Welcome to the Show

Welcome to the Show

Part 1

Gonzales leaned back in his chair and looked me in the eyes. The room was hot, even with the Mediterranean sun leaning toward evening. When he sat forward to consider the money on the table before him, an eager grin played across his face.

“Very well,” Gonzales finally said. “You’re in.” He then turned to the other man in the room, who went by Miguel. “Our three tourists – the pretty ones. Bring them below and prepare them for the show – that tall one first. Our guests will be pleased.”

The three tourists had checked into the Spanish resort for spring break, but as the old saying goes, they wouldn’t check out. Their dream-filled vacation had taken an unfortunate turn when the syndicate’s henchman selected them from the crowd, noting the prices they would fetch once the bidding began.

“Then you are pleased with tonight’s lineup?” said Gonzales.

“Very much so,” I replied.

My thoughts turned toward one of the tourists in particular. When her photo came up for bidding, it had stirred in me a dangerous obsession. Her pendulous breasts had won my interest – and my money. I imagined her relaxing at the pool without a care in the world, and I imagined the moment she was whisked away. I couldn’t wait to watch her suffer at the hands of a man Gonzales called “The Wire.”

“Come with me,” Gonzales instructed.

I followed Gonzales from the office. We descended wooden stairs and passed through a steel door, entering an underground room marked by concrete walls and a single bulb hanging from a wire. The room would have been dark if not for two floodlights directed toward a curtain, which hung limply from a steel rod.

Five other men were seated before the curtain, and I was offered the sixth and final chair. Gonzales handed me a Scotch and a cigar. I attempted to engage the man next to me in conversation but he didn’t speak English, and it was just as well.

“Dear friends,” Gonzales began, standing before the six of us. “Tonight we have a special show. The talent is fresh and fine.” As he continued to speak, I noted the cameras aimed at the curtain, their battery lights blinking away.

“You have seen the pictures and have pledged your interest for what’s to come,” Gonzales continued. “You have seen the blonde with those long legs, yes? And the brunette who could be your favorite stripper, yes? We have redhead with – how do I saw – mucho grande tetas?”

The seated men chuckled and my chest thumped with the mention of this last girl. For a breast man, she was the thing of dreams. Her tits more than filled the purple bikini she’d been wearing at the pool, and she had that teasing air I so much despised. To see her ruined would be worth the money I’d paid to attend the filming, and I could wait.

“Yes, you like?” Gonzales said, grinning. “She is a special prize indeed. But she is last to come. I first present you with Sandra.”

Gonzales stepped away and when the curtain parted, I nearly choked on my drink. The woman introduced as Sandra was strung up sickly on some sort of frame. The lights shone in her panicked face, and while she couldn’t see beyond the glare, she certainly heard us stirring – our subtle, pleasured chuckles.

The look in the woman’s eyes reflected a terror I’d never seen before. While she tried to speak, a steel dental gag held her jaw achingly wide. It reduced her pleas to senseless squeals of fear and indignity. Even the power to beg had been stolen from her.

“She’s a pretty one, yes?” Gonzales grinned.

I nodded in eager agreement.

If the ropes wrapping the poor girl’s wrists held her arms high and wide, then the ropes looping her ankles kept her feet equally spread – her toes dancing a foot above the concrete floor. She hung stretched and spread between the two pillars, presented as an “X” for whatever was to come.

Any tug at the ropes caused the woman great pain. Her hands had already turned a darker shade and her shoulders knotted. It was then I noticed her fingernails painted burgundy red – a classy touch for sure, though such things no longer mattered.

If she were able to see beyond the lamps, she’d feel the heated shame of our leering eyes. She was tall with an athletic build and the muscles rippled in her stretched limbs. Pink nipples capped her flattened breasts and the lips of her pussy were enticingly prominent. How many men had drawn their tongue across them as she cooed with pleasure, I wondered?

“Dear friends,” Gonzales continued. “Take a good look at our first victim. She is 22 and still in college. We spotted her at a yoga class at the resort. She is quite flexible, as you can see. But can her mind overcome the things that will quickly matter?”

It was then something moved from across the room – the sound of heavy boots clicking upon the floor. I peered into the shadows to watch the form emerge from the dark. Sandra, too, reacted to the sound, though her response came with a desperate sense of urgency.

When “The Wire” stepped into the light, I could see that his name was well earned. He stood well over six-feet tall with tattoos covering his arms. His appearance was truly frightening – his meaty hands packed into leather gloves, his chest covered only by a butcher’s apron, his heavy boots larger than those of a normal man.

“Dear friends,” Gonzales said. “Do not be afraid. He means you no harm. It’s our starlet who quivers in fear, you see? And who can blame her? This man – his skill is unmatched. He can bring a woman to tears in more ways than you can count.”

The tourist’s reaction would have been comical if not for the gravity of her situation. She flexed on the ropes until doing so threatened to tear her in two. It was then she began bucking her hips in a futile effort to close her legs, as if she were going to run away, or fend off the man standing before her.

It was clear she was losing her mind, and rapidly so. Her frantic reactions melted into spasms of fear and garbled cries. She looked tiny splayed up before the monster, and she could do nothing as he reached out and traced her shape, his fingers following the curve of her soft underarms, her ribs, the slope of her breasts.

And then the monster retreated to the distant wall and its display of tools. The woman strained to follow his steps, but the bondage held her rigid, and she could not see the man take up something that resembled a branch covered in leaves. Not until he stepped into the light did I identify the branch as a thick crop of nettles.

I’d studied the plant in college toxicology and was fully aware of the hollow hairs and the painful stinging chemicals they delivered by prickling the skin. The sensation wasn’t instantaneous – it took several minutes to manifest. But once it started it didn’t quickly fade, and without the application of a soothing cream, I knew the stinging would only intensify.

The monster didn’t say a word when pulling a hood over the woman’s head, casting her into a world of darkness and confusion. She shrieked with desperation, oblivious to what was about to take place. The touch of the nettles upon the small of her spine caught her by surprise. She lurched involuntarily and yelped when the ropes bit into her wrists.

Working leisurely, the man traced the leaves up his victim’s back, then down her tender flanks. He found the inside of her left thigh and sent her into a panic. The woman fought madly to close her legs but the ropes held firm, and soon the leaves were dancing up her other thigh.

Sandra wailed for mercy but it wouldn’t come. The monster only whipped the leaves between her spread legs, working them back and forth, back and forth, all while inching toward his target. The woman bucked dangerously when the leaves fell upon her soft lips, and she shrieked like a wild animal.

The effects had yet to set in, but still, I crossed my legs to hide my arousal. The woman’s dance was a desperate one verging on insanity. The monster circled his strung-up victim in three large strides, drawing the branches over her soft white skin as he went. When he extended his gloved fingers, he pressed aside the fat folds of the woman’s cunt and traced the bristled leaves over the pinkness below, as if he were painting a picture.

Sandra’s body shuddered with what might have been taken as excitement under normal circumstances. Her nipples swelled and goosebumps covered her skin. Her blonde hair splashed from under the hood, which she dearly wanted removed.

With no expression on his face, the monster rapidly worked the crop of nettles, tracing them across the woman’s smooth flanks and prickling her tender underarms. When he found her breasts, he traced them with the branches before moving to her nipples, which defied the poor girl by swelling to remarkable lengths, as if she were aroused.

Then, as quickly as he started, the man set aside the branches, hiding them from view. The entire act took no more than four minutes, yet he wasn’t done. He pulled out a roll of electrical tape and tore off two short pieces. If the woman wanted to see what was taking place, she was about to get her chance.

The monster removed the hood from Sandra’s head. Her eyes bulged in terror when she saw him standing before her – reaching for her. I shifted in my seat, my palms sweating, and watched as the pretty tourist tried to turn away. The monster caught her by the chin and applied the tape to her eyelids, ensuring she couldn’t close them against the glare of the lamps. It was his final act of cruelty, at least for now. I knew that time would soon do all the work, and there was nothing the blonde little bitch could do to stop it.

She would have to watch.

“Now the real show begins,” Gonzales said. “Our pretty young starlet will dance for us very soon. Yes, she will dance like never before.”

Sandra’s jaw fell slack when the monster removed the dental gag. Her cries quickly followed. “Please oh please!” she squealed, turning her head from the bright lights. “My shoulders! Please! My eyes! OH GOD!”

The monster stepped back and waited, as if he had all night, which he did. I saw the tears form in the woman’s eyes. She whimpered strangely and fell into a trance, as if she were too terrified to move. Her lips began to quiver and she tried to lift her feet, as if she’d been stung by a bee.

“Please!” she howled, beginning to tremble. “What do you –,” she tried again, gulping down air. “PLEASE…OH NO…SOMETHING’S WRONG!”

It had begun, and I grinned, amused by the woman’s confusion. That strange tingling sensation was warming her skin, though she struggled to make any sense of it. Her taped-open eyes flashed something dreadful, and one of the men laughed at her growing plight.

It came as a wave and right on cue. The woman sucked in a deep breath and released an anguished scream. She bucked violently on the ropes, trashing and twitching in a wild dance. Her hair flew in waves across her shoulders and her toes curled inward, her legs flexing against the bonds that drew them down and out, holding her cruelly in place.

“WHAT IS IT!!!” she shrieked. “PLEASSSSE! IT STINGS!”

Her tortured dance had begun, and my chest thumped with lust. The tourist was drawn on the ropes like a rubber band, stretched nearly to the breaking point. Her hips thrust forward and back and her muscles corded against the strain. The stinging only spread, pushing her dance toward insanity, but the bondage left her no way to escape the pain – no way to sooth the fiery tingle coursing over her skin.

The poor girl sobbed and gasped before us, the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her head thrashed side to side, and while she pleaded miserably, the monster only stood there, denying her any relief. She was presented on the ropes, and her suffering was savage.

Gonzales came around with a bottle of Scotch and refilled our drinks. I used a stir stick to dab at the ice cubes, ensuring the Scotch and water mixed equally. When I looked up, the monster was approaching his howling victim. He caressed her cheek, wiping away the streaming tears.

“My dear,” he said, speaking for the first time, his voice deep and menacing. “You suffer so nicely. Perhaps you’d like me to let you down.”

The woman shuddered on the ropes, gasping and hissing, unable to escape the sting. The lines in her stretched arms stood out like steel cords. “PLEASE!” she screamed. “IT HURTS! PLEASE LET ME DOWN!”

The monster stepped away.

“Very well,” he said. “Your wish is my command.”

For a moment, the woman’s sobs subsided, though the sting from the nettles had not. Her lip quivered and her head lulled forward, then back, the suspension and struggle taking its toll. She bore an expression mixed with pain and hope, believing perhaps she would soon be freed from the nightmare.

If at first I thought the show was over and the monster would now lower his pretty victim to the floor, I quickly reconsidered. The man pulled a cast-iron stand across the floor and positioned it below the suspended woman. The stand alone meant nothing and the woman paid it little attention, lost as she was in the agony of the stinging nettles and her prolonged suspension.

But when the man returned with a steel pole, Sandra’s struggles erupted with new intensity. She shrieked miserably and stole terrified glances of the pole as it was placed directly below her.

“NOOO!” she screamed, turning her head in terror. “PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!”

The pole measured four feet long and was machined to screw into the stand. It took the monster but two minutes to set it in place. From the cabinet he retrieved the final piece, something that resembled a phallus, though it was far more dastardly.

The monster held the object to the woman’s face, allowing her to contemplate its shape. If she could have shut her eyes, she certainly would have, though doing so was not possible. She sobbed and tugged at the ropes, her small breasts quivering, her mouth agape with her endless cries.

“NO-NO-NO-NO!” she screamed as the monster screwed the item to the top of the pole. “NOT LIKE THIS! OH PLEASE YOU CAN’T!”

Her distress was understandable. The phallus stood a foot long, and while it measure a mere inch in diameter at its crest, it expanded to a width of four inches at its base. And that wasn’t all. Leaning forward, I saw the copper clamps soldered on either side of its base. I was loathed to imagine their purpose.

“You wanted down,” the monster scoffed, moving to the ropes. “I aim to please.”

The woman’s body lurched dangerously when the big man took the pulley in his meaty fists. He turned it slowly, lowering his shrieking victim inch by inch. Her head thrashed on her shoulders, and when the phallus kissed the lips of her pussy, her body erupted with a violent shudder, as if she’d been kicked in the stomach.

The pulley squeaked as it turned, and while the woman fought madly to elude the threatening phallus below her, she could not. The object’s tip slid easily between the puffy lips of her pussy. Her thighs quivered and her legs strained against the ropes that held them open. No matter how she fought, she had no hope of bringing her feet together.

“OH GOD PLEASE DON’T DO THIS,” she shrieked, sliding down the pole. Two inches, three inches, the phallus grew wider, driving deeper and stretching her pussy wider. At five inches, the tourist’s screams reached a new ear-piercing level, but still the pulley turned. She had taken half the object’s length, but her toes were still inches above the floor.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The woman was hysterical and her battle against the inevitable was strangely erotic. The phallus drove deeper into her cunt. At six inches, I though the object would split her open, or that her desperate struggles would soon pop her sockets. At seven inches, her toes touched the ground, and at nine inches, the balls of her feet reached the concrete.

She screamed hoarsely, the weight of her body now resting on her toes. While it took the strain off her shoulders, she now found herself standing tiptoe, doing all she could to keep the last three inches – the fattest part of the phallus – from pushing into her split-open sex. Clutching at the slackening ropes, she tried once to pull herself up, but it turned out to be a mistake. She didn’t have the strength to clear the phallus, and when she fell back down, she did so harshly, driving the object deeper, punching painful screams from her lungs.

“OH MY GOD PLEASE GET ME OFF!” she hissed, thrashing wildly, fighting to catch her breath. She ripped at the ropes, lifting an ankle as if she might step clear of the impaling object. Laughably, she found this impossible. “IT’S KILLING MEEEEE!”

“Not yet,” the monster scoffed, and two of the men chuckled quietly at his dim response. They hadn’t stolen the pretty blonde with long legs from the resort only to give in to her demands. Rather, the monster presented two leads of wire. He fixed one end to the copper clamps at the base of the phallus. My eyes followed the wires to an electric hand crank sitting in the shadows.

The intent was clear, and the monster wrapped his thick fingers around the woman’s neck, lifting her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. At the same time, Gonzales dimmed the lights, and for the first time the woman saw the six of us sitting in a row, observing her torture, adding shame to her pain.

Sandra sniveled and sobbed, completely split and impaled on the phallus. When the monster released her neck, her head fell back and she released a long cry. Her chest heaved and her cheeks glistened with tears. The folds in her pussy, once full and fat, had been stretched thin by the massive intrusion.

The monster moved to the hand crank, and even through the shadows, I could see his hand grip the copper dial. He gave it a rapid turn and the effects were instantaneous. The woman presented on the frame before us erupted with a blood-curdling scream. Her muscles tensed and her small tits wobbled on her chest.

And then she screamed.

“ARGHHHHHHH!” she howled, thrashing uncontrollably. When the current went off, she shuddered and sobbed, her calves trembling to support her weight. Her thighs convulsed with her efforts to lift herself off the electric phallus buried deep inside of her.

“AIEEEEEEEEEE!” she screamed again, the current hitting her like a fist. Her lithe body shook sickly until the current subsided, leaving her painting and gasping. “OH GOD STOP! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU TAKE IT OUT!”

The jolt came again, sharper, the current pounding into the splayed lips of her cunt, riding up the pink depths of her pussy. Her cries had not subsided when the fourth, then fifth shock came, and by the ninth, she was nearly listless on the ropes.

Only then did the monster return to the pulley. He hoisted the woman up, up, until her pussy cleared the phallus. He lifted her another foot before locking the ropes. The tourist came too rather quickly, the pain in her shoulders returning with the suspension, setting fire to her nerves.

I watched in disbelief as the monster returned to the pole rising below his frantic and exhausted victim. The pole’s telescoping design became clear when he expanded it another two feet before locking it down. Realizing the intent, the poor tourist became wracked with terror. Her screams took on new desperation – the agonizing fate she now faced a dangerous reality. But those screams mattered little as the monster found the pulley and again.

He began lowering the trashing blonde tourist.

“My dear friends,” Gonzales said, stepping before us. Over his shoulder, I saw the phallus drive into the woman’s splayed pussy, rising up between her open legs, inching deeper and deeper. “This final act may not be for all of you. We will not be offended if you turn away.”

The men seated before the tortured woman looked at each other, but they all remained seated. Two of them clanked their glasses in a perverted toast. As they did, poor Sandra screamed miserably, sinking slowly onto the phallus. It drove deeper, opening her wider, her blonde hair splashing across her twisted face.

The men swilled their glasses and I joined them, watching as the full length and girth of the phallus disappeared into the woman’s cunt. Her screams didn’t subside as the monster continued releasing the pulley, always in control, always slow, but never stopping his victim’s decent.