Cracking Cassandra - pt.2 (MF, NC, V, BD/SM, tort) I need to check my watch to really be sure how long I have been watching her squirm under the mild electro torture. The monitor shows me that the camera is still recording everything, that Cassandra is suffering - the infrared light is shining in the room, though for her it is pitch black. I have been daydreaming probably, because she's been getting shocked by the TENS unit for about thirty minutes now, a little longer than I intended, but I guess that it's OK. For her there hasn't been a single moment since I brought her here without pain. This is part of my plan, to keep the pressure up until she cracks, and then maybe add some more punishment, just for laughs (mine and my employers, that is. I doubt she'll be laughing at all in the next few days). It seems that while I was considering the next series of torture I'll be administering to Cassandra, I got mesmerized by her struggles to free her arms, and to keep her feet away from the electrodes. But, of course, it's all futile, the pain is there for her, trusty and sharp, the electrodes hold firm to her feet with the aid of glue, and the bondage holding her absolutely immobile in her chair. A few more minutes have passed, and she seems even more distressed, which is just what I wish for her. I have a good plan, and I hope she'll respond as I predict. I get up and head towards the torture room. I stretch a little before opening it, knowing that it's going to be a long night. I remind myself that she doesn't know that yet, but that part of the fun of torturing a victim is watching them as they have that epiphany. With her, the pleasure of domination and inflicting pain is so great, that I don't even care when she finally is broken, because it WILL happen. No matter how confident, smart, fit and resourceful she is, she is going to loose this battle. What always amazes me is that it's a battle my victims fight against themselves. I am always there to prod them to the foregone conclusion, that their suffering achieves nothing except for deeply entertaining me. It's them that strain to maintain pride in the face of my ever persistent cruel tortures. It is their choice to finally submit, shredding any sense of self to fulfill my wishes, no matter how perverse and unjust. Cassandra is a special project, and she will suffer like no victim of mine has suffered before. I open the door just a crack, and the light falls on her body. Her eyes are struggling to adjust to the light, but then I am upon her, pinching her nostrils shut, as I enjoy watching the terror grip her - with a ball gag in her mouth she has no way to breath, and she is freaking out. Within seconds she looses consciousness, and I begin by disconnecting the electrodes from her feet, then I proceed to move her into the next instrument of control - a gynecologists table with many straps. I quickly slice through the ropes which by now have dug deeply into her ankles and arms. Next, I lift her 120lb. trim body onto the table, and begin securing her onto it. A leather strap, just above her breasts, and one just below. A wide belt at her waist. Smaller straps secure the immobility of her wrists. Her thighs are bent upwards, almost ninety degrees, and her legs are bent at the knees so that her ankles are parallel to the floor. It is in this position that I have full access to her face, breasts, stomach. But these are already areas that have got much attention during the last torture session. This time I am glad to have full access to the sensitive backs of her thighs, and her lovely pussy and ass. I go over and light a few fat candles, in order to get their wax reservoir ready, and grab the crop. I flex it, feeling all the energy stored in it's hard but elastic body. Then I begin striking the back of her right thigh, hard. By the seventh blow, she is very much awake and aware of what's going on. I keep a slow steady pace, raising welts from her buttocks to her knee, enjoying the beauty of the angry red welts that my crop work is producing. At twenty blows I switch to her left thigh, and begin delivering another twenty blows. As each blow falls on her flesh a low pain filled moan escapes from behind Cassandra's gag. I am intrigued by the change in pitch from gagged screams to muffled moans. Maybe it's time to remove her gag. After I had delivered the forty blows, I walk up to stand aside her face. Tears have welled and fallen from her blue eyes, and she dutifully looks at me, pleading it seems for some mercy. I begin removing the gag by loosening the head straps, and whisper a warning. "Listen bitch, I think you've earned the right to breath again. But don't fuck with me, or this thing goes back on, and I'll keep going. Do you understand? nod your head if you do." She vigorously nods her head, and I take the gag out from her mouth, watching her as she breathes deeply, whimpering as she fills her lungs back again. Then she looks me straight in the face, and actually asks "Why?". I laugh for a few seconds, quite loudly, which seems to terrify her. Then I turn around, grab one of the fat candles, which by now is filled with a large amount of liquid hot wax, and splash it at her stomach. She screams, really loud now that the gag is out of her mouth, and tries to sit up, only to find that the straps are very tight indeed. "What did I tell you huh?" I ask with real menace, and then pick up the other fat candle, and this time slowly pour the wax on her knees, so that the burning hot liquid spills downwards onto her upper thighs. The red wax makes her look like she is covered with blood. "Please... don't do this...please", she mutters between loud sobs which make me want to grab the crop and beat her again , so of course I do. I walk behind her, so that I am standing just behind her head, and begin to hit her on her muscular shoulders and biceps. "Shut the fuck up, cunt", I explain to her, as I rain hard blows on her arms, usually striking the same spot multiple times for emphasis. By the count of fifteen she is sobbing, but keeps her mouth shut. I look at my watch, and to my estimate, Cassandra has just passed two hours of continuous torture. It's time to explain her situation to her. I think back to how this whole thing began. --------------------- I like to think of myself as a member of a special investigations unit. It is true that most of the time I end up being in charge of some rather cruel interrogations, but I need to keep up our reputation as ones who can always get the job done. My employers head a very rich and powerful technology company, one that has been regularly accused of using mob like techniques. Now, my unit is definitely not part of the HR roll, strictly black ops. Some of us deal with surveillance, some of us in counter-espionage, others in industrial espionage. I happen to be a tool in the intersection of all these arms. Here's and example: some temp is attempting to start a union. Tech companies don't like union organizers, and that's where I come in. I am very good at persuading people to see things the way my employers see it. In 1997 I was retired from the CIA, and was offered a job with the company from a former colleague, who I trust and like. My first assignment was related to the above example. The surveillance unit identified a key member, and I was sent to interrogate her. After a weekend with that hot lez coder, the union effort collapsed. She almost had a collapsed lung from screaming so much, while I put out a box of matches on her skin, one by one. You can't even believe how nice a 22 year old lesbian chick, with short green hair and just a little bit of fat on her belly and big tits looks after you use her as the ash tray for several cigarettes and about seventy matches. She was a self styled radical, straight out of college but ideology that burns strong eventually gets all but extinguished when faced with real fire. When I broke her she was more that glad to provide me with plans, names, and a pleasurable, if not perfect blow job. I loved making her betray her lesbian feminist pose and become my come hungry slut. All I needed was a cigarette dangling from my mouth to remind her that there really are worse things than fucking my brains out. I loved coming on her face, but I would have been equally happy to stop and torture her tits some more, had she given me the slightest reason to. Over the years I've had the opportunity to set several female victims straight. I am definitely hetero in my tastes, so my male victims just got a serious beating, and I had found that the efficiency of such methods isn't satisfactory. There is something to the combination of extreme pain, humiliation and sexual servitude that enables me to break my victims, yielding appropriate results for the company, while I get a job that is rewarding monetarily and also fun. For that reason I hired a couple of assistants - a gay man, and a lesbian woman, which dish out similar treatment to any male targets. There's something about getting fucked up the ass by a muscular guy, while a dyke pees on his face that that tends to break the average chubby Indian programmer type. And this is where Cassandra comes in. From the info in her folder I had come to admire her as a remarkable woman. Born in 1971 to a German mother, and American-German father, in Boston. Her father is a professor at Harvard, and her mother a writer. She is 5'8", weighs 120lb (DMV info), clean bill of health, does not smoke, drinks casually. She was a popular student in high school due to her looks, but was also identified as highly intelligent, and excelled in her studies. From 1987-1989 she ran for her school's cross country team. Graduated from Stanford with honors, with a BSc. in Computer Science, and an MBA. She became a highly effective and expensive computer consultant during her first year out of school. When the Internet craze began, she co-founded a software company that is one of the few successful and promising start ups still around today. Around 2000 my company sought to purchase the company, and got snubbed. That usually is not a good thing, and when later we were turned down for licensing Cassandra's technology the level of anger had hit the board-room. Cassandra was immediately put on surveillance, and we began looking for the weak person in the organization. Her leach of a co-founder was identified, and paid a large sum in order to influence her. After that failed, Cassandra climbed to the top of the target list. I was put on alert, given her file to read, and also spent hours watching surveillance tapes of her. When I read her file I imagined a common techno-geek, but I was wrong. I found myself at home masturbating to a tape of her exercising at the gym. She was amazingly hot, and I began to dream of the chance to meet her real close and personal like. The tape seemed to focus on her amazing pair of tits, beautiful 36Ds from my guess. I could tell that the guy tracking her agreed that it was a feature worth focusing on. After a few weeks I was activated, and traveled to San Francisco, where I assumed the identity of a rep for a large VC company. Over the next couple of months I began getting closer to Cassandra. I frequented the same trade shows I knew she would be presenting in, and took interest in her company's technology. I started hitting the Gym she went to, and then her yoga and Thai-boxing class. A couple of times we were coupled at random to assist each other with a drill. She was strong, quick, and energetic, but she really is no match for me. I am 6'4", 225lbs of well kept, if older (b.1952) physique. When my bosses suffered a further insult from her (she rejected a final emissary, commenting that my company's president was a pale looking nerd, and that the CEO was a fat freak), I was told to make my move as soon as I could. By that time I was ready to perform my mission - a house in the mountains, just south of the city, was rented upon my arrival, and along with getting closer to Cassandra, I busied myself with preparing the torture chamber. It was immediately clear that the downstairs rooms would fit well. One was a large storage area, well insulated so that it could contain the screams of my victim, and windowless. The other would serve as my control room, where I could take a break, and monitor the progress of my work. I enjoyed mail ordering the bondage and SM gear from several catalogs, and shops in the city (what a great place for a sadistic dominant person like myself). --------------------- "So you see Cassandra, you are now almost completely fucked, and soon I will make sure that even that is taken care of. We no longer offer you payment for your technology. You will provide me with the root password to your development servers, and we will make a copy of your work. While we wait for that copy you will entertain me as my sex slave. This will not be too long, maybe a few hours. I will tape everything that you will do and have done, and send it to my bosses. They probably will watch your submission while getting a blowjob in a hot tub from some high priced hooker. And let me repeat, this is not open to negotiation. Now, what is the root password?" I watch her face, amazed that she is actually not hiding her rage. "Fuck you and fuck your bosses" she spits between clenched teeth. I am so happy that she has decided not to crack yet because then I could not have reached over for a needle nosed plier, and just like I am doing right now grab her nipple and mash it in my strong grip, I would not have been able to hear her scream at the top of her lungs, while her nipple is twisted a ridiculously painful clockwise twist. Taking advantage of her gaping mouth, in between one scream and the next I shove the ball gag back in its place, since It will be a while before I ask her again for the password. I turn around , my back to her, and with a strip of duct tape, I connect three long bees-wax candles together. Then I pick up a black leather blindfold and slide it over her hair down over her face. Is this wrong, to begin torturing her with hot wax so soon after I had cropped them? of course not, in fact I chose the hottest burning candles just so I know for sure that the wax will really burn her skin when it hits. I light the candles and wait for a few seconds, then bend them at an angle right over her left nipple, and watch as five or six drops hit it dead on. Her back arches involuntarily with pain, and she exhales through her nose. I wait, then let some more wax drip onto her right nipple. I blow some air on her nipples making the wax harden. I continue, working like a mad artist, dripping hot wax on nipples, tits, and stomach. I move to slowly drip a trail from her shoulder down to her hands, then switch back to her nipples, only from a lower height this time. I drip wax in random spots on her torso from about six inches above her skin. Having tested the candle on my arm a few days ago, I know that she should be in serious pain. And Cassandra truely is. She is squirming and moaning, pulling against her bonds in pain and frustration. Minutes go by, and her skin is now dotted heavily. I pause for a second, and lay down my candles, which have by now burned down to a nub. Splashes of red wax are cooling over her upper body. In each hand I grab one fat candle, and I hover them over her tits. She seems like she is growing nervous about the pause, because no matter how intense the pain from the previous waxing, the unknown may bring even more acute pain. I let her get eaten by anxiety for a while longer. She has learned quickly and learned well - a break is not going to do anything for her, except allow me to prepare an even worse torture. I want to reward my victim for learning her lesson so well, so I reinforce it by slowly pouring more hot wax, down on her nipples, then in small slow circles all over her large tits. She screams continuously, the noise breaching the gag, awarding me with the most exquisite feeling of power over this lovely young woman. I control her very being, I deliver her a river of pain at my will, and she is nothing but a toy for me. She starts to throw her head from side to side in her agony. After I am done I walk to the edge of the table, and lean between her legs. I begin slowly licking her labia, running my tongue over her trim, soft blond pubic hair. I keep my eyes on her chest, her breasts encrusted with cooling red wax, shiny like two big balloons. I spread her lips with my fingers, then begin to lick her slit, while I nudge her clit with the tip of my nose. Cassandra is fighting a loosing battle, her body is betraying her. So far she has taken very strong pain with remarkable grace. She pleaded but never begged. She played along with my rules, rather than loosing her pride or her sanity. But her wet pussy, and her heaving tits are showing that despite herself, she is really enjoying the oral pleasure I am providing her. I knew that she would, because without fail all victims do. Some do it because helplessness turns them on. Others because the pain sensitizes them so much that the pleasure compounds and multiplies, the gulf between the sensation so great that the reach explosive orgasms. I massage her clit with my nose, while fucking her vagina with my tongue. Muffled moans emerge from behind the gag. She likes this. She does not want to, but she does. Her clit begins to poke from under it's hood, so I switch to more direct contact, swirling the tip of my tongue around it, rubbing the soft hair of my grey mustache all over it, tickling it. her ass lifts a few inches off the table, making my tongue press harder as it flicks over and around her clit. I start to finger fuck her with one, then two of my thick fingers. A lover once told me that two of my fingers feel thicker and longer than the cocks of other lovers she had before, and so I have learned to finger my lovers with two, and my victims with three or four. When I finally slip a third finger into Cassandra's tight pussy, it takes about ten seconds before her orgasm hits, the walls of her vagina squeezing hard in a wave motion, gripping, releasing, then gripping again. She has done well. I stick a thick vibrator into her pussy, and set it to a slow, teasing pace. Then I duct tape her vagina shut. I place my fingers in my mouth, tasting her again, and bend over to her ear. "You love this, you whore.". Nipple clamps follow, just to make sure that she still remembers why she is here. I leave her, and go to take a shower. This is hard work, but I love it so. --------------------- End of part 2
Continue to part 3