Feature Writer: Unknown
Feature Title: The Coven
Uploaded: BDSM Library www.bdsmlibrary.com
Story Codes: FF, NC, MC, Magic, Torture, Bondage
Synopsis: In a fantasy-style setting with magic and sorcery, a Sorceress named Lizbeth wakes up in a dungeon with little memory, and slowly comes to find out why she is there — and what crimes she has committed against the Coven.
The Coven – Chapter I: Sorceress
Lizbeth felt ill. Her throat was dry, hoarse. The air was hot and moist, but a chill wracked her bare flesh. She felt dirty. A coarse grit clung to her skin, as she lay in the darkness; cold stone against her breast and belly, cold iron against her wrists. The air smelled awful, the odor of human stink wafting through the tunnels and assaulting her without mercy. Beyond the thick iron bars that lined the cell door’s only window, she saw only the faintest flicker of firelight from a far-away sconce. Worse, however, was her memory…
As dark as her own cell, Lizbeth’s mind felt like it was full of shadows. Darkness fell on all corners of her thoughts, as she tried to recall the chain of events that had led her to her current predicament. Her head throbbed, and her body ached. Lizbeth tried to move her legs, and felt the grit against her flesh as she tried to reach her knees. She was naked… or almost so. The first attempt at motion brought her attention to a feeling of cold metal between her legs – something was inside her. Not deep, merely pressed against her vagina, like a smooth oval just penetrating between her lips. She was shackled at the wrists, but there didn’t seem to be any chains binding her to the cell, nor even her hands to each other. Still, a wave of sickness washed through her as she rose to her feet.
With unsteady steps, she walked to the cell door. The thing inside her made the movement feel unsettling, violating, but it was far from the worst of her worries. She smelled something few others would be able to detect in the air. Lizbeth smelled enchantment.
She was a Sorceress. That much was easy to recall, and the workings of magic were fleeting but still present in her mind. Lizbeth didn’t feel any energy inside her, none at all, and the emptiness led her mind to other fears. Reaching the door, she thrust her hand out of the bars and into the hall — twisting her wrist in the dim light while straining her neck to see. A triad of runes were etched into the iron cuff, and even without her memories the manacle’s purpose was clear. Anti-magic. Her heart sagged, as she staggered back into the darkness. So long as she wore them, Lizbeth was without her magic — her power was cut off.
With a sad sigh, Lizbeth felt around herself. She was naked, save the cuffs and the thing invading her sex. She brushed away the grit from her bosom, but it was a vain effort. In the sweltering heat of the dungeon she had no chance of getting it all off of her sweat-slicked body. She let her hands move down, finally. Perhaps the thing inside her should have been her first concern, but she feared discovering its purpose. Lizbeth bent her knees out and pressed her hand to her sex. The object was like a dome, smooth and cold, cupped against her sex and affixed in place by no obvious means. A small protrusion inside it fit snugly into her vaginal opening, parting her lips and letting the cool surface touch the inner wall of her labia. A slight nub at the top nudged under her hood, pressing against her clit. It cold; surgical and precise. The object’s weight alone should have made it fall out, but it was probably magic – stuck to her via a simple spell. One she could have removed with ease, had her hands been unbound.
Touch, alone, was not enough for Lizbeth to discern much more about the device. Deciding it was best to remove it, she tried to pry her fingers around its contours – hoping to work it free of her sex via more mundane methods, if her magic would be denied her. The moment her fingers breached the edges, however, the device began to resonate.
A dim blue glow emitted from the thing, illuminating the filthy confines of her cell. The device stung slightly as it thrummed, first teasing the wall of her labia with a twinge of energy – then with a shot of agony that surged through her sex. Lizbeth shrieked, her shrill voice piercing the silence of the dungeon as she fell to her knees then her side. Both hands thrust between her legs, clutching at her sex as the pain only grew. Sharper, more intense, the sting sensitized every inch of her womanhood; ravaging her pussy with electrical energy, stinging her clit with a single powerful jolt. The pain was maddening, and altogether too much for her frail body to handle. But it was over in seconds, even if it felt like an eternity.
Lizbeth lay on her back. Tears filled her eyes, soft sobs choked in her raw throat. Her pussy hurt, but the pain waned mercifully quick. Perhaps the spell that held the thing in place was stronger than she thought. Nonetheless, the device’s magic had left her feeling a hundred times worse. Lizbeth curled up on her side, clutching her stomach… and cried.
The Coven – Chapter II: Man
He woke. His eyes split open, and the darkness of sleep gave way to a blinding white. He felt a soft breeze against his skin; plush cushions at his back. It took time for his eyes to clear, his vision to adjust.
The room was…small. But not quite stifling. He lay upon a comfortable, stark nude and wholly unadorned. There wasn’t much inside the chamber, a simple table at his bedside with fresh fruits nestled temptingly in a wicker basket. There was a door, but it had no handle or hinges and there was not a single window in sight; leaving the source of the persistent breeze a mystery. He didn’t question it. The air felt good. In the corner, an ornate full-length mirror sat.
Rising to his feet, he stretched tall and strong in the light. He could not discern where the illumination came from, either, but like the breeze he chose not to question. Wherever he was, it seemed designed for comfort. His comfort. The Man caught a glimpse of himself in the silver-framed mirror, and smiled as he strode closer to view himself in full. He was tall, he was strong – his body well muscled and chiseled like a perfect statue. Not a single strand of hair grew upon his perfect flesh, every inch of him smooth and taught. He flexed, enjoying the look and feel of his body; eyes drifting downward to the swaying member between his legs.
In his short life, he had known no other men by which to compare. But he knew from what Lizbeth had told him that his manhood was ideal. Big, but not monstrous, he was well endowed with a perfect penis and two large, precisely sized balls dangling perfectly behind. He was perfect. In every way, in every sense, and he was so very proud to know it. Nevertheless, there was something missing – and he could not quite place his finger on it.
The Man looked around his meager trappings. Though not yet bored with the mirror, the whole of his predicament had begun to wear on his mind. He could bask in his own perfection later. Or better yet, curl Lizbeth around him and let her bask in it, as well. But something was wrong, the room, the bed… all of it. Lizbeth was missing, and she would never have left him alone in a place like the one he found himself in. She could be a bitch, and mean things had been said and done between them — but she loved him, and would never have caged him there.
That was it, of course. The room was nice, but it was indeed a cage. Pretty, perfect. It suited him, but it was a cage nonetheless. The world was confusing, and he had been a part of it for only a brief time… he was sure he would understand what had happened later. That it would make sense, that it would all come to him…or be explained when his mistress returned.
The Man looked again at his perfect self, posing in the mirror for a few moments longer before he returned to the bed. Sitting himself at its edge, he plucked a fuzzy peach from the basket on the table. Sinking his teeth in, he let the sweet nectar run down his chin; dripping, coolly, on his chest. He took another bite and savored the flesh of the fruit, the subtleties of its taste – the feel of its texture on his tongue, in his hand. The sensation of fullness as each bite reached his empty belly, sating his hunger with ease. He devoured the fruit down to its hardened pit, and finding that inedible, he set it aside on the table. His hands and mouth were sticky, as was his chest, and he looked around perhaps a bit foolishly for something to clean them.
A subtle chime interrupted the Man’s search. The door faded away entirely, and for the first time he saw the darkened stone hall beyond; and a figure nearly as perfect as himself eclipsed in the light.
She was Woman. Like Lizbeth, but so unlike his lost love it was stifling. And stunning. The Woman before him was tall, though not as tall as he, and of a voluptuous build. Her bust and hips bore greater curves than Lizbeth had, her garments tighter and more accentuating than the thin dresses that Lizbeth used to wear. This new woman was shorter slightly, with long, dark hair in contrast to Liz’s locks of spun, flaxen gold. The woman entered, wearing a dress of tight red leather that hugged her hips and a top showed much of her breasts; which in turn were larger and more tempting than any of the fruits he had been provided. With each languid stride, he felt his manhood throb.
“It looks like you’ve made a mess,” the woman said. Her voice was like silk and honey, but it hid something.
She clapped her hands once, and two more figured appeared behind her.
They were women, too, but it was harder to tell. Both wore hooded robes, their faces obscured in the shadows of the dark fabric; laced with intricate styles and patterns he did not yet understand. Still, he saw from the curves of the robes and the look of the girls’ faces that they were not like him — he was still the only one. The two girls drew near, one bearing a bowl, the other a soft cloth. Together the robed girls worked, one dabbing the cloth in the water then reaching out to cleanse the sticky nectar from his chest. His chin. His hands. It felt odd, it was not the sensual touch that Lizbeth had used…but he began to like it.
The Woman in red clapped again.
“Leave us,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress Kael,” they said in unison.
With simple bows, the robed girls left the room — and door faded back into being. Leaving him alone, with her…
“You are looking well,” the woman, Kael, said; her voice lovely and sweet…but dark. “After all you have been through, I am sure you have a lot of questions. Do not fear my sweet, they will be answered in time.”
Without warning, Kael pulled a string on her dress, and the top fell away. He sat and stared at the perfect bosom set bare before him; their beautiful curves and tender, pert nipples. Wasting little time, she shimmied out of her dress wholly – letting the garment fall to a heap on the floor, and letting the Man before her see the dark-haired mound between her legs. Though the act was sudden, his own body responded just as fast. He felt an ache in his balls, and his perfect penis throbbed as it rose to a splendid erection.
“I know this is sudden,” she said. “But words will come later. Now, you do what men do – take me.” Kael spread her arms and closed her eyes, a waiting receptacle for whatever acts of lust came naturally to Man.
And lust did come naturally to him. He stood slowly, every ounce of him wanting nothing more than to step forward and ravage this woman as wantonly as he had once ravaged Lizbeth… but there was something wrong. Something about the whole thing that made him question his natural urges. It was hard. His eyes took in the sight of Kael’s nakedness; her perfect tits and the soft curls of her pubic mound. He smelled her heat. Her desire. He wanted to bask in it, to wrap himself around her and take her then and there…but he remembered Lizbeth, all too well.
He hesitated, catching a glimpse of her delightfully rounded ass in the mirror. But he grabbed a pillow, and hid his throbbing manhood from sight; trying desperately to fight his instincts.
“I…can’t.” The man said.
His voice surprisingly tender and meek.
Kael opened her eyes and stared on with disappointment.
“What is the matter? Are you broken..?”
“N-no! No.” He said. “I just… I can’t. Where is Lizbeth..?”
Kael’s eyes darkened, and she glowered at the man with disgust.
“Do not worry about her anymore,” she said. “My sweet, I saved you from her — and I want you to do to me what you did to her.”
He shook his head. “I can’t…” He said. “I’ll… I’ll hurt you. Like I hurt her.”
Kael frowned, but forced it into a tender smile.
“Do not worry about that,” she said as she strode closer, nearly pressing herself to him.
One hand found his strong shoulder, while the other grabbed the pillow from his grasp and tossed it aside. Kael stared down at his still-erect penis, and let a lone finger play along his shaft.
“You’re big, but you won’t hurt me. I’m not a little whiny brat like Lizbeth, you know.”
She brought her wide, dark eyes up to meet his.
The man eased his hand to her hip, letting his fingertips brush against her. She was soft. He smelled her arousal, and wanted nothing more than to do as she asked – but he knew the consequences. Even if she didn’t. With a sudden burst, he pushed Kael away. She yelped and stumbled over her discarded garment, landing sorely on her ass. True anger flashed across her features, though she was quick to suppress it.
“I can’t!” The man yelled.
He sat, dourly, at the bedside and grabbed another pillow to hide his erection.
Kael rose to her feet and gathered up her dress, holding it close to her.
“Very well. Perhaps later,” she said. “I suppose I do have other business that needs attending to, anyways. Some time alone might give you the chance to…reconsider your options.”
Then the woman was gone. The door faded away at her will, she stepped outside, and the room was once more sealed. The man stared at himself in the mirror, and wiped the tear from his eye.
The Coven – Chapter III: Punishment.
Lizbeth woke to a loud squeal. Great metal hinges groaned in protest elsewhere, and they echoed down the dungeon halls. She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she was grateful for it. In her dreamless slumber she had all but forgotten her waking nightmare. The rest had not aided her recollection any, but at least her pussy no longer throbbed, and the dull ache in her belly had nearly subsided. She reached between her legs idly hoping, but was disappointed to find the torture device still present. Worse, she heard footsteps.
Lizbeth sat up, not so concerned about the feel of the gritty floor on her bare ass any longer. A flicker of light grew brighter beyond her cell door, its approach in time with the footfalls that echoed, in kind. Soon a blazing torch was visible beyond the bars; a rattle of keys, and then her cell door groaned open. In the hall beyond she saw two Sisters. Young women, dressed in dark robes laced in finery and eldritch symbols. The Coven… she remembered that much. And she was one of them. Had been one of them? Lizbeth couldn’t recall. Nevertheless, the stern expression on both girls’ faces left little doubt that they were not here to rescue her.
“Up,” the girl bearing the torch said.
“I…where am I?” Lizbeth responded.
The other girl looked at the torchbearer, and both shared a nod. She raised her hand and whispered a terse syllable.
Like a fire, the device between Liz’s legs lit up with an orange glow – and a surge of heat engulfed her sex. She clutched, uselessly, at her sex; but the device could not be halted. It burned with a magical heat that caused no physical harm, but was excruciating. Lizbeth squealed and cried, and rolled around the cell floor in biter agony – begging for the pain to stop. The ordeal lasted longer than her first encounter with the device’s power, but after a minute or more of wailing, the torchbearer at last nodded to the other Sister. Another whisper, and the pain was gone.
Both Sisters wore satisfied grins, as the glared down at Lizbeth in her sad, pathetic state.
“Up,” the torchbearer reiterated. “Or next time we’ll activate it, then leave you for an hour to reconsider your disobedience.”
Lizbeth struggled to her feet, her sex still throbbing, but desperately fearing that these Sisters were not bluffing.
The girls drifted to the right of the door, and pointed down the left of the hall.
“Walk,” the second girl said.
Lizbeth feared what was to come, but even more so she feared what would happen if she did not comply. Sobbing openly, she stepped awkwardly with the device firmly between her legs, and exited the cell into the warm air of the hallway. It was long, stretching in both directions and lined with cell doors much like her own. Every hundred paces or so, a sconce lit the hall; casting a dim glow that made the dungeon seem to go on forever. She felt like it should all be familiar, but it wasn’t.
“Walk!” The torchbearer snapped, and with a startled yelp Lizbeth obliged; shuffling down the hall with awkward steps.
The girls kept pace behind her, as they walked past cell after cell. Lizbeth heard whimpering from some, sobs from others. Most were silent, however… though as they passed by one, Liz caught a glimmer of pale yellow light and heard a woman sobbing uncontrollably. She cast a glance back to the Sisters; both were smiling, smugly.
Though the hall looked like it went on forever, the Sisters soon guided Lizbeth down a side passage; hidden in the shadows unlit by the sconces. The first Sister’s torchlight lit the hall, and soon they came to a lone door at its end. The second Sister muttered an incantation, and the lock gave way with a click. Lizbeth was led inside, and took in the sight of the chamber beyond.
The room was large. Its stone walls lined with racks and shelves, bearing all manner of whips, chains, bindings, and contraptions. Some mundane, others reeking of magic. There were tables and chairs, and a great wooden tub in the corner; but nothing in the chamber looked pleasant. The chairs had straps and cuffs, some with built in devices for torture, others merely meant to bind a captive. Two tables had wrist and ankle cuffs — one of them with cunningly placed hinges and pins along half its length. Other tables had an assortment of tools and devices spread out atop them; while a narrow wooden bench sat ominously in the corner — its triangular peak lined with a serrated metal edge. An assortment of chains, pulleys, and bindings hung ominously from the rafters.
One Sister gestured to the wooden basin.
“Move,” she said; and Lizbeth complied.
The second closed the door behind them, and the magical latch set with an ominous click. Liz had little doubt, she was going to be in this chamber for a while…but she had no idea why.
The Sisters brought her first to the basin, the water within cool and inviting. One sister dipped a delicate sponge, then brought it to Liz’s back. She gasped as the cold water ran down her naked body, washing away the grit and sweat her cell had imposed upon her. Then the second Sister fetched a cloth, and did the same. Together they worked, running cool water all over Lizbeth’s body, washing away the filth that clung to her; revealing the pale, porcelain skin beneath. She loosed an unbidden moan as the sponge caressed her bosom; her small breasts peaked by hardening nubs of pink. They cleaned her arms and legs with stiff, rough strokes; casually wiping away all the filth. Lizbeth was not a buxom or curvaceous woman, but she was tall and willowy; with small breasts and a slim ass, and a tight, shaven vagina…though that was currently occupied. The Sisters were not gentle with their methods, but they got the job done — and soon Lizbeth was clean and glistening.
The Sisters led her next to one of the torture tables, the one adorned with hinges.
“Lie down,” one Sister instructed.
Lizbeth climbed atop to table as directed, lying on her back with her legs towards the hinges. The more she looked at them the more she came to understand their purpose. Like great metal joints, the lower half of the table was cleverly articulated. It made a chill run through her to contemplate why; and more importantly, what would soon be occurring once she was securely bound to the table…
One sister bound Lizbeth’s wrists, using the clamps at the top of the table. Their positioning forced her to have both hands stretched above her head, wrists nearly touching, arms straight and taut. The other clamped Liz’s ankles to the cuffs at the bottom of the table, and made certain the bonds were completely tight. Lastly, a larger clasp at the table’s center was clamped shut around her waist, leaving her with little room to move at all.
“Please,” Lizbeth pleaded as the iron cuffs clicked in place. “Whatever’s going on… please don’t do this.”
The Sisters shared a glance, unreadable beneath their cowls. Without a word, the one at her feet began to work the table’s intricate joints; while the other stepped around to Lizbeth’s side.
“Your crimes are unforgivable,” the Sister said, softly. “The theft you committed, the death you’ve caused – you must know that your fate is sealed. Plead if you must, but the rest of your life is Hell.”
“Wait, I..!”
Lizbeth’s protest was cut off by the Sister’s incantation. A hum between her legs preceded a dull orange glow, and intense heat pulsed through Liz’s sex. It was not as strong as the punishment used in her cell, but the magical heat was merciless – it filled her cunt with savage pain, and heat that would have blistered her tender skin had it been real. For the third time the device elicited a howl from her and brought tears to her eyes, though this time she was denied even the useless thrashing that had kept her sane before. The pain was maddening, and it was not the only punishment she was to endure.
Lizbeth felt her legs being spread. She looked down as much as her bondage allowed, past the light of the device, and gazing through bleary eyes. The sister at the foot of the table worked the delicate device masterfully, and the articulated joints and hinges were perfectly arrayed to give the Sister total control of her legs. The sister spread her wide, turning Liz’s body into an inverted Y shape. Legs splayed, her delicate sex would have been visible to all had it not been occupied by the glowing torture device.
She cried out again, the steady pulse of the device working its magic inside her. The Sisters moved away and puttered about the chamber, leaving Lizbeth exposed and in agony. The pain was intense, but not enough to blot out the feeling of vulnerability her bondage had placed her in. She tried to struggle, but it was of no use – the iron bands held her wrists and ankles secure, and the clasp around her waist made all but the most subtle writhing completely futile. She didn’t know how long it lasted. Minutes, at least; but finally the Sisters returned, and a whispered incantation ended her pain. Her pussy throbbed, and Lizbeth panted from the exertion. Sweat had formed anew all over her body, but the girls were there with a bowl of water and a sponge to rinse her clean again.
After Liz had been roughly scrubbed, with plenty of attention paid to her tender nipples, one Sister took position between her spread legs. The girl set a hand on the device lodged inside Liz’s cunt, and with a subtle tug she pulled the device free. For the first time in hours, Lizbeth felt the air against her most tender flesh; and for the first time, she felt the full weight of her vulnerability. The sister set the metal device aside, and though Lizbeth felt glad to have it removed she knew what was to come could only be worse.
“Please…” Lizbeth reiterated. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry… but please don’t do this!”
Unfazed, the first Sister soaked the sponge in the cool water. She brought the sopping thing down between Liz’s legs, dabbing her sex with the cool, refreshing water. The Sister was not gentle in her ministrations, swabbing the sponge roughly against Liz’s sex; and parting her lips to give a few swipes to her vaginal opening. Liz gave an unbidden moan, feeling a warm rush of arousal run through her, and trying to hide it. Despite the uncomfortable cleaning, her body defied her.
“You always were a whore,” one Sister said, teasingly.
“Enjoy this while you can,” the other added. “Once Kael arrives, she won’t be as gentle.”
The first chuckled, sweetly.
“You’ll be begging for that little toy we had inside you, before she’s through.”
Lizbeth panted heavily, her pussy moistening as the Sisters swabbed.
“Kael..?” She moaned, the name seeming familiar but fleeting.
It felt like something she should know. She thought of dark hair, and a stunning female form – but beyond that, the name gave her nothing. The Sisters, however, gave her plenty more to think on; washing out her tender sex until her body convulsed in orgasm. Lizbeth groaned with the sexual release, but the sisters did not halt their work. Scrubbing her pussy clean, they brought her to climax twice more before they stopped; and each time she came, Liz felt the tender folds of her sex growing more and more sensitive – likely the whole point of their clever little game.
When it was over, her pussy felt raw. The Sisters moved aside in silence, and for the first time since her intense orgasm Lizbeth realized a third had joined them. This one wore no robes, however; rather the newcomer was a curvaceous woman with long, dark hair and tight fitting leather dress, the color of blood.
“Kael…” Lizbeth mumbled, the stunning figure bringing back that small part of her memory.
The name, the face – Liz knew nothing but that. And fear. Perhaps it was just the Sisters’ threats, perhaps it was more, but Lizbeth knew enough to be afraid of this woman… even if she did not understand why.
“Lizbeth,” Kael answered back; her tone honeyed, but foreboding. “I guess you already know where this is going.”
“I… please, you can’t do this…”
“I can,” Kael said. “And I will. Resist if you like, it makes things more fun, really.”
Kael drew nearer, stretching out her slender fingers to caress Liz’s leg as she neared. She raked her nails lightly up her captive’s shin, then thigh – pulling her hand away teasingly close to Liz’s exposed sex.
“My, but you really have no shame, do you? Whore.”
Lizbeth panted, and wanted to cry but held her fragile emotions together.
“I don’t remember anything!” She bleated out in protest.
“Whatever I’ve done – I don’t know! Please, I’m sorry, just let me go…”
Kael favored Lizbeth with a stern look.
“You would say anything to spare yourself this.” She said, incredulously. “But to pretend you’ve forgotten? After all you have done?”
Kael’s hand came down sharply, the back of her knuckles catching Liz squarely on her cunt with a loud smack!
“Ahh..!” Lizbeth yelped at the sudden pain, though it was nothing next to what she had already endured. “I’m telling the truth!” She protested.
And winced, ready for another blow to come.
Kael did not lash out a second time. Instead, she pursed her lips and studied Lizbeth’s face intently. Softening some, the dark-haired woman stepped away.
“Perhaps you are.” She said, pawing over one of the tables before selecting a short, braided whip with a tough knot at its end. “Perhaps that changes nothing. You stole our creation, Lizbeth – our creation. And in your escape, you killed over a dozen of our Sisters.”
Lizbeth tried to turn her head to see Kael, but couldn’t. Nor could she angle herself to see the two Sisters, to catch their reaction.
“I’m sorry,” Lizbeth said, mellow and hopeful. “Look… if I can remember where this thing is, I’ll bring it back. Please, just let me-”
“He is already here,” Kael interjected. “He is confused, uncertain. And even if you do not remember him, he remembers you.”
Lizbeth tried hard to remember anything she could, but her shattered mind fell short of recalling anything.
“I don’t remember him,” she said, defensively. “And I don’t remember killing anyone! Please, Kael. I’ll do what I can to help make this right…just let me go. Please.”
Kael returned to the table, stretching out her newfound toy for Liz to see. She delighted in how wide her captive’s eyes became.
“Perhaps a little pain will jog your memory, then?” Kael cooed, sweetly. “I do not care. I know you exposed yourself to him, tried to take him for yourself; and if that act cost you your mind… so be it. Your body betrayed me, betrayed us all; and so your body will suffer. Even if your fragile little mind has broken.”
Kael brought the lash down on Lizbeth’s belly. A stripe of harsh red scored across her pale flesh, and Lizbeth cried out.
“Ahh..! No!” Kael stared on, unfeeling, unsympathetic.
The lash came down again, and this time Kael snapped her wrist; and the knot at the lash’s end left a terrible welt as it danced off Lizbeth’s skin.
“Oww! Ahhh! Ahh…”
The lash came down again and again. With masterful aim, Kael worked the braided whip over Lizbeth’s belly; alternating between broad strokes and stinging snaps. She lashed her captive without mercy, moving soon to Liz’s small breasts and painting them with angry, red lines. Tears sprang to Liz’s eyes the first time the whip snapped against her nipple; the tender nub exploding in pain beneath the whip’s harsh caress. Kael made sure to give her captive’s tits a good lashing, delighting in every anguished yelp her ministrations elicited. It was not long before Kael moved on to Lizbeth’s legs, however. The lash danced across thighs and shins, snapping neatly at her feet and toes, before Kael positioned herself between Lizbeth’s knees. She worked the lash up Liz’s left leg slowly, halting just before her captive’s sex; then danced the lash all the way up Liz’s right, favoring the inner thigh with several terse snaps of the lash. At last, Kael halted and stared down at her captive’s quivering body.
Lizbeth was sobbing already; head thrown back and body tensed. She knew what was coming, Kael had worked the whip masterfully; teasing all but the titular area where Liz now feared the lash would strike. She looked down the length of her own body, and stared at Kael; poised, and playing lightly with the whip.
“Please…” Lizbeth pleaded. “Not…not there. Please..!”
Kael smiled wickedly. With a heavy downswing, she brought the braided lash across her captive’s slit with perfect accuracy; striking vertically, right down the center.
“AHHHH! NO!” Lizbeth cried, but Kael brought the lash around for a second strike; landing a horizontal line against her pubic mound. “Ahh! Stop!” Liz pleaded.
The third strike landed perfectly; a snap of Kael’s wrist brought the knotted end squarely against Liz’s clitoral hood. It danced off, and left Lizbeth’s skin bright red.
“OW! N-no..!”
The fourth strike had the same target as the third; and the fifth and sixth followed with equal accuracy.
After four precise hits to her clitoral hood, Lizbeth was a devastated wreck. Screaming bloody agony and crying profusely, and trying in vain to twist away from Kael’s avenue of attack. Whether Kael knew mercy or not, it was to some mild relief that the beating stopped.
Kael set the whip aside, and walked away while her captive sobbed.
“I hope you do not think this is the end of your suffering,” she said. “Oh no. This was a mere warm up…more to sate my own desire to see you hurt than anything else. I have an errand to run, and it will take some time, I think. Our discussion has been…enlightening. For now, the Sisters will see to your discomfort; but I’ll be back, Lizbeth. And you will know pain when I return…”
The chamber door closed behind Kael with a loud click. Lizbeth fought back her tears and tried to spy the positions of the two Sisters still in the room with her, but the constraints of her bondage made it hard to focus on anything. Her clit ached, her breasts throbbed…all over her body, everyplace the whip had kissed stung horribly as the pain slowly faded. She heard them moving, and if she strained her neck, Liz could even catch a glimpse or two of them puttering about the peripheral. She heard chains rattling in the rafters, and the sound of something being dragged, but couldn’t see what.
At last, the Sisters returned to her side – one of them bearing a cruel looking whip, much like the one Kael had used but longer. The other took position between Liz’ legs, holding a familiar metal device aloft. Wordlessly, the second Sister replaced the device inside Lizbeth’s cunt; its magic reactivating and holding the foul thing secure inside her. Unceremoniously, the sisters worked in unison and unhitched Liz’s bindings; wrists and ankles first, then the large clamp around her waist.
“On your feet, whore,” the one with the whip commanded.
Lizbeth didn’t wish to invite their wrath again, but it was a struggle to obey. She sat and moved her aching legs off the splayed table, and set her bare feet on the stone floor. Stretching her arms, she stood up quickly despite her body’s protests. Without warning, the Sister’s whip lanced across her now-exposed ass cheeks.
“Ahh..! What!?” Liz yelped as she stumbled forward.
“You were a little too slow,” the Sister cooed with a gentle, cruel laugh.
The other gestured to a small table and seat that had been set out, and Lizbeth spied the table’s contents with a small measure of relief. A tin cup with water, and a small plate with a crust of bread…it wasn’t much, but after the day she’d had, it looked like a small feast.
“Sit, eat.” The sister commanded.
Lizbeth did not have to be told twice. She hobbled over to the table with awkward strides, getting accustomed to the device between her legs once more. She sat, and took a long drink of water to sooth her throat. Between the heat of the dungeon air, and all the crying and screaming, her throat had been left raw — a small agony to bear, in light of others. But an agony nonetheless. The bread was dry and flavorless, but she ate it greedily while the Sisters watched. Halfway through, she realized it was best to pace herself perhaps; hungry though she was, the meal was the only thing left between her and whatever other torments were in store. The slower she ate, perhaps, the longer she could stave off the inevitable.
The Sisters were not so willing to play that game, however. There was a loud crack and the long whip struck between Liz’s shoulder blades, and she cried out with a harsh yowl. As she arched her back from the strike, the other sister uttered a harsh syllable; and a dull, yellow light glowed from the device inside her as it thrummed to life. A light, stinging sensation spread throughout Lizbeth’s pain-wracked cunt, sharp and terrifying…but not half as harsh as she knew the device was capable of.
“Nooo..! Stop!” Liz pleaded, but the Sisters only laughed.
“Eat,” one Sister reiterated. “Go ahead, take your time. We don’t mind, do we, Sister?”
“Of course not,” the other said; a brought the whip, sharply, across Lizbeth’s lower back.
Liz cried, and arched back from the sudden pain. She squeezed her legs together, bending forward and wishing, desperately, she could stop the torture device between her legs. It may not have been as agonizing as it had before, but the constant sting was merciless and invasive — a constant pain, that would never subside unless the Sisters willed it. The whip struck her again, the stroke soft but sudden enough to make her jump. Liz tried not to yelp, but the Sisters had turned her one reprieve into yet another source of bitter punishment. Worse than the physical pain, Lizbeth choked back tears as despair set in. If Kael and the Sisters had spoke the truth, then all this was just the beginning; and the rest of her life would be lived out at an even greater level of agony and horror…
The whip’s kiss came in even measures. Every fifteen seconds or so, it danced across her back, shoulders, or the tops of her buttocks. The device inside her cunt hummed with a constant sting, abrasive and distracting. And it was under those conditions that Lizbeth finished her meal, eating away at her bread in big bites without enjoying any of it; taking her drinks in deep gulps between the whip strokes. When there was nothing left, tears ran liberally down her cheeks; and she panted heavily from her torments.
She tensed herself for the next blow, but it did not come. With a barely-heard whisper, the pain between her legs subsided as the device powered down. At last, Lizbeth let her shoulders drop — at ease, even if only for a moment. She heard chains rattling, and with trepidation she turned to look behind her.
One Sister had set aside her whip, in favor of a pair of iron shackled hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Lizbeth let her eyes travel up the chains, to a the foul contraption they met with in the rafters. Cogs and gears joined the chains, and led down to a crank on the wall. A few turns lowered the shackles to neck-level, and to Lizbeth’s horror, the Sister unhitched the cuffs.
“Come. Now.”
The Sister beckoned, and by then, Lizbeth knew well enough it was best to oblige… and fast. Lizbeth stood and tried to swallow her fears as she stepped closer, guided into position by both Sisters with her back to the chamber door.
“Hands up, into the restraints,” one Sister commanded.
The shackles were clamped tightly around Lizbeth’s wrists, and locked in place. One Sister worked the crank and soon Lizbeth felt her arms being raised above her; the chain drew further up with each click of the gears overhead, and soon enough her arms were taut. Liz had to stand on her tip-toes, but even then the Sister did not stop. Lizbeth moaned as her feet left the floor and her whole weight was supported only by her wrists and shoulders; the whole length of her arms began to ache, miserably. She bit down on her tongue, knowing it was best not to protest… but sorely wishing the whole ordeal weren’t happening at all. At last, the chains stopped, and Lizbeth was suspended fully off the floor by at least two feet. It would not last long, however – but what came next was far from being a better situation.
One Sister stood before Lizbeth, and casually removed the torture device from her punished cunt. It felt good to have it gone so soon, but Liz knew better than to find any joy in that. The other Sister was moving something, and with a great moan, Liz craned her neck to see. The movement made her sway in place, dangling from her chains; and what she saw was terrible. A triangular bench, one she had spied in the corner when they had first brought her into the room. It was made of wood, but its peak was capped with a length of serrated steel. It was like a wedge… And she had bad idea that she would soon be straddling it.
Her fears confirmed, one sister dragged the torture-horse into place beneath her…and returned to the crank on the wall. With each turn, Liz was brought lower and lower — one leg on either side of the wedge-shaped contraption.
“No… No!” Lizbeth moaned, but knew it would do no good. Her eyes gazed down on the serrated metal…and knew this would hurt. “P-please..!”
Lizbeth tried to twist in turn, anything to avoid her coming fate; but the second Sister was on hand to guide her legs while the other worked the crank. Once she was down far enough, the wide base of the wedge kept her legs spread; and soon her pussy came in contact with the metal edge at its peak. The Sister stopped the crank, just long enough for the other to make certain that Liz was properly placed atop the thing. The Sister thrust two fingers into the folds of Lizbeth’s vagina, and gently pushed her labia aside; splaying her sex wide open. The tips of the serrations gently brushed her innermost parts; but the other Sister began to turn the crank again. Lizbeth soon found her full weight resting on the metal edge, the serrated blade cleaved her pussy neatly and perfectly.
Lizbeth groaned in dull agony. Mercifully, the blade was actually too dull to cut her most sensitive parts…but with her full weight resting on her sex, the situation quickly grew unbearable.
“Ohhh… Please…please let me down…Oh-oww…”
“Pleading already?” One Sister asked. “Oh, you are in for a disappointment, then.”
The other laughed.
“Mistress Kael will probably be back to play with you in the morning,” she said. “Eight, nine hours, maybe. Oh, ten at most!”
The first smiled wickedly. “It will probably be very hard for you to sleep, but I suggest you try. Tomorrow, you know — Mistress Kael will not be as merciful as she was tonight.”
“Oh yes,” the other said. “You’re in for a quite an ordeal tomorrow. Perhaps you really don’t remember, Lizbeth…but Kael does. And she will make you suffer.”
Both Sisters shared a glance and laughed, heavily, as they walked away.
Lizbeth panted, the pain in her cunt already unbearable. “N-no…wait! You…you can’t…” She strained to see behind her as the Sisters disappeared, but twisting only made her most sensitive parts grind against the serrated metal edge between her legs. “Ahh..! No! Don’t leave me like this!” Lizbeth wailed, futilely.
The chamber door slammed shut, and Lizbeth was left alone. Alone with her agony.
THE END