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From: "Johan Andersson" <jjolo@hotmail.com>
Subject: Pain Freak (everything under the sun)
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I'm totally unsure on how to get stories posted with you so I'll just 
mail it.

/JJ

Pain Freak

Emma

I admit, I’m a pain freak. I’m a perverted slut in general, but a pain 
freak in particular.
I just love a partner who knows that a NO or a STOP means harder, more 
brute force, more pain….

The problem with this persuasion is to find a partner who is willing go 
as far as possible without killing or maiming you for life (in our 
society those who do pass that line are thirteen to a dozen) . Therefore 
there has only been a handful of partners in my life that I can consider 
satisfactory. Unfortunately they have all just passed through my life, 
mostly during travel. Also, since I like to go so far, the lengthy 
recovery time between sessions usually bores the hell out of them (I’m 
in heaven , I’m in pain) and they move on. This was until I met C.

My journey into pain started when I was fourteen years old and had just 
started exploring my sexuality, i.e. I had just started playing with 
myself. Some where along the line I got it into my head to bust my 
cherry with a candle. I knew that it most definitely would hurt (I had, 
and still do, a very tight pussy) and I got pretty confused by the fact 
that the idea got me very hot and for several months, before I actually 
did the deed, it was my preferred sexual fantasy. It wasn’t until six 
months later that I transformed from a girl who couldn’t keep her hands 
on the cover to a pain-seeking slut.

Two days after my 15:th birthday my parents went out of town and left me 
and my (totally square) older sister alone in the house. My sister, 
seventeen at the time, got out of the house in five seconds flat and had 
no intention of coming back before my parents got home, five days later. 
So there was only Me, Myself and I in the house. This opportunity was 
just to good to pass over. Preparation consisted of putting an extra 
blanket on the bed and getting out the candles and the Vaseline. Sitting 
naked on the bed I selected a fairly large candle I had got out of the 
candelabra in the livingroom. My first try was a complete failure. I 
just couldn’t get a good enough grip of the candle, now slippery with 
lube. I tried another candle but my hands were to slippery and my pussy 
to tight. In frustration I walked out to the attached garage to look for 
something to clean my hands with. I almost split my head on the 
lawnmower when I tripped over what would become my first tool in my 
search for pain: Dad’s saw horse. It was a regular saw horse except it 
had a large vice built in to each end. Seeing the saw horse gave me an 
idea of how to force the candle into my pussy. I ran back to the bedroom 
and got the candles, picked up some duct-tape in the kitchen and ran 
back to the garage.

Well in the garage I fastened the candle, the thicker, flat end up, to 
the saw horse with tape so that it pointed straight up. I positioned two 
empty beer kegs, one on each side, and stood there straddling the saw 
horse, keeping my balance by holding on to the vice in one end. The 
candle stood up a good 12 inches and I had to stand on my toes to get 
right on top of the candle. I wiggled my hips to get the candle aimed 
just right and then I just stood there. It probably wasn’t more than one 
or two minutes but it felt like hours. I felt like I had come to the 
point of no return, if I went on with this I could never go back. 
Finally I got tired of standing on my toes and I just let go. As I 
lowered my heels the candle went up inside me and I cried out in pain. 
The Candle only penetrated me about two inches but since it was almost 
an inch across it felt like my pussy was on fire. Fore a short while I 
considered getting of but I could feel a hot feeling building in my 
stomach, and it gained with the pain in my torn up pussy. After a while 
I started to bend my knees to get more of what I already had, glorious, 
almost unbearable pain. I went lower and lower until I just couldn’t get 
the candle further in. I now started to ride the candle, moving up and 
down. Every thrust felt like a thousand stabs and when I looked down 
between my legs I could see that the candle had blood on it. This only 
made me go faster, seeing in my mind my pussy becoming at bloody pulp. I 
rode it faster and faster until I achieved the total anti-climax: The 
damned candle broke of and I stood there with five inches of candle 
still in me. 

This really scared me, what if I wouldn’t be able to get it out! I got 
down on the floor, laying on my back on the cold cement floor and 
clawing at my pussy to get the damned thing out. This only pushed it 
further in and I started to cry. I laid there for a long time and just 
cried my eyes out. After about a half hour I got back to my senses and I 
carefully felt if I couldn’t get it out of me. To my surprise my fingers 
touched the sharp edge of the candle. Laying there crying I hadn’t felt 
the candle slowly slipping out of me. I pulled it out and held it in 
front of my eyes. I could there was more blood than I had thought and I 
got a little worried that I had done myself permanent damage. This 
passed quickly when the smell of wax, pussy, blood and Vaseline hit me 
like a passing truck. I went totally wild and started to lick the candle 
clean and finger fucking my bleeding pussy. Laying there with the candle 
in one hand and my hurting pussy in the other I came for the first time 
that weekend.

When I came to my senses I walked into the house and up to the bathroom 
to see what I had done to my self. My pussy wasn’t a pretty sight: Blood 
an lube all over the place and a soaring pain whenever I moved my legs. 
While standing there I realized that I had to pee. I sat down on the 
toilet with an effort and tried to relax. The sting from the first drops 
gave me a preview of what was to come. The salty urine made it feel as 
if someone had doused my crotch with gasoline and lit a match. This 
together with the pain of pushing to empty my bladder was just to much. 
I came right there and then, loosing whatever control I thought I had 
and I fell of the seat. I came and pissed, pissed and came. When I came 
to, I was laying in pool of piss, the blood dripping from my pussy 
coloring it slightly pink.

I got up on my hands and knees and tried to overcome the room spinning 
around me. The bathroom smelled of my pee and to my surprise this seemed 
to clear my head. As if it was the most natural thing in the world I 
bent down and started to lick the floor. The taste of my pee filled my 
mouth and nose, it got into my eyes and I began to obsessively lap up 
every drop from the floor. For half an hour I was the twisted kitten, 
lapping my own pee instead of milk. When I couldn’t find more pee to 
clean up, I left the bathroom and went down to the kitchen to get 
something to drink (I wanted to fill up so I could play kitten again!). 
Just moving around the house was pain trip. Although my pussy didn’t 
bleed anymore it hurt like hell and even more so when I walked around. 

Well in the kitchen I sat down with quart of apple juice and tried to 
make a list of what I wanted to try this weekend. I came to the 
conclusion that maybe I should give my pussy a rest and give the rest of 
my body a chance to catch up. After some thinking, I came up with a list 
of suitable (and obvious) candidates: My ass, buttocks, tits and 
stomach. The tools would be a safety pin, a Brillo pad, a hair brush and 
anything long, hard, and preferably wide, that I could fit up my ass. My 
first task was to get myself very rosy cheeks. I took the brush and 
started to spank my buttocks. It wasn’t a total failure, but almost. 
However hard I tried, I just couldn’t muster enough force in that 
awkward position I had to be in, in order to reach around. Instead I 
turned the brush around and started to rub and slap my ass with the 
bristles of the brush. This gave the much wanted effect. I started out 
in the bedroom but soon moved to the bathroom so I could suveille the 
results in the mirror. My buttocks became flaming red and very sore. I 
soon went over to the Brillo pad and practically scrubbed a layer of 
skin of my buttocks. I started to move down the back of my thighs and 
slowly moving up the inside. I didn’t touch my pussy, instead I worked 
around it and started to rub my belly. At this point I sat down on the 
floor, wiggling around on my ass to intensify the pain. For several 
minutes I concentrated on my belly button until I drew blood, then I 
moved up towards my tits.

At that time I had a set of very perky, ”reach for the sky”-tits, that 
had just grown from a pair of oversized nipples to a handful of soft but 
firm flesh. My goal was to make them ”Pain Central”, the main place of 
remembrance of what I was going to do to myself this weekend. I rubbed 
and rubbed, starting out, moving in, towards my nipples. Halfway through 
I took a break to get another pad, witch I nailed to the garage door 
with the other one. Then I pressed myself against the pads and started 
to rub, using my whole body to press my tits against the pads. It didn’t 
take long until I drew blood from my nipples. I went and got the kegs to 
stand on and did it over again, this time concentrating on my buttocks. 
The Brillo pads were soon red from the blood from my tits and ass.

With my body feeling as if it was on fire, I walked back to the kitchen 
and got the safety pin. I boiled some water to sterilize it (I had to 
restrain myself from using the hot water for other purposes). Back in 
the garage my thoughts went back to the saw horse. I put my left tit in 
the vice and started to turn the handle to close the jaws around my 
aching breast. I stopped when I was sure I couldn’t get loose and the I 
tried to stand up. In the process I had to lift one end of the 75 pound 
saw horse of the ground. I did this a couple of times, feeling the vice 
tearing into my tit. Then I switched breast. My left tit looked like 
road kill. The jaws of the vice had torn open the already mistreated 
flesh in several places. I did another set on ”tit-lifts” using my right 
breast. The last one I stopped in an upright position. My tit felt like 
it was going to tear of from my body and I could feel another orgasm 
coming. With shaking hands I managed to pierce my right nipple with the 
safety pin before I went crashing down in the wildest come-feast so far.

I just couldn’t stop shaking and the only thing that held me up was my 
tit still in the vice. With feeble hands I managed to open the vice and 
I fell down on the floor. I have no idea how long I laid there but when 
I came to all the bleeding from my buttocks an tits had stopped. I 
looked down on my tits and saw the safety pin through my nipple. This 
gave me new power to get up from the floor, for I realized that my work 
wasn’t finished. I walked into the house and up to the bathroom. There, 
in front of the mirror, I pressed my tits together and ran the pin 
through my other nipple and closed the pin, thus pinning my nipples 
together. With this done I laid down in the bath tub and emptied my 
bladder. I rolled in it, making sure that no part of my body wasn’t 
touched by the sting of piss in a fresh wound. Until then the pain in my 
pussy had been forgotten but the pee revived it an the memories from the 
afternoon. I got up on my knees and started to clean out urine from the 
bathtub. It was easier this time because now I could take mouthfuls at 
the time. I decided that this was to easy and that I from then on I 
would only piss on the floor.

By this time I realized that there was only one of my candidates left: 
My asshole. I rummaged around the house for things to ram up my ass. 
After 30 minutes I had collected an impressive assortment of 
butt-busters: A bunch of carrots, a cucumber, a broom stick, eight 
different candles ( although I wasn’t sure about using them, wise from 
my pussy-busting) and Coke bottle. I’m an organized person, so I planned 
how I was to go through with this. I decided to start of with something 
wide, the cucumber, to make me scream. Then something long, the broom 
stick, for in-depth exploration. Finally I would go with the rest of the 
stuff to widen my backdoor. I set a few goals. I wasn’t going to pussy 
foot with the cucumber as I had done with the candle, it should go in 
all the way in one thrust. Also I wouldn’t rest until I had at least 15 
inches of broom stick up my ass and no less than four carrots (or the 
equivalent), side by side, to keep my ass open wider.

Until then, I had never even considered to play with my ass but there 
and then I stuck a finger in there to check if I had any thing in there 
that would come in the way of my coming exercises. My finger ran in to 
something hot and steamy right away, I played around with it for a wile, 
and when I pulled it out I had shit all over my finger. I thought about 
it for a while before I decided to give myself an enema before I 
started. I went back up to the bathroom, now smelling of my pee, and got 
in to the tub. I unscrewed the shower handle and stuck the hose up my 
ass. When I turned on the water it jumped right out. I stuck it in again 
and held it there while I turned on the water again, more careful this 
time. It was a strange and exciting feeling when my insides flooded with 
the cold water. When I felt full I turned the water of and waited for a 
while, then I turned it on again, to top it of so to speak.

I stood there for a couple of minutes playing with my pierced nipples 
and tugging at my bruised tits. Suddenly I couldn’t ignore my bowels any 
more and I let it rip, standing in the tub. My shit sprayed all over the 
walls at first and then slowly declined to a steady stream running down 
my legs. I put my hand between my buttocks and felt the shit run through 
my fingers. I looked at my hand and I couldn’t resist having a taste. I 
liked my pee better but this wasn’t bad. For a minute I thought of 
cleaning it up with my tongue but I decided against it. Another time 
maybe. I went through the ass-filling procedure four times to make sure 
that I was completely empty.

I got my gear together from the kitchen and went out to the garage. I 
stripped the remains of the candle from saw horse an mounted the 
cucumber. I put the kegs back and applied some lube on the cucumber. 
When I got up on the horse and positioned my ass over the cucumber I 
could feel the sweet pain of my pussy wounds opening up from me 
spreading my legs. I stood there for awhile just feeling all the error 
messages from my body shooting to my head. Then I sat down hard. The 
pain from my ass made me scream out loud and the fullness of the enema 
was back, only this time tenfold. I wasted no time, I started to ride 
the cucumber hard and deep, picking up speed by the second. Every stroke 
felt like my asshole was going to bust at any time. It was a fuck and 
pain frenzy I couldn’t believe. I rode harder and harder and just before 
I had my fourth orgasm that day, I lost my footing on the keg and 
tumbled sideways down on to the floor. The cucumber tore of the saw 
horse and shot out of my ass when I landed. I grabbed it and used it as 
a Billy club on my bleeding pussy, slapping it hard. I didn’t have to 
wait long for that orgasm to hit.

I got into control of myself pretty quick and got the broom stick of the 
floor. I measured  it and marked the 15 inches that I had to go before I 
could go on to the widening of my ass. I put the broom stick against the 
wall, bent over and started to back up. The first eight inches was a 
breeze, the cucumber had gone that far. Then came the bend. I twisted 
and turned, rocking backwards and forwards, until the broom stick 
straitened me out and in it went. I could feel the tip edging along far 
up inside me. I couldn’t se where I had cut the 15 inch mark but I could 
sure felt it. When the notch in the broom stick passed my back door, I 
got an inch long splinter that broke of and stayed put, right in the 
sphincter. I raised my body, took a step away from the wall, got down on 
my knees and started to push the broom stick out of me. It took forever 
and the splinter had lodged itself in the worst (best) possible place. 
Once I got it out I brought it with me into the house, I figured it 
could be nice to have something to suck on while I was shoving carrots 
up my ass.

Sticking carrots up your ass is precision work and I wanted to se them 
go in. Therefore I decided to set up shop in my parents bedroom. I 
remade the beds so not to get piss, shit and blood on their satin 
sheets, and then I rigged the Grand mirror at the end of the bed so I 
would be able to see what I was about to do to myself, I used an old 
clothes line that I tread through each corner of the head board. Laying 
on my back with my head on the pillow, I tied one end around my each of 
my ankles and pulled the line until my feet touched the bed posts, then 
I fastened the line. I was jack knifed and spread eagled and my ass was 
wide open. I grabbed the biggest carrot and rammed it up my ass. I 
didn’t use any lube so that they would stay put. It hurt so good, 
especially with the splinter lodged in my ass. The second carrot needed 
a lot more effort and I could see and feel the blood dripping onto the 
sheets. It took a good five minutes to get it in. Number three was 
easier, I just forced the other two apart, stretching my ass further and 
slid it in. I laid there for a few minutes and enjoyed the view in the 
mirror. Finally I took carrot number four and started to stick it in. 
This increased the blood flow, witch in return made me more eager to get 
it in. And in it went, all the way. In the mirror I could se the four 
orange and green ends of the carrots mix with the blood from my colon. I 
had a fifth carrot that I wanted to use. I realized that my pussy hadn’t 
taken a beating in a while so I decided to fuck it with the carrot. I 
took the carrot and stuck it in, twisting it, stabbing my pussy with it 
to ensure that all the old wounds opened up. I was bleeding like a pig 
when I had my final orgasm that day.

I took out three of the carrots in my ass but left the biggest one in 
there. The one in my pussy got to stay too. I untied my feat from the 
head board. They were blue from having their circulation cut off and I 
had to wait for a few minutes before I could walk on them and get to the 
garage. There I took the duct-tape an secured the remaining carrots so 
they wouldn’t slip out. Then I went to the bathroom to get ready for 
bed. I made my little puddle on the floor and cleaned it up with my 
tongue. Then I licked some of the enema-cocktail of the wall and smeared 
the rest over my tits and face. Now I was ready for bed. I rolled myself 
into the sheets and turned out the lights. I was already looking forward 
to breakfast: Pee, shit and bloody carrots.

I had the wildest dreams that night. In the one I woke up from, my 
father was bull-whipping me for something I hadn’t done. I woke up just 
as he untied me from the whipping post and let me fall to the ground. I 
woke up on the floor beside the bed, tangled in the sticky sheet that I 
was wrapped in. The sheet had stuck to my body in several places with 
dried blood and shit. I got up on my feet and tore the sheet of my body. 
I limped out to the bathroom to get ready for the first day of my new 
life. I stood in the middle of the floor and let my morning drink splash 
on the floor. Then I got down on the floor to perform my kitten routine. 
While licking my pee of the floor I could feel my body starting to share 
it’s burdens with my head. There was a throbbing pain in my ass and 
pussy that was getting sharper by the minute, my tits were numb except 
for the nipples who sent pain up my spine every time my tits shifted and 
standing on all fours I could feel the wounds on my buttocks opening up 
again. 

My plans for breakfast were going to get messy and I didn’t want to have 
to clean the whole house so I decided that I should take my breakfast in 
the garage. I collected my carrots from my parents bedroom and proceeded 
out to the garage. I got down on my back on the cold cement floor and 
started to pull of all the duct-tape that had kept the carrots in place. 
I had wrapped the tape all over my pussy and ass, only leaving a small 
opening to pee through. Tearing of the tape meant tearing of most of my 
pubic hair and most of the peach fuzz between my buttocks. It hurt so 
much I could hardly breath and I almost climaxed on the spot. I laid 
there for a few minutes catching my breath before pulling my breakfast 
out of me. I started with the carrot in my ass and pulled it out in one 
motion. The unlubed vegetable tore up the wounds around my asshole and 
pushed the splinter further into my ass. The long stretch that my ass 
had had, left my ass open for a while and I could fell cold air go up my 
colon. I stuck two fingers up the wide open hole and played around in 
there, hoping to find some breakfast. No such luck, if I wanted shit on 
my plate I would have to dig deeper than that. 

My fingers found the splinter and I pulled it out. Then I turned my 
attention to my pussy. The carrot was glued in there with the dried 
blood. I had to twist and yank it, tearing up my pussy all over again. I 
stood up and got the garden hose of the wall, connected it to the faucet  
and stuck the other end up my sorry ass. I turned on the water and 
filled my ass with cold water. I had a hard time keeping my ass shut and 
the water kept running out of me. Out came also a couple of lumps of 
shit that I picked up of the floor. I set my breakfast up on the saw 
horse, climbed up on it and sat down on one of the vices. I pressed my 
left buttock in between the jaws and cranked it shut. Then I started 
eating, first the ass-carrot, still luke warm from its stay inside me. I 
smeared some of the shit on it and ate it in small nibbles. Then I took 
the pussy-carrot, rubbed it against my pussy to get some more blood on 
it and ate it. The blood and pussy juice gave it a taste of iron. I 
finished my meal with the rest of my shit. The taste of shit grew on me 
and I regretted that I hadn’t licked the bathroom clean last night.


Diane

During my single year in collage I shared room with a preppy little girl 
named Nancy. Nancy was afraid of everything that could imply that she 
didn’t fit the mold. Most of all she feared not getting full scores on 
her exams. Me on the other hand only feared running out of needles while 
I was masturbating. We never saw eye to eye on anything and decided to 
not get in each others way. For eight months we lived like that, our 
only conversations were ”Good morning” and Good night”. Then one night I 
came home to find Nancy in a state of terror. Her world was falling 
apart. She had been out necking with her football jock and finally let 
him take of her blouse when they were caught by the head of the dorm who 
reported it to her mother as agreed. To top it off she had gotten the 
results of her last exam and she had failed to make the top 10 %. Now 
her mother was on her way to pull her out of collage. I tried my best to 
comfort her but I’m not very good at that stuff, and I ended up 
masturbating with the help of a pair of tweezers imagining that her 
sobbing was due to a massive whipping.

The next morning I snuck out before she awoke and had breakfast at a 
diner of campus. I spent the best part of the day reading up for my own 
exam. When I figured that all the tragedy and tears, that were bound to 
be the result of Nancy’s mom dragging her home, were over, I headed of 
home to our/my room. I entered my room only to find Nancy and her mother 
arguing over how much of a slut Nancy was and how embarrassing it was to 
be the mother of a failure. Nancy suddenly looked up at me, taking her 
eyes of her mother. Her mother took this as defiance and slapped her 
across the face, sending Nancy down on the floor. Then she turned around 
and saw me, not at all pleased. Nancy stood up and fled out the door 
with her mothers curses following her. I walked up to her and said that 
if she felt like hitting people, why not hit me. She looked at me for a 
few seconds, indecision in her eyes, and then said: ” You would like 
that, wouldn’t you”. I said that I most definitely would, as a matter of 
fact it would probably make me come. We stood there for a few seconds, 
then she grabbed my hair, pulled me down on the floor and put her hand 
down the front of my shorts. She told me that I was a slut and that I 
had ruined her little girl with my vile ways and now I would pay for it. 
She grabbed my pussy, her long red nails digging into the flesh, clawing 
at it like a wildcat. I moaned and begged her to stop, witch she of 
course didn’t. I’m not sure how long this went on but suddenly she 
stopped. She got up on her feet and spit me in the face. She looked at 
her hand, there was blood on her fingers. She held her hand in front of 
my face and told me to lick it clean and I did. Then she walked out of 
my room and was gone.

When I got back to my room the next day, Nancy’s things were gone and a 
airhead for an art major called Sue had moved in. I took all my exams 
that semester but decided that collage wasn’t my scene and had no 
intention of coming back after the summer. Two days before my finals I 
received a letter containing a round trip bus ticket to a small town on 
the east coast known for it’s fancy summer guests. The ticket was valid 
for the day after my finals. There wasn’t a note, only the ticket. I 
wondered if there was a relative that I didn’t know about that wanted to 
see me but it didn’t seem as very plausible. I had a hard time keeping 
my thoughts from wandering from my studies to the mystery tickets. On 
the night after my finals I had pretty much decided not to take the trip 
when the phone rang. A female voice said: ”Hello, this is Diane, Nancy’s 
mother, did you get the ticket I sent you”.

The next day I was on the bus, getting all worked up over meeting the 
bitch with the long, red nails again. She had been the fancy of my 
imagination since our encounter and I had gotten much pleasure from our 
short but painful session. The bus ride took almost 10 hours and when I 
arrived at the station I was hungry, tired and longed for a hot shower 
and a bed. Diane stood there waiting with an impatient look on her face. 
She was a tall woman, almost a head taller than me, with long, slender 
limbs and a full bosom. She was in her mid fifties but would probably 
get away with early forties in a polite crowd. She was wearing a dark 
blue Chanel suit with matching shoes and her hair looked like had just 
come out from the Salon. She told me to put my stuff in the back seat of 
the big Cadillac and get in the passenger seat. We rode in silence for 
about 30 minutes, passing a lot of short bridges until we stopped 
outside her place. The house was pretty big and seemed to be the only 
one on what I took for an island. I was told to leave the bags in the 
car, I wouldn’t be needing anything in them anyway. She led the way into 
the house and showed me into the sittingroom. It was getting dark 
outside but the view out the windows was beautiful with the ocean in the 
background of several small islands. Diane stood in front of me and 
started to unbutton my blouse but bored quickly and tore it open. My bra 
was dealt with in the same way. She didn’t say a word, just stood there 
pinching my nipples with her long nails. After a minute she told me to 
undress and wait till she came back, and then she left.

I got my clothes of and started to wander around the room. It looked 
like a cross between a log cabin and an English mansion. The ceiling was 
high, supported by rough beams, practically logs right from the woods. 
The walls were probably also logs but you couldn’t tell because they 
were covered with book shelves. All the furniture was leather or 
hardwood and the floors were covered with thick carpets. I didn’t hear 
her come back, only the crack of the whip and the sudden pain as it 
lashed across the small of my back. I span around only to get the next 
lash across my thighs. Diane was wearing a leather teddy, long black 
gloves, stay-ups and black high heels. In her right hand was a bullwhip 
and in her left a riding crop.  She walked up to me and told me to get 
out on the porch. I complied and when we got out I saw a dear sight, a 
saw horse. It was just like the one we had at home, except this one 
didn’t have a vice in each end. Diane told me to lean over it and tied 
my wrists and ankles to the legs of the saw horse.  She started out with 
the riding crop, whipping my buttocks and the back of my thighs hard. 
She started out whipping across my ass but after a while she went to 
whipping along the crack of my ass.  A riding crop is in my opinion not 
much of a whip, it just doesn’t hurt enough, but Diane was a strong 
woman and the lashes along my crack started to get to me, making me yelp 
with every lash. When she stopped I was moaning from pleasure and pain 
but not even close to an orgasm. She untied my wrists and ankles from 
the saw horse told me to get up on a chair at the end of the porch. When 
I was on the chair she tied my wrists in front of me with a long rope 
that passed over one of the beams that supported the roof covering the 
porch. She pulled the rope until I was standing on my toes, my wrists 
touching the beam. Then she kicked the chair from under me.

I screamed from the pain in my arms, especially my wrists that felt as 
they were coming apart. Diane let me hang there for a few minutes before 
she started the next phase of my session. The bullwhip made the riding 
crop feel like the touch of a feather. Hanging from the beam, I slowly 
turned in the wind, exposing both sides of my body. Diane must have 
practiced, because she started to call out where the next lash was going 
to land, and she was always right. About every third lash drew blood and 
I could feel it trickle down my body. After about 50 lashes evenly 
spaced over my body she stopped. She tied two ropes around my ankles and 
pulled my legs apart, one rope tied to the railing of the porch and one 
to a ring in the wall. When she tightened the ropes my legs where not 
only spread wide apart but my whole body was pulled along the porch 
until I was hanging 45 degrees out from the fall line. Diane picked up 
the whip and called out: ”Cunt!” and let eight lashes land on my pussy, 
every one tearing up the delicate skin. That’s when I came, screaming 
with all my might, shaking and kicking. Diane placed a chair between my 
legs, sat down, opened the zipper in her crotch and started to play with 
herself while licking the blood of my pussy. After a few minutes she 
came and sat there panting, telling me that I probably hadn’t deserved 
being let down, but she figured that with the plans she had for me for 
tomorrow, I would probably need the rest. 

Diane lowered me down on the ground and untied me. She then pulled me of 
the floor and led me upstairs to the bathroom. I helped her of with her 
clothes, at least I tried, my hands were pretty useless from hanging 
from my wrists so long. We got in to the shower and Diane scrubbed me 
down using a brush with very stiff bristles. When she came around to my 
pussy I almost fainted and she had to hold me up to stop me from 
falling. When she felt I was clean she dried me of and led me to bed. 
She cuffed my hands to the headboard, tucked me in and said good night.

When I woke up the next morning, I heard voices downstairs. It took 
another twenty minutes before Diane came in to the room. She was wearing 
a pair of leather panties, nothing else, and was in a cheerful mood. She 
kissed me full on the lips and released me from the bed. The she took me 
to the bathroom where we did a rerun of last nights shower routine, less 
the fainting on my part. She dried me of, cuffed my hands behind my back 
and told me to come and meet her sister, Catherine. Downstairs in the 
sittingroom stood a woman that most definitely was Diane’s sister. They 
were the same length, build and they behaved as if they were one and the 
same. Catherine clapped her hands at the sight of me and rushed up and 
kissed me, holding me in her arms and complimented her sister on what a 
cute little baby she had found. Catherine was wearing a white se-through 
blouse over a black, half-cup, leather bra and a pair of red rubber 
tights. She stepped back and inspected the rest of my body. She frowned 
and said: ”Someone had her bullwhip out last night”, in a pretend angry 
voice. Diane just smiled and told her that she had been feeling horny 
and it had only been some foreplay.  It was raining outside and they had 
decided to stay indoors that day. They moved a table and one of the 
couches to make room for their games. A rope was led over a beam and 
attached to my cuffs. When they pulled it tight I was forced to bend 
forward and my arms were pulled upwards until it felt as if my shoulders 
were being pulled out of their joints.

Catherine started of by scrubbing my back with a cheese-grater, tearing 
up the skin. She worked methodically and wasn’t satisfied until my 
shoulder blades were bleeding. They then took turns at whipping my back 
with the riding crop, making me scream out loud. Apparently whipping was 
hard work because when they were done, both sisters sat down on the 
couch and drank mineral water, not offering me any. When they were done 
Diane left me and Catherine alone to get something. Catherine complained 
that her tights were to warm, pealed them of and showed me her pussy. 
That was the first pierced pussy I had ever seen and it got me extremely 
hot. She didn’t just have one ring in her labia, she had ten in each, 
both inner and outer, and five studs in her clit. She noticed my 
interest and laid on the floor parading her pussy in front of me. Diane 
came back asking her sister why she always had to show of her little 
fetish. Catherine got of the floor and answered that some people knew to 
appreciate a good piercing when they saw one, and that I would probably 
enjoy being pierced. Diane just laughed and said that they would come to 
that later. She had a hair blower in her hand and told her sister to 
plug it in. 

She turned it on and waited until it had heated up, then she held it 
close to my arm. She held it there until I screamed, then nudged my skin 
with the hot muzzle, and began to move the blower along my arm towards 
my hand. She did my arms, hands and fingers, leaving them all red and 
burnt, and then moved to my legs. Starting with my ankles and moving up. 
She was very thorough and didn’t hand over the blower until every square 
inch of my legs were red. Catherine started with my buttocks, making 
sure that every lesion from the whipping last night got a nudge with the 
muzzle. She asked Diane to spread my buttocks so that she wouldn’t miss 
anything along the crack of my ass. My sphincter got special treatment 
as she pressed the blower against it several times. I had been screaming 
during the entire process and finally Diane told her sister to back of, 
until I had been gagged. The gag was my underwear I had had on the bus, 
tasting of sweat, secured in my mouth with some piano wire wrapped 
around my head. Then Catherine went on to burn my tits. Kneeling beside 
me she had full access and soon my tits were bright red. She did the 
nipples last. They were fully erect by now and she let them hang down 
into the muzzle for several seconds, making me come, big time.

They left me standing for a while when they went out into the kitchen to 
get some lunch. After fifteen minutes Catherine came out and took of the 
gag and untied me from the beam. I sat at the table, not easy when your 
ass has been whipped and burnt, but couldn’t eat since my hands were 
still cuffed behind my back. Diane took up feeding me scrambled eggs and 
juice but Catherine was more inventive and I ended up eating of her feet 
as she stood on the table. The session before lunch had gotten them both 
pretty hot and after they tied me up, spread eagled in the doorway to 
the kitchen, I got to watch them fingerfuck each other on the couch. It 
was pretty strange seeing these two women gently making love to each 
other when I know that in a while they would make me scream with pain. 
They got off almost simultainiusly, not making a big deal of it (like I 
do) but they more or less just moaned and sat back in the couch holding 
hands. Catherine got up of the couch, slid by me and started to mess 
around in the kitchen. Diane got up, pulled her panties back up and 
walked up to me. She put her hand on my shoulder, slowly letting it move 
down, her long nails leaving marks along the way. She started to scratch 
my tits, my stomach, my ass and getting down on her knees, my legs. On 
her knees she grabbed my buttocks, digging her nails into my already 
hurting flesh., making me scream. She renewed her grip and sunk her 
nails in again, this time deeper, squeezing my buttocks hard. She kept 
the grip for quite some time, then biting her teeth into my stomach, 
giving me my second orgasm.

Catherine came up behind me talking to Diane about gagging me. They 
discussed the pros and cons of gags for a while before they decided 
against it. Then Catherine showed me why she had brought up the subject, 
a staple gun. She started with the back of my legs, spacing the staples 
evenly, a half inch in between, in a line up the back side of my leg. 
She stopped just below my buttocks. Then she stapled similar lines up 
the inside of my thighs. Then she handed the stapler to Diane who put 
three lines up the front of my thighs. They altered sides, Catherine did 
my buttocks (it took almost 45 minutes), shoulders and arms, Diane did 
my stomach, tits and armpits. It felt as if my body went completely 
numb. There was just too many points of pain. Catherine started to 
squeeze my buttocks and Diane did the same with my tits. Every squeeze 
made me cry out loud, only enticing them to squeeze harder. They didn’t 
stop until I had come three times, cheering me on, kissing me, and all 
the time squeezing me where it hurt. 

They did a count of how many staples I had in me. They had started out 
with a full box, 2500 staples, and about half of them were now gone. I 
hadn’t bled that much during the stapling but their squeezing session 
had made my ass and tits a mess of flesh, steel and blood. They wrapped 
a kitchen towel around my chest, giving me a blue and white, checkered 
bra and Catherine stapled (!) a towel to my ass. Then they uncuffed me 
and led me up to my bedroom. I was laid down on my back, my hands and 
ankles tied to the bedposts by the headboard, exposing my pussy to them. 
Diane brought out the staple gun and started to do my pussy. My inner 
and outer labia was stapled together, my clit covered with staples and 
she put quite a few across my pee and pussy hole. I bled like a pig and 
Catherine got down and started to lick up my blood while Diane gave her 
head from behind. Catherine didn’t take long to come and they traded 
places. When Diane came they got out of the bed and left me there while 
they took a shower. It took a while and there was a lot of moaning so I 
guess they were at it again. They came back, both stark naked, and the 
fact that they were sisters was more obvious than ever, they could trade 
bodies and not notice themselves. They both had a pair of tweezers and 
told me that now came the fun part, pulling out the staples. They 
started in the same end as they started, my legs. Methodically they 
worker in parallel, Catherine on my left side, Diane on my right. It 
took forever, especially my ass where Catherine really had lost control 
with the stapler. Every staple left two small holes when it was removed 
and thus two small drops of blood. Since I had over 1200 staples in me 
it was a considerable amount of blood that soon covered my body. Before 
I was released so that they could get the staples out of my shoulders 
and arms (they had not yet cleared my pussy) they licked my body clean. 
They then released me and took the staples out the rest of my body, only 
leaving the ones in my pussy. My body was all aching flesh and every 
move I made me cry out. The sisters started to cuddle with me, every 
hug, every touch making me hurt. They took turns of sitting on my face 
getting head while the other licked the blood of my pussy, occasionally 
slapping it to resupply. Finally the three of us came Diane and 
Catherine picked the staples out of my pussy.

I stayed in bed for five days, not taking any pain killers, but not 
wanting to move around so that my wounds had chance to heal. Either 
Diane or Catherine sat by my bed around the clock, dressing my wounds, 
feeding me and most of all, kissing me. When I wasn’t sleeping or eating 
I was getting tongue from one, sometimes two, of the lovesick couple. I 
slowly recovered so I could leave my bed and move about enough to be 
able to sit on the porch and read while they fussed over me. After ten 
days Catherine had to go home and she spent the last night in my bed, 
crying while she whispered in my ears what a beautiful little baby I was 
and how much she loved me. The next morning she was singing to a 
different tune, cheerful and dancing around the house, happy to be going 
home to her family. I was sitting on the porch with Diane when she came 
out to say good-bye. She kissed me and told me we would have to meet 
again. Then she went over to Diane, hiked up her skirt, pulled down her 
panties and asked for one last fingerfuck, which she got. She climaxed 
and the she was gone.

I stayed with Diane for the rest of the summer, never wearing a thread 
on my body, and we had generally a good time. Diane would get the 
bullwhip out occasionally but mostly she used to bite and scratch me. 
She especially enjoyed biting the excess fat around my waist and clawing 
my ass. Since it was her sharp nails that had attracted me to her in the 
first place, I couldn’t complain at all.



Peter

I usually know a fellow pain freak when I see one. The ”Inflicters” have 
this 
your-ass-is-mine-and-I’m-going-to-excersise-my-rigth-to-it-till-you-scream
look on their face. Peter had that look when I spotted him in a night 
club in LA. It was one of those clubs where you could find your 
secretary giving head to women wearing nothing but cell-wrap or discover 
that your Dudly-Do-Right Business Manager has his genitals pierced. 
Peter had his eyes on a 200 pound blond who was standing on a table 
showing of how many 50 oz. weights she could hang from the rings in her 
labia. Peter stepped forward and helped her attach a few more. When he 
added more than she asked for and kept her from taking them of herself, 
things got a bit out of hand and Peter withdrew to the men’s room to 
avoid being thrown out of the club. I followed him in there and asked if 
there was anything I could do for him or if there was anything he could 
do to me. He told me to lift my arm and then he stubbed his cigar in my 
armpit. Then he told me to pull up my skirt and get in into one of the 
stalls. I got in and kneeled on the toilet seat, pulled my red rubber 
panties aside, exposing my ass for him to treat as he pleased. He told 
me to keep quiet and then he started to force his beer bottle up my ass. 
He used some spit as lube but it took him several tries before all you 
could se of the bottle was the neck. He replaced my panties, pulled down 
my skirt and asked me if I would join him at the bar for a drink. 

He ordered Martinis for the both of us and led me to an empty booth in 
the far corner of the room. It was hard to sit straight with the bottle 
up my ass but I did my best. The big blond was at it again, this time 
hang the weights from the plenty of rings and studs that seemed to cover 
her tits. Peter wasn’t impressed. He had very detailed plans on how to 
handle those tits, plans I hoped he would apply to mine later on. I just 
sat and listened and played with my olive. Suddenly Peter turned his 
attention to me and told me to eat the olive and then give him the 
yellow plastic toothpick it was pierced on. I did as I was told as he 
did the same. Then he told me to hike up my skirt again, pull off my 
panties and spread my legs. Our booth wasn’t very well lit and the black 
wax table cloth hid any activities that took place under the table. He 
felt me up for a few minutes while telling me how much he wanted me to 
bleed and scream and how I would never forget this night. My reply was 
that I didn’t have to be anywhere special in the next two or three weeks 
and that I was at his to do as he pleased with for that time. He smiled 
and said he might be able to fit some extra time for me in his schedule.

Peter started to stab my labia with one of the toothpicks, just barely 
breaking the skin. He did this for several minutes until he grabbed my 
left labia and started to stick the toothpick right through it. He 
didn’t stop at this but instead he got hold of my right labia and did 
the same. He bent the ends of the pick so it would stay put, nailing my 
pussy shut. Then he applied the other toothpick further down. I had to 
bite my hand not to scream out loud. Then he told me to put my panties 
back on, we were leaving. We got out of the club, got in to a cab and 
went to his place.

Peter lived in a house on the beech with at least half a mile to his 
closest neighbor, well out of screaming-distance, as he put it. We went 
to the back of the house where he unlocked the door to a room behind the 
kitchen. The room was pretty small, only 10x10 feet, with walls, floor 
and ceiling painted black. The only thing in the room was a heavy table 
that was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. Peter told me to 
strip of my clothes. At the time I was wearing a short black leather 
skirt, a red silk blouse, thigh long laced boots with 5 inch heels and I 
wore a 2 inch wide, black leather collar around my neck. There was a 3 
foot steel chain attached to the collar. Under it all I wore red rubber 
underwear. Peter told me to get up on the table and stretch my arms and 
legs up into the air. There were several chains attached to rings bolted 
to the table. One was stretched across my hips, the second across my 
chest, just below my tits. The third across my neck and the last went 
across my mouth, pinning my head to the table and pulling my lips back 
in an uncomfortable grin. All the chains were locked in place with big 
padlocks.  He put leather cuffs around my wrists, around my arms just 
under my elbows, around my ankles and around my legs, just under my 
knees. Using more padlocks he the proceeded to lock my wrists to my 
ankles and my elbows to my knees. He got up on the table, spread my feet 
apart and connected a four foot wooden rod to my ankles, one end to each 
leg, thus keeping my legs spread. My hip and elbow joints protested 
against the angles but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Peter left me there and I could hear move around the house and after a 
while the TV came on and I could smell cigarette smoke. I must have been 
in there alone for over two hours and my arms and legs were killing me. 
Suddenly Peter came into the room he was naked except for a pair of old 
combat boots and a black leather apron. He stood at the end of the table 
and looked me with a grin on his face, took a deep breath and said: OK, 
here we go. He took out a pair of pliers and pulled the toothpicks out 
of my labia. I hadn’t bled all that much from the piercing but the 
toothpicks sat pretty hard in the dried blood. I screamed through my 
steel gag. Then he took out two metal paper clips and straightened them 
out. Using the holes he had already drilled earlier in the evening he 
thread the straightened clips through my labia. The sharp edges around 
the ends tore into the wound canals and I screamed even louder this 
time. He twisted the clips together using the pliers, making any entry 
into my pussy impossible, while telling me that he didn’t have any use 
for my cunt anyway. On the other hand, he told me, I would probably need 
diapers after this night.

Peter grabbed hold of the beer bottle that was still in my ass and 
started to pull it out of me. When the bottle was halfway out, the 
widest part of the bottle spreading my ass wide open, he stopped and 
just held it there. He let go and told me that if I let it slip out and 
it fell to the floor, he would stuff the shards back up my ass. This 
made me tighten my ass and thereby increasing the pain even more. Peter 
left the room for a few minutes and then came back wearing long black 
rubber gloves and holding an aluminum baseball bat. Both the gloves and 
the bat glistened of a thin coat of lube. He put the bat in the corner, 
grabbed the bottle, pushed it in and pulled it out, all in one move. The 
bottle came out sounding like a champagne cork only to be replaced by 
Peter’s fist. He stuck it in and started to move up my colon. It was if 
a huge snake was slithering up my ass, the width of his arm stretching 
my ass beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. The chains really had to 
earn their pay, my body was stretched as tight as an archers bow. There 
had been no enema and soon he ran into an obstacle. This didn’t stop 
him. I could actually feel him digging into it inside me, I could feel 
his hand opening and closing around my shit. He went deeper and deeper 
until his arm was almost in to the elbow. He slowly started to pull out 
of me only to thrust back in, deeper this time. In and out, in and out 
and I could feel a climax coming on. Suddenly he pulled all the way out 
of me, waited for one or two seconds, then rammed it all the way in 
again. This was just too much and I came, screaming at the top of my 
lungs. 

As he finally pulled out of me, he did it with a clenched fist, putting 
an extra strain on my sphincter. He showed me his hand, it was full of 
shit, he had pulled it out of me! Peter smeared it over my face and 
informed me that I hadn’t seen anything yet. He grabbed the bat and 
rammed it up where the sun now could shine in. I had had things stuffed 
far up my ass before but this was something completely different. The 
cold metal made my insides shudder and the hard surface stretched my 
colon to the max. I couldn’t se how much of the bat he had in me but I 
sure could feel it. Peter fucked me hard and I could feel blood from my 
overworked ass smearing over my buttocks. He worked the bat like a 
piston and I felt like I was about to explode. Peter was enjoying 
himself immensely, having me squirming in pain in front of him. After 
what felt like an hour he stopped, informing me that he would be back in 
a second and left.

Peter wasn’t gone for long, he came back rubbing his hands, smiled and 
went to work. He pulled the bat out of me and replaced it with his hand. 
I was a bit taken back by this since it was stepping down in size. Then 
he grabbed his wrist with the other hand and started to push. My ass 
soon had two fists working it in parallel, stretching it in a way I had 
never known before. I came several times during the following minutes 
and Peter made every effort to make his threat of diapers a reality. 
Finally he stopped and I felt I could breath again. That was a short 
luxury. Peter released my ankles and wrists only to fasten them to the 
legs of the table. Then he took the chain out of my mouth, got up on the 
table, lifted his apron and lowered his hard dick into my mouth. He was 
on top fucking my face as if it was my pussy, only letting me up for air 
occasionally. I could only take so much and passed out.

When I woke up I was laying an my stomach in the sand. My clothes were 
in a pile beside me. I got up on my knees and I had to close my eyes to 
stop the world from spinning. Finally I got up on my feet and started to 
dress. I gave that up pretty quick, my body was covered with sand. I 
walked down to the water to wash of the sand of my body. As I stood with 
the waves washing over my feet, I looked down at my pussy and realized 
that the paper clips were still there. The ends had been so tightly 
twined that I had no chance of removing them without pliers or wire 
cutters. I put my hand between my buttocks to check out my ass and 
realized it wasn’t empty. Something round and hard was in there. I 
looked around to make sure that I was alone and then I squatted down to 
shit out what ever was in there. I huffed and I puffed and finally it 
came out. In the water was an orange covered with shit and blood. I 
stuck a finger up my sorry ass and I could feel another one in there. I 
shat a total of four oranges out of me, each one felt like it was 
tearing me apart. When I walked out into the water I realized that Peter 
was right, I was going to have to use diapers for some time, I could 
feel the cold salt water coming up my ass as I lowered myself into the 
water. My bruised inside did not take kindly to the salt and it felt as 
someone had poured acid into my ass. I came there and then. Fortunately 
I was in shallow water or I would definitely have drowned. 


Carol

I would often come out of an encounter with the need to see the inside 
of an ER unit. This is usually out of the question since my wounds were 
the kind that made doctors call the cops. This is where Lisa used to 
come into the picture. Lisa was a 55 year old nurse at the local 
hospital with a taste for the bizarre. She weighed in at about 250 
pounds, smoked cigars and lived in a lesbian relationship with her 30 
year old daughter, Careen. Careen was tattoo artist and was covered from 
head to toe with pictures of very explicit sexual acts. When ever I 
showed up at their door step, they would take me in, treat my wounds and 
thoroughly interrogate me about my latest exploits. The only thing they 
wanted in return was that I sat by their bed and watched them fuck. This 
was easier said than done since their roll on the hay gave a 6.4 reading 
on the Richter scale. They were all over the place, it was practicality 
a professional wrestling match. Also, they were loud, Lisa would scream 
obscenities to her daughter and Careen would scream back, making it all 
an event that would put a rocket launch to shame. One of Lisa’s favorite 
tricks was to beat Careen in the face with her enormous tits. Lisa’s 
tits were the size of mutant watermelons, with aerolas like saucers and 
nipples the size of wine corks. Unfortunately Lisa and Careen decided to 
move to San Diego so I had to look elsewhere for medical support. 

After I had washed of the sand and shit from my body and gotten my 
clothes on, I walked up to the road to hitch a ride back to town. I 
stood there for almost an hour before a Lincoln stopped. The driver 
looked like a nice guy and he presented himself as Tom, MD. He drove 
carefully and made polite conversation. He was kind of cute and I just 
couldn’t help myself, I just had to see if he was as straight as he 
seemed. I wasn’t wearing my underwear because I didn’t want the paper 
clips to ruin them, so I pulled up my skirt and asked  him if he had any 
wire cutters so that I could put my tampon in. He stood on the brakes 
and we almost went of the road. I laughed and told him not to worry, 
that it hadn’t been done against my will, he calmed down a bit, but not 
much. He gave me a lecture on what he felt was the proper way to treat 
your body and that he would drive me to the hospital right away. I told 
him no and explained why that wasn’t a good idea, but that I wouldn’t 
mind if he would take a look and maybe give me something in case I got 
an infection. I also told him that I would make it worth his while. He 
looked at me and said that yes he would se what he could do but that he 
was happily married and didn’t want anything in return.

He took me home to his house, telling me that his wife was at a health 
farm for two weeks. He washed my pussy and ass clean and cut the paper 
clips with the kitchen scissors. He wasn’t happy with what he saw when 
he examined my ass a little closer and told me to be very careful with 
what I did with it during the next week. He asked me what I wanted for 
lunch and I said that he shouldn’t bother and that I was going to be on 
my way. ”Rubbish, your staying here for at least a couple of days so 
that, if there are any complications, I can treat you.” He Quickly added 
that I could sleep in the Pool House and that he would see if his wife 
had any clothes for me to wear. I went out to the Pool House and 
stripped down and got into the shower. I stood there for fifteen minutes 
and thought of what to do. Tom was a nice guy but I had never known a 
man who didn’t want something from me. I decided to stay along and find 
out what it was and got out of the shower. I found a bathrobe and walked 
out to the pool. Tom was sitting under the parasol with a try with 
sandwiches and a couple of beers. We ate and in silence but when we were 
finished, Tom cleared his throat and blurted out: Do you practice 
toilet-sex also? So that was his game. I laughed and said sure, he cold 
do what ever he wanted to me. He blushed and said that it wasn’t for 
him, it was his wife.

Tom told me that he was pretty conservative in bed and until now he had 
thought that his wife, Carol, was to. Lately they experimented a little 
with anal sex and it had been most rewarding, as he put it. The other 
night, after he had pulled his dick out of his wife’s ass, she had 
shocked him by turning around and taking it into his mouth. He tried to 
get away but she had him literally by the balls and she had licked him 
clean. Then she had laid down on her back and begged him to shit in her 
mouth. Tom was disgusted with his wife and told her so. She had gotten 
all worked up and screamed that he was a sissy and that if he wouldn’t 
do it, she would find someone who would, and then she stormed out of the 
bedroom. Tom had been slow to follow her and when he found her, his 
wife, the high powered attorney, kneeling on the kitchen floor, eating 
from pile that she apparently just had squeezed out of her ass, he 
fainted. The next day, Carol had packed her bags and gone of to the 
health farm.

It was hard not snicker at what could only be described as Hard 
core-kink vs. The Brady bunch. I asked him what he wanted me to do about 
it. Tom said that he didn’t know but maybe I could perform the services 
for his wife that he could not. I smiled and asked him: ”What if your 
wife doesn’t like women, or as a matter of fact, what if I don’t like 
women. He looked at me as if I had said that I don’t like to breath. 
”You don’t?” I laughed and said that of course I like fucking women but 
the question remained that what if she didn’t. Tom seemed to think that 
if you liked people to shit down your throat, you didn’t care who did 
it. We discussed it for a while and then we came to an agreement: Tom 
would take care of my future wounds and I would try to please his wife. 
If Carol didn’t like the idea of me being her toilet partner, Tom would 
still tend to my needs.

I spent ten days just healing, getting a tan by the pool by day, and 
watching TV at night. Tom checked me out before he left for work every 
morning and before he went to bed at night. Every time I begged him to 
come in me but he stood fast and politely declined. I could se he was 
becoming tense over what was about to happen the next weekend. On the 
day before Carol’s arrival he got me some new lingerie, everything 
peach-colored. It wasn’t what I would have bought but from what I had 
seen of Carol’s wardrobe, it was right up her alley. I refrained from 
taking a dump so that I would be ripe for my first meeting with his 
wife.

Saturday Carol showed up around noon and I hid out in the pool house. 
Come nightfall Tom called me on the intercom and told me that things 
were tense but that they would be eating dinner a eight and he thought 
that it would be a good idea if I turned up for the coffee at around 
nine. At five to nine I filled my ass with my pee, using an old water 
bottle and walked over to the main building. I was wearing the outfit 
Tom had bought me: silk stockings, garter belt, string panties, a very 
tight corset and over it all a se-through silk robe. On my feet I had a 
pair of golden, high heeled sandals with down on the toes. I looked the 
stereotype of a teenagers wet dream. I sneaked in to the kitchen door 
and stood by the door listening. They weren’t saying much but I could 
hear Tom offering his wife more coffee. That was my cue and I strode in 
to the dining room. When I entered they both stopped what they were 
doing and just looked at me. I turned to Carol and said hi, pulled out a 
chair and got up on the table. She just sat there staring with her mouth 
open. I turned towards Tom only to see him rise and leave the room. I 
squatted down, lowering my ass to she same level as her face, looked 
over my shoulder, smiled, pulled the silk gown aside and said: ”I’m 
Emma, now be a good girl and eat this”. At that moment I gave a good 
push and emptied my ass in her face. The first load hit her right 
between the eyes and she gave out a cry of surprise. With the next push 
I couldn’t muster the same power and it fell short of he face and landed 
in her knee. She just sat there and for a few seconds I thought that it 
was going to be a complete failure. The she stood up, grabbed my hips 
and stuck her face between my buttocks. I started to push again and I 
could feel her lips against my sphincter and her greedy tongue lapping 
up everything I could offer.

She sucked my ass for a good five minutes and then started to lick her 
way down my thigh. I moved away from her, turned and sat down in the 
puddle of pee that was the table. I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her 
on top of me and started to lick her shit-covered face. We made out on 
the table, smearing my shit all over the place. After a while I took her 
hand and asked if she would like to spend the night with me in the pool 
house. She just nodded yes and I led her out through the kitchen to my 
quarters. I had prepared the bed with a rubber sheet, the type you can 
buy for bed wetters, under the regular sheets. We stripped out of our 
clothes outside by the pool and then proceeded in to the bed. With our 
clothes of, we now only had the shit on our faces and in our hair to 
play with. I patted Carol on her stomach and asked her if she by chance 
had something in there for me. She smiled and said that she would do her 
best. She got on top of my face and started to push. First came a shower 
if pee witch blinded me temporarily. I laid there with my mouth wide 
open and suddenly I felt the hot, putrid taste of her shit in my mouth. 
I bit down an started to chew, the rest of her load landing on my face. 
She got off of me and I sat up. She started to kiss me, trying to get as 
much out of my mouth as possible with her tongue. I fended her of and 
took a big piece of shit in my hand and said: ”Here kitty, kitty, come 
and get it.” Carol crawled up to me and ate out of my hand.  When she’d 
eaten it all she went on to lick my fingers clean. I took another piece, 
spread my legs and smeared it all over my pussy, making sure that some 
of the shit went inside me. Carol didn’t mind, she was hungry and would 
have eaten out of a dogs ass. It was clear that she never had given head 
to a woman before but I didn’t mind. She used her teeth to scrape the 
shit of my pussy and when her tongue shot up my canal to find what I had 
hidden in there she made sounds that reminded me of a hungry raccoon 
digging for food. The rest of the night we spent licking every square 
inch of each others bodies before I fell asleep in her arms, one hand on 
my pussy and one hand on my left tit.

I woke up before she did and slid out of her arms to go to the bathroom. 
Just out of bed I realized that my toilet was laying the bed and I 
turned back. I got up on top of her and shook her awake. She opened her 
eyes only to see my pussy two inches away and hearing me say that I had 
to pee. Carol smiled and told me to go right ahead. I emptied my bladder 
down her throat and she swallowed it all. Then she licked her lips and 
told me to get on my back, now she had to relieve herself. She was full 
to the max and I had to work hard to be able to swallow it all. We spent 
the rest of the morning talking and she was most thankful for her 
husbands efforts to help me and the arrangement that would supply her 
with what she wanted. We parted later that day, but I have been back 
many times to play potty with Carol.


”C”

When I first met C I thought nothing of him. He was the cameraman of a 
SM/Fistfuck Video I was doing for a friend who specialized in false 
snuff movies. A false snuff movie tries to copy the real snuff movies 
except for the murder that usually ends the snuff. That’s the part we 
fake. This movie wasn’t a pretend snuff, but a fairly dull flick, only 
illegal because it showed penetration, bondage and whipping at the same 
time. It was supposed to be a one day shoot but the guy that was 
supposed to do the whipping got taken by the cops for assault the night 
before and the Dominatrix they hired showed up drunk as a skunk two 
hours after we were supposed to start. The producer took of to find a 
stand-in and told us, me and C, to stay put. We had some coffee and 
talked about this and that. I asked if he did a lot of camerawork and he 
said, yes he had done a lot of movies during the last two years but it 
was getting old, the films were so boring. My experience of camera guys 
was that they were the ones really getting of on the scenes, so I 
wondered what it would take to get him interested. He just smiled and 
answered that I didn’t want to know. This got me very interested and  I 
said that I could handle anything he could think of. He sat across the 
table, just looking at me for a long time, pored me another cup of 
coffee and said: Really? I nodded and said: Really! C leaned over the 
table, stuck his hand down my dress and pulled my left tit out and 
dipped the nipple in my coffee. He held it there for a few seconds while 
he watched me squirm from the pain of the scolding coffee round my 
nipple.

C pulled my tit out of the coffee and told me to get my other tit out. I 
pulled down the front of my dress and freed my right tit from my bra. He 
took it and held it in the coffee, longer this time, a smile growing on 
his face. He let go and stood up from the table. He pulled the belt out 
of his pants and told me to strip. I got up and pulled my dress over my 
head and got rid of my underwear. He looked me over, lifted his hand and 
slapped me hard across the face, so hard I lost my balance an fell to 
the floor. ”You still have your shoes on you ugly whore” he said and 
kicked me where I was laying on the floor. I took my shoes of and put 
them beside my dress. He told me to roll over on my stomach and put my 
hands behind my back. I did what I was told and he proceeded to tie my 
arms, all the way up to the elbows, with his belt. ” Roll over on your 
back”. I did and got one of my shoes shoved into my mouth. He secured it 
with tape and then sat down on my chest, crushing my arms under me, and 
pulled my legs up and locked them under his arms. Then he took my other 
shoe and started hit my pussy with it, holding it by the toe and 
hammering my pussy with the heel.

He beat me relentlessly and I could feel the sharp heel digging in to my 
flesh every time the shoe came down. At first he just hammered at my 
pussy in general but after a while he started to aim at my hole. Every 
time he got his aim right and the heel went inside me, I could feel it 
tearing up my love-canal. It was like being fucked with an ice pick. 
Suddenly he stopped, reached out and got the coffee pot of the table. He 
started to pour the coffee over my bleeding pussy, scolding  every 
square inch of it. Then he went back to beating me with the shoe. After 
a few minutes he stopped and poured more coffee over me. This time he 
concentrated on my thighs and buttocks. Then he stood up, turned, and 
emptied the pot over my tits. He pulled down his pants, got his cock out 
and got on top of me. It was the fuck of the century. My pussy was a 
bloody pulp, and every movement he made was absolute torture. He held me 
by the hair and just fucked away. After a couple of minutes he stopped 
and at first I thought that he had already come without me noticing. He 
pulled out of me and stood up. He must have seen the wonder in my eyes, 
because he just smiled and told me not to worry, more was yet to come. 
Then he grabbed me by the hair and started to pull me across the floor 
towards the small bathroom in the back of the kitchen.

In the bathroom he told me to stand up. I got up on my knees and used 
the wall to support me as I got up on my feet. I was told to go over an 
stand in front of the toilet, spread my legs and bend over. I did as I 
was told and  was rewarded with a push in the back that tipped me over 
and sent my head down into the bowl. The shoe in my mouth hit the 
porcelain and was driven further into my mouth. I could fell my lip 
split from being stretched to far and my tongue was cut open by the 
buckle on the shoe. My shoulders took most of the impact and the heavy 
lid closed over my neck. The toilet hadn’t been flushed after it was 
last used and god only knows when it was last cleaned. I started to gag 
from the combination of the shoe driven in to deep and the foul smell. I 
probably would have hurled if C hadn’t resumed fucking me at that 
moment. He fucked me for fifteen minutes and gave me three orgasms 
during that time. Finally he came but he didn’t pull out of me. Instead 
I could feel his cock slowly soften inside me. He started to slap my 
burnt buttocks while he told me what a disappointing fuck I was and if 
it was up to him, I should be put out of my misery. He discussed 
different methods on how to do it, including feeding me to his Pitbulls. 
Then he sighed and told that it would have to wait and that now he had 
to pee but I was blocking the toilet. I tried to get up and out of his 
way but he slammed the lid down on the back of my head and told me to 
stay put. Then he emptied his bladder in my bleeding pussy. His pee 
filled me up and the burning pain sent me off into my fourth orgasm. 

When he was done he pulled out of me, pulled my head out of the toilet 
and slapped me hard on my stomach, diving the pee out of my pussy. Then 
he turned me around and pushed me back out into the kitchen. He closed 
the door and I could hear him turn on the shower. After a few minutes he 
came out, dressed and sat down and had a cigarette. He took a few drags 
before he stood up , walked  up to where I was laying and turned me 
over. Then he parted my buttocks and started  to burn my asshole with 
the cigarette. It was at that moment that the director came back, 
telling us as he came through the door that we could go home. He stopped 
in mid-sentence and just looked at the two of us. He started to yell at 
C, telling him that he didn’t like it when he fucked up the goods and 
wanted money for the trouble he would have to go through to find a new 
”stupid whore” who would do ass-fisting for almost no charge. C asked 
how much he wanted and the price was settled ($ 500). The director left 
and C lit a new cigarette and continued burning my ass as if nothing had 
happened. 

 An hour later C told me that he was taking me home to his place, since 
now that he owned me. He taped my legs together and told me to get up. I 
couldn’t even get up on my knees so he pulled me up by my hair. He 
ordered me to hop over to the kitchen table and to bend over. Laying on 
the table with my feet on the floor, I was asked if I wanted to bring my 
other shoe to his place. I nodded yes and he started to force it up my 
ass. An unlubed leather shoe doesn’t fit very well in an asshole and he 
had to work hard at it. When he was satisfied that it wouldn’t come out 
on its own, he lifted me up over his shoulder and carried me down to his 
car. He dropped me on the ground and opened the trunk. Then he lifted 
and threw me in there and closed the lid.

It wasn’t a long drive and C is a careful driver. When he opened the lid 
of the trunk we where already indoors. C owned the three basement 
stories of an old warehouse and he could drive right in, all the way to 
the elevator. He lifted me in, closed the doors and down we went. The 
elevator stopped at the lowest level and I was carried through a large 
room to a steel door. C punched in a code on a keypad next to it and the 
door opened. He walked in and dropped me on the floor. The room was even 
larger than the one before and better lit. The room was mostly empty 
except for one corner that was furnished with a kitchenette, a bed and 
sofa. C called out that he was home and someone called Mary better get 
out there unless she wanted to have her tits cut of. Out from an 
adjoining room came a plump woman in her early forties, no hair on her 
body, wearing nothing but a leather half-mask that covered her mouth and 
nose. She looked at me with big, wondering eyes. C said: Emma, meet my 
wife, Mary. Mary meet my new toy, Emma. I bought her for me to play with 
when you are in recovery.

 Mary was then sent of to her room and she went back to where she came 
from. C cut the tape from my legs and told me to follow him to the 
”infirmary”. The room looked just like the examination room at an ER. In 
the middle of the room was a gynecologist’s chair. C told me to get up 
and put my feet in the stirrups and I complied. He fastened my ankles 
with leather straps, put on rubber gloves and started to wipe my pussy 
clean from all the blood. He started to tell me about himself. C used to 
be a doctor, a gynecologist , Mary was his wife and nurse. He drove a 
BMW and lived the American dream. There was only one thing that 
separated him from the run of the mill, average rich doctor: He was a 
serial rapist/murderer with a taste for white, middle aged, over-weight 
house wives. 

It had started out as a solo act. But after Mary had come home early 
from visiting her parents on the coast and found C butt-fucking Jenny, 
Presbyterian and mother of four, C:s involuntary house guest since he 
picked her up eight days before, they became a team. Mary had showed her 
loyalty by offering and performing an extreme, in-depth body search on 
Jenny, insisting on using both hands at the same time. They had killed 
her together by shooting her with one shot each, one in her pussy and 
one up her ass. A female accomplice simplified things for C. Mary would 
act as decoy and lure their victims to where C could make an easy catch. 
During a five year time period they raped and murdered 18 women 
together. Together with the four C had managed himself it was a record 
that was hard to beat.

Their way down had started when C one day came out of his examination 
room and asked Mary to assist him in a procedure. Mary asked what 
procedure, for she knew they didn’t have anything scheduled for that 
afternoon. C informed that she was right but he had decided to fistfuck 
and kill Mrs. Anderson, the ever-nagging bitch he had in the stirrups at 
the moment. Mary advised him against it but she could se that he had his 
mind made up. Mary held Mrs. Anderson down while C strapped her to the 
chair. They then took turns busting their victims big pussy. Before they 
were to killed her they took a break and had a cup of coffee in the back 
office. Much to their surprise Mrs. Anderson had gotten free of her 
bonds and run out naked in the street screaming blue murder.

The trial hadn’t been a pretty sight. The defense had gone along the 
line that it was only a sex-session gone bad and that Mrs. Anderson’s 
frequent appointments were not to check for cell-changes but to frolic 
in the sexual services that C and Mary provided for her. It only worked 
in part and C and Mary were sentenced to five years imprisonment. Lucky 
for them, no one put their little ”faux pas” in connection with the 
missing house wives. C kept to his own in prison and came through fairly 
untouched. Mary was a different story. She shared cell with a bull-dyke 
who insisted on warming her hands in Mary’s tight ass and taught Mary 
the hard way to serve as her toilet. Mary came out of the Pen craving 
pain, not willing to inflict it. This was a new turn for C, he had lost 
his accomplice but gained a recyclable victim. It was a new ball game, 
his victim would scream in pain only to have repeated orgasms the next 
moment. C decided he could live with that. There had only been one 
deviation from the new order. Meg, a hefty, female prison guard C had 
taken a fancy to during his stay with the State. C had kept her in the 
basement for two weeks, and using C:s own words, it was very rewarding 
making this strong-willed woman learn to appreciate eating her own shit, 
only using a cattle prod and a butane lighter.

While he spoke he started to stitch up my pussy. He was now C the 
doctor, totally professional. He went on, with a tone as if he was 
talking about the weather, to tell me the rules that I now had to live 
by. First of all, my talking days were over. Another word from me would 
result in him cutting out my tongue (Mary hadn’t spoken a word in three 
years). This did not apply during ”sessions”, then I could scream my 
head of if I wanted, it meant nothing to him. Second, I was to skinny. 
I’ve always considered myself a few pounds overweight but according to C 
I would need to add at least 25 pounds, maybe more. He felt that my tits 
had potential (I had once considered them as big, now they were only 
long) but he was worried that my ass might need more. Therefore I would 
now have to go on a weight gaining diet and I would have to refrain from 
enemas until I was in shape, his shape. I wouldn’t ever wear clothes 
again, the only garment I was allowed/had to wear was the leather 
halfmask I had seen on Mary. Also my hair would have to go, all of it.

Fore the next ten weeks I lived by a simple but busy regime. I would for 
most of the time be confined to my ”room”, a 10x6 cell with a steel 
door, with my ankle chained to the heavy wooden bed. The lights went out 
at eight and came on again at six. I was served four large meals every 
day, a candy bar and can of coke every half hour. Due to my frequent 
eating I only had to wear the mask while I slept. I was allowed to go to 
the toilet three times a day instead of one and I was told not to move 
except during feeding. Once a week I got showered, shaved and weighed. 
This was done by hanging me upside down from the ceiling, a 40 pound 
weight attached to my wrists, and then I was hosed down and scrubbed 
with a Scotchsprite-pad. The only part of my body that needed shaving 
was my head, the rest of my body was waxed once a month. There was a 
scale on the chain that I hung from and C noted my weight every week. 
C:s worries about my ass being to flat were right, not until I had 
gained 50 pounds was he satisfied with the feel of my buns. My tits were 
another story. It seemed as if every of first 30 pounds ended up in my 
tits, they were huge, and C liked me to parade them for him, shaking and 
swinging them in front of him. Just for good measure he didn’t start me 
on a stable diet until I had gained a good 63 pounds. I’m 5’6” and used 
to weigh 130 pounds, now I weighed in at 195.

During this time, Mary did a lot of my feeding and it was her job to 
supply me with new candy and coke when I had finished the boxes that I 
had in my room, and I’m sure that she would be the one to report ( in 
writing when ordered to) if I hadn’t eaten what I was supposed to. I was 
a good girl, ate what I was supposed to and didn’t try to communicate 
with her. During the days in our rooms we could watch one hour of TV, 
read for one hour and listen to music for one hour. The rest of the time 
we just laid there. 

After my eleventh week with C, he came in to me with some food supplies, 
a couple of bottles of coke and told me that I was going to be 
unattended for a few days. Soon after that I heard Mary scream 
accompanied by the crack of a bullwhip. Mary’s session went on for 
several days, only interrupted when C slept. I got extremely hot 
listening to the torture of my fellow prisoner and I could only hope for 
it to end so that I could be next. I saw Mary after her session when C 
rolled her in a wheelchair from the infirmary to her room and she seemed 
to be somewhere between pure bliss and dying. God was I jealous. C came 
in a few hours later with some food and told me that when he felt it was 
time to take Mary of the critical list, it would be my turn. I could 
hardly wait.

Five days later C took me out of my room and walked me down a corridor 
to one of his session-rooms. I was all jelly, not with fear but of 
anticipation and something that could only be described as stage-fright, 
not that any of my agony would be acting but I was nervous that I 
wouldn’t hold the distance, thus disappointing C. The room had bare 
concrete walls and there was a gynecologists chair, just like in the 
infirmary. C told me to get up in the chair and then he strapped me in. 
He took of my mask and told me that although it was his intention not to 
kill me, there were no guarantees, and nothing I would say would make a 
difference. Then he took out a tray with some surgical supplies, mostly 
needles and thread, scrubbed my pussy with an antiseptic and started to 
sew me shut. He put five stitches right in the hole. The professionalism 
he had showed wen he stitched me up before was gone and now he went for 
maximum pain. C went on and picked up a piece of metal pipe, about 1/6 
of an inch in diameter, that connected to a long plastic hose of the 
same gauge. On the metal pipe was a valve. He also showed me a pair of 
small retractors. He stuck the retractors up my pee-hole and turned a 
knob to spread it open. This hurt like hell and I moaned from the pain. 
C smiled and said: ”Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”. He then inserted 
the metal pipe, further than the retractors reached, all the way into my 
bladder. I could do nothing but gasp for air, no one had ever done this 
to me and it was a new pain all together. He opened the valve and I 
could se my urine flowing through the clear plastic hose. Then it dawned 
on me, I had just lost control of my bladder. C got a piang from his 
tray, locked it round my clit and pulled it up towards my stomach. Then 
he took another one, grabbed some of the flesh round my stomach and tied 
them together, stretching my clit to it’s full length. C now went back 
to what he’d started upon, closing my pussy. He started by double 
stitching my inner labia with at least 30 stitches, then my outer with 
another 30. My pussy was shut tight except for a small opening for the 
pipe and another for my stretched clit. He inspected his work and seemed 
very pleased. I had gone through the process screaming and wondered 
where the hell this guy got his ideas. 

My wrists were strapped to two metal arms attached to the bed. C 
adjusted them so that my hands were together, palm to palm, in a praying 
position. He then started to sew my fingers together, thumb to thumb, 
Index to index, and so on, leaving only my pinkies free. My arms in this 
position squeezed my tits, that nowadays hung down in my armpits when I 
laid on my back, but C pulled them clear, having them block the view of 
my hands. Then he forced my mouth open and grabbed my tongue with a pair 
of pliers, pulling it out as far as he could. It was hard to see what he 
was doing but I could feel my tongue being pressed between two rough 
plates connected to some kind of frame that rested against my cheeks, 
thus locking my tongue in that position. C let go with the pliers and 
picked up a needle and treaded it. Then he grabbed my left tit, pulled 
it up so that my nipple touched my tongue and then started to sew them 
together. I was going wild, shaking and screaming ( trying to, at 
least), and when he sewed my other nipple to my tongue, I climaxed for 
the first time since C had peed in my beat up pussy, two months ago. 

C removed the contraption that had held my tongue, no need for that now 
since the weight of my tits effectively kept my tongue out. He then 
repositioned my hands so that my pinkies touched my stretched out clit. 
He held my fingers apart and pulled my clit up between them. He pressed 
my pinkies together and sewed them to each other, every stitch going 
through my clit as well. I was now partially gagged (I could scream, not 
talk) and my hands totally useless. I was in so much pain I couldn’t 
think clearly. The tip of my tongue and my nipples felt like it was 
going to tear loose and my pussy was just a big pain-pit. C adjusted the 
stirrups, spreading them wider and lifting them up, increasing the 
strain on the stitches in my pussy, making my eyes water. I couldn’t see 
what C was doing but he started to force something big up my ass. It was 
a pipe, not unlike the one that I had connecting my bladder to the 
outside world, but much wider, two or three inches in diameter. C 
informed me that he was installing what he described as an 
ass-connector. The pipe went in about six inches and was then fastened 
with straps around my waist and around my thighs.

C left my there for an hour and went to eat lunch. I laid there and 
wondered what he could possibly do next to increase my pain and 
discomfort. When he came back he released me and told me to get up. The 
answer to my earlier question was easy, standing up increased the strain 
on my tongue and nipples tenfold and not only did it feel as if my 
nipples and the tip of my tongue was going to tear of, it felt as if my 
entire tongue was being pulled out by the roots. The weight of my tits 
made me stand with my head down. C grabbed my hair, pulled my head back 
and told me to stand up strait. I screamed from the pain of my 
tit-tongue gag but also from the strain on my clit as the upright 
position stretched it further. He led me across the room, holding me by 
the hair and the pipe that stuck out of my ass. On the wall was a flush 
tank, the kind you could find on old toilets. There was no toilet, only 
a set of valves mounted three feet of the floor. C turned me around and 
told me to bend over. He pushed me back against the wall and told me to 
stand still. He started to fiddle around with the pipe and soon I was 
connected to the plumbing. Standing bent forward put extra strain on my 
tongue and tits but also I had to hold my arms against my stomach so 
that my clit wouldn’t have to carry the weight of my arms. On the floor 
beside me was a plastic container with a pump connected to it, the kind 
you would find on a blood pressure cuff. C took the plastic hose that 
connected to my bladder and fastened it to a nipple at the base of the 
container. He reached in under me and opened the valve to my bladder, 
emptying it into the container. Then he screwed of the lid and emptied 
his own bladder into it. He than screwed it shut and lifted it up on a 
shelf next to the flush tank. It was strange feeling when our combined 
pee started to fill my bladder up the back way. After a while I was 
fuller than I had ever been and tried to push some back into the 
container. C saw my efforts and started to squeeze the rubber ball and 
thereby increasing the pressure and filling me up even more. My bladder 
started to hurt bad, real bad when C pulled the chain on the flush tank. 
My colon was suddenly flooded with cold water and it felt like a fire 
hose up my ass. The water added new pressure to my bladder and the pain 
increased further. He let me stand there for ten minutes in agony before 
he emptied me by opening one of the valves I was connected to. Then he 
cranked up the pressure with the rubber ball and flushed me again. He 
had me howling from pain and orgasm. C repeated this procedure ten 
times, always increasing the pressure in my bladder. After the last 
flush he shut my valves ( I apparently had one on my ass-pipe too) 
without emptying me, disconnected me from the flush and piss tank, and 
led me out of the room.

I had big problems walking, every move felt as if my bladder and colon 
would rupture. We walked down a narrow corridor to another room. On 
entering it wasn’t very different from the first room, but after a few 
steps I realized that the floor was covered with sharp gravel. In the 
middle of the floor were two solid steel rings, about three feet apart 
with chains running through them. I was told to put one foot next to 
each ring, and I did. C chained my feet to the ring and then ordered me 
first to kneel and then lay down on my stomach. I got down on my knees, 
feeling the sharp stones cutting into the kneecaps and tried to lay 
down. How much I tried I couldn’t do it without falling flat on my face 
the last bit. I hit my forehead and it started to bleed. I didn’t 
notice, my attention was directed to my pussy, tits and bladder. I fell 
on my arms and tits. The arms pushed hard on my bladder and tugged on my 
clit. My tits took a hard blow and when I landed I could feel one or two 
stitches pull right through my nipples. Everywhere the sharp gravel dug 
into my skin. I don’t remember screaming but I must have, especially 
when C grabbed the fat around my waist and started rubbing my body 
against the gravel. I had a massive orgasm there on the floor and before 
I passed out I heard C say: ”Good night, se you in the morning”.

When I came to, I laid there in complete darkness. There was a dull pain 
emerging from every part of my body that was in contact with the gravel 
and every stitch C had put in my flesh felt like fire. My jaw ached from 
being forced open. The epicenter of my pain was still my bladder, it 
felt like melted steel in my stomach. I was alone in the room for what 
seemed like an eternity, but more likely two or three hours before C 
came back. He opened the valve in my ass, releasing the pressure I had 
in my bowels, and then opened the locks on the chains around my ankles. 
He turned me over on my back and opened the valve to bladder. It was a 
feeling of total release and I felt as I could pee forever. C then took 
out a scalpel and cut the sutures that held my tits to my tongue and my 
fingers to my clit. It hurt like hell to pull my dry tongue back into my 
mouth and my jaw was locked open with cramps after having been forced 
open for so long. C ordered me up on my feet. I moved slowly and every 
movement was very painful. C just watched and when I finally got on my 
feet he told me to follow him to another room.

It was a small room but with a very high ceiling. C turned on a faucet 
and told me to drink. The water was cool and I drank as much as I could, 
knowing that he could turn it of at any time. Actually he didn’t bother, 
instead he just ordered me to stop drinking and stand on my knees in the 
center of the room. My wrists were cuffed and fastened to a chain that 
hung from the ceiling. C pressed a button on the wall and I could hear a 
winch work over my head as the chain pulled my arms over my head. 


To be continued..JJ



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