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Old 05-16-2013, 06:21 AM   #21
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Part 7 – The Ordeal of Samantha Roberts (the first point of pain)

The elder left his fuck toy, bound, spread and crying into her gag. He entered the hall, which was surprisingly silent. Either the other girls had passed out, were already killed or their gags were truly effective or perhaps. He liked to think it was the latter. That both the Taiwanese teen and the American teen were both suffering copiously and unable to draw help and attention no matter how hard they screamed. He wondered about the first teenager, face raped in the room by his brother. What diabolical things were being done to her now? He marveled at the magic of this House of Ordeals. The way it seem so hidden, so unknown to the outside world, to the authorities. Five girls, bound, gagged, raped, tortured and no one knew how to find them. No one knew they were even here.
The stench of burning aphrodisiacs was in the air and there was an unusual heat. He followed the warmth to the torture room. Immediately, his cock hardened again. Something cruel was happening inside, he knew it. Disturbing and erotic ideas ran through his head, burning girls at the stake, branding, hot coal. Any of it was possible considering this heat. He could no longer delay his curiosity. He still heard no screaming and wondered how she was gagged. Carefully he touched the handle, and slowly turned it. He opened the door. The hum of the heater hit him. The heat was much higher now, he could feel the humidity stick to his skin. The steaming box was in operation and he knew the American teen with the big breasts was bound and trapped inside.
“Brother…”The albino monster greeted, “how nice of you to join us.”
“She’s inside obviously.”
The albino’s face turned into rage again but not at his brother. “Yes…. She tried kicking me…in the groin…”
That wasn’t good. Not good at all. She was already warned of his disdain and the object of his torture. And she kicked him right there. NO. Not good at all.
“I’m letting her sweat it out. Uncomfortably. Severely.”
The elder approached the black box that stood on steel legs, a meter by a meter by a meter. She must be very cramped in there. He playfully knocked on the side of the door and listened in. Nothing. She must be well gagged. Maybe even wrapped up to contain the heat. There was only one opening, at the top and elder could see it has been padlocked shut, at three points. There wasn’t any sound of kicking or struggling. The heater was positioned beneath the box and blowing hot air through holes bored underneath. He knew the design of it, he helped his brother build it. He sat in a chair opposite the albino, who was smoking his aphrodisiac herbs.
“How long has she been in there?”
“Nearly an hour.”
‘I can smell her.”
He grinned with menace.
”Tell me, how did you set her up?” The brother handed him the smoking pipe.
“As per standard protocol, my yellowed, unwashed underwear, soggy from my sweat, is in her mouth, stuffed with the small raw red chilies. The chili padi. Nasty, stinging little devils. I think her tongue and lips should be swollen by now. Everything is sealed in with a thick black leather padding gag attached to a head harness. I’ve pulled that tight around her face and head, forcing her mouth down around the underwear with the straps cramping her head from the front and back. She can’t expel anything, can’t move her jaws, side ways or otherwise. It’s tight, very tight. I’ve rubbed the chilies into her eyes, seed and all and taped each eyelid down. She really hated that, it hurt her bad. She was obviously screaming and crying a lot. I told her this was just the beginning of her pain. She still has her t-shirt and shorts on. They come off later, when I need to abuse her flesh. I pulled a double winter sweater on her, tied it down with thin rope. Her arms are still bound behind her so I just used the arms of the sweater and tied it around her body. After I’ve oiled her down with heat rub of course and more chili. I’ve wrapped her legs in a thick, itchy blanket. Tied that down with ropes. Then I forced her body to bend forward and secured her upper body to below her bound legs with belts, pulling hard and tight so her stomach and chest is crushed in and against her legs, it’s difficult for her to breathe I reckon. I bound her ankles with a length of thick rope, dead knotting it twice and pulled her feet towards her buttocks. I wrapped the rope between her body and legs twice then over her back to keep her bound and curled in a ball. I secured a belt round the back of her neck, pulled her head down and forced it into her lap then belted her down, under her legs so she could not lift her head. A bundle of joy I must say.”

The elder, by now, was hard as a rock and taking in many deep puffs, exciting him more. He turned to look at the box again, no wonder there was no struggling. “Was it hard to stuff her in?” The albino shook her head. I was angry and all that energy did the work. Oh, and you see that black wire sticking out the top? Its headphones, wrap taped around her head. It’s connected to the audio player running at full volume on repeat mode.”
The elder loved that auditory torture.
“Death metal? Noise?”
“Oh no, much worse. All the voice messages she’s been getting on her phone. From mom and dad, friends, teachers, police. All looking for her, sending her plenty of messages. So many heartwarming ones, so many worried ones, so many telling her to come home, that’s she’ll be ok. That the police are looking for her…”
Elder laughed. “So cruel you are….she must be so heartbroken, listening to her loved ones that way and not able to respond. So close, so close.”
“That’s the way. I make things worse too.”
“How?”
“Our satellite phone. The untraceable one. Hooked up to the audio machine. She can hear the calls.”
“Don’t tell me you call her parents.”
He grinned.
“You know the crone hates that trick. Too risky.”
“And no one trusts my technologies. It’s completely untraceable. Scrambled, bounces off twenty countries, through the internet. Masked, hidden, invisible.”
“And you let her hear them answering the phone…”
“Of course. Without the voice mic plugged in. She can scream all the wants, no one hears her at the other end.”
“Boyfriend?”
“I don’t think she has one, but I called all her friends too, just to let her hear them for the last time. I let her parents talk a while, they keep saying hello? Hello? Samantha is that you baby? Please talk to us, please tell us where you are, please come home, and all that shit. It drives her mad. When I finally end the call, you should hear the way she cries after that. So deep and painful and full of despair. It’s delicious.”
“So brilliant and cruel my brother, it’s so mean.”
“Oh I’m just getting started…you’re just in time for part two…”
They both got up. The albino put on his grotesque torture mask, a clown mask of all things. He handed an executioners mask for elder to wear. All this is to scare the poor girl. The torturer grabbed the keys, went over the box and unlocked them one by one. When the heavy duty locks were removed, the lid popped open. The heat that escaped was immense. Elder wondered how the girl endured such a thing. She must be dehydrated, thirsty, and delirious perhaps. “Turn off the machine.” Elder shut down the heater while the albino gripped the ropes around her body and dragged her out of the hell hole. Elder helped by supporting her lower body, they both hoisted her out then the albino dropped her to the floor without care. A barely audible scream escaped her. She rolled to the side, truly, a mummified ball in an ugly brown blanket, wholly wrapped save her head and feet, which stuck out. The headphones taped to her head looked ridiculous. The black leather mouthpiece looked like it was glued across her mouth, eating into her skin, pushing out her cheeks. The straps dug into her face as well, definitely leaving a deep line on her skin, if ever the harness was removed. I admired the harness, straps went under her chin, up to the sides where it was attached to another strap that connected the mouth piece on one end and circled to the back of her head where it was strapped through a belt like buckle. Straps from the top of the mouth piece ran angled to the bridge of her nose where it joined a single strap that went over the center of the head and back again, to be buckled at the same spot. Her hair was wet with sweat, sticking to her face but surprisingly; her braids were still neatly in place. Her face was extremely red. The brother proceeded to unleash her, untie her from her bondage position. She was moaning, perhaps somewhat relieved she wasn’t being slowly cooked anymore. Elder watched on, wondering what the next step was. He was aware of the bondage torture table just behind the box. He also noticed the steel pole attached with straps and prepared ropes. She was straightened out on the floor and rolled out of the blanket that held her legs together. Her shorts were soggy, sweat running down her tanned legs. . The smell of her sweating body and teenage fluids excited both of them although in different ways. The elder wanted to rape her, the albino just wanted to inflict greater pain. He removed her headphones.
“and how was that you little bitch? Got your blood nice and hot now for some serious pain yes?” She struggled weakly, moaning and weeping. He dropped down on her, left knee grounding into her stomach, she jerked up wards, he grabbed her face and banged it into the floor. The thud was loud and disorienting, he held on to her gagged face., pressed his leg harder into her stomach. He spat into her face then backhanded her , the second slap coming hard and fast. He pinched her nose shut, leaned his weight in. “You ready to bleed, cunt?” With his other hand he pinched her right breast hard and twisted. “So much flesh to tear into, to BURN.” He grabbed a handful of hair and dragged her up, a distorted shriek electrifying the scene. He pulled her to the pole, kicked her bound legs and he fell hard on her knees. “Hold her there,” he instructed the elder who took over. The brother went to take his cutter and returned, kneeing on the floor behind her. He grabbed one leg, then snapped open the cable ties that bound her ankles. With both hands, he repositioned her feet so that it was on each side of the pole then pulled her legs towards him. The elder pushed her backwards until her bound arms wrapped in the sweater were pressed against the pole. The albino crossed the girls ankles then unhooked the ropes that hung from the pole. He began to stringently tie her feet together, looping the rope through eye holes drilled into the concrete, specially measured and designed so the victims legs would be secured to the floor and she would not get away. The elder didn’t want to help secure the straps from the pole to her upper body as he reckoned, the sweater and her t-shirt had to be removed first. This was no mere, kneeling torture. Other parts of her body would be abused. The kneeling just made it worse. The albino, forced her legs further together and tied them down at the knees and her hips. He circled the ropes around the pole and stringently tugged it tight so her lower body was held against the pole. He got up to take another device especially for this position. The elder backed away. The albino had explaining to do. The girl was scared, shivering, sweating , weeping softly, very afraid. She became visibly frantic when she was shown the board. It was large enough for her to kneel on. The nightmare was the rusty nail tips that were sticking out of the board. They were hammered in from the other side, with just their tips sticking out. Sharp, bent, used. She could see wood, blood stained, not with droplets but in pools soaked in, from previous tortures. She started shaking her head violently, crying loudly, pleading uselessly, making unintelligible noises. “I hope you’ve taken your tetanus jab Samantha baby…and oh! Speaking of jabs.” He put the board down. Elder was first confused, then he realized. Jabs. She hadn’t been chemically prepared yet. Oh yes. This would be exciting.
“I hope you’re not scared of needles..” The albino shouted from somewhere in the room, opening fridges, extracting used needles from dustbins. Samantha continued shaking and crying from fear. He returned, keeping his eye on the vial he had stuck a syringe into, pulling out the right dose. He paused in front of the frantic girl, ripped off the tape form her eyes and showed her exactly what it was he intended to do. “This my dear, “ he said, pulling out the needle and squirting a little of the drug into the air in front of her face. “Is a highly concentrated psycho stimulant. It speeds up the connection between body and brain, so you can feel the pain up front and amplified. It induces anxiety, panic attacks, paranoia, thought disorder, muscle cramping and dehydration. It will keep you wide awake for a very long time and keep you very alert, so you can know every single thing I’ll be doing to you. You understand sweetie?” He stepped in closer, her eyes were swollen from the chili, from the crying, they were bloodshot, wild. “if you’re feeling terrified and you’re hurting, this will make you feel it five times worse.” She panicked as he grabbed her face and pushed her head against the pole. He turned her face so her neck faced him and he tapped her neck to find a vein. When he did find it, he slowly pierced her skin, digging into the vein and administered the drug. It should hit her fast, considering the rush into blood, straight into her heart and brain. Usually, the drug is euphoria inducing, in the right environment, with the right people and mood. But this state of fear, it will only be giving her panic and terrors. Just what the albino wanted.
“There,” he said, pulling out the needle. “We are good to go.” He slapped her hard again. His blood pumping. He picked up the board from the floor. Scooped his right arm under her ass and lifted her struggling screaming form just enough to slip the nail ridden board beneath her knees. Then he purposefully dropped her down it. She lurched backwards, then to her side, trying hard to pull herself off the thing but it was no use. Her legs were bound to the pole and she could not dislodge herself from the board. But leaning to the side helped, because her upper body was not tied down to the pole yet. The albino knew this, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to center again and pushed her body down into the board of nails. The pain shot through her body, blood was slowly pooling around her knees. Her body was tensed, her head jerked back and forth, short bursts of gagged screaming, her body shuddered with the pain. The albino stepped on the back of legs and pushed her down harder into the board. “Do you like it bitch?!” He stomped down hard and leaned all his weight upon her joints, he held onto the pole and bobbed up and down with pleasure, listening to her scream and cry. He pushed his heel in, twisting his feet to hurt her in whatever way he could. He finally got off, panting, spitting in her face. He grabbed the straps that hung from the pole just behind her head and strapped her in at the neck.
Pain has now been established at her knees, the very first incursion into young flesh, now broken and bleeding. She looked like she was about to throw up. The drug surging through her, elevating her stress, her terror, her pain. It was time to move onto other parts of her body.
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Old 05-16-2013, 11:12 AM   #22
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sogood keep it coming
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Old 05-17-2013, 02:01 AM   #23
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very nicely done. good job setting her up like this. quite looking forward to more.
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Old 05-18-2013, 09:39 AM   #24
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Thanks so much guys! Working on the next scene soon....be patient!
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Old 05-30-2013, 02:23 AM   #25
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some art to go with the story. enjoy folks!
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Old 05-30-2013, 03:00 AM   #26
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Beautiful beautiful work Darkstalker, thanks so much for your interpretations!

Next chapter coming real soon, watch for it!
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Old 05-31-2013, 12:09 PM   #27
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Part 8 – The ordeal of Samantha continues.

Samantha was quivering, kneeling on the board of nails, weeping in a kneeling position. The albino was rummaging around, looking for his tools. Elder could see she was trying to control her pain, her body looked tensed, her eyes shut, sweat pouring down her face. She was biting down hard on the underwear stuffed in her mouth. “So here we are!” The albino yelled, returning with rusty garden shears. “Open your eyes baby see what I’ve got!” she barely opened them, fearful, panicking. “We got to get rid of your clothes right? One at a time…” she mewed into her gag as he stepped closer. “We need access to your lovely young flesh yes?” She started pleading through her gag, shaking her head. This excited him more. “But of course, we should really tie your arms down to the pole…” He moved to the back of her, she turned her head to follow him. She felt him fidgeting with the leather straps along the solid pole she leaned against. She felt him thread the straps beneath and around her bound arms then pulled it tight like a belt, hooking metal teeth into the holes. He did this thrice, once around her upper arms, another at her elbows and a third strap securing her wrists to the pole. Elder admired the device, it was well designed, the straps ran through the pole and hung out from each side. Made from thick leather, it was hard to break. There were many holes in the straps with heavy buckles so he could pull it as tight as possible, designed to fit different arm girths, crushing arms together to the pole. The pole was steady, driven and anchored deep in concrete so it was stable. No amount of struggling would budge it. The albino tightened her neck strap, forcing the back of her head to press against the top end of the pole. When he was done trying her down this way, he dragged a stool in front of her, adjusted the height and sat down, facing her.
“you all ready to go topless baby?” He laughed, handling the shears. “Say goodbye to your last piece of protection!”


He slipped the blades beneath the sweater and started to cut, slowly, upwards, from the side. He cut through ropes that bound the sweater to her body, ropes that didn’t need to hold her down anymore. She wept as he did this, she could feel the tension of her arms bound behind her to the pole and the loss of other ropes didn’t free her one bit. He cut carefully, so he wouldn’t damage her tank top. He wanted to strip her one garment at a time, to heighten her fear. “Bit by bit by bit.” He cooed as he snipped off the ruined sweater up along side her chest, past her neck a through the shoulder area. The sweater split open at the side to expose her tight tank top and the profile of her large breasts. The thin pink fabric was stuck to her skin, wet from all the sweat. Elder could smell her from where he stood watching. It made him hard. The albino also appeared more excited, not with fuck lust but with pain lust as he exposed more of her sensitive flesh. He stepped over to the other side and started snipping off the rest of the sweater, slowly cutting upwards, ropes falling away.
He was silent, suddenly, breathing heavy. He seemed calm, collected, focused. This scared her. She didn’t know exactly what was going to happen next. She dared not even make a sound as the shears finished off her sweater and it fell to the ground in ruins. She started heaving heavily, chest rising and falling, her lovely breasts stretching against the wet cloth hugging her body. Her arms were bound behind her tightly with black cable ties. Both mad men could clearly see the shape and color of her white bra through her top which was soggy. Without warning, the albino dropped the shears nosily then with his right hand, he pinched her right breast through her clothes, exactly at her nipples and twisted hard. She bucked against the pole and the sudden struggle shot renewed bursts of pain through her nailed knees. She screamed, long and hard before he let go of the twist. “You were getting too quiet my sweet!” The albino laughed and moved away to get his steel trolley. He ceremoniously brought it to the front of her, pushing slowly and excitedly, the contents of the metallic tray was covered by a black cloth. Her eyes widened, mind not daring to wonder what was beneath the cover.

“So,” he began, “let me introduce to you my toys…” He played with the ends of the black cloth, teasing but never really revealing the terrible array of pain instruments. She screwed her eyes, terrified. “Open your eyes bitch!” He yelled impatient, “unless you want me to glue them open!” she slowly opened her eyes and dread filled her like water in a tank. “I need you to use your imagination Samantha…imagine how I would use these tools on you…I’ve got your entire body to explore with these things…ha ha haaar…” His laugh was deep and menacing. “Lets start from your left,” he said slowly for effect, “and we move down the buffet of your inevitable torture…”


Very slowly, he flipped open the cloth revealing the first portion of the tray. “Section one….” He began, Samantha was already starting to weep noisily into her gag, “These are scalpels of various sizes. All stainless steel, they all get hot really fast under fire….all very sharp obviously, some serrated, some thin and clean. Some curved, some clawed and forked. Here you see some with needle like points, all different sizes, for piercing of course. Here is a rounded blade, the rolling kind. And here, “ he picked up one thicker than the rest. He pressed a small button at the bottom and the small rectangular blade started jerking up and down in a sawing motion, like a fucking machine, “Is one of my favorites…” Her mind reeled into the horrors of what would be done to her. Senseless noise escaped her.

“Second section.” He exposed a smaller compartment and picked up a silver nail clipper. “This one, I like too. Nice and slow, with small small cuts…” He grinned.
She could see that beneath each section, its corresponding number was printed in white bold fonts.

He unfurled the third section with relish, showing a collection of needles and thin black thread. She wept louder, “some parts of you need to be sewn up, some parts sewn open, can you guess which?” She was starting to feel nauseated with dread.

The fourth section scared her even more. Fishing hooks of various sizes gleamed against the black wood of the compartment, most of them were already stained with blood, some were stand alone hooks, others were small and attached to coiled lengths of fishing strings, at least 5 to 10 hooks on one string. There were small steel chains and balls of iron with different weights in an adjoining compartment. Small little silver clips with sharp teeth hung from the chains. There was also a roll of fishing string. “Imagine Samantha…” he reminded her with menace, “imagine what I can do with these little babies….” She let out a long despairing noise.

In the fifth section, he slowly revealed to her a staple gun and a stationary stapler. ‘Useful to attach things to your body I reckon…” There were boxes of different staple sizes.

There were matches and lighters in section six. “Fire fire burning bright! Cooking flesh is my delight! Scorching skin will be your plight!” he rhymed like a maniac against the sound of her garbled weeping. A small Bunsen burner attached via tube to a gas canister sitting on the second level of the trolley.

Section seven showed hot glue guns and glue tubes.

Section eight had an unplugged soldering iron…

Section nine had nails of various lengths and thickness, all rusty, and a small hammer. Scattered and mixed with the nails were thumbtacks and various safety pins. Elder wondered why he hadn’t group them with the needles.

Pliers and cutters sat in section ten, alongside tweezers and small tongs.

She nearly passed out just looking at the objects on display.

Samantha was making deep throated noises with every breath now, terrified. She started to pull and tug at her bonds, mildly at first, then quickly, almost ignoring her pain at her knees, desperate to break free from this madness before her. The albino stared at her into her eyes filling her with fear. He was holding up the nail clipper now….
He spoke with a deep slow whisper…”we need to remove your top….how can we torture you with your top on? How can we start our romance if you still have your bra protecting you? Hmm?” He chuckled, she started crying loudly as he pushed the trolley aside, pulled himself on the stool forward so he was very near her body. He touched her bare stomach under her top, she squealed, thinking he was starting to hurt her but no, he merely held the lower part of her top, feeling the thin fabric between his fingers and started clipping at it slowly, from the center near her belly button. Clip, clip clip, he purposefully and meticulously snipped. Her stomach was heaving in and out, faster with every second, heart pounding with horror. He grinned as he went on, clip, clip, clip, exposing her flat stomach, her solar plexus, ever so slowly cutting upwards, the bottom of her bra cups came to view, a white cotton bra. Elder could see her chest now, robust teenage flesh bundled tightly in her white bra as the pink top began opening up more and more like a curtain with every clip. The Albino resisted ripping apart the top, choosing to be patient, cutting through her chest and finally her neckline. The tightness of the top caused the two sides of the now maimed garment to spring open, exposing her well formed double D breasts in the tight bra. Slowly, the clip found its way to the left strap of the tank top. Clip. It fell away. Then the right. Clip. She moaned as her pink top fell and pooled around the back of her legs. Such a glorious sight. This young American teen in her white bra now, and black shorts, kneeling on a bloody board, body strapped to a pole.

Her tears streamed down over the leather pad over her mouth as she watched him pull the trolley near to him. He was watching her breast under all that cotton, wondering how he should start. She watched him through her tears, trembling, daring not to breathe. “Only your little bra left, between me and these…terrible tools…” he said, looking at the tools. “Oh what should we do to you first?” he studying his array, then pinched out a silver clip with jagged teeth, the one with a short chain attached to it.
“let’s test out your threshold hmmm? Shall we?” She shook her head in fear not defiance, the noise in her throat rising as he pressed open the clip and brought it close to her face, to show her exactly what it was, then he pretended it was a little creature, opening and closing the clips mouth playfully while lowering it to her right breast. He positioned the clip just over her nipples hiding underneath her bra. “here it comes…” She started screaming even before he clipped it on. When he did, her body jerked slightly at the sudden burst of pain. She tensed her body and fought against the burst, releasing a long gagged drawl. The clip pinched hard on her nipple but no blood came out. She had too much protection from the bra. She hummed a monotone to block out the pain. He gripped the clip and twisted it. She screamed some more, crying after the scream. Sobbing. Shaking her head. He released the clip, spat into her face. He picked out a lighter quickly, the type with a metal head. He lit it in front of her face and she flinched, taking deep breaths, afraid of what would come next. Her eyebrows arched up with fear. He let the fire burn bright, grinning in her face. “Hot, hot, hot…” he said. He let the fire heat up the metal. Then without warning, he released the gas killing the flame then tucked the lighter, burning hot head first into her left bra cup. Upon contact with fresh skin, she screamed and struggled and bucked, he pressed the hot metal against her left nipple, relishing her screaming and struggling. She was trashing her head left to right. He let it burn her, tilting his head, watching her face cramp up with pain. He pulled the lighter out, slowly dragging it against her young skin, staring at her. He yelled into her face. “This is nothing! Bitch! Nothing! Foreplay!” He appeared to be getting angrier, as if these mild tortures were irritating him. He was craving for blood now. His hand was trembling, her screaming subsided, catching her breath. She was sweating now, the drugs amplifying everything she was experiencing. He picked out a six sided dice and held it up to her face, adjusting his seat.

“You ready for a game Samantha baby?” He positioned his tray closer, tols gleaming in the bright white light in the torture room. He was getting started. He rolled the dice in his hands, cupped over it, then tossed it onto a small empty box on the tray, the dice bounced and stopped at four.
“Wow!” He exclaimed. “So early in the game, and you’re already at fishing hooks!”

He gently put both his hands on her rib cage, left and right. “You know what this means…” She started sobbing noisily. She started pleading again knowing it was no use, She tried to pull her body away, also knowing it was no use. “Time to unhook your bra…” He laughed at the joke, slipped his hands behind her back against her louder sobbing and half fear screams, “so that we can start hooking up your tender breasts…” He found the small clasp, gently undid it then ever so slowly, he held each open end and pulled it in opposite directions. Elder watched closely, the release of her white cotton bra and nearly ejaculated when he saw her large tits bounce free as the albino uncapped the bra from her body and pulled it over her head. Picking up the shearers that he dropped, he proceeded to cut the straps, letting her bra, mangled and forever lost, drop to the floor.
Elder stared at her round, soft breasts, her pink nipples and saw the red marks on the left breast where she had been burnt. The albino toyed with her nipples between his fingers, turning them slowly this way and that, delaying the inevitable pain that was to come. He held up his left hand, palms open before her like he was showing her a magic trick,” with this hand,” he said, “I’m going to pick out your first experience of sharp, acidic pain…”


She started heaving loudly, guttural, primal noises of NO. He started to giggle like a little child as he fished out the coiled fishing string, with the hooks tied upon it. He waved it in front of her terrified face. It pumped his blood watching her face turn into fear, knowing that she was all bound and topless now and he could start inflicting all sorts of pain upon her. With his right hand, he let the string of hooks dangle between her breasts. She jerked against her bonds, one last desperate attempt to somehow break free from this oncoming terror as he playfully allowed the small sharp hooks to slide and scratch against in the insides of her right breast. He pinched the lowest hook, the one at the end of the string, licked his dried lips from all that heavy breathing and carefully positioned the hook at the bottom, central part of her right tit, right at her ribs where the skin of her breasts joined the skin of her chest. He bent his head down a little to get a clearer view. “Here it comeees!!!” He gingerly pierced her tender flesh , the first sight of blood driving him crazy, the first sharp burst of pain sent shocks into her, it was like a sting that didn’t go away. He tugged the line upwards, hooking her deeper while he slowly hooked in the second hook into the side of her breast, pushing it into and under her skin. He tugged again and started circling her breast, slowly, deliberately pushing in the sharp little hooks as he went along the girth of her breast in a clockwise direction. Carefully, he released more string, mindful that at the end of the coil was another set of six nasty little hooks, to go around her left breast… Blood started dripping onto her torso and ribs, she was struggling and screaming and her crying was free and filled with pain. He pulled and tugged, some pierced parts started to tear a little, flesh ripping slightly. By the time he reached one full turn, the sixth hook had been cut and buried into her meat. Blood rolled down around her breast now from the little fresh holes. The albino was relishing this, the elder watched on fascinated, listening intently to the pitch of her crying, rubbing his erect cock. Samantha was shaking from the pain, which has only begun. The albino neatly circled the thin fishing string around her breast. After the third round, and without any remorse, he pulled the fishing line fast and tight, standing up to do this, he leveraged himself and tugged as hard and as viciously as he could. The hooks dug in deeper but did not break out. The string tightened considerably, biting into her skin, bulging out her breast. It was turning red from blood pressure and from the streaming crimson that streaked down her body like little red veins. He went round her breast two more times and paused when he had reached the point where the first hook was pierced. He carefully calculated the amount of string left. He needed to begin circling her left breast now.

He let the rest of the fishing line fall, studying the six hooks at the other end. He ran the line up through the valley of her breasts then circled it, anti-clockwise
Around her left breast.

After the third round, his fingers had reached the line of hooks at the other end. They were ready to be inserted one by one. He tugged mercilessly and hard on the fishing line, giving him a bit more slack. He pulled hard, never releasing the tension, the cinch pushing out her breast, cutting into her skin, the tension pulling against the hooks in her right breast, tightening, always tightening.

It was terrible, the tightness, the sharp sting, the prolonged pain of torn and hooked flesh. She was hysterical somewhat, swaying her body left to right, eyes screwed shut, sweating profusely. The albino reminded himself that the drug in her system was amplifying the pain. “Does it hurt Samantha? Hmm? Are you in PAIN?” He giggled loudly as his deft fingers began hooking her left breast. Like a meticulous model maker, he turned the hooks this way and that, slowly piercing her along the insides of her left tit, pulling the line after every hook had pierced. She was steadily screaming now, pauding only to catch her breath. The muffled quality of those screams, mixed with the crying noises, was such a turn on for the elder. He leaned into the albino’s ear and said, “I want to rape her…” The albino ignored him, he was focused on keeping the fishing line taut as he circled her left tit, piercing in the fourth and fifth hooks. He kept pulling, dragging and digging the hooks in, tearing slightly her skin listening to her screaming. The final hook reached just at the top of her left breast. He gave the line tension one last drag then carefully hooked it in. Both her breasts were bleeding now although not exactly profusely. Both her breasts bulged out, started to change color as blood flow was starting to show. Both her breasts appeared to be bunched closer to each other now, two melons touching each other, turning purple, thin hairline veins starting to show. The lower part of her heaving body, stomach contracting and tense, dealing with pain, looked like a work of art. Streaks and crooked lines of blood rolling down to pool and soak into the waistline of her soggy black shorts. Sweat streamed down her legs, her face was wet with tears and sweat. Small, signals of pain sounded from deep inside her gagged face and tense throat. She was extremely thirsty, throat sore from screaming. Pain still shooting from her knees and now sharp stings throbbed and pulsed around the insides of both her breasts. The taut fishing strings hurt her breasts from the inside, the pain concentrated and condensed in the core of her breasts. The albino sat back in his chair studying his handiwork. “Well done!” he grinned in her face. “Oh I’m not done yet sweetheart, don’t look so relieved. So much more flesh left to cover and see? He turned to the tray, “we still have so many hooks left! Bigger ones! And the weights! So much more we can do!” He laughed. She wept, disbelieving in the terror, disbelieving that more was coming. He suddenly grabbed both her breasts with his unruly paws and squeezed. New forms of pain shot through her chest like lightning, bursting into her head, she threw her head back, banging against the pole and screamed skywards, neck muscles bulging out, body swaying against her bonds. He clenched and turned her breasts, one clockwise the other anti clockwise, causing as much new damage as possible to her hooked points of pure pain. Her core felt like it was going to burst. He released his grip, fumbled for the small bottle of spray from the second level of the trolley and brought it out. “Now this!” he said with glee, “is filled with pure and thick salt water…” Her body shook with heavy sobbing, knowing what he was about to do. He purposefully moved the spray closer to her wounds…”bite down on my dirty underwear Sam, this might sting quite a bit…” He brought the nozzle close to her open wound and fired it off, close range, elevating the excruciating pain. The stinging shock made her jerk wildly as he fired off some more. The cries she made was almost inhuman, she nearly passed out but the drugs in her kept her wide-awake and alert to her pain. He sprayed some more; two, three bursts on each and every wound, taking his time to go around the 12 puncture wounds around her tits. He shot close, so the salt water was forced into her damaged flesh, seeping inside, stinging internally. Her body was dripping now with salt water and sweat and blood. He loved it. Her tits were turning slightly purple from the tightness. He put the spray aside and flicked his fingers hard against random wounds as if he was hammering in the hooks, plain and simple way of adding pain unto pain. He flicked her nipples hard a few times each, laughing as her nipples wobbled. He then dug the tips of his fingers into the thin, taut fishing line at the sides of her breast, and pulled, released, pulled, released. He was clearly enjoying this. She was clearly not. The pain was unbearable.

“Since you rolled a lucky four…” He said looking into the compartment on the tray for the right one, “let’s have four more hooks in your beautiful tits, one for each shall we?” She moaned and wept. “where’s mommy and daddy now hmmm?” He picked out a medium sized hook. It was new. Sharp. He held it before her terrified eyes. “ Do you think the police have any idea where you are?”
He pinched together the flesh around her left nipple first, then abruptly let go, as an idea hit him. “Let’s make this more interesting.” he said. He turned to face the tray and picked out a pair of pliers. He carefully used the tool to hold eye hole side of the hook. The sharp side jutted out from the tip of the pliers. With his free hand, he turned on the gas of the Bunsen burner. “Brother, could you please help me light this up? We’ve got a hook to cook for dear Samantha here…” He turned to the frantic girl, “silver is such a wonderful conductor of heat did you know? Your daddy ever brought you fishing Samantha? Hmm? ANSWER ME!” He slapped her breasts hard. She shook her head, crying. “Awwww what a pity…don’t worry, In a few seconds, I’ll show you exactly how to hook a living, writhing thing… like yourself…. Har har har har!! I AM YOUR DADDY NOW! And you deserve all the love you can get!” The fire burst from the burner and the albino brought the hook into the blue flame. “SO much love to give you pretty Samantha with your pretty braids and your pretty breasts with your pretty blood….” The hook was turning red fast. Samantha was getting more and more frantic. “Nice and hot, nice and BURNING hot!” He pinched her left nipple again to extrude the flesh then brought the freshly fired up hook close, turned the pliers to position the curved point then, against the backdrop of a deep throated scream of immense pain, he slowly punctured her skin along the rim of her light brown areola. She looked like she was having a fit but being bound kept her spasms to a bare minimum. Her struggling must’ve caused greater pain from her already injured knees. The burning silver hook sizzled as blood began to ooze from the wound. He twisted the pliers slightly and with more force, he dug the hook deeper into her breast, he turned the pliers a little again and pulled at it until the sharp tip pierced out from the other side of her areola. “There,” he said releasing the pliers to let the hook hang in her flesh. “And the finishing touches…” He picked out a fishing weight attached to a chain with a clip on its end. He clipped it to the end of the hook then let it drop. The weight pulled against the hook in her and he let it dangle and swing like a pendulum. The noise from her was a mixed mess of short sobbing bursts with intermittent sounds of screaming as she struggled to deal with the new onset of pain in her body and breast. “Just three more to go sweetheart!” He was already preparing the other hook.
It went in systematically just like the first, except through her right areola. The hook was heated up to a hot red and pierced slowly through her flesh, soundtracked by more hysterical screaming, sweating and body buckling. The albino spat in her face several times throughout his procedure. When he was done with the second hook, after chaining it to another fishing weight, he sat back to study his handiwork. Two dark grey weights on shining chains attached to medium sized hooks that pierced deep into her two tits. Blood and sweat dripping, she was getting nauseous again dizzy with pain. He pulled at the weights for fun just to hear her scream in different ways. He would never get bored with the sounds of gagged crying and mewing and despair. He loved it. He was hungry to hurt her some more….
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Old 06-19-2013, 03:41 AM   #28
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Brilliant, brilliant. And yes, I do love the uniform and cuffs thing - and the rapist laughing at and overthrowing and humiliating female authority.
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Old 07-05-2013, 03:31 AM   #29
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Default Part 9: The Escalation of Samantha’s Pain.

The albino’s blood was pumping, his hands were shaking with excitement as he picked out the third medium sized hook and held it between his fingers of the right hand. “Where should the other two go hmm?” Samantha was pleading through he gag to stop. “Maybe we should hook your tits closer together yes?” He didn’t bother burning up the hook, instead he used the sides of hands to push her breasts together, the pressure forcing the other hooks around her tits to dig in deeper. She wailed as he studied how her flesh was bunched up now at the center. He gripped her tits and pushed them harder together so her flesh meshed, blood dripping form wounds. With his deft fingers he pierced through the surface of her left breast then wriggled the hook deeper and dragged it out into her right breast. Just barely the tip of the third hook protruded. She was of course gurgling with pain, sweat running down her tensed face. He left go of her tits and the hook surprisingly held her flesh together but it looked like it might tear through anytime. He picked up the fourth hook, pushed her tits together again and surgically inserted it through the front of her two breasts, successfully and artfully holding both tits together with the instruments of pain.

“Time to roll the dice again! And I just realized, 6 sides die with more than six options! How silly of me, I’ll roll it twice and add them!” He quickly picked up the die and tossed it. “5! And…” He rolled it again, “3! That’s an 8! Let’s see, what is 8?!” He checked the compartments of the tray. His face lit u p. “Oh we need a power point for this…” He picked up the unplugged soldering iron and let the black wire dangle. “You’re going to LOVE this one! The pain is very very different!” Samantha’s face turned pale almost instantly. A rising, terrified protest began in her throat as the albino fumbled around for a power point. Tears flowed freely, her breathing turned into hyperventilation as her mind reeled at the possible uses of such a terrible machine. She started screaming again, she tried struggling to break free but it was no use as he pushed in the plug and the red light came on. He held on to the thing like a weapon and waved it in front of her face. “I’m thinking we can draw some pictures on your tits! This leaves nice, deep burn marks…I hope you like the smell of burning flesh because I do!” She shook her head furiously, eyes widened and body trembling with pre-emptive shock. The iron began heating up, he licked his lips, she kept jerking against her bonds, coughing into her gag because of the panic rising steadily in her. He pulled his stool closer to her.

The soldering iron had already heated up.

“Left or right breast first?” tears rolled down her face. “I say right!, right? Hahaha!” He held the thing with his right hand and with his left he squeezed her fleshy large breast. “hjere it comes!” she screamed into her gag even before contact. When the tip touched her skin, the pain shot through her innocent body like a bolt of electric hurt. Her skin sizzled as he pushed the tip slightly just at the rim of her areola and dragged the iron hot instrument upwards the top side of her breast. She struggled furiously and howled into her gag causing the burn line to be jagged a little. “stop moving bitch! You’re messing up my art work!” He laughed hard, his tongue sticking out as he drew a few more lines with the burning thing. The smell of fresh excited him, the sizzling sound of evaporating blood made his heart race. He slowly and painfully drew his first smiley face somewhere along the side of her right tit. The pain was of course excruciating. Young flesh on fire, each drag brought a renewed hurt as he punctured two small holes in the circle and drew a smile. He move don to her left breast, tracing the outline of her other areola, burning a deep brown streak of pain around her nipples, slowly, menacingly, he let the terrible hot iron scar her deeply. He started writing on his slave, spelling out S L U T right across her flesh. She was sweating profusely, crying loudly and gurgling and groaning in that muffled way that was so erotic. Elder was a silent watcher, masturbating as he watched his brother finish off SLUT. The albino jabbed the burning thing into her right breast again, just under her nipple and purposely let the tip sink into her skin. He punctured many holes after that, like hot knives burning inn soft butter. Her flesh bubbled and swelled around the puncture marks that were turning nearly black. She threw her head in all sorts of direction, trying her best to distract form the pain that exploded in her brain with every contact. Sweat ran down her lovely body, pooling around her shorts. He thought unpleasantly of the other big breasted girl, the one who bit off his cock and his anger fueled him to cause greater harm to this bitch, who could do nothing to hurt him. It was he who would hurt her, very very badly. He slowly took his time to write W H O R E right across her right breast, the O circling her nipple. Her body was now defiled with insults. He spat onto her left breast then started chanting something sinister. She felt as terrible emotion of fear escalating, of dread and impossible helplessness fill her up. When he finished chanting , he burned the magickal formulae into her skin. She realized that this black magic was ANCHORING all the terrible feelings he had somehow raised in her. With every turn and puncture and drag of the hot iron tip, the disturbing feelings escalated and remained at that stationary vibration. He was sealing in those emotions with a spell. “you WILL never be at peace, NEVER!” He directed all his powers into finishing off the sigil of horror. When he was done, he put the iron down then pinched both her nipples and twisted hard. He was losing energy, about to pass out from all the pain. Just then, there was a knock on the door. The elder opened it. It was the crone. A figure was standing behind her.

“My dearie sons, look who dropped by!” Elder’s face lit up with an evil smile of appreciation. The albino turned away from his object of anger and saw his old old friend walk in. “Good evening Masters,” The DarkStalker bowed as he came in, “I don’t suppose you need a hand torturing this beautiful one?” The albino grinned, “Why the hell do you think I called you? Come in! see! There’s plenty of toys here and I was JUST getting started with her tits! Pull up a chair!” He turned back to Samantha, who was now even more afraid with a second torturer in the room, “We still have lots to do this rich little abused meat!”

Last edited by graheg; 07-05-2013 at 03:34 AM.
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Old 07-17-2013, 11:59 AM   #30
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alright, for those wondering why i haven't posted much of late. one was i was working with corvid on a combined story and now i've been working with graheg on samantha's torture and we've agreed to post this as one complete story following the same thread on house of ordeals. this part starts getting more severe and i've looked through boardrules and haven't found anything contradictory with my content so far but if there is, let me know and i'll adjust or remove said sections from the story parts i'm writing. now without further adu, the next parts to house of ordeals! enjoy!

******

He walks in, patting the crone on the shoulder, nodding silently. The Darkstalker holds his hands behind his back, nodding to the girl. Like the other two, he has dawned a mask, one of a skull, his eyes seen through its black orbs. He looks towards the girl, who shivers, staring at him violently, her body shaking, breath heaving. Her breasts jiggle nicely, invitingly. Or they would, he thinks, if Albino hadn’t already torn them apart already.
“Tsk. Tsk,” he says, running a finger down one of the girl’s orbs. The one that said “whore” with the “O” beautifully drawn over her nipple, but purpled and swollen, looking for the world like diseased meat now. He pulls away, standing back with his pressed suit and black leather shoes. “Tsk. Tsk, brother. You have ruined part of her already and my full enjoyment can not be had.”
“Fuck you,” says the Albino. “You should have been here earlier.”
“Yes,” says Darkstalker, nodding. “Perhaps. But fortunately Mother can address this. Well...” he says, kneeling down towards the girl. “After a bit more agony and pain of course.”
He can see the girl panting, breathing heavily as she sucks in mouthfuls of air. He traces a finger down her cheek. “Do not worry child. There is always pain where healing is involved.”
“Mother,” he says, calling behind him. “Please boil some water. I’d like to ....” He runs his hands over the swollen forms, tickling them lightly, hearing the girl moan. “Play with these when they are not so distorted.”
He hears the old woman cackle, a sound like a rustling paper bag. “Sure thing child. It will be a pleasure!”
Her old shoes flop away against the stone cement, the door slamming behind them. “I placed some water to boil as I came in, suspecting the games may have started... prematurely.”
He holds the woman’s breasts now, squeezing the ends, hearing her moan and squeal. Unlike the Albino, he enjoys the squeals of the women beneath him. “So how are you going to hurt her?” asks the Albino.
Darkstalker is silent, looking at how the breasts are hooked together, hooking the flesh of her breasts. Even if he wanted to, this would not come without pain to the girl. But fortunately for him, it is her pain he seeks. “By undoing your work, brother,” he says. “I must admit, you do quite the thorough work.”
The man chuckles behind the clown mask. Darkstalker squeezes the girl’s breasts now, taking a tight hold on them. “So...” he says, looking into her large eyes, hearing how her nose sucks in wheezing breaths of air while her cheeks puff and swell trying to suck in air through the dirty underwear gag. “Let us undo your work.”
His fingers squeeze down and he begins to pull, smiling behind his mask as the girl throws her head back, eyes squeezing tight as she shrieks behind her gag. For Darkstalker is pulling both her breasts in separate directions, the two hooks wanting to hold on to her tender flesh and thus tearing and ripping meat as they are slowly pulled apart. The hooks have done their work and as Darkstaker pulls, the flesh stretches and tears, blood pooling between her breasts quickly.
The girl for her own part thrashes and screams, her eyes bulging and tortured sounds coming from behind the gag. Her body jerks to and fro but Darkstalker holds firm, pulling her large purpled mounds apart until the two large hooks separate with a pop.
The albino is laughing, clapping manically while the Elder brother in his clown mask simply shakes his head. “You are truly a cruel one, DarkStalker,” says the elder.
“I try,” says Darkstalker, holding onto one of her breasts and rather then twist the hook out, simply pulls, ripping away more flesh and blood. The girl is bouncing against the board, shrieking.
Darkstalker twirls the hook before him, looking towards the hooked meat at the end, the girl’s breast meat bleeding profusely. “Didn’t mommy and daddy ever take you fishing?” he says. “The fish,” he says, gripping the other hook which had stayed in her left, opposing breasts. He pulls at it, jerking it up and ripping a thin strip of meat with it. “Felt much like this.”
She shrieks loudly, the tears trailing down her cheeks and over her neck down into her beautiful clavicle. “It does hurt beautifully,” he says, looking at how the red meat glows in the light.
He bends down towards her, using the hook to trace along the curves of her neck. “And we are hardly done, my dear. Not hardly.”
*****

Darkstalker takes the hook to his lips, running his tongue over the length, enjoying the taste of her blood. He has taken to a type of enjoyment in drinking in the blood of his victims, but truly, he only does this to see the fear in the girls’ eyes, much as this girl’s are now, wide and fearful, her breathes coming out in long wheezes. He chuckles and tosses the hook aside.
“Well,” he says, clapping his hands together. “It’s time to unravel the rest of this mess.”
The girl is trying to shake her head, or at least as far as the bonds will allow her, but it is very little. “Oh, do not lie,” says Darkstalker as he finds the first hook and begins to pull. “I know you want them out as badly as I do.”
The girl is shaking, sobbing, her knees slapping onto the spiked board repeatedly in pain and agony. She probably does not notice the sharp nails down there compared to what she is feeling now, with the hook slowly tearing away at her flesh meat. But Darkstalker can see it, feel it as the hook slowly tears away from her flesh and the second begins to pull. Each hook he goes by, he pulls at, slowly...
The pain on her face as it scrunches with agony with each pull of the string as Darkstalker simply unwinds the string and stretches the string out, the hooks digging deep into her skin and stretching, biting and pulling at that same meat as they are wrenched away. It is exquisite. Just as her crying is.
Well, for him at least. Albino does not seem to take it so well. “Shut up!” he says, slapping her across the face. “Let me enjoy this!”
He watches Albino slap her twice more and sink his fingers into her neck, her eyes bulging and body gasping as she struggles for breath. He simply holds the hooks and waits for the Albino to finish. After all, he wouldn’t want to kill her too soon either. What’s the fun in that?
“It is good you are done brother,” he says as the Albino pulls back. “Let’s get back to the game, shall we?”
The girl’s tears and squeals are very apparent, the Albino’s threats seeming to have fallen on deaf ears. “Fucking girl is stupid,” he hisses under his mask.
“Patience brother,” says Darkstalker. “That is why I am here. She will learn, as all do, why I am called the Dark Stalker. So patience.”
The Albino nods, the older Elder simply enraptured with the show. Yes, thinks Darkstalker, the show is only beginning. He unravels the hooks, painfully, slowly, each one ripping away a small chunk of flesh from the girl. The show begins, and all that is done now is mere foreplay....


******

Her cries as she thrashes on the board are amusing. The board itself bangs repeatedly, echoing in the room, the pain down below probably nothing unless said nails tear away into her legs. He’ll make sure that doesn’t happen though. He wouldn’t want a broken nail accidentally stabbing him when he begins fucking her. No. Not that.
“Aaauuummph!” she cries, the veins in her neck bulging, eyes scrunched shut. It truly is beautiful. He begins to pull at the last hook on her left breast when Albino screams.
“I said shut up, you fucking cunt!” he yells, smacking her roughly with a loud crack, the sound echoing in the room. Darkstalker can even see the blood leaking from her nose. He can’t let this go on or she’ll be too damaged to be conscious during the “cleaning.” “I’ll teach you...”
“Brother...” Darkstalker says quietly. “Patience.”
“How can I...”
“Look,” says Darkstalker, pulling at the final hook in her purpled flesh. “Look at how it pulls and tears at her tender young skin,” he says. “Those cries of hers? They are just the sounds of us doing our job correctly.”
“I still don’t like them,” says the Albino.
“I do,” says Darkstalker. “I drift to slumber nightly with them. But for you, just look.” He tugs mercilessly at the line, pulling it slowly. The girl shrieks, beating her legs in a thrumming motion. Darkstalker pays it no mind. “Just look,” he says, “at how her flesh pulls, wanting to hold the line in. And we....” He tugs more, watching as the skin stretches, the flesh held at the barbed end tears open slowly. “We don’t give line but take it. Look at how she bleeds from that line. A wounded bird crying for help against the hungry wolves. Doesn’t it make you want to eat her up brother? Taste her bite by bite?”
The Albino begins to calm, chuckling. “You truly are a dark one.”
“That I am,” he says, giving the line one final jerk before it tears away at the small chunk of meat, dragging a strip with it. Quickly he unwinds the string, seeing as the blood suddenly flows back into her breast meat. It begins to leak more profusely from the wounds as the blood comes back in at full force. “Lovely isn’t it?” he says, “all that pain coming back into the girl’s meat. It must be agonizing.”
And truly it must be. He can see her eyes rolling, the veins still hard against her neck, her breathing coming out hard and fast. But now he can see the lovely tremble of her breast as it bleeds. He almost wishes to squeeze it and begin fucking against it, see all the pain he causes her. But no, not yet. Not yet. Not today at least. They must be restored at least.
He looks at the word burned into her skin and smiles beneath his mask. Well maybe not all of it. Some wounds seem appropriate where they are.
He quickly unravels the string on the other breast, this part being the simple and albeit less painful part. Then there is the shriek. That sound ripping from her throat before he has even noticed the string tugging at the resistance. “Ah, there it is. Like an alarm to sound off the fun. Watch brother.”
Again he begins to pull, taking his time to give the girl the most pain, to watch as the hook pulls slowly at her flesh, stretching it, opening the wound and then tearing a small chunk away. How she thrashes only adds to it and now he can watch that second globe thrash and slap, more blood draining from it. He’ll have to watch that. Make sure she doesn’t bleed too much. No no. That would be no good. Especially if he hasn’t bled her down below yet.
He hears the Albino breathing raggedly, now entranced and continues the performance. Going to the second hook and repeating the process, then the third, the fourth. Each hook brings its own torments to the girl, her lacerated flesh reacting to each new and yet similar pull of pain in new yet similar ways. For Darkstalker, he enjoys watching her thrash almost as much as he does watching that skin stretch and bleed. While he detest that Albino tore into her so thoroughly so early in the game, he does quite enjoy undoing it and bringing more agony to the spoilt rich cunt. It’s only what she deserves. After what her father did to him...
He gives the fifth hook an extra sharp pull, wrenching it far quicker then the others, eliciting an incredible shriek even behind the gag from the girl. “She felt that one, brother Darkstalker,” says the Elder, also chuckling.
“That she did,” thinks Darkstalker as he begins to pull the final hook towards him, her breast coming with it. He slaps it repeatedly, thinking on her father and how he’d openly scoffed at giving him funding for his experiments of reanimating the dead. How will he react then, when it is his daughter that Darkstalker brings back, when it his daughter Darkstalker punishes nightly for his slights. Oh to punish the daughter for the sins of the father. Again and again he slaps her tender meat, hearing her howl. Then holding her by the bearing added to her nipple, he begins to pull, enjoying as the hook tears a line down the length of her breast, catching at the areola before pulling and stretching and then popping. How she howls then.
Darkstalker looks at the hook and sighs. Pity. It seems that one had not been wedged in as deeply as the others. Though perhaps that had to do with him jerking the fifth one. Pity. It must have pulled the sixth out part way and avoided giving her some agony. Now....
The door opens slowly and the crone walks in, bearing the hot boiling kettle of water. “Did you order some boiling water, young man,” she says in a most sweet and gentle manner.
“Why yes,” he says, taking the kettle from the woman’s hands. “Open wide girl,” he says, looking into the exhausted eyes of the teen beneath him. “This is going to sting.” And he begins to tip the kettle, the water spilling onto her wounds and she screams beautifully...
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Old 07-17-2013, 12:00 PM   #31
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Her breasts, the rich girl’s tender globes, so full and pale once, are now covered in blood. He must really clear that away. So awful and unsightly it looks. Not that he’d seen them whole and unspoiled. The Albino had already abused them to such a degree they had become purpled.
He thinks back to when he’d been arguing his merits to her father and she’d come in an open denim blouse tied at her pert little waist, asking for money, leaning down, those large breasts pressing against the fabric of her tank top, her brown skirt at the time going up that nice little ass. Oh how he’d thought about abusing and tearing into her, even back then. Making her wail and beg him to stop. Well, he thinks, as he leans the kettle over, now he’ll have all the time in the world.
He begins pouring the boiling water, hearing as she shrieks musically. Her veins bulge and she pounds against the board. All these sounds and sights so beautiful to him. “How can you stand it,” says the Albino suddenly. “All that noise she makes?”
“I simply think on her father,” Darkstalker says, continuing to drain the water on the poor girl. “And how he’d react and cry if he knew I were doing this to his sweet little darling. It makes it rather enjoyable.” He can hear the water sizzling and it makes him smile.
The man nods gruffly. Darkstalker is unconcerned. As long as the man allows him his fun it is all in good fun. And he is enjoying himself now. Enjoying how the blood flows down her body in streams, like paint being washed off a canvas. How her breasts now slap beautifully, the color returning to them quickly, if reddening a bit. He pulls back, watching her breathe raggedly and leans forward, cupping one breast and licking the droplets off the tip. Yes, he will take great pleasure abusing these great orbs of meat. But now...
He pulls away, looking towards her face. The straps bind her beautifully. The straps pulling the sickly underwear into her mouth, bulging out her cheeks. He can only imagine what’s on that dirty pair. Shit and piss, perhaps even in chunks she has to taste against her tongue. It must taste horribly to her, and she has no way to push it out. There’s even a nice strap pinching her nose tight, just barely allowing air through. It gives him a nice idea.
“Brothers, do watch this.” He raises the kettle above her face and tilts it. “Watch how important it is for a girl to breathe even if it’s only a little.” He begins to pour it on her face, specifically over her nose, and her thrashing changes, turning into a renewed and perhaps more violent fashion as he begins to pour the water into her nose, choking her. Oh, it all drains but it is entertaining to hear how muffled her screams become as she begins to sputter, globs of water and mucus spilling from her nose as she tries violently to breathe.
“It is beautiful brother,” says the Elder.
“Yes,” says Darkstalker, pulling the kettle away slowly. He stares at the breathing, shaking girl and lays the kettle on Albino’s torture table, going towards the nail clipper. “Now to finish cleaning her up. Mother, please bring the herbs mixed in their paste. This cleaning should not take overly long.”
“Of course child,” she says sweetly as Darkstalker takes the girl’s left breast, looking over her ragged torn meat. The crone disappears promptly from behind the door, it banging loudly with her departure. The young girl simply stares at him with red brimmed eyes, tears unable to come out now from so much use. “Now,” he says taking a small fold where the flesh has peeled back. Let us clean this up so you will heal in a nice clean line.”
Snip.
She shrieks, the nerves in the flesh still there despite it hanging limply.
Snip.
She screams and he simply waits until her thrashing abates before going forward with more. Each snip seems to bring a shriek of agony from the girl. It is slow and tedious, taking several minutes. Close to half and hour. But the men at either side of him stare, enraptured as the girl thrashes and Darkstalker stops and then snips, methodically pulling away the small strips of excess skin and flesh that have fallen away due to the hooks. He tosses the small bits away, tossing them in a small bowl. These can be used for more psychological torture later.
Snip.
Snip.
Each cut brings him closer to using the herbs and cream. That which will close her up and make her look like new. And soon enough her own cries begin to subside, the pain not so great as when the hooks had torn her flesh. She simply breathes raggedly with each cut, staring at him, the intake a little more then normal, but no screams. Not anymore. Pity.
As he nears the end of his task the Crone comes back, laying the paste next to the small bowl. “Are you ready?” she ask.
Snip. It’s the final shred. He taps the clipper, now red and bloody against the bowl. “Yes,” he says. “I think so.”
He lays the clipper down and takes the paste, having Elder stretch out her tender flesh from one breasts. Gingerly he dips the butter knife in and takes a good amount of the paste, normally ingested, onto the knife edge. While ingestion would clean everything, he does not want everything cleaned. Just particular areas. So he applies it, liberally, rubbing the knife into those wounds and circles her breasts, both of them, with the paste.
The girl for her own part shrieks and beats her legs still further on the board. And why shouldn’t she? While the herbs are mixed of strong plants that itch and burn, Darkstalker also specifically asked for a liberal amount of salt to be added to clean the wounds out. This will no doubt sting and burn like no other along with the other natural substances of the paste.
He circles her breasts with the substance then the two inner sides where the large hooks were and then the small soldering burn holes that seem so random, even going so far and covering up that ridiculous little smiley face. This makes the Albino grunt, but the two words burnt into her flesh he leaves alone. He likes those. They seem.... appropriate.
“Alright, let’s cut her out and take her to the bathroom. She has to heal, after all.”
“We can torture her so much more,” says the Albino. “We can make her scream...”
“Patience. I want to see her scream and torn when she is whole.”
He pats the Albino on the shoulder. “Do not worry. I will let you first crack at her tomorrow morning. I want to see what you do to “that” area.”
The Albino chuckles. The girl on the other hand, barely reacts as Elder cuts the ropes. They pull her up and she falls limp on their arms. Almost dead weight. A burden if ever there was one. “Brother,” says Darkstalker to the Albino. “Get the open mouth gag. Even though we won’t hurt her it doesn’t mean we can’t humiliate her while we wait.”
The Albino is silent for a moment and nods. “Of course brother.”
Darkstalker nods towards Elder and they drag the girl to the bathroom, her legs now freed, leaving a trail of blood across the floor from where they bleed. They take her down to the cellar, down the rickety stairs and near dark room to where the bathroom is located and lean her back against the stall, pushing her legs back against the base and tying her ankles. Then through two hooks on the floor, they tie her arms back, spreading her out. She groans, feeling as the rim of the toilet digs into her shoulders and spine. Her face looks piteous. Hopefully she is awake for her first humiliating trial.
The door opens behind them and the Albino arrives, carrying a similar gag to the last, but with an open mouth gag instead of the closed straps. They quickly remove the girl’s current gag, pulling it out. It is wet, covered in spit, the dirty contents almost gone. She leans over to the side as the ropes will permit, coughing and sputtering, a trail of vomit and bile soon adding itself to the filthy mix of shit and piss on the floor.
Darkstalker inspects the rag, looking it over. Nearly clean. She must have swallowed the greater part of the filth in her screaming. He tosses it aside. They’ll need a new “treated” rag for tomorrow.
Quickly they put the new gag around the girl’s head, strapping it in. She resist. Of course. They always resist. But it is weak and futile. She needs rest, which they will give her. In a moment...
The gag is forced between her teeth, pressed back against them and locked in. Then through two extra loops, hooks are drawn that pull her head back over the toilet stall. From the floor they loop the ropes further, pulling her head back so it is nearly inside the filthy bowl encrusted in shit and piss and other foul things. She struggles, her beautiful breasts jiggling. Darkstalker smiles and finishes tying off the ropes on the floor. Now she can barely move.
“Now now, dear Samantha,” he says. Her eyes widen for a moment as she hears her name. “Yes,” he says, leaning towards her. “I know your name. And now Samantha, we will rehydrate you and feed you. With what you ask? Why, all so nourishing food of course!” He begins unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants down and letting his large member flip out at his draws down his briefs. “Isn’t that nice of me,” he says.
She begins to moan, her eyes squeezing shut. “Now,” he says, in a teasing manner, rubbing his staff which is as hard from being full as it is from lust. “Remember to take it all in!” And he begins to urinate, a long stream of piss shooting out, hitting her in the nose. She splutters and it takes him a moment to aim it properly so it’s falling into her mouth. She is coughing, trying to spit it out, the fluids dribbling out over the sides of her mouth, but with her head angled as it is, it is difficult to do so and she is forced to drink some of the vile fluid. She thrashes and resist none the less. Darkstalker doubts her spoilt father ever made her do anything like this. Too bad. It will be her regular activity soon....
As his member goes limp, he turns to the Albino and says, “Didn’t you need to relieve your own bowels of some food? Go on and make her eat.”
The Albino smiles and pulls up his dress, unbuckling his own pants and pulling them down hastily. Darkstalker watches with joy as the Albino moves over and leans down on the girl, putting his weight on her, the sound of his gas very loud in the confined space as he lets out a fart.
The room is soilt, dirty, with rags and broken glass and nails littered about. Cockroaches skitter across the walls, even now daring be out in the open. And through this all, Samantha will have to wait, eating shit and swallowing piss until her body heals. Darkstalker watches her body thrash, her breasts so beautiful as they swing back and forth. It really is a delight... to torture her this way. And wait until tomorrow, it will only be worse!

*******

The day passes with the Elder amusing himself with his Asian cunt. It would be more enjoyable if they could hurt her and if her breasts were just a bit bigger. He never could stand women with no development there. But now, as he puts his skull mask back on, he smiles, tying the straps in place.
“You ready to torture that bitch?” says the Albino.
Darkstalker turns with a gleeful smile. “Yes, are you?”
“Always,” says the Albino.
They take a large bucket of cold water, a change from yesterday’s boiling kettle and walk down the rickety stairs. Each creaking step brings a tune to Darkstalker’s step, a light spring. For today he will take that tender virgin pussy or ass and make the girl truly sing. “You sure seem happy,” says the Albino.
“Oh that I am,” says Darkstalker. “For today we truly get to have fun with the girl.”
The Albino is silent except for a light chuckle, but it is just as well.
“Oh Samantha....” coos the Darkstalker. “How is daddy’s little girl?”
He pushes the door open slowly, creaking. The girl does not react, nearly passed out. The smell have probably gotten to her. He can see her sweaty body twitching, the stink of vomit and shit over her face. He lays the bucket down, going over to look at her, admiring how a glob of shit slides down her left cheek, some chunks of it still riding on her tongue. She smells ghastly. “Nice perfume, isn’t it?” he says to Albino.
“Smell like shit,” says the Albino.
“Of course!” says the Darkstalker, kicking her in the side, eliciting a howl from her lips as she wakens suddenly. She struggles, more savagely then before. So she has restored some of her energies, he thinks. Good. She’ll need them.
He leans down and begins unbuckling the gag. Because of his leather gloves he doesn’t have to feel the shit sliding off her. The gag slides out of her mouth with bits of drool coming away with it. He tosses the gag aside and looks at her. “My sweet little darling,” he says, looking at her and he strokes her cheek. “How I have looked forward to this day.”
She sobs, tears running down her eyes. “Puh...”
“Albino?” he says and the man savagely dumps the bucket of water over her face before she can say a word. Spluttering as she is she has no time to properly close her mouth and resist when Darkstalker begins stuffing the newly prepared rag into her mouth. This time it is mixed with his own shit from yesterday night and the chunks of flesh he’d torn away from her breasts mixed with the cum he hadn’t been able to get off on her yesterday.
She struggles, now free of the gag, thrashing her head left and right, but it is no use. Not with two men pushing the dirty rag in. Not with her own braid giving them a proper leverage. He pushes the rag in, digging it fully, making her cheeks bulge and allows Albino to put the straps in, locking them in place. He sees her throat reacting, swallowing something, and imagines her swallowing those small chunks of her own breasts or perhaps some of the shit that was still in her mouth. Quite beautiful the thought.
Soon the gag is tightly back in place, the top chord snapping and forcing the girl to take in ragged, small breaths of air. They pull the straps tight.
Looking over her body he realizes he missed something the night before. Leaning down he slowly removes the hooks from her nipples, tossing them and their weights into the bucket and then picks the now unused dirty gag and tosses that in as well. “Perfect,” he whispers, pinching her nipple. “Now we can begin anew.”
She stares, wide eyed. He unties her arms and quickly put a tank top over her which she hugs closely to her chest. “Why are you giving her clothes brother?” says Albino, not without a little bit of venom in his voice.
“Because,” says Darkstalker. “Today we work on her lower extremities, and I don’t want us distracted by her more inviting regions. Now let’s tie her arms, can’t have her free.”
She thrashes, fighting them, but it does little good. Her arms are pulled up over her heads, bent behind one another and tied rapidly. With legs untied they quickly pull off her sneakers and toss them aside. As Albino goes towards her shorts, Darkstalker puts a hand on his. “No, let’s take her shorts slowly. Strip by strip. I like... the undressing.”
He can see the man smile and they drag her up, pulling her by her braid. They drag her by it, bumping against the stairs awkwardly as the Albino pushes her savagely and Darkstalker pulls her back up by it and then she is brought back to the room.
She fights, kicking and thrashing, but the most she does is enrage Albino who punches her in the side, making her double over. They drag her over to a new set of ropes. Cutting the ropes she has they take her arms and wrap both her thumbs in a leather contraption then pull the rope jerking her up by them. They hear her yelp, struggling, as she is pulled. Slowly she is pulled until she is only scraping the floor with her toes. Satisfied they jerk her legs wide, a small loop wrapped around each toe and pull the ropes through the loops drilled in the floor until her legs are spread wide and open, her whole body spread open in such a way that she is hanging in the air by her digits. Her tits press against the fabric of the thin white top and her soggy shorts squelch with any movement she does. Darkstalker smiles. Motioning with his hand, he says, “Now is your time. You can start.”
Albino heads towards the cart with torture supplies while Albino pulls up a seat and calls Elder on the line. Perhaps Elder will like to be here as well as the new tortures begin? Darkstalker licks his lips awaiting what Albino will do to her precious womanhood. His dick is already tenting in his pants at the idea. Yes, it should be exquisite.

*****
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Old 08-07-2013, 03:32 AM   #32
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Eleven: Epilogue.

(This is the final chapter of House of Ordeals. Other work beckons. I will return at some stage for new work when the time is right. Thank you all for reading and For Darkstalker for co writing. Samantha is yours now. Do your worst.)


The elder hides in a cave, thousands of miles north of the house of Ordeals.
He is masturbating to fractured memories, episodes of the past month clings to his scattered mind. The last sexually pleasing thing he did was the most vivid. The hanging of Samantha Roberts, the stretching of her body, her naked form. Then memories of what happened next came haunting him again. Did it take a lot for elder to be haunted? He after all dealt with demons, but nothing like the demon that came up that night a month ago. All the fire, all the screaming, Graheg in psychic pain. For a demon to be in pain. What was that like? Elder never wanted to admit ’retribution.’ He never believed it in. He believed in a balancing of forces. Something had come undone, something had become inbalanced in the house of ordeals and it had something to do with the girl who died, buried alive in the basement. It was her fault, elder decided. It was her bloody fault.

Graheg was still with him, parts of its consciousness and spirit and energy didn’t die in the fire. It crawled into elder and hid in his subconscious. The witch mother was gone. Completely. Her power translated and spent in some other domain now. Elder wonders about darkstalker. He was the only other aspect of the house that survived the ordeal of the house of ordeals. He and Samantha of course. Sam was always his toy to begin with so it was right that he escaped with her, bound, gagged, trapped in that black suitcase on wheels. Did elder remember the very end? The smoke and debris, the collapsed house, the burning wasteland? Did he remember watching Darkstalker leave dragging the suitcase with sam inside? Perhaps. His memory is hazy but he wishes to remember the best parts only.

Elder was eating pussy when his phone rang. His Asian chinese girl had her legs bound and spread cruelly across the filthy bed. Her mouth still stuffed with someone’s soiled underwear, he cannot remember whose. Tape , round and rounds of thick heavy duty tape kept the garment bulging in her mouth. Her pussy was clean shaven, he remembers the taste, sucking on her raped cunt. The phone was ringing, distracting him. Irritated, he stopped his dessert and answered. “What?!” It was the albino. “We want you to come watch us inflict terrible pain unto dear samantha’s virgin cunt.”
“Why the hell should I leave my own games to watch yours?”
“because you want to know what color panties she’s wearing my dear brother, you always loved the revealing of a teens panties right? Plus staple gun. I know you like to watch me use the staple gun…” Elders cock grew hungry with those words. “mmm.” He clicked off the phone and crawled back on top of the Asian teen, licking her frightened face. “I’ll be back.”

A cold chill had run up elder’s spine when he transited form his room, through the hall into the torture chamber. For a second his mind drifted to the burial basement but he didn’t bother about the feeling. He should have. It was the first sign that something was going wrong. The black candle that was usually lit in the hall for protection was blown off but no one seemed to have noticed. That was the other sign…
Samantha was crying into her gag when elder entered. Albino was seated before her spread legs with the cart of tools by his side. Darkstalker was in a sofa watching everyone with delight, occasionally touching himself as he imagined the stripping of Samantha. “Wecome brother! We can started now…” A moan escaped sam’s gagged face as the albino carefully selected his instrument. A small curved silver scissors. “say goodbye to your shorts my sweet.” He cooed, she cried as he pulled his seat closer to her cunt. Elder sat in a nearby sofa leaning forward, lighting a cigarette. He could see the sweat running down her tanned taut legs, dripping onto the floor. He loved the way she was spread, he imagined the pain she felt in her arms, especially the thumbs under all that leather. The rope was creaking, her face red. He psychically entered her mind. It was filled with terror. He was already expecting a new range of pain. She was forcing her mind not to think of the tools on the tray and what would be used and how it would feel on her soft virgin meat between her legs. She was trembling. Slowly, Albino inserted the open silver blades between the fabric of her shorts at her right inner thigh. He snipped upwards meticulously, cutting through, towards her cunt. He cut along the bikini line and stopped just as part of her shorts fell open slightly to reveal the soggy white panties. Then he returned to his initial cut, just an inch apart and started cutting again upwards. He was systematically turning her shorts into a Hawaiian grass skirt. Just strips of cloth. He hummed as he continued cutting, revealing bit by bit the cotton white panties she was wearing. HE didn’t cut through the elastic band of course. That would just make her shorts fall away and would spoil the show. He did cut the strips at different lengths. Snipping some strips half off so more of her inner thighs and legs could be exposed. By the time he went past the sides of her shorts bending his head between her legs to cut at the back of her shorts, pieces of the strips were clinging to her sweaty flesh. He started working on the left side of the shorts…

Elder is cold in the cave. There is the sound of water running down ancient rock from somewhere deeper inside. He never ventured further than needed, crouching in a corner before a make shift fire built from gathered wood from broken trees nearby. The cave, the expanse of rock and the small woods wasn’t too far from a dirt road. He had walked here, fleeing, as far as possible from the house of ordeals.
His train of thought is broken now, he remembers samantha’s shorts hanging around her torso in shreds, the basic outline of her panties beneath. He was licking her skin, her thighs, up and down her bikini line. “Enough!” Darkstalker was saying. Give her pain! Come on!” He was getting impatient.

Her shorts was finally falling away with the last few snips of the silver blades, revealing her flat stomach and white low cut panties, soggy from her sweating and all that water having splashed on her. Both the boiling and non boiling water to wash off the filth. The tortures started small and almost meaninglessly. A lighter heated up, the metal pressed against her inner thighs. At some stage, elder remembers getting in his knees and biting her cunt through her panties. No blood flowed, not yet. Albino was laughing, slapping sam’s face hard several times. All the while, an uneasy cold was settling into the house as the girl in the basement was breathing her final minutes of lost air in that coffin, her mind given up, her sub consciousness latching on to dark, unsettled finalities bred from despair and anger. Perhaps, her full potential of a life fully lived was cut short so destructively that she had become destructive herself. Bound and gagged with barbed wires, air running out, young teenage angst evolving in her desperate houses. Her heart slowing, death coming. She was bait for something larger and more terrifying in the air. Something got hold of her in her final throes. Something spoke to her in that dark. Something came through her broken body and it wanted violence.

Elder remembered peeling off samantha’s panties with his teeth.

Her remembers the albino sitting fat and cross legged on the floor next to her right leg with a pair of pliers. Oh the screaming. The digging of steel into the small nail of her left foot. That tiny breaking sound of a toe nail being broken off. The trashing.

What else did elder remember?

That she was cleanly shaven, her young pussy lips nicely hidden, smooth cunt, shapely, rounded wet with saliva. A small razor running up the side of her bikini line, opening up a wound….salt…

Perhaps, samantha’s pain and the black despair of the girl in the coffin created the portal. No one knows. Maybe the demon that came through the basement death wasn’t a demon at all, but a righteous anger, or a dark angel or even the disturbed aspect of the tortured girl in the box. No one knows.

What everyone knows was the violence. And that Graheg was afraid. The witch was afraid. Certainly. Can one imagine that? The terrible witch who only knew how to instill fear in young girls, was afraid herself. The terrible rape god Graheg was afraid itself. Imagine the terror of the beast that came through…

Elder was fucking Samantha, with her panties ripped apart and tossed, with parts of her virgin cunt was mutilated with staples, her pussy lips pulled out, folded and stapled open, each crack of the stapler shooting sharp merciless pain through her entire body. Elder fucked her that way. Were there heated pins involved before the rape? Needles? Elder thinks adrenaline was pumped into her system at some stage to keep her sharp and alert.

Maybe there was fire and candles too, burning her cunt.

There was certainly fire when that other demon awoke, bursting through the body of the girl who died, coiled in barbed wire in a box.

How can an angel be so violent? Elder thinks in the cave. And the noise it made…

Perhaps, the reason why Darkstalker could escape was because the girl in the basement didn’t direct any anger towards him. He was never there at her rape, at her live burial, so he was not in her mind. He was not part of the ritual to Graheg. The brothers, the witch mother, the demon Graheg. All of them were in her mind. They were her targets. She remembers the Graheg the most. How it manifested in Elder, how elder raped her.

And why was Elder spared? Maybe that was the ultimate torture. To reel at the sense of family lost. To be the one left behind, to be granted life and memory rather than death and oblivion. That’s what they say isn’t it? Death is too easy. They must live and suffer the consequences…

__

Elder was raping Samantha, hugging her youthful body, drilling his hard cock into her virgin cunt kept open with staples. Her fucked her hard, listening to her garbled gagged screaming, biting her tits through the tank top. Pumping and pumping. Maybe her thumb was dislocated through that act. He heard a popping sound from above her head followed by howling.

He continued anyway, continued fucking her so hard he didn’t realize the ground was shaking. Through the noise of Darkstalker cheering and albino laughing, they did not hear the witch mother screaming.

It was only when the walls started to ignite with a strange unholy fire did they actually stop to take stock. Only when the cold, that was mounting, turned suddenly into a massive, unsettling heat did they stop and realize that something big and ugly was going to happen.

The girl in the coffin had drew in her final breath and the demon who manifested through her suffering, drew in its first.

Then all of hell broke loose.

__

It was time to leave the cave. To keep moving.

It was time to forget. The guts and stomach being ripped out from the witch’s body. That look of terror on her face as she faced the thing that had come from the basement.

All the blood. Elder cannot forget.

He cannot forget the broken neck of his brother, head twisted around, 360 degrees. The lungs pulled out through the gaping mouth of the other brother.

All the other girls gone.

What happened to them? Their discarded panties and bras, ropes and tape, leather straps, chains, cuffs; those were the only tangible things left. And the empty beds. Were they set free? Were they…taken?

The worst was seeing the statue of graheg on the floor, smashed, the panties on the altar burning. And the noise. The noise of two demons fighting, of Graheg retreating….of the walls collapsing….of the land turning into some kind of frozen fire…

A piece of the graheg statue, its penis, was kept by Elder as he fled the scene. Maybe that is how Graheg had remains with him. He was vomiting as he ran, going past the bodies of his brothers that still convulsed long after death. Elder could not bear thinking. What it was like for the body to die but the spirit to still twist and turn in destroyed flesh and bone. The ground had opened up, noxious gas had risen, choking everything but never killing Elder and Darkstalker. Elder remembers watching Darkstalker slash the ropes that held Samantha hanging. Somehow, a suitcase was in the corner, elder remembers it was the albino’s suitcase, used to transport girls or to keep them in a tight box torture. How darkstalker still had the sense to pack up a girl, elder did not know. He admired the man for that. Keeping calm and economical and productive in the face of carnage of confusion. It was almost funny. All hell breaking loose but Darkstalker still insisting on having things his way. He was certainly not done with Samantha. That much Elder knew, watching him dragging that suitcase through the wasteland, away towards the rover, vanishing past trees in the distance.

And the sirens screaming, coming for the broken house of ordeals. Spirits of his family screaming in the fog that was somehow being sucked into the ground.

Where was his family now? In some kind of hell? Where were the girls?

So many unanswered questions.

Elder leaves the cave. Carrying with him the broken black penis of Graheg.
Elder leaves the cave to find another country, another town, to gather his thoughts and perhaps to start it all over again, when the time is right, when the terror at the house of ordeals had settled into a manageable memory. He believes he can do se, even though he was supposedly spared to relive the horror all over again, he believes he can overcome what had happened. His lust would help him achieve that. Lust is the greatest power beyond all other powers that wishes to destroy him.

He sticks his hand in his pocket as he moves towards the rising sun. He feels the softness of the little white panties he picked up as he fled. He doesn’t know whose panties it is, but it reminds him of his life ahead, of the possibility of finding a fresh teen victim once again. He pulls out the panties and sniffs it deeply. He will be O.K again. The memory of his family will live on in heart forever. He will hunt again.

****
THE END

Last edited by graheg; 08-07-2013 at 03:40 AM.
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