Couple Therapy
Part 1
I wrote this while on vacation in Fiji. Boy, was I inspired by all the young,
nubile vacationing girls there!
I found myself rushing home after work for the first time in awhile. I
tried to act all nonchalant as I practically burst in the door. "How's Lisa," I
asked my wife as I sauntered in. She smiled, knowing the truth.
"Uncomfortable, I'm sure," she replied as she finished the last of the
dishes.
"What happened?"
"She dropped another dish. I put her in the box." I smiled at the thought.
My wife was usually the softer one, though I had found that, like with most
women, when they wanted to be cruel they could surpass any man's imagination.
"When did you put her in?"
"About 11:30 this morning," she said, returning her attentions to the sink.
I just whistled to myself and headed down to the dungeon. It was almost 7:00
now, which meant that Lisa had been in one of the most uncomfortable punishments
for over six hours. My cock practically jumped at the thought! I was glad I
would never feel the wrath of my wife.
We had been married 5 years before, having discovered a mutual love for
bondage and various S&M practices. Early on, we would play with each other, with
her being the sub usually to me. But we both quickly realized that we cared too
much for each other to go to the lengths we both dreamed, and soon after we
where married we began venturing out for others. To date I could count 9 young
girls, our preference, that we had trained into slavery. It was only the last
three that had been unwilling participants. Neither of us had been comfortable
with the concept of kidnapping, rape, torture or true slavery, considering the
punishments most governments would land upon us if we where caught. But we
studied the subject as a exercise and quickly discovered how easy it could be.
So many women disappeared yearly without a trace, a statistic that was kept
under heavy wraps by most police agencies. There was little or no way of being
caught if you where smart. We began hunting our first victim soon after. She was
a young stripper in a state halfway across the country. We tried never to
recruit, as we called it, from anywhere close to us. Rule number one. We found a
girl with few family attachments and not many friends. Her name was Taylor. She
was thin, blonde and had large breasts. The typical mid-western girl gone wrong.
She took three months to completely break and we kept her around still to this
day.
Our house was a rambling old mansion in the woods in Southern California,
far from any prying eyes and well protected. I had a whole wing modified into a
slave's training facility, including old stone and heavy iron decorations. It
worked wonders for the girls and was hidden from casual guests. I made my way
down to the dungeon now, careful to press the tab hidden in the wall and key in
the code on the invisible keypad hidden just beneath the paint. The door slid
aside quietly and quickly shut after I was through. It took my eyes a few
minutes to adjust before I could pick my way through the vast room to where I
could hear Lisa crying.
The box was an idea we stole from some book and took a bit of engineering
to build. Built like a stubby coffin, the victim was placed inside of it, their
legs doubled up and each knee strapped wide to either side. Arms usually where
bound at elbow and wrist behind, with a chain connected to the wrists leading up
through a hole in the top. The head was fit through a hole at the top, where a
very wide steel collar clamped on to the neck and locked the head into an
upright position. At this point the slavegirl was arched backward painfully. The
head could be left uncovered but I could tell she had really upset my wife. Her
head was covered in a heavy steel cage that mimicked the job of the box. A crank
at the top of the cage pushed sharp spikes into the face and scalp. I could see
that she was wearing the spike gag as well, a large, soft ball that fit between
the jaws, then pushed similar spikes into the soft tissues of the tongue and
mouth. The crank for the box was at it's maximum, meaning that the spikes in the
box where pressed hard against Lisa's naked form. The spikes where dense, no one
separated by more than a few inches, and had the uncanny ability to cover every
inch of the body. The worst part was how she supported herself. Her nose ring
was pulled up hard to the ceiling by a piece of chain that fed through a pulley.
The chain returned and connected to her wrists. Another, shorter chain attached
from her wrists to her clit ring. My wife had pulled Lisa's arms up hard,
increasing the pain in her shoulders and, in turn, pulling up hard on the nose
ring. The box was lifted slightly off the floor, pivoting lightly on the bottom
edge. To decrease the pain of the spikes, she was forced to lift her arms higher
behind her, a difficult prospect at best, which increased the pull on her clit
ring. She could only do this for a few minutes before her shoulders gave out and
her arms fell back, yanking hard on her nose ring.
She was a vision of medieval torture and I could feel my cock throbbing.
She caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye and tried to beg for
release. I'm sure this was the worst she had ever felt, even including the hard
whippings.
"Sorry, Lisa," I said, pulling on her arm/nose chain and letting it drop,
eliciting new tears from her. "If I where to release you Angela would be very
unhappy. I will, however, give you something to take your mind off the spikes."
I moved to the back of the box and turned a new crank. A wide, self-lubricating
dildo extended slowly and precisely toward her pussy. She could feel it push
inside and she tried to beg for me to stop. "You don't want to cum, Lisa? How
ungrateful," I cooed as I buried the six inch cock into her. I flipped a switch
and the dildo began both vibrating and pumping in and out of her. I watched as
she quickly had the first of several orgasms. As her body thrashed in response,
she screamed in pain from the spikes rubbing against her. It was designed to
feel like her skin was being ripped off and I'm sure it was doing it's job.
Lisa was number nine of the unwilling guests we had acquired. Just six
weeks ago, on some South Seas Island, we had met her on an empty beach. We had
gotten good at finding the best candidates and though we where living on a
sailboat, we knew she was here and traveling with a few friends. We had secretly
arranged to be on that beach when she would be alone. A friendly offer of some
wine knocked her out cold. She was a perfect candidate. Only 20 years old, she
was practically alone on this trip. Her friends had quickly met guys and left
her to her solitude, which she preferred anyway. She was a bit of a loner, of
medium height and build, with brown hair, green eyes and long, firm legs. My
first comment to Angela was, "She'll look great in ballet boots." My wife just
grinned and nodded in agreement.
Our sailboat held the crate we would ship her back to the states in. We
took her aboard, stripped her naked and injected her with a knockout drug that
would last about 10 hours. I knew this wouldn't last the entire trip, but as
another example of her cruelty, Angela wanted it this way so the subject would
wake up in complete and utter bondage, in a crate in the dark.
It didn't take much time to remove her bikini and admire her young body.
Angela played with her largish breasts then pinched the nipple. "We can pierce
these twice." I grunted as I prepared to shave her bare, head to toe. Once
completely hairless, we rubbed a salve - we had found it in Europe - from the
neck down that prevented hair growth completely. Lisa would not grow hair on her
body from the neck down for the foreseeable future. We rolled her over and
tested her arm flexibility, practically cheering when her elbows could be forced
together without too much strain. It was fun when the girls' arms had to be
trained, but we always preferred it this way.
As I fitted her head with a leather hood, I carefully filled her mouth with
a wide gag then cranked down hard on the straps under her chin and over her
lips. She would be unable to utter anything more than a slight murmur regardless
of how hard she screamed. The eyes where covered with a small pad that glued on
to her, then covered with a leather strap as part of the hood. Since her arms
didn't need much training, we strapped them together with wide leather straps at
wrist and elbow, then fit her hands into a two pouch single glove. Once they
where laced down tight, she would be unable to flex her fingers out, nor touch
one hand to the other. Angela was lubricating two large dildos attached to a
chastity belt and she carefully forced them deep into Lisa's pussy, then her
asshole. She took it slowly as she could tell this young girl had only been with
a couple men, and never been fucked in the ass. The dildos would serve two
purposes. A timer would turn on their vibrating about 10 hours into the trip,
timed to match her waking. The effect would be to not only defeat her, but to
humiliate her as well. In addition, her ass would be carefully stretched to
accommodate my cock, or others as we saw fit, immediately upon arrival at our
home.
Angela locked the belt in place as I retrieved the bar. Designed for us
specifically, the bar had a padded four inch collar at one end and two padded
three inch restraints at the other. The bar was only two feet long, but split so
the restraints where two feet apart. I fit the collar around Lisa's neck,
covering the lacing for the hood and making sure it was both as snug as possible
but also allowed for breathing. We then forced her legs back until the pivoting
cuffs could be locked around her ankles. In this position she was absolutely
immobile, bent back harshly. We lifted her up together and set her down on the
padded insides of her crate.
Once snuggly filling the inside, we strapped her knees to the sides, spread
wide, then Angela filled the spaces with packing popcorn while I fitted the
nostril plugs. Small breathing hoses led to a series of hoses that had
unobstructed holes on the outside of the box. The box was actually doubled
layered so Lisa lay bound inside a much larger space, which we filled with some
item we knew customs would never think twice about. The box was quickly filled
with popcorn, obscuring any sight of Lisa and I nailed the lid on firmly. Once
the outer container was filled we sealed it up and set sail for a shipping port
on the other side of the island chain.
End of Part 1
