Barbarian Queen - Captives of Lord Arrakur

Chapter 5

 

Finally Alone

 

 

Shortly before, Amethea was not yet screaming.

She was, however in pain. The guards had put her in heavy chains after the old woman had finally finished with the anointment of her nubile body and taken her to another room, which was seemed to be located farther away from the main dungeon and the cells. Inside that room they replaced the chains with four other ones.

The new chains held her body spread-eagled in midair, each chain linked to heavy iron manacles set tightly around her wrists and ankles and pulled viciously taut. The other end of each chain went to two thick, wooden pillars standing almost four meters apart from each other.

Between those posts, Amethea was hanging – arms stretched out to either side of her torso and slightly raised, so that her fisted hands were about two inches above the height of her head. Her legs were spread apart wide enough to put uncomfortable strain on her thigh tendons. Her feet twisted in their fetters in a vain attempt to touch the floor, a few inches below.

The guards left her alone in this position and closed the heavy, wooden door behind them. As the minutes passed, Amethea´s arms and legs began to hurt from the constant strain put on them by the chains and the weight of her body. Pain also began to grow in her abdomen, due to being pulled in four different directions. 

To make matters worse, the constant, gnawing pain inside her breasts and her brutalized cunt had not yet decreased.

As she looked around the room with growing anxiety, she realized with a feeling close to hopelessness, that those special aching body parts would not get a chance to recover in the immediate future. This was another torture chamber.

Torches were set in the walls all around and illuminating the frightening equipment that presented itself to the defenseless woman.

The wooden pillars, she was chained to, were standing at one wide corner of the chamber. The rest of the chamber was filled with more than a dozen of strange, sinister looking objects and devices. Tables with restraining cuffs at the edges, a wooden yoke like the one she had been bound to in the spa and a number of other devices made of wood or iron with restraining cuffs attached to them. In what position a human being could possibly be restrained on those objects was beyond Amethea´s imagination. She had no desire to find out, either, but had little illusions she would learn about the exact functions of some of them.

There were numerous chains hanging from the ceiling, mostly with iron rings or manacles attached to them. One side of the chamber was covered with iron rings set in the wall. At the opposite side was a huge table standing with large drawers. The tabletop was covered with cuffs, whips, pincers, branding irons and many other things, she could not or refused to recognize.

At the other end of the chamber, right opposite of her, there was a huge, soft bed with silken sheets. At each of the four corner of the bed, there were chains with cuffs attached to each leg of the bedstead.

Amethea caught herself breathing heavily and tried to calm herself.

Despite knowing better, she tested the strength of the chains holding her spread-eagled in mid-air like a butterfly on a pin. Not the slightest bit of slack. Hopeless.

Suddenly, she heard the door open. She closed her eyes briefly, taking a last deep breath. Then she opened her eyes to stare blankly at the wall over the bed at the far end of the torture chamber.

Steps were approaching, but she did not take her gaze from the wall to see who it was. She did expect to see the little piggish torture master step into her view, but was not entirely surprised to see Lord Arrakur step in front of her.

He was wearing a black, silken robe, which fell down to the floor. The robe was cut in front and the upper part was open to reveal some of his hairy chest and the upper bulge of his well-fed belly.

His gaze went up and down her body, a cold smile around his lips. Amethea gazed back in contempt.

Nevertheless, Arrakur clearly liked what he saw. The perfumed body-oil had given her skin most of it´s healthy tone back, and Amethea´s magnificent, stretched body shone in the light of the torches. Her face was still unmarked and radiated with arrogant beauty. Her freshly washed hair was again just like a lioness` crest, framing her pretty face and falling down over her shoulder blades and almost reaching the small of her back.

Her body was not completely unmarked, of course. There were some bruises on her full, taut breasts with their brown nipples standing almost arrogantly out on top of her perfect tit-globes. And another set of bruises barely visible between her widespread legs. Yet, considering the amount of pain and abuse Amethea had to endure so far, her body was in surprisingly good condition.

“Well, well.” Arrakur said, crossing his arms on his chest. “I can see that Zohar has not damaged your beauty while questioning you. You should be thankful for that, should you not?”

Amethea did not answer. Her breathing, formerly calmed down, now quickened a bit, causing her breasts to fall and rise more prominently.

“But you would not know of such. You rebels are all alike: troublesome and insolent.”

Arrakur stepped around the left pole and began circling Amethea, letting his gaze wander all over her magnificent, nubile body.

“Whatever you think, I am no rebel. There is nothing I can tell you!”

Amethea bit her lips, the moment she said those words. She knew that every word she spoke to her captors would not improve her situation. Worse yet: everything word she uttered could become a step into submission. Silence was the only real weapon she had at her disposal. And as a warrior she was obliged to use that one weapon against her enemies.

Arrakur, slowly stepping around and facing her again, merely smiled.

“You are lying, of course. But that is no longer of any consequence. You are not here to be interrogated.”

He stood in front of her, hands placed on his hips and his smile widened.

“Your name is Amethea. You and two of your friends, who fancy themselves as warriors came here to free some slaves I commandeered from your village. You joined forces with the rebels, who hide themselves in the catacombs under the city. The catacombs have been searched and quite a number of rebels have been killed. We may have not taken care of all of them, but I am quite convinced, your rebel friends will pose no immediate threat to me.”

Amethea closed her eyes in dismay. How many rebels were actually killed? Was the little girl, Dariac, still alive? Was her father still alive? In any case, the rebels would not make an attack against Arrakur´s forces anytime soon.

If they ever will.

“That little green-eyed slut told us everything. You suffered for nothing, your dumb whore!” Arrakur chuckled.

“So, there is no point in interrogating you anymore. Is there?”

As he stepped closer, his hand came up and began fondling her breasts, tenderly.

“But that does not mean, that I will not torture you, my pretty. In fact, I intend to torture you quite thoroughly. And since this is done only for my pleasure and not to make you talk anymore…well, there is actually no way for you to put an end to it by giving me those information, I already have!”

Amethea glared with absolute hatred in her eyes into his wickedly smiling face. Only a quick movement of her larynx, as she tried to moisten her suddenly dry tongue, betrayed the anxiety his words raised in her.

He stepped behind her again and put both his hands on her firm, perfectly shaped buttocks, digging his fingers into her flesh and kneading the muscled cheeks.

Amethea´s breathing quickened some more. Partly because of the repugnance she felt as the tyrant fondled her ass-cheeks, partly because of her worst fears having become reality. Estrild has been caught, she had talked, and the rebels have been defeated. And now she faced the worst fate a woman could meet.

Arrakur went to the table, picking up a simple, wooden cane. He balanced it in his hand, then resumed his position behind the spread-eagled, hanging woman.

The cane sliced through the air and cracked against Amethea´s left buttock.

She grunted in pain, as the cane sank into her cheek. When Arrakur withdrew the switch, a darkened welt appeared on the exquisite roundness of her backside. He raised the cane and brought it down again, this time on her left ass-cheek.

Again, the blow drew a grunt from the proud warrioress` throat. The pain was bad, but not as bad as other things, Amethea had experienced at the hands of Arrakur´s henchmen. That did not comfort her, though. She knew that this was just the prelude for worse things to come.

Arrakur began to switch Amethea´s ass in earnest, letting the cane dance on her quivering, spasming buttocks as she grunted and hissed with each impact on her tender backside. Her subdued outbursts were accompanied by the sound of the wooden cane cracking against her firm buttocks relentlessly.

Her assailant felt his cock twitching and stiffening beneath his robe as he watched her ass taking impact after impact of the switch. He wore nothing beneath it and had to restrain himself from tearing it off his body and ram his cock inside her.

This wasn´t the moment, he told himself. Not by far.

After about three dozens of strokes the caning stopped. Amethea panted, sweat glistening on her body and mingling with the perfumed oil making her smelling all the sweeter to her torturer.

Her ass was crisscrossed with dark welts and a few trickles of blood were slowly running down her legs. Arrakur was panting himself as he admired his handiwork.

He put the cane back on the table and returned with a whip. It was two meter in length and very sturdy. Arrakur took a grip on Amethea´s hair and pulled it away from her back. He shoved it over her shoulders, making it fall down over her breasts. Then he took a long, appreciative look at her exposed back, the smooth muscle-tissue working under the skin and rippling around her shoulder blades.

“This is not to make you talk, slut. But that does not mean you have to stay totally silent.” He smugly passed on. “It certainly in order for you to scream. And it will heighten my pleasure doing this to you!”

Amethea replied with one word spoken in a low, venomous tone of voice.

“Pig!”

The first blow of the whip cracked against her back, right over her shoulder blades.

Amethea felt the air pressed out of her lungs by the force of the terrible impact on her back. She inhaled sharply, making a hissing sound as she filled her lungs again. Then she struggled with all her might against letting a furious scream of pain escape her throat as she exhaled.

Arrakur watched a deep red welt appearing on her back where his whip had hit her. He drew back the whip and let it crack against the bound woman again. This time she was hit right over her kidneys.

Despite her tight bondage, Amethea felt herself being pushed forward against the chains by the force of the blow. Then her back exploded in pain. Again she fought against the scream of pain, that desperately tried to escape her lungs and testify to her agony.

The whip hit her back again. And again.

The blows came in regular intervals with vicious, yet not totally unrestrained force.

Arrakur was not about to whip her back into shreds completely. But that was a minor relief for Amethea. Regardless of the actual restrain of her tormentor, the pain was tremendous.

She grunted loudly with each blow of the whip cracking against her back.

As Arrakur had no more unmarked skin on her back to aim his blows at, Amethea did start to scream with the pain of having his whip beating already blemished skin and previously tortured nerve-endings.

He smiled in satisfaction, savouring the triumph of having made his beauteous prisoner scream and increased the force of his whipping.

The black leathery lash smacked into her back again and again and again, relentlessly throwing her forward in her chains and driving grunts, screams and sobs of pain from her lungs. Amethea shook her head in mindless pain, twisting her dangling feet in their shackles, fisting and un-fisting her hands in a hopeless attempt to do something…anything to escape the beating.

But the chains held her splendid body hanging in midair, unyieldingly.

In time, Arrakur was either finished, bored or fatigued by the whipping he had administered. The woman did not care the cause, but felt relieve flooding over her, when the last lash of the whip was not followed by the next. The relieve, however, could not eliminate the waves of pain, the wrecked nerve-endings in her back and ass-cheeks were sending into her body.

Breathing heavily, Arrakur gazed at the countless welts criss-crossing Amethea´s entire backside. He went around the bound woman towards the large table.

There was a carafe and goblet waiting for him and he poured himself some wine. He looked at the panting, chained woman as he slowly sipped his wine. His cock was still hard underneath his robe and he felt the silk caressing the tip of his male sceptre as he watched his victim and tried to decide what to do to her next.

He had so many ways of inflicting pain on that magnificent female, that it was hard to choose her next ordeal. He let his gaze wander around the torture chamber and it´s devices.

No, he thought to herself. None of the machines. Not just yet.

He put the goblet down and approached Amethea, standing in front of her and watching her proud breasts rise and fall, steadily. He looked into her hateful eyes, then redirected his attention at her full, firm mammaries.

He grabbed her nipples with each of his hands, trapping the hard, perky buds between his thumbs and first fingers. Amethea hissed in disgust, then in pain as Arrakur twisted the tips of her breasts.

Her stomach had turned to ice as soon as he had reached for her breasts. As tender as they were to begin with, due to the previous tortures Amethea´s breasts were basically two globes of incarnated ache. The slightest touch was enough to send a surge of pain through them.

Now, as her tormentor cruelly twisted her nipples, she felt as if two white-hot pokers had been plunged into the two centres of her tits, burning them up from the inside.

She bit her lip, trying to prevent the scream to come out. But all she managed was to subdue it into a drawn out moan of pain.

Arrakur grinned nastily at her and twisted her nipples the other way around. Then he began to pull. He pulled, his fingers clamped around her nipples, trapping her tit-tips in a vice-like grip. Amethea couldn´t help but whine in pain as he kept pulling at her nipples.

The agony in her breasts mounted steadily, as her two mammaries were drawn into long cones. He kept pulling at her tits until Amethea was certain that either her nipples would pop off her breasts or that the skin at the bases of her globes would tear.

The pain was so great, it made her see stars. Then it got even worse, as her torturer couldn´t possibly make her breasts go any farther and cruelly began twisting her nipples again.

Amethea´s whining became a cry of agony and anguish. Then she yelped with a fresh surge of pain, as Arrakur let go of her nipples and her breasts bounced and jiggled on her chest and instantly resumed their natural shape.

“It´s always the same with your kind.” He mused; watching her proud breasts rise and fall with her quickened breathing. Then he looked into her face, meeting the baleful look in her eyes with one of mockery.

“You and each other whore like you put on a sword and think yourself as strong and tough as a man. But as soon as we do a few things to these two beauties you start to scream and cry and eventually grovel at our feet.”

He slapped her right breast with the palm of his left hand. The sound of hard bones impacting on soft flesh filled the chamber, instantly followed by her cry of pain and outrage.

Then he slapped her left breast with his right hand. Then her right, then her left.

He went on slapping her tit-globes with both hands, making the meaty orbs dance and shake on her chest, the sensitive mammaries quivering under the relentless assault.

Amethea screamed in agony as her breasts took this punishment. She twisted and jerked in her chains, instinctively trying to turn her body and protect her defenceless tits. But it was hopeless. All she could do was hang there and take it.

Beating a woman´s breasts was one of the most vicious things a man could do to her. For one because of their tenderness, their vulnerability. On the other side it was such a perfidious act, considering that the man was beating away on the same symbol of femaleness that have nurtured and fed him when he was an infant. Amethea had no illusion about her captor´s cruelty. And still the little girl inside her, who she thought buried long ago under layers upon layers of hardships and privations, the little girl who still believed in the general goodness of people, cried inside her mind with baffled horror: why the breasts, oh why the breasts, it hurts SO MUCH, why does he do that to me, why there?!!

SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!!

Arrakur was enjoying himself immensely, as he kept beating and slapping the woman´s poor tits around on her chest. He loved the feeling of his hands clashing into the sensitive meat, feeling the fleshy orb yielding under his blow, quivering, shaking, then trembling under the next assault. And how he loved to watch her face twisted in agony, hearing her sobs and cries and yelps. His cock was so hard it almost hurt.

He pulled off his robe, baring himself in front of his victim, standing before her as naked as she was. His member pointing straight up at her. He was breathing as heavily as she was; as he watched her fiery red tits rise and fall through slit eyes.

Then he quickly went to the table and picked up something that looked like a fork, though much bigger and made of heavy wood.

The “fork” was about a three foot long with three thin, wooden teeth protruding from its tip. The “teeth” covered a grown male´s hand in width and length and were set apart with two fingers worth of free space between them.

He threw his arm forward, crashing the teeth across the Amethea`s right breast. The force of the impact crushed the soft meaty orb, the teeth slapping down on the malleable flesh with terrific force, spreading it apart, sending wads of soft meat up between them as they dug deep furrows in the already bruised tit.  She screamed anew, a cry of utterly helpless torment that resounded from the walls of the chamber and made Arrakur´s stomach twist and churn in pleasure.

He withdrew the fork, watching the pain-ravaged orb bouncing back into its normal shape, yet still quivering from the blow. Without delay, he hit her left breast, making the teeth of the fork digging into the tender mammary, literally dividing her tit into four bulging waves of tormented tit-flesh oozing out between them.

Amethea screamed at the top of her lungs as she hung in her chains, helplessly.

The pain was so incredible it almost made her vomit. For a crazed second, she almost felt relief as she thought off her breasts now as surely destroyed beyond repair. Relief at the thought, that they could not possibly be used anymore to cause her pain.

But that gleam of hope was shattered by another blow to her right breast, which was if possible, even more painful than the previous. Then he hit her left breast again.

Then her right. Then her left. Then her right.

He kept beating her poor tits with the fork, while she struggled in her chains, desperately trying to move her chest away from the horrible punishment, her screaming becoming more and more hoarse with each blow to her tits.

Arrakur was almost in ecstasy as he let the blows rain on her breasts. He hit them from above and below, then hitting them sideways, yet always making sure for the teeth to splat down on her entire breast-meat with each and every blow. He noticed in wicked fascination how her screams became just a little bit louder and more pitiful, when the middle tooth of the fork managed to hit her tender nipple.

His belly felt like being filled with warm honey as he dealt out his punishment on the helpless female. His cock was at the brink of bursting.

Then she cried out shrilly, as he hit her right nipple yet again, and Arrakur felt the hot semen build up in his member beyond the point of restraining it.

He gripped his cock and rubbed it two times before the white-hot wads of semen shot out of its tip. He sprayed it on his sobbing captive, the thick spurts splashing against her belly and thighs. She hardly noticed it at first, her head rolling with her eyes half-closed. All she felt was the absence of the next blow and the explosion of fresh pain inside her mammal globes now aching horribly and throbbing with relentless agony.

Arrakur grunted in brutish pleasure as his cock released the last wad of cum on his moaning victim. He stepped back and watched his work with the usual calm after the climax.

Her head was resting on her chest, the thick strands of curled hair wet from sweat. Her breasts were slightly swollen from the beating and purple in color.

He took a grip of her hair and pulled her face up. It was twisted in pain and misery, tears running down her cheek. Yet the look in her eyes hadn´t changed. It was still one of hate and contempt, promising him a gruesome death if their positions would be reversed.

“I….” She began, swallowing hard and trying to moisten her tongue so that she could continue to speak.

“…I had taken you to be a man of great swiftness….ungh…in matters of that worm-sized member of yours. You proved me right!”

Arrakur smiled, a terrible thing to look at. Although her words did sting, he found her defiance in face of her pain a most pleasurable thing, indeed.

He pushed the fork against her left breast, slightly pressing the wood of its teeth into her beaten mammary. He heard her hissing in pain and anguish and found it as delightful as the flicker of fear in her eyes.

“Insolent whore!” he said. “You think this was pain? You think this was the worst that you could get from me? Do you know, what I intend to do with you?”

He began circling the fork on her tit, rolling the pain-pounding globe over her chest as she winced and moaned in fresh pain.

“I will torture you until you beg for mercy. Until you crawl before me and lick the dirt from the soles of my boot. And when you are broken…then I will punish you for your insolence.

Then I will have you tortured to death as slowly as none of my prisoners before. And I will savor every second of it from right now until the last beat of your heart. So by all means, keep up the fight for as long as you can, slut! The longer you hold out, the greater the pleasure you supply me with.”

He let go of her hair and returned to the table, his formerly hard cock now dangling softly between his legs as he walked away from his captive.

Amethea´s chin again rested on her chest, as she tried to gather her strength for the next ordeal. She had no idea what he would do to her next, but the scrubbing sound of iron being dragged off the wooden tabletop made her heart pound in fresh anxiety.

Arrakur stepped back in front of her, holding a pair of iron hoops connected with several leather thongs in his hands.

The rings themselves were merely big enough to allow Arrakur to push three of his fingers through, should he wish it. Two straps connected them. One quite short, the other considerably longer. Two additional thongs were hanging down from each of the rings.

A fifth strap interlocked with the shorter one connecting the two loops. This one was the longest and had a sturdy leather belt attached to it´s end.

Grinning wickedly, the tyrant placed the long strap over Amethea´s head and around her neck, tucking it away underneath the fair crest of her hair.

He barely managed to get his hand away from her teeth, as she suddenly tried to bite him.

It did not faze him, however.

Smiling knowingly, he placed the leather belt around Amethea´s waist. He pulled the belt horribly tight, making it dig deep into her belly before he closed it.

Amethea yelped in pain, as the cold iron rings and the taut straps pressed down on her insufferably tenderized breasts. The rings were right on top of her nipples; making the two fleshy buds stick out from the center of each loop, while the straps were pressing down on her mammal globes. Having her waist compressed this way, caused the woman´s chest to rise and fall more prominently and added to her pain.

Arrakur´s member had begun to stir as he had placed the rings on Amethea´s chest. It slowly began to swell with renewed lust, as he tightened the two remaining leather straps around her back, forcing the rings even deeper into his captives cruelly deformed tits. Her breasts were now literally quartered on her chest by the leather straps, her aching tit-meat bulging out between the merciless bondage.

Amethea tried to steady her breathing in an attempt to ease the agony it caused pushing her mammaries against the cruel straps and iron rings crushing them. She stared into Arrakur´s smiling face with all the venom eating away at her soul.

His smile, however, widened into an almost insane grin of pure malicious evil as he placed one of his hand on the ring on her left breast while his other hand grabbed her strutting nipple…and began to pull.

Amethea screamed in pain and outrage, staring on her breast in disbelief as he pulled at her nipple relentlessly - inch by agonizing inch pulling her pain-wrecked breast trough the tiny loop. Suppose Amethea had ever in her life been as insane as her captors and considered doing this to her breasts, she would have deemed it impossible. Yet, it was possible.

But the pain was beyond any female endurance. She screamed and cursed and spat, as the entire length of her tit was pulled through the loop with maddening slowness. Nerves and glances were horribly compressed while being squeezed through the tiny opening sending shockwaves of unbelievable pain through Amethea´s breast.

Arrakur grunted with the effort of pulling the resisting flesh through the loop. Still the joy of her pain was overshadowing the taxation by far. He could feel her heart beating savagely against his hand pressing against her chest. He listened to her screams with utter delight and watched her breast oozing out in front of the tiny ring with fascination.

He finally got all of her tit through. He watched it for a few seconds before starting on her right breast.

Again, Amethea screamed and shook her head madly as her other breast was crushed and squeezed through the other ring. It seemed like an eternity before he finally finished and stood before her, panting with the effort, hands placed on his naked hips and his hard cock once more pointing straight in the air.

Amethea sobbed and wept, occasionally yelping with fresh pain. Her breasts were deformed into two horribly taut, bloated balls. Their natural shape had been transformed into a pair of mushroom-shaped globes of compressed mammal flesh, seemingly at the verge of bursting under the pressure any second, the skin drawn horribly tight around them. As Amethea stared down on them in disbelieving horror, they looked to her more like two totally alien objects attached to her chest then her own breasts.

Regrettably for her, however, those objects were her breasts. And if nothing else, they were attached to her by the constant, relentless waves of agony they send into her nervous system. Even through her suffering, Amethea asked herself in horror how on earth it would be possible to take the rings off again. If her tormentor was even planning to do so.

“Well, well.” Arrakur chuckled. “This was no easy task, I assure you. Those two seem to be as rebellious as yourself, you slut!”

He ran his fingertips over the incredibly taut surface of her breasts, as fascinated by the abnormal sight of them as he was by the horrible new pain this caused his captive.

“They do look pretty this way, don´t you agree?” he taunted, licking his dry lips.

“Let us see, if my improvement of their looks has heightened their resistibility, as well, shall we?” he moved back to the table once more to return with a simple, thin wooden cane.

Amethea shook her head in muted denial, eyes glued to the cane in his hand.

This could not be happening. Even he could not do this to her. No human being should be able to even think about doing this.

She stared at the cane being raised in the air, sobbing hopelessly.

Then the rod whooshed through the air and hit her bloated, right breast with devastating force.

It splatted down on her tit.... unbelievably calving her globe in half despite the mammary´s incredible tightness.

Amethea yelled in pain, the sound almost inhuman. Agony exploded in her tit, piling up on the constant ache of the previous beating and the ongoing pain caused by the cruel bondage.

Arrakur pulled the cane away and watched her tit bouncing back, resuming it´s unnatural, painfully bloated shape. The woman kept screaming, though.

He aimed the cane at her left breast, hitting it as hard as he could, making the wood slice into the agonized meat of her tit.

Her screaming went on and on, as he grunted in pleasure. His hard cock switching with pleasure and fuck-lust as he pulled the cane away again and hit her right breast.

Then her left. Then her right. Then her left.

Amethea roared in pain as he kept beating her poor tits, trashing wildly in her chains keeping her spread-eagled in midair, providing her tormentor with the twisted pleasure he sought for.

Arrakur was in a state of blissful raunchiness as he watched her struggles and listened to her pitiful cries of pain and sobs of utter despair. A fireball of pleasurable heat was burning in his guts and his hard cock was pointing up menacingly at the writhing nude body of the tortured woman. He loved the sensation of hitting her breasts with the cane, feeling the resilience of the flesh being driven inward by the impact of his blow, relishing in the knowledge of the pain he caused her.

In time, his beating of her tits ceased. Not out of mercy for his victim. Merely because his arm had grown tired and her shrill screams of agony had turned into grunts of pain.

He put the cane aside and produced another leather strap from the seemingly endless supply of torture items of the table. It was short and had a wide noose attached to its end.

The noose was placed around Amethea´s cheek and drawn tight. It was pulling at the corners of her mouth as it was fastened under her ears. He pulled her hair out from under the loop and tightened it further, making it digging painfully into her mouth. She moaned but was far to weak to offer any resistance like before when she had tried to bite him.

The other end of the leather thong was fastened to the straps of the breast-squeezing harness on her back. By pulling the strap tight and fixing it there, Arrakur was pulling Amethea´s head back, making her look up at the ceiling.

She then felt her ankles being freed from the chains and falling weakly to the ground. She could not muster the strength to stand on her feet, but her partial freedom was short-lived, anyway.

Arrakur pulled down other chains from the ceiling far behind the still bound torture victim and attached them to the manacles encompassing her ankles. He then pulled them back up by turning a lever at the wall and Amethea´s legs were dragged into the air behind her…still spread wide apart. Still smiling with anticipation, Arrakur operated another lever and the chains, from which she hung by her arms, were climbing down, lowering her body towards the ground. When it stopped, Amethea was still hanging in the air, arms wide apart, her underbelly arched backwards and her wide spread legs splayed out wide behind her.

Arrakur then stepped in front of her, licking his lips.

She was forced to look up at his smiling face trough bleary eyes, low moans of pain coming through the strap in her mouth, serving as an insufficient gag. Yet the purpose of the strap was not to gag her. It was meant to keep her teeth out of reach.

With a feeling close to disbelieving resignation Amethea realized what her tormentor intended to do to her.

Arrakur reached for her beaten, savagely aching breasts. They were exactly in level with his cock, hardened by the pain inflicted on them. He crushed her bloated tits around his cock as she screamed and whined in renewed agony. He buried his cock inside the cleavage of her breasts and used them to rub his cock with. The aching mammaries felt incredibly hot in his hands and around his strutting member.

He looked down into her face, twisted in pain and agony, with delight as he cruelly used her tortured breasts to pleasure himself. He dug his fingers into her taut flesh, viciously, eager to seize every opportunity to cause her pain and thus heightening his pleasure.

Amethea could do nothing but endure the act, suffering the pain of his cruel hands kneading her inhumanly tenderised breasts and using them to stroke his hard member. The sickening male scent of his cock filling her nostrils was nothing compared to the pain and the perfidious act in itself.

He withdrew his cock for a moment to poke its engorged tip against her bloated breast-globes. Groaning with lecherous delight, he rubbed the tip of his prick-head over her nipples for a while, making the hard, wrinkled tit-tip caress his sensitive piss-slit. He then slapped her tits with his cock, making the hard male flesh whack against her horribly aching breasts. Even those comparatively harmless attacks made her sob and whimper in anguish, much so to his twisted merriment.

He then buried his cock again between her breasts, once more crushing them around his twitching member with his hands and misusing her tortured bosom to stroke his cock. She sobbed and sniffed, then began to utter a long-drawn, crestfallen wail of torment as his pleasure mounted and he rubbed her breasts up and down his cock with more and more agitated movements.

Then his cock began shooting wads of white semen up into the air, most of them splatting on Amethea´s neck and face. He pulled his cock out of her cleavage and furiously rubbed it with his right hand, shooting the remaining streams of his seed against her tits.

“Slut!” he hissed as the last drop of jism trickled out of his cocks piss-slit. He felt his member softening as his lust was temporary satiated.

He went for another cup of wine, taking the sweet liquid in measured gulps as he watched the moaning, silently weeping Amethea hanging in her chains.

He found her a most pleasurable sight, indeed. Arms chained wide apart above her head, her lithe body arched back and her legs splayed out behind her, equally supported by the chains. And this delicious harness relentlessly torturing her breasts, which her hanging position in midair presented quite splendidly. The leather-strap pulling her head back only added to her display of utter vulnerability.

His gaze lingered on her purpled, bloated breasts as he stepped towards the lever at the wall, operating the chains.

“Well,” he said, holding his cup of wine in one hand as the other rested on the lever.

“Those udders of yours seem to be quite tough. And pleasurable to use, I would say. I wonder how tough they really are.”

Without further warning, he removed the safety hook on the levers cogwheel. The two chains holding Amethea´s arms suddenly had leeway and with a barrage of clanking sounds her upper body fell to the ground.

Since her arms were still stretched up high in the air and the chains holding her legs up were still under full strain…the only part of her body that took the full brunt of her impact on the ground were her breasts.

With a sickening sound they thumbed into the floor and were crushed under her upper body slamming down. Amethea´s eyes snapped wide open and she screamed at the top of her lungs, a long wailing cry of unbelievable torment that drained her of air. She inhaled and continued screaming, the pain in her breasts so utterly terrible she thought she could never in her life stop screaming again.

Arrakur laughed heartily, belly shaking with devilish mirth. He had given the chains just enough leeway so Amethea would fall to the ground, but not enough to actually lower her arms. He watched her pulling mindlessly at the chains in order to liberate her swatted breasts underneath her.

Arrakur watched for a moment, sipping the rest of his wine. Then he turned the lever at the wall, pulling Amethea´s upper body back up into the air. The woman was weeping and sobbing madly in pain and despair. Astoundingly enough, her breasts were still intact, yet their colour had changed from purple to deep blue.

The tyrant had not been certain that her strained, bloated globes could take that impact without bursting open like a pair of ripe melons. True, such damage would have greatly disfigured his torture-toy at a far to early time. But giving in to a whim, he had risked it and had been rewarded with a splendid display of suffering. Still he felt some relief that her breasts had endured it and that they were still available for numerous tortures once they would have somewhat recovered.

He stepped in front of her looking down into her upturned, tear-streaked face. Almost tenderly he rubbed his flaccid cock against her throbbing, aching tit-globes, making her burst out in fresh tears. Gut-wrenching sobs of pain shook her, yet Amethea did not plea for mercy.

Arrakur felt his cock coming back to life again, stimulated by her pain and the sweet feeling of her hot breast-flesh on his member.

He stepped back, returning to the levers at the wall and loosening the chains on Amethea´s ankles. Her legs fell to the ground, powerlessly. He then loosened the other chains as well. Following a whim, he lowered her torso slowly to the ground, giving her a chance to laboriously turning her body with the last of her strength as she descended. She came to lie on her back, mercifully avoiding her breasts to be crushed underneath her this time.

She lay there, panting, once raising one of her arms to grab the leather strap going from her collar to the two rings still compressing the bases of her tits. Yet her feeble attempt to rid herself of the devilish, torturous harness was thwarted by her exhaustion. Her sapless arm fell back to the ground at her side.

Arrakur went to her, looking down at the sweat-covered body of his victim. He bent down and released her iron cuffs on her ankles and wrists from the chains. He then grabbed her wrists and pulled her slack body across the room towards a wooden bench. Amethea grunted with pain, as the pulling of her arms put new strain on her breast-bonds. But she was too weak to fight against her tormentor. Even if every instinct in her yelled for her to get on her feet and kill this male animal, she could not muster the strength. Like a life-sized puppet, Arrakur pulled her up in the air and laid her on the bench.

It was half a meter wide and just long enough to support Amethea´s torso and head. Her arms and legs splayed over the sides of the bench. It´s upper end was slanted upwards, prying Amethea´s head up, uncomfortably. Arrakur had to hold her in order to prevent her body from slide off the side of the bench. He solved this quickly by using two wide leather straps set into the bench´s surface. One was fastened over her belly, pulled viscously tight and then closed. The other one went around her throat, fixing her head to the bevel at the upper end. He then pulled her left arm out and towards a pole at the side of the bench. The pole´s tip was at the exact same height as the surface of the bench and a thick, leathery cuff was attached to it.

Arrakur closed the cuff around Amethea´s wrist, tightly. Even in her dazed, weakened state her warrior instincts compelled her to assert her situation. She couldn´t turn her head, yet by rolling her eyes she could see the pole on which her left arm was tied to. She felt Arrakur tugging at her right arm and gazed in that direction, seeing him fastening her right wrist to an identical pole on that side.

Her arms were now splayed out to either side of her torso, the strain in their joints a mild discomfort compared to the painful tugging at her compressed tits.

She then saw two additional poles embedded in the ground, less then one meter away from their counterparts. Even if she had been in the position to struggle against her captor, it would have been to late, as she realized what was to come.

Arrakur held her right leg in a steel-like grip and pulled it up in the air. He then twisted it in its socket and forced it down again. Amethea grunted in pain, as her ankle was cuffed to the pole at the side of the bench. She feebly tried to kick at him, as he seized her right leg and mercilessly repeated the act.

He forced her right leg down and bound it to the last remaining pole. Having finished, he stepped back and admired his work.

Amethea body was quite effectively immobilized…and in quite a painful way.

Her arms were drawn out to either side of her body, leaving no slack whatsoever.  The thick, heavy straps around her throat and belly pinned her body down on the bench. Yet the worst was the position of her legs. They too were pulled out to either side of her body, perfectly paralleling her arms. In fact, her legs were spread as wide apart as humanly possible.

The lower part of her body was literally forced into an upended T-shape, the strain sending relentless waves of ache into her groin.

Since Amethea was forced to face front and could not lower her head, she gazed down between her grotesquely bloated breasts along the smooth surface of her belly - dented inwards by the strap - and at her impossibly wide-spread legs and the trimmed mat of her fair, curled pubic hair crowning between them.

She felt the anxiety rise inside her belly, as Arrakur stepped in front of her view, standing naked between her legs. She was totally immobilized and her crotch was wide open for everything and anything that monster could think off to do to her.

She had found herself in that same-self kind of bondage merely a day before. Obviously the master shared his piggish servant´s taste in restraining a woman.

She sobbed in horror, as she doubted that Arrakur was any less inventive in the ways of inflicting pain on her exposed womanhood. She even caught herself hoping for rape.

Just rape….please Gods! She prayed inside her mind. Make him just rape me! It can not be too much to ask. Please don´t let him torture me there! Just rape. He will rape me and then he´ll be finally satiated and tired and send me back to my cell. Grant me this, I beg off you!

She saw him step closer, his cock once again hard as a rock and pointing straight in the air.

He smiled at her wickedly, holding a pair of pincers in his hand.

If the gods had heard Amethea´s plea, they were either indifferent to it or as wicked and mean as her tormentor.

The pincers were differed from the common version, though. It´s tips were not sharp but flat. He clicked them together, playfully. Then he lowered them towards her unprotected pussy.

Amethea watched in horror and tried to steel herself against the pain to come. Although the tongs would not be able to cut into her flesh, the pincers could most certainly be used to rip out her labial lips.

Instinctively she pulled at the bindings holding her body down and her legs spread wide open. It was in vain, of course.

The pliers were right on top of her cunt, then they closed around one…just one of her tangled pubic hairs. Arrakur began to pull. Slowly building up the strain, drawing the hair tighter and tighter until it finally tore loose. The pain was mild compared to everything she had suffered before and Amethea felt strangely elevated, that she even for a second forgot her outrage bubbling up inside her at the act.

The pincers descended again, seizing another single hair of her pubes. Again it was tautened more and more, the pain mounting slowly until it too was torn out of her skin. She winced as he did it again. And again. And again.

Each time, he seized one; only one of her curled pubic hairs and pulled at it with maddening patience until it finally tore loose. He seemed to have infinite patience with this procedure. For Amethea, it became increasingly painful. With each new hair being pulled out, the aching mounted. Her groin slowly began to flare up in pain.

At the time when Arrakur had pulled out some forty or fifty of her pubes, she was sobbing and cursing. He kept on pulling out her pussy-hair ever so slowly, smiling down at her.

Her crotch ached horribly, yet when she looked at her pussy she could not make out any difference. He must have pulled out nearly seventy of her hair and there still remained an encouragingly uncountable number of hairs to plug out.

She closed her eyes in misery, then snapped them open as a fresh surge of pain exploded in her cunt.

The pliers had closed around her left labia and now were crushing the tender fold of female flesh between their teeth.

“It´s high time for this rebel-cunt of yours to learn it´s place, slut!” Arrakur purred and twisted the pliers around, making his victim scream in pain yet again.

He let go of her nether lip, only to crush the other labia between the plier´s tips, the metal threatening to crush the delicate outer flesh of her sex to dust.

All the woman could do was to scream and endure the attack, watching the cruel pliers being applied to her wide-open genitals and doing it´s horrible work.

Arrakur watched her face with his everlasting fascination for pain, observing the changes in her facial expression as he reduced and increased the pressure of the pliers on her labial lip.

Reducing caused her tautened, pained face to relax ever so slightly. Increasing the tension made her draw back the corners of her mouth, made her close her eyes, thus pressing fresh tears out. Twisting the pliers made her scream and drove her into a fit of gut-wrenching sobs.

After a few moments, he became tired of this play and put the thongs away. In addition, he decided that he had waited for this moment, the moment he had longed for since he first had visited this slut in her cell merely a day ago, long enough.

The moment, when he aimed his rock-hard cock against her pain-throbbing slit, being splayed out defencelessly in front of him. The moment when the tip of his spear made contact with the tortured lips of her cunt, pushing them aside and forcing entrance into her body. The moment when his male flesh drove into her silky tunnel, its soft walls engulfing his unwanted presence inside her womb.

He felt his entire inner being sizzling with pleasure, as he forced the entire length of his cock inside her, grinding his hips against her wide-open crotch. Looking down at her with the outmost satisfaction he began to fuck her with slow, calm strokes, feeling…victorious.

Amethea lay there beneath her rapist and felt his large, hard cock moving back and forth inside her belly, feeling her cunt-tube enclosing the invading male flesh.

Each thrust into her belly made her groan involuntarily. She could not prevent those, as much as she wished for it.

There were no words that could adequately describe the surge of loath and disgust she felt each time his cock was inside her in it´s fullness and his tip reached as far inside her as possible. Yet in the back of her mind, there was a sparkle of relief. The sickening, yet perversely soothing thought that being raped meant for her a short reprieve from more torture applied to her helplessly exposed sex.

It was a shaming thing to think of for her, to even consider rape being less horrible than torture.

Yet she couldn´t help herself wishing the rape to continue for a while. Not in the least for her own lust, which this violation did not supply her with in the slightest. Just so that her torturer was occupied with her body in a mildly less painful way for her.

Arrakur kept fucking her for a while, savouring the terrific pleasure of the act in full. He looked down at her with the contempt of the victor over a beaten enemy, while he kept moving his cock back and forth inside her. He felt powerful, fucking her like this.

And this triggered once more the need in him to execute that power over her in the fullest.

He pulled his cock way back, almost sliding out of her – the tip of his member just filling the entrance to her cunt. Then he plunged his male hardness forward with a horribly brutal thrust that made Amethea cry out in pain.

He did it again. And again. Each time he pulled his cock just barely out of her then slammed it back into her velvet tunnel with viscous cruelty, actually rocking the bench with the force of his thrust. Each time Amethea yelped and screamed, her bloated tits jiggling on her chest.

Unfortunately for her, a movement that reawakened Arrakur´s interest in those tortured mammaries. He kept his cock deeply embedded inside her cunt-shaft and started to slap her tits again. He hit them hard with both his hands, slapping and backhanding the two painfully flatulent breasts without restrain. As she screamed and cursed him, the pain in her tits made her cunt-muscles tighten around his cock, compulsory sucking and milking this flesh-made torture-tool inside her belly.

Arrakur felt his balls tighten, felt his cock engorging even more as his pleasure mounted. He fucked the screaming woman harder and harder as he slapped and punched her tits.

He was almost mad with dark lust, as his climax approached. His hands rained blows on Amethea´s face and tits.

Then he reached for the huge leather strap fixing Amethea´s neck to the head of the bench. With a swift motion he tightened it even further and locked it.

Amethea´s mouth gaped open as the collar closed her throat and made it impossible for her to breath.

His cock kept ravaging her cunt but the strain in her lungs became more and more prominent as she was deprived of oxygen. Her struggles made her cunt twitch and spasm around Arrakur´s cock even more and he felt that for him the peak of bliss had almost come.

He grabbed Amethea´s taut, pain-pulsing breasts with both hands and crushed them in his fingers as far as they would go.

“Whore! Slut! Rebel-bitch!” he cursed her as his cock began spurting the third load of its jism into the writhing prisoner´s belly.

Amethea couldn´t scream as the ever-present pain in her tortured breasts mounted yet again, couldn´t hiss in contempt as her torturer´s semen desecrated her womb. All she could do was struggling helplessly against the straps holding her in place as she on top of it all suffered the slow, painful process of suffocating.

Her bulging eyes looked up at her rapist and torturer, already glazing over, as the pain in her lungs became way beyond endurable and darkness crept into her mind.

The last conscious thought she had, before she glided into the merciful shade of unconsciousness was:

Gods, I beg you. Don´t let me wake up again!

End it!

EnditEnditEnditEnditEnditEnditenditendite…it….

 

 

To be continued in….

 

Chapter 6:  A contribution to science