The Week (Pt 2) by Master Ivan

[mrivan]

The Week (Pt 2)

by Master Ivan


In the morning, he phoned.

"Hello, Donna."

"Hello, Master."

"Are you enjoying your week so far?"

It seemed almost ludicrous to use the word "Enjoy" in reaction to the experiences of the past four days. Yet, I was getting everything I was promised, and more. And it was, indeed, at my request.

"Its been truly amazing, although I must admit, I could probably use a rest. Still, I'm getting wet just thinking about it!"

He chuckled. "Yes, I'd imagine. Well, today you'll get to relax. I've been a nature nut for years, as well as an unparallelled pervert, and I'm planning to do some wilderness hiking today. Care to come along?"

The role-play was back. This time, I remembered. It would be the "Wilderness Capture" fantasy. And I had no idea who would be doing the capturing.

"Sure!"

"I'll pick you up at ten."

We drove to a State Park, one adjoining an Indian reservation. Yes, it might very well be the Indians.

Master wore a stereotype hiking getup, complete with backpack and khaki shorts. On a number of occasions during the hike, he made references to how I'd look or feel tied to the local trees. I was getting aroused. Dressed only in hot pants and a skimpy halter top, my arousal showed. I let it show, almost flaunting my body, hoping he'd respond and use me.

We were interrupted by the war cries of well over a dozen full-blooded Indians. I lost sight of my Master as I was quickly and effortlessly wrestled to the ground. My wrists were tightly bound with rawhide, then my "Transport" arrived.

In the movies, I had frequently seen a captive bound at wrists and ankles, then carried off with their limbs hung from a pole like a hunting kill. Well, my wrists were similarly hung, but there the similarity ended. This pole had a crossmember attached some four feet long. My ankles were spread and bound to its ends. As they carried me away, anyone could look at my crotch and trace the outline of my cuntal lips, as well as see the moisture already visible through the thin fabric of my hot pants, now obscenely revealed to all.

There was a camp, complete with the tribal lodges and a campfire. There were females present, as well, and none of them seemed shocked to see me. The pole carrying me was set down upon two others with forked tops, then my brief clothes were torn off. They rested and had a council as I hung, naked, suffering and afraid. For a good hour they went on, then they suddenly broke the circle. There were wide smiles now, on both the young men and their women.

A tall pair of upright poles supported a third across their top, a good eight feet from the ground. My wrists were bound to the horizontal, then my ankles were spread wide and bound to the verticals. As the men removed their clothes, the women approached, armed with switches made of light reeds. The drums had already started. They circled me, dancing, as a new fire was started directly in front of me. Each woman struck me with their switch, then circled around to repeat the action.

They stung my entire body. After half an hour, all my flesh below the neck was red and welted. And the fire grew larger, as did the cocks of the men.

The women finished. I had barely begun, as the first brave rose and danced, naked, before me. As I sweated already under the heat of the fire, the man threw on another log, continuing to dance, taunting the flames with his own flesh. The heat was growing fearfully strong on my stretched, hanging, naked flesh. Eventually, the brave stood before me and began my rape.

He entered quickly and fucked me hard and fast. As the fire heated his ass, he stroked me with a mind to arouse me and bring me to orgasm. In minutes, he succeeded, as I screamed in pleasure and pain. He came himself, seconds later, and withdrew.

The heat returned, slowly beginning to roast my flesh. The next warrior began his dance by throwing more wood on the ever-growing fire. Now, I understood. Each man would try to best the others in enduring the flames, prolonging both their dance and their act of rape while heated by the fire. My role required me to endure throughout, except when I was shielded by the men's bodies as they raped me.

By the third man, I realized they also scored by bringing me to orgasm with their fucking. By the time the eighth man had fueled the fire and started to fuck me, the heat was unbearable to them. The man withdrew before either of us came, and to my horror, moved behind me and drove into my ass.

I screamed with the penetration, with the pain of my suspension, with the still-growing heat of the fire, and now even with my frustration, as no longer would

they use my cunt. I had been brought to orgasm by seven men in a row. Now, my frontside, breasts and belly would roast continuously while my tortured flesh shielded the men from the heat as they raped my ass. Still, they added a log to the fire each time they approached, until all of them used me twice. And after

the first seven, all used only my ass.

By the time they cut me down, I was red and roasted across my entire front. Unbelievably, my ordeal was far from over.

There was a patch of sand nearby already fitted with four stakes. It was already hot, heated by the mid-afternoon sun. I was staked out, spread wide open by my four limbs, on my back. Now, the women approached me, and the men would watch.

The women were dressed in buckskin, tops and skirts. The first walked to a nearby wicker basket, took a small scoop, and dug out a handful of dirt. For reasons I did not yet understand, she poured the dirt to the ground at the apex of my thighs, some of it sprinkling over my cunt which still oozed the come of the men. She then walked to my head and straddled my face. She pumped me a bit, as her cunt quickly grew aroused. I did nothing for a few seconds, until I felt a vicious stroke of her switch across my breasts.

I screamed with the pain, muffled by the demanding pressure of the girl's cunt forcing itself on my mouth. Obediently, I began to lick and suck, servicing her.

The strokes of the switch continued, regardless of my oral service. They only stopped when she reached orgasm. She rose, and the next approached.

I now realized, having served all the men, twice, I was now to be used by all their women as well. Worse, I would service them exclusively with my mouth. The second one took her shovel full of dirt, poured it near my cunt, sat on my face and started her switching of my breasts. I screamed, and licked.

As she neared orgasm, I began to notice an itch, first on my upper thighs, then on my cunt itself, still later on my belly. It didn't hit me what was happening until the second girl left my face and the third dropped her scoop of dirt.

It was not just dirt. The basket had been filled with dirt shoveled out of a nest of ants. Not the fire ants, or those red warrior ants whose stings were agonizing and could kill in quantity. Still, these did bite. And each scoop of dirt brought more of them to explore and feed on my flesh, starting at my cunt. I began to scream.

Somewhere along the line, someone poured water on the rawhide binding my wrists and ankles to the widespread stakes. I knew the leather would shrink as it dried, slowly tightening my bonds. It was close to three in the afternoon by the time the first round of women ended and the second began. Now, they no longer brought more dirt. The cargo of carnivorous ants had been delivered and was feeding ravenously upon my flesh.

As the sun dried and tightened my restraints and burned my skin, I realized I had drank no water since my capture over four hours ago. But my captors knew--

the cuntal juice of their women would keep me from dehydrating. With still more humiliation on top of my ever-worsening physical torture, I made it a point to

swallow as much of their juice as possible.

By the end of the third round of women, I began to wonder why the men hadn't been active again. When the fourth round started, I found out. The cunts on my face were now all filled with the come of the men. The line continued until dark. The ants, the sun, the switches of the women and my ever-tightening restraint, all worked their torture on me until the sun was long gone. And since the eighth man had fucked me so long ago, nothing touched my cunt except the ants.

Finally, with the fall of darkness and the rising of the moon, I was again hung from the pole which brought me, my legs again spread, but now face-down. I was bent in a painful reverse arch, now naked and well-marked. The pole was hung with my cunt facing the fire this time, illuminating my open, dripping holes as my breasts hung below me and my arms were wrenched back severely. For the most part, I hung in my torturous bonds undisturbed for at least a couple of hours. As I hung, two of the men forced me to suck their cocks, but beyond that, I was untouched.

Done with me, the pole was again picked up, my body tortured in its suspension as I was again carried through the woods. Placed briefly on the ground, I was hog-tied, wrists and ankles joined behind me, then dumped unceremoniously into the trunk of a car.

Following a lengthy drive, my Master removed me, freed my bonds, carried me into my home and pampered me for an hour before putting me to bed. Surprisingly, he then made love to me, pleasing me greatly. He let himself out, and I slept.

* * *

The next afternoon, I awoke feeling exhilarated. Even with the major wear and tear inflicted upon me, the welts, rope burns, sunburn, sore muscles, even insect bites, my mind was being fueled by it all. I didn't want it to end, and I felt like I could endure it forever.

I dressed casually in a skirt, blouse and ordinary underwear. I wore conservative heels, stockings and made up my face as if I was applying for an office job. I took a leisurely walk.

It was another limo. It stopped beside me, and two men plucked me off the sidewalk and threw me into the back seat. My wrists were locked behind my back, and we drove off.

I sat in the center of the back seat between two men in suits. The driver wore military camouflages, and my Master, in his Interpol character, was in the right front. Part of me wanted to smile, to laugh, at the beginning of yet another scenario. Then I thought about the numerous welts already covering my body, about the other tortures I had endured. The pain, arousing as it was at times, was serious. I would do well not to invite more. These men were serious enough as it was.

My Master spoke: "You have embarrassed us. The Prison Board of Mexico has filed a protest on our failures and mistakes trying to recapture their escapee. The American military has been involved, and it is equally angry. We are convinced you know the location of the wanted woman. You work with her organization, and will tell us everything we need to know."

"But, I know nothing!"

"You know the woman's location, the leaders of your organization, the address of your headquarters, the schedule of your movements and your plans for the future. In twenty-four hours, we will know as well, because you will tell us."

"Please, how can I tell you what I do not know?"

"You'd be surprised how much you can remember with the application of sufficient pain. Since this is an international affair, your constitutional rights do not apply. In fact, we are specialists in the use of cruel and unusual punishment. I would advise you now to think carefully, and provide us with the answers we need."

If the previous five days scared me, these guys had me petrified. This was to be the "Captured Spy" scenario. And I recalled one of the activities my Master mentioned that had not been used yet, "Electro-Shock Torture", which was a well-known tool of torture in the world of modern barbarians.

We drove to the same complex used for the Mexican Prison scene, to which this was to be a sequel. We went into the cellblock, and into a large room clearly equipped to be a torture chamber. My handcuffs were released.

"You have one chance to talk without force. If you do not cooperate totally, completely and immediately, we will begin by stripping off your clothes, restraining you and using some extremely unpleasant forms of encouragement. Talk!"

He was the military man. He looked and sounded like he could have pulled off the My Lai Massacre single handedly.

"I wish I could talk. I wish I could make up something that would be convincing enough to work. But I haven't got a clue what to tell you, and I have no idea where to find the people you want."

He smiled. "Good for me. I get to practice one of my favorite hobbies. Bad for you. You get to find out what the word 'Pain' really means."

He looked at the other three men. "Strip the cunt, and cuff her!" Giving me no time to protest, they removed all my clothes and handcuffed my wrists behind my back. They also applied some modern leg-irons and layed me face-down on the floor. A chain was lowered from the ceiling, and it was padlocked to my shackles. It was then raised, taking up the slack at my wrists and ankles and raising my limbs slightly. The pain began; small pain now, but I could tell already how bad it would get when I was raised off the floor.

The man examined my body in detail, noting with amusement the welts already marking my ass. "I can see you're already familiar with the whip. I won't disappoint you--you'll be exposed to its use again, very soon. But first, before you are hoisted into the air and beaten, do you wish to tell me anything?"

"Please, I can't tell you what I don't know!"

"Alright, then. We'll refresh your memory."

He activated the winch again. I was quickly hauled up in my hog-tie, and my joints all cried out in agony. I screamed. The man said only, "Talk when you wish. We can wait."

To my horror, the four of them sat down around a table and played cards. Somehow, in the midst of my pain, I was able to observe that they played five hundred Rummy. The game took an hour, during which time my agony built and became excruciating.

The GI won, with one of the other two unknown men coming in second place. My Master said, "Well, you two get first use of her. We'll play the whips."

Already in agony, I saw my pain was about to go up an order of magnitude. The GI walked to a spot behind me and said, "I'll take her ass." The other quipped, "Her mouth would be fine by me."

They fucked me in my ass and throat as I hung in pain. One pried my legs apart to gain access to my asshole, while the other hauled up on my hair, adding more strain to the already intolerable arch of my back as he bent back my head to gain access to my throat. As they pumped away, I did not even see the others with the whips until the first strokes fell.

I don't know how long it lasted, but I took dozens of strokes to my breasts, belly and thighs before the two men came together. After their orgasms, I took perhaps another dozen strokes, then hung some more as their come dripped obscenely from both ends of my body.

I heard one, perhaps my Master, say, "Lower her, but use the spikes." I was lowered, and anticipated at least a break in my agony, until I felt my breasts resting upon some sharp points. I screamed, as the agony in my joints was replaced by the equal agony imposed upon the flesh of the front of my whipped body.

Again, I was "Rested" in this new torture for a time, until the GI spoke to me again. "How is your memory doing, cunt? Have you recalled anything yet, or shall we resume my favorite pastime?"

Desperate, I said, "Please, if I knew, I'd tell you now..."

He smiled broadly. "Good. Then you get to ride the electric swing!"

I shuddered in fear. I had seen it described in magazines, portrayed in movies. It was a popular method of torture used by brutal government regimes throughout the world, including some supposedly democratic countries. My wrist cuffs were moved to my front, my legs folded up against my chest. My arms were moved to either side of my knees, then a bar was pushed through the gap under my knees and over my arms. The bar was connected, by eyebolts at its ends, to the overhead winch. I was hoisted up, and my agony and screams resumed.

They were nowhere near done, though. A strap went around my waist. Another went down between my legs, penetrating the sensitive flesh beneath my cuntlips with sharp points. Further down, there was a large metal phallus that was driven deep into my ass. The strap was pulled brutally tight and locked in place.

As difficult as it was to gain access to my breasts, they forced more straps around them, again lined with points, and once more drew forth my screams as the straps were tightened. There were a pair of nipple clamps, as well. These would have been torturous on their own--they were alligator clips, with sharp, serrated edges and attached wires. When their grip found my nipples, I screamed louder than ever and didn't stop for some time.

I thought it could get no worse until I saw them connecting wires from all the apparatus to an electronic control box. One of the suited men operated some controls as the GI spoke.

"When this machine is activated, you will begin receiving mild electric shocks in your nipples, breasts, cunt and asshole. The locations will be selected randomly, and the intervals and strengths of the shocks will also vary unpredictably, so you will not be able to anticipate them. At first, they will be light, almost pleasant and stimulating. As time passes, however, they will get stronger and more frequent. If you could last two hours, they would approach an almost continuous rate at a strength that could cause burns or fatal electrocution. But don't worry--at the rate of increase we'll use, the strongest subjects haven't made it through even one hour before crying and pleading to be allowed to talk. And just to make life more interesting, we will also be whipping your ass and back from time to time as you hang."

I cried, suffering already, then felt the first shock. It was in my ass, and felt almost like a light physical tap on the metal phallus. A couple of seconds later, the breast straps were activated for a pulse, followed by the cunt strap and then the nipple clamps. As the pulses continued, the order shifted constantly. There was no rhythm, with the gaps anywhere from three or four seconds down to almost nothing.

Minutes later, the pulses were getting noticeably stronger. The gaps were shortening as well. The shocks were less than a second apart, while their intensity began feeling like whipstrokes.

Suddenly, an actual whip struck my ass. Hanging as I was, with my assflesh tightly stretched, the stroke was particularly painful. Another stroke to my ass was followed by one to my back. I screamed on each one, for at least a dozen. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard someone say, "Speed up the machine." The shocks got stronger, each one feeling like a punch.

Every few minutes, the whip would add another group of welts to the large collection I already bore on my ass and back. The shocks now felt like kicks and came about half a second apart. Even without the whip, I screamed regularly.

After the third or fourth dozen from the whip, the voice said, "We're wasting time. Double the voltage!"

I screamed. And screamed. I felt like I was being beaten in the most sensitive parts of my body by red hot clubs; my contortions felt like my muscles were being torn from my bones. Mercifully, I lost consciousness.

I awoke expecting the scene to be over. To my dismay, I was still bound. It was an old-fashioned box spring, bare metal with no covering of any kind. My head hung over the top edge; my body was tied tightly with wire, spread open to its limits. My splayed legs already hurt, my cunt and ass were open to the air.

I tried to think. What tortures had been mentioned that I had not yet endured? I could not remember, but it did not matter. My Master spoke.

"You have endured courageously, thus far. Still, we will have the information we require, sooner or later. And the longer we wait, the greater will be our enjoyment and your agony."

As he spoke, the GI sat idly and smiled. The two others brought out some small boxes and a jar of some kind.

"It is time to fight fire with fire. These candles will be attached to your body with contact cement. As each is set in place, it will be lit. The wax will slowly drip down onto your flesh and supply some motivation for your memory. As the flames work closer, the heat will increase until the molten wax lies in pools, the wicks burning and heating it right down to your body. As your skin begins to blister, your tongue will be all too happy to cooperate."

I moaned, anticipating the agony to come. Already, the two men were attaching the first candles to my breasts, right on the nipples. Then I noticed the GI rolling a device to the foot of my spring-bed.

My breathing increased as my fear grew. Soon, I felt the first drops of hot wax trickle down to my tit flesh, burning me slightly. I moved in response, and

more wax fell. I moaned, then noticed the GI again.

There was a pole which he was connecting to the device. It ended with a huge pair of dildos, clearly intended for my cunt and ass. As perhaps the tenth or twelfth candle was lit on my belly, he began inserting the dildos. I screamed with the size of them, then screamed again as a switch was thrown and the dildos started stroking me hard and deep, powered by the tireless motor within the box. I continued to scream, shaking on the bed, and found that I was also shaking the candles, causing more molten wax to fall on my naked flesh. As perhaps the twentieth candle was affixed to my thigh, a hand took my hair and bent my head back to face the man's erect cock.

It was my Master. "You will suck us all off in rotation as your torture continues. Speak when you can, but do so soon. The candles grow shorter, and you may only speak when our cocks do not fill your mouth."

He fucked my mouth brutally, lasting a good ten minutes. Each stroke shook my bound body, causing the wax to fall and my flesh to burn. By the time he finished, there were over forty candles lit upon my body, and every stroke brought a scream, cut off as his cock penetrated my throat. In the meantime, the mechanical double-dildo continued to ravage my lower holes, bringing me to orgasm regularly, in spite of my growing pain.

He shot his load in my mouth, and another man replaced him. Between the two, I had only enough time to cry, "Oh God, Pleeease!"

All four of them fucked my throat so brutally that by the time they finished, my lips were slightly cut on my teeth with the force of their strokes. By the time the GI, the last in line, finished, and my Master approached for his second round, I realized the first candles, on my nipples, were burned almost all the way down to my flesh. If my Master's cock filled my mouth again until he came a second time, I knew my nipples would be bathed in molten wax right under the flames by the time he finished. I had to call an end to it.

"Please, Master, I'll talk!"

Master's hand still held my hair and tightened. The dildos continued to pump, and the candles burned even lower.

"Out with it, cunt! Who is your leader?"

As a perverse form of symbolic revenge, I gave the name and address of one of my chief female rivals at work. To several other direct questions, I gave contrived answers that a second-grader could have seen through. But it was enough.

They blew out the candles. There were no other acts of mercy, though. All four of them fucked my face for the second round, and the dildos pumped me tirelessly until I swallowed all their come.

I was freed from my torturous spring-bed, but then hog-tied again, still naked, and a cloth bag was placed over my head and strapped tightly around my throat. I heard my Master tell the GI, "Dispose of her!" I was dumped unceremoniously in the car trunk, and the car pulled away.

For at least an hour, I was driven. Finally, the car was parked. Again, time passed, until the trunk was opened. I was carried into a building, layed onto a bed, then tied spread-eagled once again on my back.

The man with me remained silent throughout, even when he mounted me and fucked my cunt. He took me to the height of pleasure before he came himself, then I was left alone again.

More time passed, until his footsteps approached again. Suddenly, the bag was removed from my face. To my surprise, it was my Master who stood over me, and I was tied to my own bed.

"Hello, Donna. Welcome back to the real world!"

I laughed. My body was marked all over, my bones ached, wax still adhered to my breasts and body, even a few light burns were visible. And I was tied, naked, spread-eagled to my bed while the man responsible for it all stood over me, fully clothed, drinking a snifter of my best cognac. "Did you say, 'Real world'?"

He chuckled himself. "You have survived six days of fantasies, enacted with great realism, according to your own request and with your consent. If you remember, there were a total of seven we discussed."

For the first time in days, my memory returned.

"The slave-girl. The last fantasy."

"Yes. Does it still appeal to you?"

Having just been fucked to my umpteenth orgasm of a very painful day, I was only somewhat surprised to find myself growing rapidly aroused by the question. "Yes, in fact, it does."

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me thoughtfully. He placed a hand on one of my breasts, still sore from the hot wax, traces of which still remained. "To enact such a fantasy tomorrow would require you to make the transition again to being a free woman for a day, then submit once again. While it would be most enjoyable for me to again break your will, it would be an effort we both could save by eliminating the break between fantasies. Would you agree?"

I thought, briefly, not unaffected by his hand which now gently squeezed my reddened nipple. "Yes, I believe what you say has the ring of truth to it."

He smiled and surveyed my body as he continued. "In addition, there is also the problem of realism in the enactment of such a fantasy. Were it to last but a day, the long-term emotional effects of prolonged helplessness and discipline, the mental conditioning to obedience, the regular sexual use and abuse, all these would be impossible to create unless the fantasy were enacted for a period of at least six months to a year. Do you still agree?"

Sensing what was coming, I smiled, my arousal growing. "Entirely."

"It is my feeling, then, that the only practical solution to these problems would be for me to enslave you completely, immediately, starting here and now."

We were both smiling, now. I said, "Your logic on this is flawless. And, it appears you already have me totally under control. If I were foolish enough to disagree, I could not stop you in any case."

"No, you couldn't. Although, the thought of you resisting me as I overpowered you is one I find particularly arousing..."

He removed his clothes. He climbed on top of me, penetrated my well-juiced cunt once, nearly bringing me to orgasm. He then crawled up my body and began fucking me between my breasts. "Suck the head of my cock on each stroke, slut!"

I obeyed. In minutes, he bathed my face in his come. My arousal was deep and growing, and I begged him, "Please, Master, your slave needs to come!"

He laughed. Leaving the bed, he rummaged around in my closet until he found a chastity belt, one equipped with a large butt-plug. He locked it on me in seconds.

"My slave needs discipline. She is a cock-hound, a wanton slut who values her own pleasure far more than that of her Master. I believe I shall deny you any pleasure until you suck me to orgasm, say, a dozen times."

I groaned in frustration. "God, I'll go nuts!"

"For being impertinent, selfish, and forgetting to call me by my proper title, let's make that two dozen! You've just finished number one, and have twenty-three to go. Would you like to make it fifty?"

I swallowed hard, suffering already in denial. "Please, Master, do with me as you will. I am your slave."

He smiled, then went back to my closet, returning with a pair of clothespins. He clipped them to my nipples. I groaned with the pain, and asked, "Master, have I displeased you?"

"No, slut. I treat my slaves as I will. I find, also, that watching a slave suffering arouses me quicker than one just lying in comfort. I am, in fact, helping you, by allowing you to proceed more quickly with your punishment. As you can see, my erection is already returning."

I did see it, and I was drawn to it. "Yes, Master. Thank you. Please, may I begin to suck your cock again?"

As I suffered in my humiliation and pain, my arousal continued to grow, torturing me further.

Again, my Master smiled, and said, "I will grant your request."

Thirty minutes later, he came again on my face and in my mouth.

I suffered in my denial. I also reveled in my fulfillment. I had finally found a Master strong enough to truly own and possess me.

After I swallowed his second load, I said, "Thank you, Master."

Two down, twenty-two to go...



Copyright © 1993

Master Ivan Press