Hour Five
Stacy had been left alone for some time. She wasn't sure how long, but
she had passed out again and she now wished she were still unconscious.
The throbbing pains in her body were stacking up: the ripped nipple, the
sliced tongue, the hole in her cheek, and the needles in her eyelids,
which were still in place and irritating her constantly.
She worried for her sister, Kim, but only when the pain subsided a
little; long enough to remember that Kim had endured a horrendous
piercing through her lips and tongue, fifty needles in her pussy lips,
and dozens of long needles in breasts.
The taste of Kim's piss and her captor's cum was still present in her
mouth, along with the blood that flowed with the drilled hole in her
cheek. Stacy was chained to the wall, as she had been for hours, but
the VCR had been removed and the man in black was no where to be seen.
Just as Stacy was waking, the tormentor returned, and he was leading
someone on a leash. As the shadows crawled over the figure, she could
make out her sister. Kim was alive! The man in black had repositioned
the ring through Kim's lips and tongue and had attached a long silver
chain to the ring. Kim's hands were handcuffed behind her back and when
she slowed her progress, the tormentor jerked forward on ring, pulling
her body painfully forward too. As Kim came into the light of the cell,
she walked in wearing only the ring in her mouth.
Stacy wanted to hug her sister out of joy, joy in the knowledge that she
was still alive. The tormentor did not allow such a reunion. Instead
he busily worked at Kim's arms. Hoisting the cuffs to a hook hanging
from the ceiling, he then clicked his remote and Kim's body raised
slightly off the floor, her toes straining to touch the dirt and debris
of mother earth. She whimpered and moaned as her body adjusted to the
new discomfort.
Stacy just watched, ashamed to a point because she was always secretly
turned on by her sister, and the way that the hook pulled up Kim's body
made the turn-on that much greater. Kim's breasts were slightly larger,
and even though they looked a little bloody (from the needle treatment)
they were still quite attractive. Stacy knew she was getting wet between
her thighs, and she blushed at this realization.
The tormentor again approached the kneeling Stacy. He unhooked her
wrist restraints against the wall and helped her to her feet. Her sense
of freedom was brief. He took her left hand and snapped the chain from
her wrist to the gray wall, but otherwise she could use her right hand
freely.
From his suit pocket he revealed a nasty looking whip, uncoiled it
slowly to illustrate its length and placed the weapon in Stacy's right
hand. With no drama, no hesitation, he plainly pointed in Kim's
direction; her hanging helpless body no less than five feet in the
distance.
Immediately, Stacy shook her head in the negative. She glanced down at
the metal tips which were sewn into the whip and could not for a second
imagine torturing her own sister.
The man pointed again, his body language more insistent. Kim looked on
in disbelief. She tried to say something, but the ring piercing her
mouth garbled everything she uttered.
The man in black slapped Stacy across the face to provoke her.
"No, no, I can't do this," Stacy sobbed through the pain.
Finally, the tormentor unstrapped a small caliber handgun from his
"gun-bra" and walked over to Kim. He placed the gun firmly against her
temple, as if to say, "Whip her or I shoot her."
Kim muffled something to her sister, her eyes imploring Stacy to please
whip her.
With a weak effort, Stacy tossed the whip toward her sister, and barely
grazed the flesh of her stomach. The man rolled his eyes and fired.
Kim screamed into her closed mouth. The lowered aim caught Kim's left
thigh, blazing only a flesh wound across her skin, but causing a lot of
blood to erupt.
The gun was pointed again at Kim, and this time it was saying, "Whip her
harder!"
It took practice strokes, but after the first dozen swings, Stacy's was
applying a firm licking to her hanging sister. The metal fragments were
ripping into her breasts, reopening wounds that were trying to heal from
the needle play. Blood was flying across Kim's tight stomach, and some
trickles of blood even ricocheted back onto Stacy.
Countless minutes passed, as countless strokes passed, and Kim's body
was thorougly slashed. Stacy had really become quite aggressive,
something about the power of the whip and Kim's screaming beauty kept
the strokes coming at a feverish pace.
Stacy spared no part of Kim's flesh. Kim's sweating, shaking curvy body
was laced with long streaks of blood, and dotted with metal fragments
that dislodged from the leather whip and wedged into her skin. Several
cuts were evident along her cheeks and forehead, and one nasty cut
showed right through a nipple, splitting it cruelly down the center.
After almost an hour of non-stop whipping, Stacy finally tired and let
the whip fall from her hand. Kim was passed out again and the man in
black was smiling a grin from wall to wall.
He lowered Kim's unconscious body and laid her out on the cold stone
floor. Kim actually appeared quite dead, save for the slow rise and
fall of her lungs. Stacy looked through the needles in her eyelids in
total disbelief. Would her sister ever forgive her? Would they ever,
God please, get through this alive?
End of Part 5
