and highly libinous—horny?”
“Of course, Doc,” Lord Revulsion said.
“Excellent. I find it best to keep the subject’s holes propped open during the initial part of the procedure. I’m going to fit her with intrusion devices in her anus, cunt, and urethra. As you’ll note, this three-pronged saddle is designed to stimulate, to stretch, and to provide telemetry. The more aroused the subject, the greater our chances of success, as the endorphins dim the pain, which can be exquisitely intense.” Doc pressed a button, which activated a motor that lifted 4’s legs by raising her ankles and pulling them outward so her legs formed a wide V, thus exposing her pussy and asshole. Doc reached under the lower part of the table where the subject’s legs had been, and turned a device that made that part of the table drop away and fold back against the base, allowing Doc to pull her metallic stool closer between the victim’s splayed legs. Doc got herself situated and lifted the anal intruder, the longest of the saddle’s three devices. She explained, “The nozzle acts as plug as well as enema nozzle. I need the bowel clean so we needn’t worry about waste during the procedure, which will continue for several days. The nozzle provides an expulsion channel as well. Once I’ve got her cleaned out, I’ll close the nozzle, inflate it, and it becomes the plug. The enema fluid will be dosed with some important hormone and stimulants that will help us transition the teats into productive milk sacs.”
The onlookers admired the half-inch diameter clear hose that entered the inch-thick metallic nozzle, which was a good nine inches long with a thirty-degree curve in the insertion end. At full blast, the hose could deliver a gallon enema, even of a thick substance, in less than a minute, along with horrendous cramps. She dipped the long nozzle in a jar of thick lube, parted the subject’s cheeks with the thumb and forefinger of her gloved hand, and in a single, even shove, pushed the hooked end of the metal nozzle into the slave’s well-used anus. Doc felt a tightening as the victim’s hole contracted in reflex and saw the hood rings shift as the clit beneath thickened. Doc smirked to herself. “This slut’s hole is stretched from frequent use, which allows me to show off the clever fix I developed for just this type of problem. First, I push the nozzle in until the hook is seated in the first curve of the bowel. The devices props open the inner and outer sphincters. Try this, each of you: tug the nozzle. You want it secure. The inner feels secure, is responsible for the drag you feel on the nozzle when you jerk on it, but you can see from the gaping of the rectal opening that the outer seal isn’t satisfactory because the hole is so well fucked. We want a tight fit and no possibility of leakage. So, I squeeze this hand pump and inflate a dual retaining ring, inside and out. I can go to a four-inch diameter, but I think we’ll stop short of that—yes, three and a half is really making her clit swell. Yes, a fine choice of subject, gentlemen—and Lady. As you can see, this hose connects to the bag that I’ve positioned nice and high. I’ve made an infusion of hormones, vitamins, drugs, including the narcotic erotic stimulant Xylixer, which should keep her cunt lubed and her clit engorged. The fluid carrier is a mix of saline, coffee, heavy cream, corn syrup, with a protein admixture. She’ll be retaining the fluid for better than an hour and should absorb enough nutrients that we won’t need to feed her for at least the first forty-eight hours of the regimen.” She reached up to the clip on the descending tubing from the bulging bag and opened it about a quarter of the way. “That will take about ten minutes to fill her up. In the meantime, the cunt plug, as you can see, is a two-and-a-half-inch thick rubber rod with a rotund protuberance to provide pressure against the cervix and a fleshy knot on the top to stimulate the g-spot and keep her gushing fuck juice—I have options to apply shock, heat, and/or vibration along the shaft, in the head, or against the g-spot.” She poked a gloved finger into the subject’s hairless hole and pulled it out again. “As you can see, the cunt is oozing, so we won’t need additional lube at this point. As the procedure continues, you have to be aware and check the condition of the cunt from time to time. When the pain exceeds the subject’s arousal levels and post-climax, she can go dry. That’s where this small tube comes in. We can make the dildo squirt lube right where it’s need by just thumbing this switch. Again, I’m using the hand pump to secure the intrusion device and stretch her cunt lips.” Doc reached up between the spread thighs of her subject and pressed the lower abdomen. “Here, Lord Lash,” she said to her assistant, who had been hovering, looking over her shoulder, admiring her insidious instruments, “feel. If you press here, you can feel the fluid accumulating in the bowel, though she’s not half full yet. This hard ridge is the cunt plug, and if you jab your fingers into the soft part, here, you can feel the end of the enema nozzle. Here, press with your palm. That’s that bladder. Can you tell it’s not very full? Which won’t do at all. We’ll be backfilling it. Now, I can use saline, of course, and I can even add some solution to make the slave’s piss sac burn, but I rather like the idea of using piss instead. I need a good pint or so. Anyone have coffee to offload?” She held up a large bottle. Lord Revulsion and DragonLord contributed, Revulsion under his robe and Dragon pulling out his insanely long member, perhaps for the Doc’s entertainment, and filling the bottle to the rim. He stopped by some force of will not generally granted to human males, and gestured to the harnessed service slave who had filled the position vacated the one sucking Rant. She came forth on hands and knees, knelt up in front of Revulsion, and opened her mouth. He settled the head of his limp cock just inside her lower lip and said, “Don’t spill, cunt.” She didn’t, swallowing his piss and then licking him clean before she retreated back to her position by the door, with a composed face.
Doc accepted the full bottle of piss, which she capped with a lid bisected by a quarter-inch clear tube. She dipped the catheter at the end of the tube into the lube and left it there while she clipped elastic lines to each of the labia and hood rings. The ends of the lines she clipped to the sides of the table by the victim’s hips to open the cunt’s flower and expose her clit and piss hole. Dragon and Revulsion remained by the side of the table, out of the line of sight of the others.
Lord Brand’s right hand stroked his cock beneath his robe and his left gestured to the door slave, who was replaced by another as she crawled to Brand, who stood, pulled her up by her hips with her back to him, impaled her asshole, dry, and started to pump, pushing the slave forward so he could maintain a clear view of the proceedings in the medical arena.
The subject’s gut was growing, forming a puffy, round dome between her hips, as her bowel filled with the heavy solution and her bladder with the piss of two of her owners. Brand loved a good enema scene and had agreed to attend the Doc’s needle and lactation session with little hope of being treated to such an intensely erotic fill scene. He pounded the slave’s anus like a jackhammer, his robe flying about. One of the hooded and masked participants, Lady Extreme—one of the Lords—distracted by Brand’s pounding from the Doc’s impalement of her victim’s piss hole, watched and whispered in an amused drawl, “Careful, darling, you’ll make her bleed.” Lady Extreme enjoyed blood play.
Brand chuckled. “You want to hold her down?”
“You’re on your own, dearest. I’m watching the main show.” Lady Extreme never missed an opportunity to enjoy pain—inflicted by herself or others, and sometimes, even on herself. She even considered volunteering to let the Doc impale her own piss hole, just because it was something she’d never done before—and something about that bizarre alien mask atop the Doc’s rather lumpish body was making Ex all hot and wet.
Bound and silent on the examination table, blinded by the hood so her other senses became more acute, Slave 4 smelled sex. She smelled piss, and she felt the thickening of her middle, the pressure against her outer sphincter, the near-pain of the stretched opening of her cunt, the cold of air against her exposed clit, the beginnings of a cramp deep in her gut. Sweat trickled past her ear inside the hood. Pinpoint agonies converged on her distended labia. Foreign liquid burned in her bladder. The pressure to expel, the impossibility of it, of any kind of relief or escape except that granted by the gradual softening of her will, mounted with each breath. Her guts roiled and a deep cramp took hold, so strongly all of the onlookers saw her distended belly heave. She contracted and clenched her jaw. Slave 4 never fought against her bondage unless she was ordered to do so; she never protested but only submitted to the most vile and wicked pains, but the stimulants in the infusion made her shake, jitter, twitch, grunt, and gasp as if she fought her bindings, as if she protested—as if she’d been taken and used against her will. She remembered the briefest glimpse of the face of the monster that worked her. She’d known the frightening visage for a mask, a charade, but as the drugs took effect, she lost that sureness and imagined herself held not in the medical arena of the dungeon, her home of five years, but in the laboratory of an alien craft, the victim of alien abduction and exploitation. Her helplessness complete, she yielded, though her body’s restricted gyrations suggested struggle, fear, and horror.
Through his robe, Rant grabbed the face of the slave that sucked him and shoved his cock into her throat, held her still to back down from his climax. Intent, his eyes bulging along with the fat vein in his neck, he held her there, denying her breath, then, on absolute impulse, lifted his robe and yanked out his dick. The slave broke protocol and glanced upward, eye to eye through his plain black half-mask. He stepped back, grabbed the slave’s hair, and back-handed her across the face. She released an involuntary shriek, catching the attention of all the onlookers except Brand, who continued to ream the other slave’s bum. Rant loved an anger scene, a punishment fuck, loved to slap and punch, and he seized the opportunity for a moment at center stage, ceded without concern by the Doc, who used the quiet moment to massage the subject’s swollen belly.
Rant muscled the fallen slave to standing and drafted Lord Pain to assist, growling, “The cunt breached protocol.” Pain grabbed the girl and trapped her arms so her back was against his chest. Rant backhanded the girl’s face, punched her in the gut, slapped her right tit three times, then punched it. Rant had worked over a lot of girls, including this one, slave 6, on several occasions, and knew just how far he could go before he would hear bone crunch and have to stop. He bent and bit the battered tit, his teeth just beyond the aureole, hard, but just shy of breaking the skin. 6 would wear a purple heart for about ten days, according to Rant’s calculations. Lord Pain kicked the slave in the back of the knee so she toppled to kneeling; his firm grip on her ponytail—worn at the top of the head, as required for the cunts permitted to retain their hair—kept her from injuring herself. Rant stepped close, pulled out his cock, and stroked himself until he came in the girl’s face. He sent her crawling back toward her post at the door, kicking her twice in her ass, then arranged himself to continue observing as the Doc pumped up the subject’s anal and cunt plugs two or three more times each. When she knew she had regained her audience—except Brand, who continued to pound slave 14’s ass—Doc said, “While we’re waiting to maximize the fill, I’ll begin the tit stimulation. I need another volunteer? Stand up by her head, thank you Lady Ex. You see the chains through her nipple piercings? We’re going to use them to implant a small medicinal plug into the holes to close them, burn through the scar tissue that held them open, and reconnect nerves and ducts that might have been severed by the piercings. If the Lords agree, I can repierce off center, perhaps one to each side, perhaps a vertical barbell. I prefer to leave service nipples unpierced. You run the risk of infection, obstruction, any of which could necessitate an amputation of the tit, or part of it, which can deplete the slave’s value for resale.”
Lord Shock spoke up for the first time. “Don’t the piercings enhance resale?” he asked.
“Of course, but not nearly so much as a trained lactation slave. This is a real specialty, a rare find,” Doc insisted. “You’ll see. Between the increased size of the tits, the fill-and-drain capacity, and the whole lactation fetish, we’re creating a very specialized, valuable stock item.”
Beneath his mask, Dragon rolled his eyes. “You forget. This cunt has been with us five years. That makes her at least twenty-three, well beyond prime.”
“Then consider the procedure a rejuvenation project,” Lady Ex suggested.
Doc retook control of the scene. “Regardless of her age, we’ve at least tripled her value. She’s lean, and I don’t see any signs of age—no crepe skin, no age spots. With the slave’s improved tits, you could get a fortune for her, and if we’re going to use the teats for production, we have to restore the ducts. I’m going to attach these tiny capsules to the little hooks at the ends of these strings, and I want you, Lady Ex, to pull on the other ends of the strings to lodge the capsule inside the piercing holes. You’ll have to tug; the fit is intentionally tight. The chain is stronger than it looks; go ahead and give it a good, sharp tug. Yes! There you go. Perfect.” slave 4 didn’t move.
“Thank you, Lady Ex. Now we’ll affix these nipple cuffs that encircle the nipples and keep them compressed around the circumference, and we’ll add these clips to compress further from the sides. Yes, I’d appreciate it if you could go ahead and tighten them down, as far as they’ll go, perfect. They’ll mash down just about flat if you tight them enough. Exactly. Now, we’ll leave those to absorb and check the lower end again.”
The last of the enema solution had filled the slave’s gut to a protruding bulge, abetted by more than a liter in her bladder, and abetted further by the thick plug in her sopping cunt. Doc laid both hands over the roundness and pressed, leaning into her arms and putting her considerable weight behind the pressure. The slave jolted and twitched with random sounds issuing from her throat.
“Now let me show you what we can do with this intrusion device.” She adjusted the settings on the black box that was connected by three wires to the base of the thick rod. The slave’s tiny movements became more urgent, though she had scant eighths of inches to move within her tight bindings, and her sounds throatier, though they failed to conceal the vibration noise of all three intrusion devices or the sharp snap of electricity that coursed through the conductive surfaces and jolted the subject’s g-spot, cervix, cunt lips, piss hole, and rectum. She turned to the deflated enema bag and lifted it off the suspension hook, lowered it to the floor beneath the subject’s butt. Lords Pain and Lash assisted her to adjust the victim’s position by reeling in her heels toward her hips and securing them by clipping her ankle straps to her thigh straps. They also raised the slave’s back by raising the upper part of the table to a thirty-degree angle to improve the drainage from her bowel.
Slave 4 came as soon as the pressure in her bowel diminished. Her exposed clit swelled again, almost to thumb-tip size, and her stretched labia and hood shimmered with fuck juice. Doc fingered the clips on the subject’s labia rings, checking to ensure that they would not tear and that a strong seal remained in the opening of the cunt.
Lord Brand questioned, “You said an hour. You were going to fill her and leave her for an hour.”
Doc smiled. “That was only the first rinse, Lord Brand. We have to remove most of the fecal matter so that the hormones and drugs in the infusion will be easily and thoroughly absorbed. When she’s drained, I’ll get one of the service cunts to empty the bag, and I’ll reload.”
Brand said, “Well, I can’t stay all night. Are we going to get to the needles soon?”
“You bet,” Doc said with a wide grin beneath her alien mask. “You’re going to love this, I promise.”
1 I’m undecided whether to continue this story. Drop me an email: encourage me.
|
|
|