Hour One
Stacy slowly opened her eyes, cautiously letting the light fill her
senses, She was briefly stunned by the harsh light bulb above, and as
she tried to lift her hand to shield her eyes, she felt leather
restraints on either arm...and on either ankle.
The last thing Stacy remembered was sunbathing on the beach next to her
sister, Kim, and then---blackness. No pain really, just total memory
loss.
Now she strained to look down, and she noticed that she was still
wearing the same skimpy two-piece that barely concealed her gorgeous
36-23-35 tanned frame. Stacy was laid out on a long wooden table, not
on her familiar towel, and this room was as far from the sandy beach as
one can imagine.
Blood-stained gray walls. Clinking chains dangling from the high
ceiling. The smell of urine. Horizontal spikes lining the walls.
Stacy wanted to scream, but her mouth discovered a huge gag blocking the
sound and cramping her jaw. She was thrashing around in bindings, not
wanting to see anyone more; this was all beginning to look like
someone's torture dungeon. She wanted out, she wanted to forget her
dilemma---
Just as Stacy was becoming hysterical, she heard a door behind her crack
open, followed by heavy footsteps; but her head was positioned in such a
way that she couldn't see the originator of the sound.
"Thwack!" A tremendous whip fell across her chest and sliced into her
pink bikini top. She couldn't see the whip or the one holding the whip,
and all she knew for sure was the incredible pain.
"Thwack!" Again the whip came down, and this time it made a drive for
her left nipple and caught it, sending more pain to the helpless Stacy.
She muffled the word, "Why?" a couple times but the gag prevented any
word from clearly leaving her lips.
A rough hand came down and shielded her eyes quickly. The mysterious
hands soon followed this action by wrapping duct tape tightly over her
panicked eyes. Stacy continued to muffle her words through the tight
gag, shaking and quivering her luscious body at the same time.
Her unknown tormentor lowered a chain from the ceiling and attached a
small hook to the lowest point of the chain. He squeezed her left
nipple, feeling its hardness through the thin bikini fabric, and held
the nipple firmly. Without warning he led the hook to her nipple and
forced the metal through her bikini and her nipple.
Stacy's head was spinning, and her nipple screamed with pain. She was
tossing her head left and right in agony and disbelief.
A second chain was lowered and another hook was connected to it. The
tormentor roughly grabbed her right nipple and joined the hook with it,
and the pink fabric, until the metal came through the other side.
Stacy's inhuman screams were constant, and yet the man did not seem
bothered by her sounds in the least; he was in fact turned on by her
response.
The tormentor adjusted his remote control and programmed the chains to
slowly retract toward the ceiling. The moving chains naturally caused
the hooks to move, and this doubled Stacy's torture. Now, the hooks
were stretching her breasts upward, via the nipples. Stacy's chest was
lifted off the wooden table, creating a seductive arc in her back.
Stacy could feel the tearing of her nipples as the weight of her body
was resisting the lift. Suddenly, the hook through her left nipple cut
entirely through as left side of her chest fell back against the table.
The ripped nipple caused blood to splattered across her bikini top and
her flat belly.
The tormentor examined her ruined nipple and decided the hook would have
to find another home to hold her up. He lowered the chain again and
replaced the bloodied hook with a thicker one. This time he squeezed
the meat of her breast, sending the new metal about an inch under her
nipple and rudely forced the sharp end through several inches of her
firm breast meat.
With this latest intrusion, Stacy passed out. Her tormentor took notice
but he proceeded with his plans, knowing that Stacy would likely pass
out several times more this evening.
End of Part I
