Cruel Devices: Taboo Punishment Collection (Extreme Bondage) Page 2

  A ball of dread tightens in my stomach.

  “Would you like to see how it works?”

  I do not answer.

  “The pear is thrust into the orifice of the victim like so.” Doran pushes it through the air. I look at the rounded top of the instrument and turn pale. It’s far too large to fit inside me with ease. It will tear me open.

  “Once the pear is inserted,” Doran continues, “the key at the bottom is turned and each segment spreads apart inside the victim, increasing in diameter until, at last, the body relents, splitting apart. It is particularly effective in the mouth, though it does make a terrible mess.”

  He takes the pear and walks out of sight. I follow his voice behind me. “I have already taken your cunt, young petal, but I have saved the pear for your ass. What do you think about that?”

  I shiver.

  He laughs. “Excellent, excellent. Shall we begin?”

  He turns another lever and my legs spread further apart. Pain flares in my joints, already stretched far past any natural angle. Spread like this, my ass is exposed to him. I burn with embarrassment, tears of shame staining the wood below a dark umber. I sob, wishing I had never ventured into the castle this day, wishing I’d never been born into this miserable life.

  A soft hand falls on my left buttock, pushing the fleshy mass to the side to reveal the tight pucker of my anus. I cry harder, the shame all-encompassing.

  Doran spits against my rosebud, using his thumb to massage the spittle into my hole. He rubs the tip of his finger around the tight ring, murmuring with delight. “You have a beautiful asshole, petal. I’ll be most pleased to defile it.”

  His thumb leaves and I sigh in relief, but again, it’s short lived. Something cold and hard presses against the space where his thumb has just departed, a metallic egg against the rubbery barrier of my most taboo orifice. I realise it’s the top of the pear and begin to protest vocally, but Doran only laughs, adding more pressure until I lean forward, unable to escape.

  Doran presses the pear harder, jamming it onward.

  I scream. It’s far bigger than I imagined. Out of sight, it could well be a jousting pole he’s trying to ram inside me.

  I groan as if I’m in the throes of birth as the very tip of the device manages to press past the ring of my anus and into the hot tunnel beyond, stretching out the tender passage, burning and breaking my insides.

  Again, I protest, but my cries only excite Doran further. He holds my buttock wider and the pressure begins again, the instrument slowly gaining ground as the metal slides the past the stressed aperture of my asshole, the muscles so tight only moments ago relenting, relaxing and allowing the intruder in.

  Every time the pear moves forward my hips thrust against the rounded wood of the middle roller and with each comes that same strange prickle of delight I felt when Doran was moving inside me. I narrow the sensation down to a small area at the top of my sex and press it forward with greater pressure, relieving the gross intrusion of my virginal asshole.

  His whole body pressed behind it, Doran shoves the pear forward brutally and the entire, bulbous head of the device slides into my anal cavity. I scream again, a guttural bellow that sounds more animal than man, my orifice completely filled, stuffed with a metal balloon ready to expand and distort me from the inside out.

  Doran claps his hands together. “My, my, petal. I didn’t expect your tender ass to take the pear so well, but it would seem you’re a natural, a whore in a nymph’s body.”

  Fresh tears slide down my face at the taunts. My backside has been impaled by a machine while my cunt seeps desire below, staining the rack with lust, sin and seed.

  Doran presses a finger into my sex, pushing upwards against the body of the pear, flesh and machine separated by only the thinnest of walls inside my body.

  He pulls his finger free, a grotesque sucking sound following as he cleans it in his mouth, savouring the taste of my demise and debasement.

  “I can taste your fear,” he says, leaning over my back and whispering to into my ear, his cock indented into the soft pillows of my behind. “But I can also taste your willingness, your need to be taken, the very sin that so infesters your body fucked out of it for all time. That is my sad duty as a law-maker and honourable citizen of this fine land.”

  It is with shock I realise my pelvis is rocking forward against the rack, the first tendrils of pleasure already snaking their way between my legs, flashing out through my core and fixing me with a mix of morbid fascination. Doran, his pear – They can do their worst if only I can just crest the wave of pleasure rising inside me.

  My body has betrayed me and know all I can do is submit to it fully, damn myself to the eternal flames that burn beneath us.

  My hair is caught in my mouth. I breathe through it in a steady huff.

  Doran lifts away from my ear and through the pear I feel his hand on the key that sits between my buttocks. How many times has he done this? How many bodies has he broken in this private chamber, defiling and turning young girls such as I?

  I can’t think of it any more as the key is turned with a sharp whine and the pear blossoms outwards inside my anal passage, a fountain of new pain following in its pain and increased pressure jamming my cunt forward against the rack. I cry out in equal parts pain and pleasure, my head a confused wash of emotion. What is this strange alchemy that tears me so?

  Another turn and the pear opens further. The pear has now become a squash, my ass pushed far past capacity and adding such downward pressure to my cunt that I shake and spasm against the rack, my bonds allowing me little freedom to move, every twitch sending blinding pain to the junctures where my limbs meet my body.

  Another turn and I cannot speak. Instead, my mouth rounds out into an oval, my lips stretched wide and my eyes closed as I begin to slip from consciousness. With the next turn I will break. My young body cannot take this kind of abuse, the pressure against my sex alone threatens to carry me to some unnatural plain. I fear it will kill me, a last glimpse of life before I pass into the next horrible world.

  The wait continues. A master torturer, Doran drags it on, drawing out the length of the session, letting my ass adjust before his next move.

  Just when I think it is over, that I will be shown mercy, Doran turns the key twice in quick succession. I feel the pear expand until my very bones are threatened. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin and I slip from the world as the laughter continues at my back.

  *

  I awaken struggling to breathe, cold water in my mouth and nostrils shocking me back to life. I gasp as another bucket of water is thrown over me, shaking as it runs over my back. My hair sticks to my face, tendrils of it stuck fast to the body of the rack.

  Doran places the bucket down. “Welcome back, petal.”

  The pear is still there. It’s stuck inside my ass, maybe forever.

  Doran walks behind me. Another turn of the key will take it too far. Already my bones are on the very verge of breaking. My anal passage is stretched to the extreme, ballooned out around this terrible object, skin ready to tear. I will bleed out, alone, on this rack while Doran laughs over my corpse.

  But when he moves behind me it’s only to turn the key the other way. My chest heaving against the wood, liberation flows through me as the pear slowly deforms to its original size.

  Another turn and the pear is almost restored to its first form, still far too large to be penetrating an orifice so small, but now manageable given how far my ass has been overextended.

  Doran grasps the end of the pear and pulls. I cry when the thick middle body of the pear tugs against my distended hole. Doran pulls my cheeks apart harder and finally the pear comes free with a ‘pop’, my asshole refusing to close down but instead remaining an open void wide as my throat.

  With reverence, Doran places the pear on a table beside the rack, sitting it down on a plush cushion. I can smell my stink upon it mixing with the musky scent of my willing cunt, the ultimate betrayer, that con
tinues to press against the wood and demand attention.

  “You want relief, don’t you?”

  I bite my tongue, unwilling to give him the reply he wants.

  “The little death knocks at your door and you refuse to open it.”

  Again, I do not respond.

  ‘Let me help,” he says, kneeling on the rack, groaning under his weight, before jamming his cock deep into my bowels.

  The unexpectedness of the action drives all air from my lungs.

  The bonds around my ankles pull tight as he pulls back and fucks me deeper, my gaping ass providing no resistance to his large weapon.

  He moans in delight, congratulates me on what a tight ass I have. “Even tighter than your poor cunt,” he exclaims, thrusting forward again until his hairs tickle my asshole and my cheeks are splayed apart against his hips.

  With every push forward the tender bud at the top of my sex is pressed firmer and firmer against the rack. I find myself rocking against it, pulling at my bonds to grind every ounce of pleasure out of it as he fills me from behind, digging himself deep into my young body.

  He places his hand on my head, pressing on my skull as he fucks my ass, driving his spear long and hard into the inflamed canal.

  I rub against the rack all the while, the feelings growing stronger and stronger until with a short cry of surprise something snaps and infinite pleasure explodes inside me.

  I cry and shake, pulling at my bonds until I’m bloody, my ass squeezing around Daron’s cock in rapid palpitations. At this, he fucks me with even wilder abandon and the wave strikes again. I lose control of myself, stars and strange galaxies flying before me as my body revolts, and I want to scream it, Yes. Yes. Fuck my ass.

  But I stay silent, a loose spill of nonsensical syllables from my mouth the only sound.

  Daron’s building to his own, terrible crescendo. I can sense it. The presses against my skull hard, my body a sweaty mess on the rack as he dismounts and rushes before me, thrusting his ass-covered cock into my mouth.

  I take it eagerly, only wishing to provide him with the same grotesque pleasure he has given me, happy to go to hell for it. I suck at the sour juices on his pole, wrapping my tongue around his cockhead until he grabs my ears, thrusts right against the back of my throat and releases a warm meal down my gullet.

  I swallow hard as his cock jerks on my tongue, his balls pressed against the edge of the rack. I swallow his salty sperm until not a single drop remains, his cock clean as it’s ejected from my mouth. It falls, floppy, far from the erect monster that deflowered me just moments ago.

  Daron walks to a nearby washbasin and towels his cock down, washing his balls before tossing the towel into the corner.

  The glow of the fires makes him look inhuman, carving out his body as if it were stone.

  He approaches me. “That was quite a surprise, petal. Your holes are to my liking.”

  I close my eyes for a brief moment, a tremendous blanket of fatigue falling over me as I continue to be stretched out on the rack.

  When I open my eyes, Doran is holding a gold coin before them. It swims into focus, the embossed head of the king a sure sign of its authenticity. This sole coin is a year’s wages beyond the castle walls, more.

  Smiling, his deflated member swinging between his legs, Doran moves behind me once more. I wince when he spreads my buttocks and again when he places the coin against my anus, pressing firm until it’s swallowed in full.

  “Payment,” he says, “for your services to the kingdom. I suggest you leave it in there until you are home.”

  He steps before me again, squatting until we’re eye to eye. “Of course, if you would like more, you know how to get my attention.”

  He laughs, standing and walking away. My final glimpse of him is as a naked body licked by flame, two buttocks scissoring together as he exits the dungeon.

  The two guards enter, winding the levers back on the rack and allowing my limbs to fall back into position. My bones ache, my joints loose and fragile. I may never be the same.

  My bonds are undone and I’m thrown to the floor, wrists and ankles bloody.

  The guards laugh, throwing my rags atop my broken body. “Get dressed.”

  I dress under their greedy eyes, ever-present of the coin that’s filling my anal cavity. My ass is loose, but I squeeze the coin tight. To go through this ordeal only to have the guards defile me once more for profit would be far worse than death.

  Dressed, I’m led back out of the dungeon, walking duck-legged, struggling to place my feet one after the other. It’s as if a chasm has been opened inside of me, a deep crevice that will not close, constantly leaking, Daron’s still-warm seed runs down my legs as we break out into the afternoon light. I squint, the light blinding after my confinement.

  In the hands of the guards I’m half-dragged to the gates and dumped out into the open as the sun takes it leaves behind the hills a-yonder.

  The castle gates close behind me with a rumble. Ahead, fires twinkle on the horizon.

  I have a long walk ahead of me and don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I reach to the wall, my legs and body weak.

  In my ass I can feel the coin shifting around with every step, but I dare not remove it. I know there is no safer place for it, especially with the many thieves and bandits that fester in the woods beyond.

  I steel myself, standing straight, my cunt still tingling now freshly deflowered.

  “I’ll be back,” I declare to the castle, but for now, I am headed home.

  Punished In The Stocks

  “Guilty.”

  There is no outcry in the gallery, not for a poor servant like me. I’ve seen the way the other women in the village look at me. My mother was right. My beauty is a curse.

  The judge looms over me, casting my body into shade. “For the act of adultery, you are hereby sentenced to one day and one night in the stocks. May our god, lord and protector have mercy on your soul.”

  The stocks are the least of my concerns. My owner’s wife is the one who accused me. It’s not public record, but I know it was her. From the day her husband hired me her eye has always been upon me. A bitter, spiteful woman, she smiles now from the gallery, happy with the justice served.

  I’m led by the chains around my wrists away from the court. She spits at me as I walk by.

  “Heathen! Whore!”

  There’s a smug look on my face I know will stay with me to the end of my days. Her friends encourage and cajole her.

  I lower my head and move on. When I have served my sentence I will flee this village. If I am to remain in her household she will slit my throat while I sleep. I am sure of it.

  Outside, the midday sun beats down like a white hammer. I haven’t seen such light in days, my eyes thinning into twin slits, taking in the children that run beside me whipping my legs with switches.

  The crowd dissipates as we reach the stocks. Here in the central village courtyard I’ve seen many in the stocks fall afoul and end up beaten and bloodied.

  Worse.

  One man had his fingers chewed off by curious dogs. Another was found with his head pulled right off his body. One woman, a young, pretty thing not unlike myself… I blank it out.

  I pray I don’t suffer such a fate or that if I do it is mercifully quick and painless. Far better to die in the heat, delirious, than succumb to creatures of the night.

  When I see the stocks, my knees weaken and I have to be carried into position.

  I’m in a simple tunic. I have no underwear. I cannot afford it, the dust rising around my torso and billowing my tunic out as I’m forced to kneel. My chains are undone, but the respite is brief. My hands are taken and roughly inserted into their allotted slots. The magistrate takes a handful of my hair and shoves me forward so my neck rests on the smooth, worn groove of the lower bar. The top bar is placed back into position, locking my wrists and neck in place, my knees against the grit and dirt, incapable of moving.

  As soon as the bar is loc
ked and the key to the lock removed, the first volley of fruit and vegetables is thrown, decaying and disease-ridden refuse that strikes the top of my head as I stare at the nondescript dirt below me and wish myself elsewhere.

  Smaller children whisk around me, prodding my face and body, tickling my feet, but I feel nothing.

  Eventually, the crowd disperses and I’m left alone. There’s much work to be done in the village before nightfall, especially with the king’s feast approaching. Hands are wasted tending to me, a worthless serf girl.

  The truth is, I am not guilty of this crime, and if I was, why is my master not punished? Why does he not share the stocks beside me?

  My mind struggles with such inequality. How can the world be so cruel?

  One day. One night. That’s all.

  As the day passes on, I’m thankful my master’s wife does not returned. I picture her snaking around him now that the sun slinks behind the hills and the day’s work is done. From my meagre room next door I could always hear their coupling, the sound of her mouth popping and slurping away as she took his member in her haggard, sloppy mouth. No wonder his attention turned towards me with my lithe, nymph-like body, my firm breasts and tender thighs.

  The temperature drops in tandem with the sun. All warmth is sucked away in a matter of moments. My tunic is little comfort. It blows against my back, exposing my sex. Even in the cold my face warms with embarrassment. No one’s around, but windows surround the square on all sides. Only the darkness can clothe me completely.

  When night comes in full, the wind stops and a light drizzle starts, banishing all from the streets.

  As even candlelight leaves the world, the sounds of drunken revelry become more prominent. It would seem the rain has not stopped the local ale house running to capacity.

  Please let them forget I am here.

  I’m soaked through. My tunic sticks to my back and hangs from my body. My teeth chatter together in my mouth and my legs shake involuntarily. If the rain does not abate, I might lose my life before the sun rises. It has happened before, to other unfortunates left here in the elements.