Welcome to the Show
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.
Welcome to the Show
We refilled our drinks to give Gonzalez and his men time to prepare the next show. After returning to our seats in the chamber, our glasses full, Gonzalez appeared from a side room.
He stood before us and lit a cigarette. I noted the scissors in his shirt pocket and tried to imagine their use. He grinned and removed them, holding them up for display.
“Tools of the trade, so to speak,” he said, turning them in the dim light.
Gonzalez placed the cigarette to his lips and tucked the scissors back into his pocket. His sense of humor was acute, which I found odd for a sadistic man running an underground torture show catered to high-paying customers like me. The first show had gone well, but Gonzalez promised to top it, describing the next beauty as a “teasing brunette” who’d gained the attention of his men at the club.
“Poor girl,” he said, shaking his head. “All she did was to give a sassy look. Bad luck for her, lucky day for us.”
Holding the cigarette between his lips, he clapped his hands three times. On cue, the sound of a squeaky wheel echoed across the room. We turned our heads in the direction of the sound and watched two hulking men emerge through a door. They pushed a frame set on wheels into the room, and the pretty brunette Gonzalez had promised was mounted awkwardly upon it.
“Gentlemen, my friends,” Gonzalez began. “Another special treat for you. I present you Dominika. Take a good look at our sweet little tart.”
The woman’s brown eyes bulged in terror as she was placed before us. The lower half of her face was encased in electrical tape, reducing her protests to senseless shrieks. How clever, I thought, to present a bitch like this to a roomful of strange men eager to see her suffer and not allow her to say a word. I trembled with excitement, watching the shame consume the woman’s panicked face.
She was already naked, less her black high heels, which pointed awkwardly toward the open ceiling. She kept her pussy shaved and now, despite her outrage, it was on full display with the full lips of her labia pouting between her splayed thighs.
“Nice snatch,” one of the men said, leaning forward for a closer look.
“That’s prime pussy right there,” said another, grinning lustily from ear to ear.
Dominika wanted to cover herself and hide her privates from our leering eyes. But her wrists were bound with leather straps fixed to ringbolts screwed into the upper corners of the frame. Straps pinned her knees to the surface of the bench, doubling her in half and thrusting her ass into the air. For good measure, the men tethered her ankles to the frame’s upright posts, ensuring she could hardly move.
The position placed her most tender parts on display. The look on the girl’s face said she was painfully aware of our focused eyes and wicked grins. Tears welled in her eyes and while she turned her head in shame, she had nowhere to hide. The humiliation overwhelmed her.
EEAAASSSSEEEE, she hissed through the gag, eyes flashing wild with fright. She was still defiant, hopeful and confused. EASE…Mmffff… ET… EEEE…OOOO.
Gonzalez grinned slowly. He allowed the cunt to sink deeper into despair as a second bulb blinked on above her. She emitted bubbling cries and distorted screeches. The gag muffled her words but the terror was clear and understandable given her dire situation.
“Very soon our game will begin,” Gonzalez said, stepping to the strapped woman. “Our friends have paid handsomely to see as you suffer. Very real, of course. Here he comes now… Our hired hand is expert in certain things.”
The Wire pushed a small stainless steel cart across the room wearing the same black gloves and butcher’s apron he’d worn when he lowered the blonde on the monstrous dildo while she hung on the frame earlier in the evening. His expression remained blank and his heavy boots clapped loudly against the concrete floor as he drew near, sending Dominika into a panic.
She strained her head to identify the sound but The Wire remained well positioned, denying the girl so much as a glimpse. The effect was powerful, leaving her to thrash with mounting desperation. She blubbered wildly, anticipating something she could not see. I laughed at how her heels kicked against the air and her fingers clawed at the straps holding her wrists.
The big beast with his dancing tattoos stepped behind his pinned prize and reached out with one black glove. Dominika nearly dislocated her elbows pulling at the straps. But the man’s fingers easily found her nose and pinched it tightly shut, cutting off her labored breathes.
The little college tease groaned and shook her head in a frantic effort to shake the man’s grip. Her cheeks puffed and her face reddened while the veins pulsed in her neck. The seconds ticked by and just when she was about to go under, the man released his fingers.
Tears streamed from Dominika’s bright eyes and her nostrils flared as she sniffed in deep pools of air. Her small tits rose and fell on her chest while her nipples grew long and hard. I wanted to chew on them like the gumballs they resembled.
“Do I have your attention now,” The Wire said, leaning over his pretty captive. He extended one thick finger and wagged it before Dominika’s frightened eyes. “Let’s see what we have to work with tonight.”
The guests leaned forward in their seats, watching as The Wire stepped around the girl, wagging that finger as he moved. Dominika shrieked in horror, twisting and kicking her bound ankles. Her knees were strapped too tightly and her ass hardly moved despite her thrashing. She was pinned like an insect and The Wire knew it. He simply lowered his finger and tickled the fat folds of her pouting pussy.
Dominika’s reaction was involuntary, though her twitching and screeching was very real. She despised his touch but she could do nothing to prevent it, which was torture in itself. Free to roam, the finger traced the thickening hood of her clit and circled the swelling lips of her pussy. The poor girl gurgled and gasped in protest as the finger plowed the furrows of her swelling cunt and taped softly at the tight, pink entry.
“Very sensitive, this one,” The Wire said, his voice deep and alarming. “Much fun we will have.”
He stepped to the steel tray sitting nearby and for the first time I examined its contents – the speculum, the inflatable rubber balloon and the hemostat clamps. Fishing line and needles sat ready for use, and ointment waited in jars.
Dominika heard the clanking and commotion as The Wire examined his options. I found pleasure watching the panic wash over her like a hellish shadow. The little bitch with her tanned body and pretty face tried again to turn her head, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t see the big man take up the steel ring. She couldn’t see the clamps dangle from wires set around the ring’s perimeter.
Not until The Wire stepped before her holding the device did Dominika realize what was about to take place. The reality of her situation set in like a crashing wave. She bucked madly against the straps in one last effort to break free, screeching bloody murder into the gag. Her head lulled on her shoulders while her eyes flashed with tears. She was almost surprised when The Wire cut away her gag. The pleas spilled out like water through a broken dam.
Please…OH GOD…N-NOOO...Shriek…I BEG YOU…PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!
The Wire ignored her rapid cries while setting the steel ring over her twitching pussy. With his meaty fingers, he took up the first of eight clamps and found the thick fold of her labia. Slowly, he slid the clamp in place. When it bit down, Dominika erupted with a blood boiling scream.
Gonzalez grinned along with the other guests, but The Wire said nothing while reaching for the second clamp. Dominika twitched wildly as if stung by bees when the binder bit into the fat fold of flesh. She hardly caught her breath when the third clamp found its target. She went wild with hysterics, kicking so hard one of her black heels fell to the floor.
The Wire applied the clamps up one lip and down the other until the screaming woman’s pussy was rimmed by eight biting clamps, each fixed to individual wires connected to the steel ring. That ring was nearly a foot in diameter, and it had a single lead wire dangling from its rim – the very wire that now rested in the big man’s fingers.
OH GOD…Please STOP… No Please…It…ohhh…UNGHHH! I BEG YOU! Dominika babbled, twitching on the frame. Several men seated for the show laughed at her antics and mocked her cries. ANYTHING! Please let me...NO…Don’t…OH NO…NOOOOO!
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” one of the men shouted. “Make her sing!”
“Yes indeed,” the monster said, leaning over the girl, flashing his broken teeth. “Time to let the world in.”
I watched him draw the single wire, noting how the clamps initially bobbed upon the folds of Dominika’s pussy as the wires drew tight. An anguished cry spilled from her throat and she lifted her head – a frantic reaction to what was slowly taking place. As the man drew the single lead wire, it pulled the eight clamps further apart, and Dominika’s pussy began to gape.
Her face twisted with confusion and her mind struggled to comprehend the torture. She howled before her head fell back sharply against the frame. Her fingers twisted for release but were unable to find it.
NUGHHH…Oh NO…STOP IT…PLEEEASSEEE DON’T DO THAT PLEASE!!!
The big man worked with slow deliberation, enjoying how the clamps moved apart in eight directions. Dominika gurgled and choked as the wires grew taught, stretching her lips apart like the wings of a butterfly.
“My friends,” Gonzalez said, lighting another cigarette. “We have name for this. We call it ironing. As you can see, it irons the creases of a woman’s cunt rather smooth.”
Dominika looked so pretty in the photo Gonzalez had presented in his office. It was taken while she danced at the resort hours early without a care in the world. Now she was shrieking so loudly the veins in her forehead nearly popped. Her limbs twitched and tore at the leather straps holding her down while tears wetted her cheeks. Her mouth quivered and curled into a desperate frown. Her brow furrowed into a mask of pain.
PLEEE…SOP…UNGHHH…SOP! SOP! NO… NOOOOO MORE! ARGGGHHHH!
Undeterred, the big man drew the glistening silver wire. He worked like an artist with two fingers until the woman’s cunt was splayed obscenely open, presenting the glistening pinkness below. The two uppermost clamps parted the hood of Dominika’s clitoris and revealed the swollen bud underneath.
The bitch was drowning in misery, groaning and wheezing. Her lungs filled slowly and her screams rang unending off the wall. She twitched when the big man jerked the wire sharply, tugging harder for the joy that was in it. I’m certain he’d tear those soft pink lips from that pretty pink pussy if he kept pulling, but he wasn’t deterred. He kept tugging until the woman’s labia look more like butterfly wings and the last crease had been drawn from her pussy.
“Marvelous device,” Gonzalez grinned, stepping toward the shrieking girl. “Once the wires are drawn to the ring, they lock in place. Cutting them free is the only way. Cutting them relieves the tension, you see, but we have no plans for that, do we, dear.”
NURGGGHHH! HURTS… IT…Please…OH GOD…Please…Anything…Please….STOP HURTING ME!
“Oh my little tart,” Gonzalez said, lifting Dominika’s head in the cup of his hand. “Take a good look at my friends. See them there. See them. Shall we stop, boys?
“Hell no,” one of the men said, jumping out of his seat. “Rip those fucking petals from that college cunt!
“Look at that fat pussy now!” said another. “It’s as smooth as glass!”
“See, my dear,” Gonzalez said, releasing the woman’s head. “We haven’t even begun to hurt you. No, we’re just getting started.”
Dominika screeched a new song, tossing screams of despair about the room until she was out of breath. The bucking and kicking did little good, though it put on a good show and pushed the teasing cunt closer to desperation.
The Wire presented a small brush he’d taken from the table. Dominika simply shook her head in terror and disbelief, weeping please and choking on sobs. The big man pulled up a chair as if he were sitting down to dinner and grinned.
“Let’s see how she responds to this,” he said. “The bristles can be rather…stiff.”
With the irons stretching the woman’s pussy lips wide open, he easily found the exposed bud of her swollen clitoris. It was impossible to miss and it had nowhere to hide. He traced the brush over the tender nub of nerves and grinned wickedly. Halfway through the first stroke, the girl erupted with a scream that pierced the room.
GLUGGGG…NOOOO GOD…PLEASE NOT THAT…NOOO…NOOOO…NOOOO!
The little bitch trashed pleasingly against the straps with her single black shoe dangling from her foot. She gulped down air and screeched as The Wire cruelly drew the bristles over her clitoris. The nub responded against the poor girl’s will, growing thicker and harder under the simple torture.
“Very sensitive, yes,” the big man said. “Very stiff bristles, yes.”
The woman gulped down air and her fingers curled. She desperately wanted to swat the bristle from the big man’s hand but she couldn’t. Through painful shrieks she pleaded with him to stop. But he didn’t stop and soon she was quivering and quaking, her wrists raw from her ongoing struggle.
AAIIIEEEEE… NARGHHH… Pant…No…NO… Pant… DON’T DO THAT. STOP… STOP…OH GOD IT HURTS…STOPPPP!!!
The bristles continued to swim over the woman’s swelling clitoris, the tiny follicles driving her closer to madness. The Wire coaxed a few last cries of desperation from his captive before reaching for the tray.
He fumbled for the spool of fishing line and found it. The girl was still clutched in a fit of gasps and pleas and didn’t see him present the cut of line. Without a word, he looped it over her engorged clitoris. Only then did Dominika find the strength to lift her head. She did so in a flash of terror, but the work was already done.
The Wire had tied the line in an impossible knot around the base Dominika’s swollen clitoris. Trapped in thing fishing wire, the plump little bud swelled even more until stood from the crest of her gapping, creaseless pussy like a mushroom on a platter. With a grin, he curled his finger and gave the nub of a solid thwack.
“Now we’re starting to have some fun,” one of the men said. “Give it another whack!”
Dominika’s face was wet with tears and her breaths grew labored. She wheezed and gagged while her head lulled on her shoulders. The Wire reached for the tray and found another bristle brush. He took one in each hand and held them up for display. Unable to look, Dominika turned her head away, crying please don’t do this, her eyes blurred with pain.
The stupid bitch hadn’t learned yet that begging was a waste of time. She had one choice and it was simple – she had no choice at all. The Wire knew it, too, and he took his two bristled brushes and began tracing the edge of Dominika’s swollen clit as if sculpting a mound of clay.
“I don’t think so, darling,” Gonzalez said, stepping to the table. He held a camera and lifted it for several photos. The flashes popped in the dimness of the room. “We’re going to play all night. You’ll be lucky to see the light of day.”
Dominika lifted her head and stared down her chest. I tried to imagine her terror, seeing her precious little pussy stretched open within that ring of clamps. Her eyes flashed open and closed before fixing on the standing nub of her clit. Trapped in the fishing line, it had darkened to a shade of purple. It also throbbed, almost pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart.
The bristles danced around the bud, stroking the sides round and round in a terrible, painful massage. The Wire changed the angle and rasped the bristles across the top, pausing only to thwack the standing bud with a curled finger.
IEEEEEeeeeeee… GAWD MAKE IT STOP!
Dominika’s eyes rolled back and welled with tears that streamed freely down her face. Mascara stained her cheeks and her face flushed hot and red. Her head slammed back to the frame as she cried hysterically, yelping like a dog trapped in a snare.
The Wire set aside the bristles and produced a rubber tube.
“You want it to stop?” he said, lifting the tube, curling it before Dominika’s open eyes. “You want it to stop?” he asked again, stroking her clit with his free hand.
She was a ruin of misery, hardly aware of the device The Wire had presented. The hose connected an inflatable rubber balloon at one end and a pump at the other. Dominika was still swimming in misery when The Wire began his demonstration.
“You see, it grows wider,” he said, squeezing the pump in his giant hand to inflate the bladder. The hiss of air brought a grin to my face. It also prompted Dominika to lift her head with alarm. The Wire squeezed again and the balloon puffed again with air. “It grows and grows, like a cantaloupe on a vine.”
“Nooo…NO…What is…Don’t… PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU! NOT THAT!
The girl’s pleas rang unending when The Wire reached for the tray and grabbed the speculum in his hand. Without a word, he slid the cold steel prongs into the woman’s cunt. The intrusion took her breath away so sharply, it was as if she’d been punched in the gut. When she found it, she erupted with a shrill cry that hurt my ears.
By then, The Wire had already given the screw several turns, spreading Dominika’s tight little cunt two full inches. Grinning, he dropped the small rubber balloon into the gaping hole. Ignoring the screams, he inserted the balloon seven deep inches until it rested firmly against the base of the thrashing girl’s uterus.
His grin was inhuman when he closed the speculum and set it on the table. The hose dangled from Dominika’s winking cunt, the rubber pump bobbing on the air, dancing to the tempo of her desperate cries.
Oh God oh God oh God…PLEASE…PLEASE DON’T DO THIS…UNGHHHHHHH!!!
My cock grew hard listening to the bitch cry so loudly she nearly lost her mind. Her arms flexed and her legs trembled until her entire body was caught in a convulsion. The look on her face was priceless – her curling tongue and tear-stained cheeks. With pleading eyes, she looked at the guests sitting in the room, the six of us grinning and staring at her stretched and tortured pussy.
PLEASE SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP…OH GODDDD…WHA…NOOOOOO!
The Wire gave the pump a squeeze. Dominika’s eyes flashed wide with a terror I’d never seen. She felt the bladder expand ever-so-slightly and the realization stole her breath. The Wire squeezed again and again, grinning, knowing the bladder was beginning to expand.
Dominika thrashed madly against the frame, tearing at the bonds that held her open. For the first time, I noticed that her fingernails were painted precious pink, but only because they’d curled into desperate claws of pain. Her feet thrashed against the posts and finally, her other shoe fell to the floor.
“Feel it growing,” The Wire said, grinning, squeezing the pump again and again. He thwacked the woman’s engorged clit with his free finger several times. He flicked the nub so hard it looked as if was trying to knock a fly off a glass of wine. The poor girl screeched loudly and released a long, desperate wail, her belly bulging as the bladder grew.
Nargghhhhhhh…OH NOOO…Shriek…YOU’RE KILLING ME…IT…EASSE SOP!
The Wire didn’t stop. He squeezed the bladder over and over. The tension of the steel ring held the girl’s stretched lips wide while the hole to her cunt began to part. He squeezed and squeezed and the woman shrieked louder and louder while flailing against the straps. Her head lifted and fell and her feet kicked against the air.
“Holy shit,” one of the men said, leaning forward in his chair. “She’s about to give birth.”
I looked closer, watching in disbelief as the bladder opened her tight little tunnel. The rubber filled her cunt and stretched her open, two inches, three inches. Her belly bulged sickly as the balloon grew rounder and longer. She was beyond hysterics, choking and gargling on her own screams.
The Wire didn’t pause. He squeezed the pump with one hand and produced the bristled brush with the other. Silently, he raked the follicles across Dominika’s pulsing clit. Her face darkened beat red and sweat pooled in the hollows of chest. The back of her thighs had gone white and her wrists were raw and bleeding. She began to hyperventilate.
With one last squeeze, The Wire released the pump, though he continued to torture Dominika’s clit with the bristles. Her belly looked stiff and swollen, as if she were in the middle stages of pregnancy. She howled wildly, completely exhausted and nearly out of tears. But each stroke of the brush brought her back to life, her lugs filling and pushing out screams.
“My friends,” Gonzalez said, stepping before us. “This is best part. But I need volunteer.”
Three men raised their hand and Gonzalez pointed to an older gentleman dressed in a suit coat. He’d paid the most to see Dominika tortured, just as I’d paid to see the big-titted tease in the bikini thrashed by The Wire’s expert hands. I could hardly wait for her to make her unwilling appearance, but that would have to wait a few more hours.
The older gentleman stepped to the pinned and weeping girl mounted on the frame. She pleaded with him to let her go, as if the decision was his to make. He grinned wickedly and ran his hands down her chest, feeling the hard points of her long nipples rasp against the palms of his hands.
“Take this,” The Wire said, handing the man the rubber hose. “You can pull as you please. The bladder will not deflate. She will give birth to a balloon!”
A chuckle rose from the collection of guests as we laughed at the thought, though Dominika wasn’t laughing. The threat grabbed her full attention. Her head whipped side to side, scattering new pleas and desperate screams across the room.
Undaunted, the gentleman clutched the hose and began to tug. Dominika’s wild shrieks gave him pause, but he collected himself and continued to pull.
With the bladder firmly seated and fully inflated, it hardly budged, even as the man pulled. But the subtle tugs sent waves of pain through Dominika’s stuffed cunt. The waves rippled throughout her body when the man pulled again, forcing the tip of the bladder to peek from the gaping pink hole. His grip was firm, his tug steady, and I finally understood what was taking place.
The widest portion of the bladder was buried the deepest. What a terribly cruel and arousing concept. The removal would only become more difficult and painful the longer it went on. The bitch’s stretched and tortured lips were now the least of her concerns.
Nargghhhhhhhh…OHHH GODDDD NOOOOOOOOOOooooooo!
The man pulled and the first two inches of the bladder slipped from Dominika’s cunt. The skin was stretched taught around the gaping pink hole. The man loosened his grip and the bladder slipped back in. It was an accidental discovery, and now he was pulling it out several inches and releasing it, knowing the woman couldn’t expel the object on her own.
Gonzalez grabbed the man’s hand and asked him to pause. The gentleman grinned when he saw The Wire produce another hose and bladder. I leaned forward in disbelief when The Wire covered the bladder with lubrication and forced into through the tight brown bud of Dominka’s puckered ass. She sucked in a deep and desperate breath and expelled a ruinous scream that rang off the walls, but it did little good. Just as he’d done before, The Wire sunk the bladder deeply and began to inflate it with rapid squeezes of the pump.
Narghhhhhhh….Gulp…Gasp…I can’t…SOP… OH GOD SOP…PLEASSSSSSS….
The bladders expanded her belly even more. The thin little bitch who’d been dancing and teasing at the club was now double-stuffed beyond belief, her openings stretched to the limit. She babbled and blubbered incoherently, her face a mask of pain.
The gentleman pulled until the bladder spread Dominika open nearly five inches. He then released his grip and smiled as the rubbery object slipped back in. The Wire did the same, tugging the hose that dangled from the screeching woman’s ass. They worked in tandem, reacting to the woman’s desperate screams by releasing and pulling together, matching their rhythm for the greatest effect.
Unghhhhhhhh… EEASSSS… SOPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!
The gentleman pulled again, sharply, but the bladder remained firmly lodged. The Wire pulled as well and the two emerging intrusions nearly split the woman open before they released their grip, only to begin again. Dominika screamed so loudly she choked and gasped, but her thrashing subsided and her head lulled.
She had passed out.
“My friends,” Gonzalez said. “The show must go on.”
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