Bijou in Malhaven

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Preface

This is a brief post on how my story Bijou in Malhaven came to be.

About ten years ago, I was on a road trip and stopped at a little coffee shop/diner that happened to be near a college or university.

My waitress was a very cute Asian girl, who greeted me with a smile and words to the effect of “Hi, I’m Bijou, I’ll be your server today.” I don’t remember her exact words, but I remember hearing her name as “Bijou.”

She was very, very pretty, and wore a top that was like a T-shirt, but of ribbed fabric, with a deep neckline showing her cleavage. I think she had denim shorts; in my memory she certainly does, but whether that’s an accurate recollection or me just sliding into fantasy. I couldn’t swear.

She was cute, charming and a little bit flirty, all the better to secure a nice tip.

When the check arrived, it included a notation “Server: [name]”, and I saw that I’d misheard her name; it was not “Bijou”. Her actual name, on the check, was what I now recognized as being a Korean name, which was consistent with her being Asian.

In her trips to the table – to provide a menu; then to take my order; maybe once mid-meal to see if I needed anything; and then to give me the check – I couldn’t have spent more than five minutes talking with her; probably less. She told me she was a student at the local school I mentioned above, which would probably have made her nineteen or so, likely between her freshman and sophomore terms.

I paid for my lunch (bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwich, salad on the side instead of fries, with bleu cheese dressing, diet coke; no dessert), and left a generous tip as befitted her attire and demeanor, then resumed my drive. But she was a lovely young woman, and continued to occupy my thoughts for some time afterward.

I don’t know about you, but I encounter a beautiful woman like this, I always wonder: Gee, I wonder what she would look like being tortured?

I wondered about that for some time, and finally began to set down some of my imaginings. I’d never written a story before, but this one just kind of grew. I write slowly, and I didn’t finish it for more than a year after when I started it. And of course, when I considered what to use as her name, “Bijou” was the natural choice.

This is the first time I have posted it here; enjoy.

A few caveats:

First, it is long. It comprises some thirty-nine chapters (forty, counting the epilogue); and one of the chapters is in three subparts, each long enough to be a chapter in its own right. It’s more than 67,000 words, which I suppose makes it more of a novella than a short story. It’s well over a hundred single-spaced pages if one were to print it out. Bear that in mind before you decide to invest the time to read it; it’s not a short read.

Second, while I promise you there will be crucifixion, that won’t happen for some time. (

Spoiler

the first crucifixion begins in Chapter 17, and lasts, along with a few others, almost to the end of the story. Hopefully you will find the material prior to that interesting in itself.

)

Third, if you have read this when I posted it in the Crux Foundation, so many years ago: the text has changed a little bit, but not much. I renamed one of the characters (what kind of a stupid name was “Pelton”?); excised a passage here or there that made me cringe every time I read it; and did a tiny bit of retconning for consistency with a sequel. But really, it’s pretty much as I posted it so many years ago. If you already have a copy, you won’t find much new here.

Finally, I’d like to say, I am not David, as some early readers seem to have concluded; he is not in any way based on me, and his views are not mine. He started out as a cardboard one-dimensional character, whose only purpose was to hurt the women in the story (Bijou in particular). But as I wrote him, he started to emerge on his own, and I marveled watching how the character seemed to grow and as I discovered what sort of things made him tick. Actually, most of the male characters are pretty interestingly twisted. Although I wrote this story in a style that sounds almost admiring in tone, that’s a deliberate false note, and I hope the reader will look beyond that and think, Jesus! These guys are monsters!

I’ll post a chapter every day or two. I’m re-reading it myself, and making light edits along the way, so please be patient. I promise you will get all 67,000 words. It might just take me a while.

I know some volunteers assemble these posts into an EPUB or MOBI ebook file for a comprehensive archiving. There’s no need to do that here; I will post a full EPUB at the end, which I believe can easily be turned into a MOBI if needed; I personally stopped using MOBI several years ago.

 

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Front Matter

The death, then, of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.

- Edgar Allen Poe, The Philosophy of Composition (1846)
​

This is a work of fiction. Except for references to historical persons or events, all names, characters, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance of any characters to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental. No animals, other than the two-legged fictitious variety, were harmed in the making of this story.

The views expressed by the fictitious characters in this story are themselves fictitious, and do not represent the views of the author.

The author of this work has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of his or her rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law.

You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. For more information, please see http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/

No rights reserved.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter I: Tracy
​

“Get dressed, Bijou. I want you to attend another torture.”

The Korean-American girl came fully awake at David’s words, and her head came up suddenly from the pillow on the bed she shared with him. Bijou hadn’t expected to be forced to observe anyone tortured again so soon. It was a difficult thing to watch. Not as difficult as it was for the poor girl being tortured, of course, but, still… This was not the way anyone would have wanted to start her day.

Bijou was David’s consort. It was an enviable post. As consort, she was under David’s protection, and each of the members of the community of Malhaven respected that. It was Malhaven’s practice that each member could designate one woman as his consort, and no one in the community would harm her. Except for the member to whom she was assigned, of course; he was free to do whatever he wished with her. But ordinarily members did not torture their consorts; there was no need! After all, they had most of the female residents at their disposal. The only women unavailable to a member were the consorts of other members, or those already set for torture or sex at the hands of another member – “on assignment,” they called it, one of Malhaven’s many euphemisms. In the weeks that Bijou had been David’s consort, he had not tortured her. Not really, anyway; at least not with a full-blown torture session. There had been just that one “taste,” as David had put it, as a warning. As long as Bijou kept him happy – unhesitatingly obeying his every command, with enthusiasm and no backtalk – she stood a very good chance of retaining her status as consort and never being subjected to torture at all.

And here in this community, that was a very big deal. Because the whole basis for Malhaven was the torture of its female residents.

“Residents” was another euphemism. The women here were not residents at all, they were prisoners, usually kidnapped from outside. They were young, they were beautiful, and they now existed solely for the sexual satisfaction of their captors, called – another euphemism – the “members.” If a resident were lucky, a member to whom she was assigned wanted only sex, and would be satisfied with a good raping; but they were all sadists, and torture was a major aspect of the community. A girl who was merely raped counted herself fortunate.

The medical facilities in Malhaven were wondrous. If this were in the outside world, they’d be hailed as nothing short of a miracle. But here, the objective wasn’t the betterment of life; it was to hasten the recovery of a torture victim back to her uninjured and attractive state, so she could be ever-ready to be subjected to further torture. Bijou shuddered. She knew that if David tired of her and the time came for her to face the torturer, she would not even be able to take solace in the thought that she might become disfigured from the abuse, and too unattractive to be subjected to additional torment. In just a few days, a girl would be restored and ready to suffer anew.

“Wear the black bikini.”

Bijou hastened to comply. The last thing she wanted was to risk her consort status. Compliance was second nature to her now. She rolled out of bed, taking a moment to take in her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was still wearing what little she had worn when she and David had retired the night before: a pair of thin white cotton panties. She pulled them down and stepped out of them. She knew she was a pretty girl and the image of her petite Asian body in the mirror confirmed it. She was five feet two inches tall, about 95 lbs. (157 cm., 43 kilograms, her Korean-born parents would have corrected her; but Bijou had grown up in the United States, and never had gotten the hang of the metric system). She had porcelain-smooth skin, a delicate face and long lustrous dark brown hair that reached almost halfway down her back. Though she was not tall, her legs were shapely, and she had a perfect ass. Her breasts were small but firm, with pert nipples that were the color of fresh-ground cinnamon. Her tummy was flat, with well-toned abdominal muscles. Her slim Asian body had little unwanted hair, and she rarely needed to depilate her legs or underarms; she kept her soft brown pubic hair closely trimmed, partly out of neatness, but especially because David liked it that way. Anything for David, she told herself.

It had been just a week or so past her eighteenth birthday when Bijou had been kidnapped and brought to Malhaven. She had just begun to enjoy her first bit of freedom, being away at college, when she had been taken. Colleges and universities were David’s prime hunting grounds for acquisitions. Malhaven had a strict rule that a girl be at least eighteen years old to be collected, and although there were a small number of girls younger than that admitted to such institutions, such exceptions were rare, and easily avoided.

But it was more than that, for David. To take a girl who had not even left high school, even if she were eighteen, just felt wrong to him. It seemed to David that there was a sharp distinction between a girl attending high school and a woman attending college; or if not in college, at least out of high school. She’d started her life, and had a degree of independence; and to a certain degree, that’s what attracted him. There were others who hewed much more closely to the letter of the rule, occasionally taking a high school senior they had verified was over eighteen. Although that was in compliance with Malhaven rules, David did not approve.

As a freshman, Bijou was young for a university student, but she was wicked smart; David had told her that her intelligence was one of the things that attracted him so much to her. It seemed such a long time ago, but she realized it had been only about eight weeks since her capture. She’d heard that most of the abductees – residents, she corrected herself – awoke to almost immediate torture, but she’d been spared. David had been enthralled with her from the start, and immediately on her arrival had offered to take her as his sex slave – consort, she again corrected herself.

When presented with the choice between serving as a consort, or being served up as the victim for the next torture, Bijou had not hesitated. She promised David she would cater to his every whim, and she believed she could. But David had been adamant on one point. She had to be exposed to some torture, at least as a witness, so she could fully comprehend the consequences of her failure to please him. David had said that new girls knew that it hurt, but could not really comprehend the sheer magnitude of what was done to the women of Malhaven for the entertainment of their captors. It didn’t just hurt; it was excruciating. It wasn’t just pain; it was agony.

And so it had been arranged: within a week of becoming his consort, David had scheduled a torture session, and although Bijou would not herself be its subject, she would be required to witness it.

 

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Chapter I: Tracy (cont'd)
​

It had been a day like today, she recalled. David had had her wear a bikini then, as well – a blue-and-white one, she remembered – and driven with her to a torture center. The chamber at the center was large, clean and well-lit, but that didn’t disguise what it was: a dungeon, by any other name. There was a scent in the chamber of something she couldn’t place. A stool was off to one side, bolted to the concrete floor. It was similar to a bar stool except that a vertical metal post was affixed to the back of it, running from the floor to a few feet above the seat.

A short distance from the stool, in the center of the room, two chrome-plated structures stood a few feet apart from one another; one slightly higher than the other.

David motioned for Bijou to sit upon the stool, and she obeyed. David had already explained that since this was her first exposure to a torture, she would be immobilized for the exercise, to ensure she would not interfere. He pulled her wrists behind her and fastened them with leather cuffs to an eyelet in the metal post. He similarly cuffed her ankles to the legs of the stool. He put a collar, like a dog’s, around her neck, and attached that to the top of the post, forcing her to sit upright. With Bijou thus immobilized, he stood back to provide the ground rules.

“This is how it’s going to work,” he explained. “In a few moments, a woman will be delivered to be tortured. My objective is to perform that torture, maximizing her torment, taking her to the highest degree of agony possible without causing her death. She’ll have already been prepared with amphetamines; otherwise no one could undergo the ordeal that she’s about to endure without losing consciousness.

“Your role is that of a spectator. You are to remain silent. No matter how horrified you are – and you will be horrified – you just shut up and watch. You’ll get two warnings. The first one is free, but if you do it again, you’ll get a taste of what Tracy will be undergoing today. If that happens, you’ll probably learn your lesson. But if not, if there’s a third strike…” – he gestured to the chrome structures in the center of the room – “Well, that’s why we have two frames ready. Remember that as you watch her.”

Bijou swallowed. She had no intention of making so much as a sound. David left the room.

She looked at the frames. They appeared innocuous. Each was a chrome structure in the shape of a letter “H” rotated ninety degrees. Two horizontal bars, each about three feet in length, were connected by a somewhat longer, almost vertical, bar. The longer bar had eyelets running down the length of the back, no doubt to facilitate binding the victim. A metal mesh triangle, about eight inches to a side, was welded to the lower side of the upper horizontal bar. The center of the vertical bar was affixed to a post, maybe two or three feet long, on which it appeared to be able to pivot.

The door opened, and David returned with the woman, her wrists shackled behind her back. “This is Tracy Seldon,” David announced, “she’ll be the subject our our session today.”

As expected, Tracy was young and beautiful, but was otherwise different from Bijou in every way one could imagine. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and was tall, about five-foot-ten, with blue-grey eyes; her blonde hair fell to her shoulders in a soft curl. She looked to be of mixed European descent: English, Scottish, Irish, German; some mix like that, Bijou guessed. She had fantastic legs, the Korean girl noticed. Bijou herself had lovely legs, but she was a petite girl, and now felt a pang of jealousy over what it must be like to have legs that long. Then the pang faded, and the envy transformed to guilt. Tracy was about to be brutally tortured, Bijou realized; there was no reason at all to envy this woman.

Tracy wore a pale strapless negligee, so short that it came barely below her hips, and a pair of high heeled slippers, and little else. Bijou could see a pair of panties, but she obviously had no bra; her nipples were visible under the sheer layer of wispy lingerie. Her make-up was perfect: just the amount needed to appear as if there were no cosmetics at all, an enhancement to her obvious natural beauty. She carried herself with a strange mixture of attempted dignity, obedience, and fear.

Bijou could see that the fear was winning out. That was understandable. Tracy was about to be tortured. Bijou was astonished at the limited amount of grace and composure that the woman managed to retain. But nonetheless, it was obvious, watching how Tracy’s chest rose and fell with each breath, that the tall woman was frightened – very, very frightened – and was working hard to maintain what little composure was left to her.

“You know how this goes, Tracy. It only gets worse if you resist.” David watched her eyes.

Tracy swallowed and nodded. It was apparent to Bijou that this was not Tracy’s first time to have been tortured. How many times, Bijou wondered, and what sorts of things had they done to her?

David held another collar, identical to the one that held Bijou’s neck tightly to the top of her stool’s pole, and fastened it around Tracy’s slender neck. He led her to the frame on the left, the higher of the two, and positioned her with her back to it. The top of her head was level with the upper horizontal bar, the triangular mesh positioned just behind the woman’s head. The lower bar was just above knee level. With a short metal clip, he affixed Tracy’s collar to the frame. He removed her shackles, but any freedom she might have felt was brief. He pulled Tracy’s wrists in front of her and swiftly raised her arms over her head and behind her, pulling her hands to the back of her neck, so that the top horizontal bar nestled in the hollows of her elbows. He fastened her wrists with leather cuffs to one of the eyelets on the back of the vertical bar. Tracy winced with the sudden pain, but stayed silent. This was not the first time she’d been tortured. She knew that this was nothing, just incidental discomfort; the real pain was still to come.

David walked to the front of the helpless girl and inspected his handiwork. “I’m just immobilizing her,” he called out to Bijou. “The actual torture hasn’t begun yet. Any pain she’s experiencing now is just a bonus.” Tracy blinked hard, but remained silent. David thought for a moment and corrected himself. “Actually, part of the torture is her fear and despair at her total helplessness, and her anticipation of the suffering that she’s about to undergo; so in that sense, the torture is already underway, and probably was even before she entered the chamber.”

David walked behind the helpless blonde, and bent down. He removed her high heels, and tossed them aside, fastening leather cuffs around her ankles. With a swift motion, he bent her left knee around the lower bar, pulling her ankle up behind her, and cuffed it to the post, just below her buttocks. He then repeated the movement with the right leg. Tracy groaned. The entire weight of her body was now supported by her elbow joints, which were now pressed into the upper metal bar. Her legs, bent behind her at the knees, were set well apart, spreading them wide. Bijou saw for the first time that small protrusions, just a few inches long, jutted from the lower bar along the inside of Tracy’s knees, prevented her from bringing her legs together.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter I: Tracy (cont'd)
​

“You can see how we set the equipment precisely for the subject,” David explained. “The bars are positioned based on her height and on the lengths and proportions of her limbs.” He read the unspoken question in Bijou’s fearful and uncertain eyes. “The other one is adjusted to conform to your body, Bijou. Stay silent and we won’t be using it today.”

David reached behind Tracy’s back and made an adjustment on the supporting post. The blonde gave a brief gasp of surprise as, suddenly, the frame swung back about sixty degrees and latched into place. It now held Tracy’s body almost horizontal, but with her head somewhat higher than her knees. Her head was now supported by the mesh triangle on what used to be the top bar; her blonde hair hung below her. The repositioning took some pressure off of Tracy’s elbow joints, but her gratitude was short-lived. With a few turns of a knob on the center bar, David drew her cuffed wrists and ankles closer to one another, tightening her body on the frame like a virtuoso musician tuning his instrument.

David ran his hand under the blonde woman’s negligee, feeling her body, caressing her breasts. “I don’t think we’ll be needing this any longer.” He gripped the neckline of the insubstantial garment and with a sharp pull, stripped it from her body. Tracy was now wearing only her panties, which Bijou could now see was little more than a thong.

David pulled out a knife. “Nor this.” He slid the knife up the side of Tracy’s right thigh, under the panties’ strap, and deftly cut it away; then repeated the motion on her left. Reaching between her legs, he pulled the last of the flimsy fabric away and let it fall to the floor. Tracy was now completely nude and completely helpless, stretched immobilized over the chrome frame. She squirmed, as if squirming could accomplish anything.

David opened a side door and rolled in a heavy cart. “Today’s torture,” he announced, donning a pair of work gloves, “will be branding with hot irons.” Tracy involuntarily began to quietly whimper.

Bijou could now see that the cart was actually a brazier, with a number of pokers projecting from the brightly glowing coals. Now she knew what the unfamiliar smell had been. It was the scent of hot metal, and the gas that fed the fire needed to maintain the heat.

“Well, let’s begin, then!” David called out cheerfully. He pulled a poker from the fire and held it where Tracy could see it glow with heat.

“No,” the blonde woman begged, “Please, no, no…” Her pleading broke off into a shriek as David pressed the hot metal iron to the ribs on her left side.

Bijou involuntarily gave a loud startled gasp, taken by surprise at the sudden brutality with which the torture had gotten under way.

David removed his gloves and walked to the Korean. “I made it clear, didn’t I, that your role here is simply to observe? No sound?” Bijou began to nod, frantically, but the back of David’s hand whipped across her face with resounding crack. Her head snapped to the side with the blow. With an effort, she tried to look at David, but could only nod and submissively avert his gaze, the right side of her face already reddening from the impact. David raised an index finger. “That’s one,” he said flatly.

He returned to Tracy. In truth, he didn’t really mind the interruption. There’s something special about giving the victim some time to process that first overt act of torture; whether it was the first stroke of a whip, the first bit of strain on a strappado, or, as in this case, the first searing kiss of the branding iron. It made it more real for the victim, and David knew that Tracy was now feeling the reality of her predicament to the core.

He replaced the poker, and reached for another. Almost lovingly, he stroked Tracy with the red-hot metal, putting it to the lower outside of her right breast, and was rewarded with another scream. He pulled away the poker and waited. She reached the end of the scream, having emptied her lungs, and was now gasping for breath. He smiled, and applied it again, to the left side of her face this time, just along the jawline. Her screams resumed.

Over and over, he applied the brands to her body. Her breasts. Her abdomen. Her legs. Reaching under her to press the brand into her back, onto her ass. On the bottoms of her feet. Tracy did not disappoint. She continued to scream in pain with each fresh kiss of the brand. David was glad for the amphetamines in the woman’s system; without them, Tracy would have lost consciousness long ago.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter I: Tracy (cont'd)​

Throughout Tracy’s ordeal, Bijou squirmed, sometimes shutting her eyes and grimacing. But she stayed silent, knowing the cost of breaking her silence. David paused and Bijou looked at Tracy, who was now taking a break from her screams and panting heavily. The blonde’s body was covered with dozens of brand marks. To Bijou’s eyes, it didn’t seem like there were any parts left to burn.

Bijou was wrong. David took a fresh iron and regarded Tracy for a moment, then pressed the iron to the pitiful girl’s forehead. It hissed and Tracy’s scream was as loud as any up until now.

“Stop it!”

The cry echoed in the room. David turned to look at Bijou, whose eyes went wide in horror. The brunette hadn’t even known she was crying out until she heard her own voice, and now she was stricken with terror. Her second warning.

David gave a small smile, and pulled the brazier toward the small Asian girl bound to the stool. “You were warned,” he said. He reached forward and unclipped the front of Bijou’s bikini top, sliding its thin straps past her shoulders and letting it fall the length of her arms until stopped at her wrists, still bound behind her to the post. The Korean girl’s pert breasts were now exposed before him.

“No, no, I’m so sorry, no,” Bijou began to protest.

“Just a taste,” David said. He pulled a hot iron from the brazier. “Of course, I’m not expecting you to maintain silence for this, Bijou. You may scream.” Again, the brunette began to plead, but David pressed the iron to her left rib cage, the same technique with which he had begun Tracy’s ordeal. He wasn’t disappointed. Bijou threw back her head and screamed, a scream powered not only by the searing pain of the hot iron on her body, but a scream finally giving voice to all the horror she had witnessed for the last hour. The horror of watching a beautiful young woman subjected over and over to her flesh being burned with red-hot metal. Bijou’s scream tapered off into spasms of unrelenting sobs.

David lifted another poker from the brazier, and gently applied it to Bijou’s right breast. Again, a scream was torn from Bijou. My God, she thought, this is what that poor girl has been enduring for the last hour. Again, she lapsed into sobs. David paused for a moment until Bijou’s cries had subsided to a soft moan. “Okay, enough,” he commanded. “I need to get back to Tracy. Do you think you can shut up now and watch? That’s two. If there’s a third, you’re going on that frame. Do you understand?”

Bijou took one last gasp for air and forced herself to regain her composure. Anything else was unthinkable. She nodded, afraid to even say “yes.” At the same time, she was appalled. Get back to Tracy? How much more could that girl possibly endure?

Quite a bit, as it turned out. David returned to the blonde stretched tightly on her metal frame and found more places to burn her. On her nipples, of course. The sensitive area just behind her ears, which many torturers missed. The small of her back. Taking a thin iron glowing with heat, he gently stroked the tender skin between her toes, one at a time. Her forearms, positioned as they were, beneath her body, had been mostly untouched throughout her ordeal, and they now yielded a fresh area for burns. Similarly, her lower legs. Tracy’s screams were almost non-stop, ebbing occasionally, but rising to a new crescendo with each new application of the iron.

David stood from applying a deep, charring brand on one of her calves, and took stock of his progress. Just a little bit more, he decided, and let his eyes drop to Tracy’s inner thighs. He’d been saving this region for some time. David shared Bijou’s appreciation of Tracy’s long legs, and had particularly looked forward to targeting them. He’d been conserving her inner thighs as a scarce resource. Throughout the ordeal, he had applied to this area only irons that had cooled somewhat; still painfully hot, but not hot enough to leave a brand. Her once-milky flesh here was reddened and seared with minor burns, but remained unscarred. Now it was time to change that. He reached for a fresh iron and resumed, applying the red-hot brand to the soft flesh of her right inner knee, enjoying Tracy’s pitiful howl. He continued, alternating between her legs, slowly worked his way upward until he reached the point where her long legs met.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter I: Tracy (conclusion)
​

David stopped and stood up. He looked at Bijou. Bijou felt a sense of relief. He’s finished, she thought, it’s finally over. But David turned back to the brazier and extracted another hot iron, somewhat shorter than the others. Again, he approached Tracy, her arms pulled back, legs spread, covered with scars, sobbing in pain. God, she looks so beautiful like this, he thought.

Delicately, almost gently, David began touching the iron to the labia of the blonde girl’s vagina. Tracy’s screams resumed, as loud as ever. See, the girl did have a little strength left, he thought.

Bijou watched in horror as David withdrew the iron and paused, but only for a moment. He aligned the iron parallel to the blonde’s legs. It now glowed only a dull red, but was obviously still very hot. Horrified, Bijou watched as David slowly inserted the hot iron into Tracy’s abused cunt. Bijou felt her own scream coming, and bit down hard on her lower lip to prevent giving it voice. She couldn’t risk a third violation.

The truth is, David probably wouldn’t have heard Bijou if she had screamed; Tracy’s own shriek filled the room, loud enough to drown out any sound Bijou could possibly have made without the impetus of a hot iron on her flesh.

David slowly withdrew the iron from Tracy’s pussy and returned it to the brazier. “I think we’re done here,” he stated, matter-of-factly. The entire ordeal, from the first touch of the brand to Tracy’s ribs to the thrust of the hot iron into her vagina, had lasted more than two hours. He reached under Tracy’s scarred body and removed her ankle cuffs, and then did the same to her wrist cuffs. Her burned limbs dangled listlessly from the frame. Standing up, he removed her collar. She moaned, still fully conscious, still in unspeakable pain. He lifted her body from the frame and lowered her, not too gently, to the concrete floor. She pulled her knees to a semi-fetal position in a vague and belated attempt to defend herself, as though there were anything left to protect, and continued to groan.

“Someone will be by to collect her,” David said.

He walked to Bijou’s stool. “Let’s get you out of here.” He released her ankle cuffs and collar, then unlocked her wrists. The Korean’s bikini top, now free from her bound wrists, fluttered to the concrete floor.

“You did well, Bijou,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to maintain silence there at the end.” He paused. “I was almost hoping you wouldn’t,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “It would have been fun. Oh, you’re free to talk now.”

Bijou took a deep breath. “I almost did lose it, at the very end. Jesus, that was horrifying. Why did you make me watch that?”

David looked at her. “To make you understand, to really get what it means to be tortured in Malhaven, that’s why. You’re my consort. You have immunity from torture, so long as you continue to please me. I want you to succeed, I want to be pleased by you, and am willing to protect you as long as you fulfill your obligations to me. Now you know the cost of failure. Telling you about it wouldn’t be enough; you had to see it first-hand. But now, I’m sure you’ll work much harder at pleasing me than you possibly could have without seeing the type of treatment you would be subjected to, were I to lift that immunity.”

Bijou nodded vigorously. “I will. I will, believe me. I will never stop pleasing you. I hope I never see anything like that again.”

“Oh, you undoubtedly shall,” replied David. “But not today.” He gestured to the door. “Let’s go home, and you can demonstrate to me your new-found motivation.” They left the chamber, Tracy still curled up on the floor in pain. Someone would be by to collect her.

 

[John Hansson3]

A wonderful story. I will follow it, for sure!

 

[SirMGBZ]

Hubba, hubba! Definitely added this to my watchlist.

Thank you, very much for writing it, and doubly so for sharing it.

PS I thought Amazon finally took MOBI out behind the shed and shot it. ;-)

 

[fauxface]

PS I thought Amazon finally took MOBI out behind the shed and shot it. ;-)

You're probably right! It certainly deserved it.

I used to read both commercial (library) books in Kindle, as well as stories that I either wrote or downloaded, in MOBI format. Then something happened and I started getting errors that stories I had produced myself were not properly licensed or something. I eventually switched to EPUB for my own stuff (and for stories I downloaded from sites like this), using an ebook reader, leaving only the Amazon stuff in Kindle. At first that took some getting used to, using two different readers with different interfaces, but I've come to like it. And it's even easier now that my word processor can export directly to EPUB.

 

[Mikerytel]

Tortured blonde Tracy suffered beautifully

 

[fauxface]

Chapter II: Piper
​

Bijou snapped out of her reverie. She remembered Tracy’s branding vividly, as if it were just moments before; but it had been over a month ago. And now she was heading to a dungeon again, to watch some other poor girl subjected to who knows what. Something that could be done to me if I lose my consort status, she reminded herself. She nervously reached for the black bikini David had indicated, stepped into the bottoms and pulled them on, then fastened the bikini top over her breasts. It wouldn’t do to delay, not after a direct command from David. She hurried after him.

“Will it be Tracy again?” she asked as they walked. She hoped not. Not that she wanted to see any woman put through the horror she knew was coming, but she especially did not want it to be Tracy. Not with what Bijou had already seen her endure.

“No. It’s a different girl,” responded David. “We have a lot of them.” They continued walking, without further conversation. Bijou’s thoughts raced with dreadful anticipation.

Considering the typical woman’s way of life in Malhaven, Bijou could not complain about her time with David. He mostly treated her well, and they even had some good times together. She was never tortured, not really. Sometimes he roughed her up a bit during sex; but she didn’t mind. Not after what she’d seen Tracy subjected to. A few slaps now and then were nothing.

Sometimes the sex was tender, almost loving. Other times, it was stark and violent rape. She was required to make every part of her body available to David, and she did. She’d never given oral sex before, and although the idea initially repulsed her, she quickly grew to enjoy it. It was the only time she felt even a little bit in control. She enjoyed gently massaging the shaft of David’s penis with her tongue and a moistened hand as he moaned, before finally bringing him fully into her mouth and taking him the rest of the way to ejaculation. Sometimes he spurted onto her face, and she was surprised at the secret guilty pleasure of how wonderfully dirty it made her feel. Other times, he kept his penis in her mouth until she felt the hot gush of his semen, which she dutifully swallowed.

Bijou hated the anal sex sessions, but had resigned herself to it. David had told her that one of the finest features of her delicate body was her small firm ass, which he said practically called out to be penetrated. He had masturbated between her breasts a few times, but with breasts as small as hers, that was obviously not a strong attraction, and David had given that up after just a couple of weeks.

And sometimes, they had just talked, late into the night. David was fascinated by this girl; how well she spoke, and how well she expressed her thoughts. And the thoughts themselves! This was no typical American eighteen-year-old. She had opinions on art, music, literature and history, and was equally comfortable discussing trends in politics and the sciences. The more time David spent with her, the more he enjoyed it.

All in all, she realized, considering how life was for most women in Malhaven, her lot was pretty good. All she had to do was make one man happy, and she’d never face the sort of treatment she’d seen Tracy subjected to.

They reached their destination. The torture center was a large but unremarkable two-story concrete building, painted off-white with an attractive but boring wood trim. The center would not have appeared out of place in any suburban office park. Its uninspired exterior gave no clue to the atrocities that took place within its walls. They entered.

Once inside the building, David escorted her through a maze of corridors, finally reaching the room that was their apparent destination. Bijou steeled herself. She didn’t know exactly what was going to happen to the poor girl who would be the subject of today’s session, but she knew that, whatever it was, it would be a terrible thing to watch. They entered the chamber.

† † †​

The first things Bijou noticed were the two wide tables, made of heavy oak, set in the center of the room. Each was fitted with restraints, and included at one end some mechanism, whose purpose Bijou could not discern. Bijou then saw the other girl, bound to a seat to one side, with her arms chained overhead. “This is Piper,” said David. “She will be observing today.”

So, Bijou would not be the only one being forced to watch today. She wondered idly why Piper’s wrists were bound above her. When Bijou had witnessed Tracy’s session, David had bound her hands behind her back. She noticed that there was only one stool. She realized then, with a sense of pride that almost embarrassed her, that now, for this second session, David trusted her enough that she did not need to be bound.

The other girl was about her own age, Bijou guessed, though she looked younger, but David had told her that Malhaven had a firm rule that only women who were at least eighteen years of age were candidates for “acquisition,” as he called it. (Another euphemism, thought Bijou.) So the girl had to be at least eighteen, Bijou knew, but something made her look younger. Maybe it was the expression on her face, a mixture of fear and innocence. She’s new, Bijou realized. I probably had the same look when I was bound to the stool for Tracy’s session.

Piper had light blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders. Her eyes, now open wide, were cornflower blue. Being seated, it was hard to determine her height. She looked just a little bit taller than Bijou, maybe five foot four, maybe more. Other than her height, the bound girl had a build a lot like Bijou’s, although her breasts seemed a bit more developed. She wore a medium grey tank top and matching gym shorts. Her feet were bare. The grey top was snug, highlighting the curves of her body. Her shorts had apparently crept up when she had been seated, and her trim ass now peeked out; with her arms chained above her head, she had had no opportunity to adjust them. The shorts, pulled up as they were, accentuated her shapely ass, and the shorts and the sleeveless garment showed her body to be firm and toned. She was bound at the wrists, ankles and neck, in much the same way Bijou had been bound while witnessing Tracy’s branding, except that Piper’s wrists were chained, about three feet apart, to a horizontal bar above her head rather than to the post behind her.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter II: Piper (cont'd)​

​

“Piper is taking over as my consort,” David announced. The words hit Bijou like a punch to the gut. Piper would be David’s consort? That meant that the immunity that had shielded her was lifted. Unless she could quickly find another member to take her on as his own consort, Bijou was vulnerable to any man who would want to see her tortured; and she knew well that Malhaven was replete with such men.

And then it hit her, and her blood ran cold. There was only one observation stool. She was replaced as consort. She knew. Even before she heard David’s next words, she knew.

“This is Bijou,” David said to Piper. “She’ll be the subject of our session today.”

Bijou was about to be tortured.

Desperately, she ran to the door, pulling with panic at its handle; it remained locked. David calmly walked to her and, gripping her wrist in an iron grasp, dragged her to one of the tables. “Get up,” he commanded.

“No,” she whimpered. “No, no, no, it can’t be. I’m your consort, I’ve done everything for you. It can’t be!”

David backhanded her across the face, hard. The shock of the impact made her freeze. He took her face in his right hand and squeezed, pressing his thumb deeply into her cheek until it hurt. “Listen to me,” he hissed. “Resisting will only make it worse for you. You will be getting up there, and the only question is whether you do so voluntarily, or after I’ve beaten you so badly you no longer have the strength to put up a fight. Either way, your torture is going forward. There’s no escaping it.”

He paused. “I’ve already got the session planned, but if you resist, it can be enhanced. Remember Tracy’s session? I can fire up the brazier. I would just love to put a red-hot iron to those pretty little tits of yours. And that would be in addition to what we’ve already got planned. Go ahead; just give me a reason.”

Bijou shuddered, and all hope drained from her. David released his grip. “So what’s it going to be?”

Bijou remembered the warning to Tracy: It only gets worse if you resist. And Tracy had obeyed. Sometime in the past, Bijou realized, Tracy had learned the truth of David’s statement, no doubt painfully. In despair, Bijou walked haltingly to the table David had indicated, and stood. He put his hands on her small waist and lifted her to the table’s surface, where she sat, still stunned.

“Lie down,” he barked. “Put your head to this side.” He indicated the mechanism at the end of the table. Bijou’s fight was spent. She obeyed, lying down as instructed.

David pulled Bijou’s wrists past her head and fastened around them a pair of tight but padded cuffs. The softness of the padding belied the steel it covered. Each of the cuffs were connected by a pair of chains, on either side of the cuff, to the mechanism at the table’s end. Walking to the foot of the table, he fastened similar cuffs to her ankles, and, pulling her legs apart, fastened the cuffs to rings set into the oak of the table itself. He unclipped the front of her bikini top, exposing her small breasts. With two short strokes of his knife, he sliced through the shoulder straps, removing the top completely. He repeated the action on the hip straps of the bikini bottoms, pulling them off as well. Bijou was now nude, restrained on the table. Her ankles were fastened about three feet apart, spreading her legs despite Bijou’s attempts to pull her knees together. Her wrists were separated by a similar distance.

David reached into a drawer and retrieved a small hypodermic syringe. Bijou felt the sting as he slid the sharp needle into her neck and pushed the plunger home. “The amphetamines,” David explained.

He returned the syringe to its drawer. “Today’s torture,” he continued, “is stretching on the rack.” Bijou could feel the fear rising in her throat. She had no idea the nature of the pain that would be inflicted on her by stretching, but the fact that it was now specific, now real, made the panic rise in her chest.

“The rack is an ancient torture device,” David began. “We know it was used in England in the fifteenth century, and by the Inquisition around the same time. There are records suggesting that its use goes back maybe two thousand years, but that’s less certain. But, that’s neither here nor there. The point is, it remains an incredibly effective means of torture today, as it was in medieval times.”

David continued. “We’ve made remarkably few changes to the rack. The ancients got it pretty much right. Oh, on this model, for example, we can adjust how widely we separate the subject’s legs, for example, even after the proceeding has commenced, but that’s just a detail. One nice advancement we have made is that we can choose the degree by which we increase the tension. The old racks were fairly crude, with a fixed-size ratchet, so each notch increased the tension by pretty much the same amount. But the winch on this one” – he gestured to the mechanism to which the girl’s wrists were chained – “has two sets of ratchets. The standard one” – he touched the heavy wooden handle that controlled a rotating mechanism of heavy wooden pawls resting in notches cut to match – “is the coarse adjustment. This one” – he caressed a chrome-metal handle attached to a mechanism that was similar, but smaller and metallic – “is a secondary set with much smaller increments. It allows me to increase the tension with a marvelous degree of exactitude. This lets me introduce substantial pain almost immediately, while still permitting me to regulate the subject’s torment with exquisite precision as the session advances.”

Bijou tried not to focus on his words, but it was impossible.

“One of the nice things about the rack is its versatility; how well it combines with other tortures. It inherently immobilizes the subject, while leaving her exposed to any of a number of additional supplemental tortures. For example, while stretched, the subject can be whipped, or branded, or any of a number of things, depending on the whim of the torturer.” He looked at the Korean girl, restrained on the rack. “You were wise to comply, Bijou. It would be simplicity itself to add branding to your torture, stretched out like that.”

It only gets worse if you resist. Bijou understood.

“But today, were just going to keep it simple. It’s just going to be the rack. But don’t worry, Bijou, this may be your first session on the rack, but I’m very certain it will not be your last, and some of them will be far more interesting than this one. But for your first time, let’s just go with the basics and save some of the enhancements for another day.”

He paused. “I’m not being merciful, by the way. I just think it’s best to savor one thing at a time.”

 

[fauxface]

Chapter II: Piper (cont'd)
​

David reached for the handle projecting from the winch. The pawls of the heavy ratchet began to click loudly, and Bijou moaned in anticipatory dread. With the turning of the winch, the chains on her wrists began to retract, extending her arms to their full length. She felt the heavy oak of the rack slide beneath her shoulder blades as her body was hauled across its surface; her knees were forced to straighten. In a moment the sound stopped, and she was tautly strung across the device.

David looked at Bijou, assessing her. She really was a beautiful girl, and was now displayed exquisitely. Her body was stretched tightly, arms and legs apart, her dark hair tousled beneath her head, her small breasts rapidly rising and falling as her breathing deepened in fear.

David turned the winch.

Bijou gasped as the first wave of pain arrived. It was sharp and concentrated in her shoulders, akin to the feeling of having an arm twisted up behind one’s back. She whimpered slightly.

David paused, allowing Bijou’s body time to accommodate this slight stretch. For several moments, Bijou lay on the rack, pain coursing through her body; mostly in her limbs, but especially in her shoulders. Eventually, she noticed, the pain began to ebb, as her ligaments adjusted to the tension, as though she were stretching in her yoga class. She allowed herself a glimmer of hope: perhaps she could endure this; perhaps this will not be as terrible as Tracy’s branding. It was then that David reached for the smaller metal handle. She heard the soprano click-click-click of the smaller mechanism as he pulled the handle, adjusting the tension finely, increasing it just enough to make the pain return.

There was a sudden crack sound, and she felt a slight release in her left shoulder. It was only the popping of the synovial fluid in her shoulder joint, no different than a knuckle cracking, but it was startling. Apparently it startled Piper too, because Bijou heard the blonde girl cry out in surprise.

David swiftly rose, and crossed the floor to where Piper sat, arms shackled above her head. She managed only a couple syllables of apology before David punched her in the face, hard. The blonde’s neck snapped back from the brutal impact, and her unfinished apology broke off into a cry of pain. A stream of blood trickled from her nose.

“Quiet!” he hissed, “You’re only here to observe.” He returned to Bijou and again took up his position at the winch. “That’s one,” he called back to Piper. His anger unabated, he grasped the large winch handle and gave it a savage turn. The tenor voice of the heavy pawl called out, and the chains retracted another half-inch, further tensioning Bijou’s already stretched body.

The effect on Bijou was immediate. The pain intensified, and, no longer confined to her shoulders, ran down through her spine and hips. Despite the padding on the cuffs, her wrists and ankles began to throb from the pressure of the restraints. For the first time, she screamed.

“Please,” she panted. “No more! I’ll do anything you want!”

David smiled. “Want I want, Bijou,” he said, “is to watch you suffer!” Again he adjusted the fine control, increasing the tension ever so slightly. The pain in her hips and shoulders sharpened. Bijou squeezed her eyes closed.

He left her like that, for several minutes. This time, the pain did not abate as her body adjusted to the tension. The stretching of her limbs just hurt, and just kept hurting. Bijou moaned softly.

Again, David pulled the large winch, and again her body tightened. From one of her joints, she didn’t know which, came a wet tearing sound, like the leg of a roasted chicken being separated from the body. She screamed. Her joints were on fire. Not just her shoulders and hips, but her elbows and knees, too. She tried to beg, but the only sounds that came were incoherent sobs.

“Please.” Piper’s voice was a whisper. “Don’t make me watch this. Please.”

David strode to the blonde’s stool. “Again? I warned you!” He opened a panel in the wall next to Piper’s stool, revealing another winch control. He turned it rapidly, and a chain descended from the ceiling. With practiced speed, he affixed the chain to the bar where Piper’s wrists were chained. He removed the collar holding her neck to the post.

“No!” Piper begged, “No, no!” David was unmoved. He turned the winch, and the bar retracted toward the ceiling, taking Piper’s wrists with it. Slowly, as the blonde begged for release, her body was pulled from the seat until she hung vertically, arms and legs apart. Her wrists were pulled taut by the metal bar held by the winch; her ankles were firmly shackled to the metal legs of the stool, themselves solidly bolted to the concrete floor. David paused the winch.

“Please no, please no,” Piper gibbered. Without responding, David resumed tightening. Piper screamed as the discomfort turned to pain. Still David continued to tighten, and still the pain increased. At last, he stepped away from the winch, enjoying the spectacle of the blonde girl, in only her sleeveless top and shorts, hung from her wrists, ankles spread wide and chained to posts set in the floor, stretched and straining as her shoulders and hips burned with pain. Her toes spread wide under the tension. David watched for several minutes, until her screams subsided to moans.

Finally, apparently satisfied, he released the winch, lowering Piper to her seat. He reattached her collar, refastening her neck to the post behind the stool. Her wrists remained chained above her head, and, although she was no longer under tension, she remained in considerable pain. Her light grey top was now dark and moist with sweat.

“That’s two,” David said, understatedly.

He returned to Bijou. Bijou, for her part, had been grateful for the respite. Although her shoulders and hips were in agony, and all her joints were in pain, at least when David’s attention was on Piper, he hadn’t been working to make Bijou hurt even more. But now even that small mercy was at an end.

Quickly attending to his work, David moved the large winch another notch. It made a deep clunk as the pawl settled into its new position. Bijou screamed as her left arm, with a sickening wet sound, was wrenched from its shoulder joint. Her shoulder was now dislocated, and the pain from the attaching ligaments, now taking on all of the strain of the joint, was unbearable. She renewed her scream; after several moments, it gradually choked off into a series of guttural cries.

David paused for only a few moments, and then adjusted the smaller control. It clicked once; Bijou whimpered. Then twice. On the third click, the girl’s other shoulder separated. Bijou shrieked again at the sudden pain that now shot through her right shoulder, matching that in her left. David smiled. He sat back, and for several minutes allowed Bijou to suffer on this new plateau of pain. The young woman’s screams continued for some time, slowly tapering to pitiful sobs.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter II: Piper (cont'd)​

​

David waited patiently as Bijou’s body adjusted to this new level of tension. Another ten minutes passed. She had now been on the rack for nearly an hour. David again began to pull the heavy winch.

“No, please no, David, no…” But her entreaties were lost as the heavy pawl dropped into its new position. With a snapping sound, her left leg was pulled from its socket in her hip. Bijou howled as her body briefly oscillated like the plucked string of a ’cello before becoming taut once again. The dislocation of her left femur had added a few inches to that leg, and with her intact right leg remaining its original length, her torso now canted ever so slightly to the right.

David gave her five minutes to fully appreciate the pain. Bijou, lost in her suffering, did not notice as he reached for the smaller silver lever, and it was only when she heard the sinister snick-snick-snick of the fine gear tightening that she realized he was once more increasing the tension. With a sickening sound, the Asian girl’s right femur was pulled from its socket, and she screamed afresh.

David stood back and regarded his former consort. She was a stunning sight. Her lovely face was a mask of pain, eyes wild, her nostrils flaring, her mouth agape, gasping. Her disheveled luxurious dark hair radiated out around her head like a halo. Her delicate body was exquisitely tight on the device, every fiber of its length taut with pain. The tendons of her dislocated joints stood out in sharp relief. Her rib cage and abdominal muscles were sharply defined, as though sculpted; her breaths now came in short, urgent gasps. Only her smooth firm breasts gave any appearance of softness. Her small body was coated with a sheen of perspiration and her legs were invitingly open.

David decided to accept the invitation. He unzipped his pants and, letting them drop to the floor, stepped out of them; his underwear followed. He clambered atop the rack, positioning his body above Bijou’s.

Bijou could not believe what she was experiencing. In the middle of torturing her, David was going to rape her. Lying in helpless pain, she felt David’s cock enter her, with a gentleness that seemed out of place in this context of torture. She felt his breath upon her face as his hand caressed her left breast, his thumb probing her small nipple. After weeks of conditioning, it came erect as though by command. His mouth came down to hers and he softly kissed her. His body slowly moved back and forth on hers, in and out, fucking her as she lay stretched in pain.

Bijou returned the kiss with a fervency that startled them both. Her will was insignificant, and all she could hope to do was to persuade David to end her torment. She kissed him to tell him she was his; that it could be as it had been before, with Bijou as his consort; that he didn’t have to hurt her any more.

David continued to slide in and out of the slender girl, tenderly making love to his broken doll. The rhythmic motion had an excruciating effect, the undulations causing waves of intense pain to wash repeatedly through Bijou’s body. With David’s weight on top of her, she was now barely able to breathe, and despite the pain, could not manage the screams that the agony merited. Instead, she began to wail rhythmically, in syncopation with David’s gradually accelerating thrusts. With each push, she alternated between white-hot agony and red-hot pain, unable to do more than softly howl in time with the cadence imposed by David.

He was cresting now, palms flat on the wood beside Bijou’s arms, slamming his groin into hers, abandoning any pretense of tenderness, now savagely raping her. The tissues in her shoulders and upper legs began to tear under the onslaught, and this new source of agony brought out a long-suppressed scream; but it quickly choked off, smothered by her inability to take a full breath.

Suddenly, David peaked, and she felt the surge of his semen fill her as he came. He decelerated, and after a few more residual thrusts, stopped. Slowly, he withdrew from her abused body. He dismounted from the table, and, after wiping himself on a towel, redressed.

He drew the back of one hand across his sweaty forehead. “Whew! That was fun,” he exclaimed. “But now we have to get back to work. We still have a long way to go.”

Bijou moaned. She had hoped that the rape had signaled the end of the torture; or that, having been spent, David would be satisfied by his work so far. But he didn’t appear to be spent at all. Quite the opposite; the experience of raping the helplessly stretched woman, of feeling her tightness around his cock, of hearing her voicelessly cry out in unimaginable pain, had served only to energize him. He was clearly ready for more.

It was then that she heard the soft sobbing, coming from the other woman. Piper had done her best to remain silent, but the savage rape she had just witnessed finally exceeded her control.

David turned to face the blonde girl. “…And that’s three,” he said evenly.

Piper heard his words and shrieked. “No! No! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.” But David strode to her, unbuckling first her collar, then her ankles, and finally her wrists. Before Piper could react, he seized her and threw her over his shoulder. She pounded his back with her fists, and tried to kick, but David held her fast, carrying her to the second rack, which lay empty and waiting.

Reaching the device, he slammed the blonde girl onto the oaken surface, hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Before she could recover, he fastened cuffs around her wrists. She gasped for breath, and pulled desperately at the cuffs, without effect. David walked to the head of the rack. With his knife, he calmly sliced through the shoulder straps of the girl’s grey top. Walking to the side of the rack, he pulled the girl’s top down to her waist, baring her breasts, larger than Bijou’s, he observed, but not excessive. He slid the top all the way down her ineffectively kicking legs, past her knees and over her feet, and dropped it to the floor.

Now Piper wore nothing but the soft grey shorts. David reached for those, and the garment followed her top down the length of her legs. It joined what was left of her top on the floor. Piper had not had the privilege of underwear, and was now completely nude.

“Please,” she begged, “please, no!” David ignored her, and grasping her right ankle, yanked the limb to the side and fastened it to a cuff set in the wooden surface. He crossed to the other side of the rack, grasped the ankle of her flailing left leg, and did the same. Piper now lay spread-eagled on the torture device, just as Bijou had been.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter II: Piper (cont'd)
​

But David was far less subtle in his treatment of Piper than he had been with Bijou. He immediately turned the heavy crank, rapidly and with force; there were no fine adjustments of the silver handle now. He pushed the coarse wooden shaft until Piper howled in pain, and he paused only a moment before pushing it an additional notch, the wretched girl screaming anew. In under a minute he had taken Piper’s body to a degree of tension and pain that he had spent maybe fifteen to twenty minutes to apply to Bijou.

The difference between his treatments of the two girls was obvious. Bijou was being tortured with precision and delicacy, for his pleasure and amusement. Piper was being tortured in anger, punished for her disobedience and for being a distraction from the main event.

Reluctantly, he stepped away from the blonde. It wouldn’t do to push her too fast. Her body needed some time to stretch and adjust, or her ligaments would simply give way. He returned his attention to Bijou.

“Now, where were we?” he asked. “Oh, yes! Now that you’ve had a few moments to rest, I think we can take a big step now.” He reached for the heavy wooden handle and slowly pushed it. The pawl dropped into its notch with a loud knock, and Bijou screamed uncontrollably. Her entire body hurt. The muscles in her limbs continued to tear. Pain shot up and down her spine. Her elbows and knees felt like they were packed with shards of broken glass.

David waited, as Bijou’s screams tapered off into shallow gasps. He knew it was getting hard for her to breath now. He liked this part. The girl would continue to scream, but not for long; it was simply too difficult. There was a unique attractiveness in a girl trying to cry out, but being able to manage only incoherent sounds. There would still be the occasional scream, he knew; but now he had the satisfaction of knowing that each rare cry that he managed to wrench from Bijou indicated a new level of unimaginable agony.

Now he reached for the fine adjustment, and continued increasing the tension. Snick-snick-snick… On the fourth position, Bijou’s right elbow gave way, her forearm bones pulling from the joint with her upper arm. David smiled with satisfaction at the brief scream that the injury extracted from the helpless girl. He waited a moment or two, and then continued. It took only two more fine adjustments before the her left elbow dislocated as well, and Bijou let loose a shriek to match her first.

He paused. Bijou lay on the rack, her body starting to come apart, breaths now coming in desperate shallow pants. She had now been on the rack for over two hours. There was more to do, of course, but again, he didn’t want to rush. Apart from giving Bijou’s ligaments time to accommodate the stretching, he wanted her to suffer at this stage for a time, before inflicting the next level.

He attended to Piper. All this time, the blonde had been alternating between crying out in pain and pleading with David for relief. She had started to subside a bit, leading David to conclude that this would be a good time to renew his work on her. He turned the wooden crank one notch, then two. Piper shrieked as new agony ran through her body. David regarded his new consort carefully. Already, it appeared, she was probably stretched as far as she could be before some of her joints gave way.

He looked back at Bijou. She needed more time, he knew; it was too soon to tighten her further. This was as good a time as any to rape Piper. But first, he took another syringe, and injected the blonde with the powerful amphetamine. It wouldn’t do at all for her to pass out from pain in the middle of a good raping.

David once again shed his pants and underwear, and climbed atop the struggling blonde girl. There was none of the tenderness with which David had begun with Bijou; Piper’s treatment was savage from the onset. David forced his cock into Piper, hard, and immediately began to violate her with hammering thrusts. He placed his hands on her upper arms, as though there were any need to restrain her, and raised himself above her. The additional pressure on her arms exacerbated the tension imposed by the rack, and Piper cried out from this additional source of pain. Over and over, he hammered himself into her. He kissed her, but there was no gentleness in it: he greedily forced his mouth over hers, stifling her cries and savagely biting her lower lip.

At last, he finished, pulling his cock from Piper as she lay sobbing. He rose to a kneeling position, and moving closer to her face, pushed his cock into Piper’s mouth, along with two fingers of his right hand, preventing her from biting down. Piper gagged for a moment, and David withdrew. With revulsion, she realized that he was not even looking for a blow job; her wet mouth was simply a convenient way for David to clean his dick.

David dismounted the stretched girl, and, after wiping himself again, redressed. “That was very nice, Piper. Thank you,” he said. Abruptly, he reached for the winch and gave it a brutal shove; it advanced with two resounding knocks. Piper let loose a scream, louder than any so far, as both of her arms were yanked from her shoulder joints with a wet crack.

Piper’s screams continued for several moments, tapering to grievous moans. Finally, she began to quiet, alternatively sobbing and gasping.

But David’s attention was back to Bijou. He ran his hand over her sleek body, moist with sweat. Bijou involuntarily quivered in response. David smiled. As tight as he had her now, he was vaguely surprised that even that tiny motion was possible. He bent, and lightly brushing his lips to hers, softly kissed her.

Then he turned the heavy wooden crank.

Bijou’s left knee exploded in pain as it was pulled apart from the sudden increase in tension. She shrieked in agony. David waited with anticipation, waiting until he sensed that Bijou had fully processed the pain, and then began turning the silver handle. In only a few clicks, the brunette’s right knee followed suit, the joint cracking free with another burst of pain. Again, Bijou screamed. At each new degree of pain, it seemed that there was no way the agony could increase; and yet it did.

David paused, allowing Bijou to acclimatize to this most recent assault on her nervous system. Presently, her screams ebbed to sobs. She was in a haze of pain, but unconsciousness eluded her. She remembered watching Tracy’s torture and recalled thinking that she could not have imagined anything worse. But she was wrong; this was much, much worse than the burns Tracy had received. She recalled looking at Tracy, about to be tortured, and enviously wishing for legs as long as those of the blonde girl. With horror, she realized that her wish had been obscenely granted: stretched as she was, joints dislocated and pulled apart, Bijou’s legs had been lengthened by a number of inches.

David turned to Piper and, almost casually, advanced the winch another two notches, causing more screams from the blonde as her legs dislocated from her pelvis. Ignoring the sounds of her agony, David turned back to the Asian girl.

Bijou had now been on the rack for three hours.

 

[fauxface]

Chapter II: Piper (conclusion)
​

David grasped the heavy wooden handle, and advanced the large ratchet another notch. Bijou screamed as her vertebrae separated under the sudden increase in tension. Her back was now broken. The pain was incredible, not so much from the fracture itself, but because, without the reinforcement of an intact spine, the tissues in her torso now began to tear apart. The muscles at the small of her back, and the flat abdominal muscles she had been so proud of, had begun to rip under the tensile forces. Despite the injury to her back, her spinal cord remained intact. Her nervous system was not impaired by the damage, and signals of pain from all parts of her body dutifully rushed to her brain unimpeded.

As the tension on Bijou’s torso increased, the pressure exerted upon her lungs became unbearable. It was becoming hard to breathe, and despite the horrific agony, she simply no longer had the capability of drawing in the volume of air necessary for a protracted scream. She shrieked raggedly and sporadically, but it was difficult, and shortly she settled into a panting moan that masked the incredible amount of pain that it represented. She tried to beg for relief, but could manage only a few unintelligible word-like sounds.

For a very long time, David watched Bijou suffer. With her body under such a degree of tension, he knew, small muscles throughout her body, some not even visible, would involuntarily twitch and spasm. In her current state, with no slack anywhere in her flesh, that meant that tiny bits of her body were gradually tearing from the unrelenting pull of the rack. Fresh bolts of scintillating pain, he knew, were shooting through her body in response to each tiny spasm. Her rough panting, punctuated by the occasional involuntarily gasp in response to a new jolt of pain, was like music to him.

Finally, he reached again for the control, the silver fine control this time, and gently pressed it to an even tighter position. Bijou attempted to scream, but emitted only the edge of a high-pitched squeal before even that tiny sound was cut off. He waited only a few moments, and advanced it another notch. This time, the girl’s pathetic attempt to scream was accompanied by a crackling sound, as the bones in her left wrist, unable to sustain the tension, fractured under the cuffs that held her to the rack. Again, the squeal, tapering to a nasal whimper. He smiled in recognition. They were nearing the end.

David brought his face close to Bijou’s “Almost done, my love,” he said softly. He kissed her softly. Bijou’s eyes fluttered, trying vainly to focus on his face through the haze of pain. Was it finally over?

David advanced the silver crank again. Her right wrist fractured. Again, an animal sound came from the tortured girl.

He stopped. He’d reached the end, he knew. Nothing good would come of any further increase in the tension. At best, the fragile bones in the girl’s slender hands would be completely crushed, finally giving way and allowing the cuffs to slide over them; if that happened, the torture would be ended abruptly. At worst, the increased tension would pull off a limb, most likely an arm; and that would not be pretty at all. Either way, the torture was effectively at its end. He intended to bring it to a close on his own terms.

Like a child savoring the last bit of ice cream melted in the bottom of the dish, David watched Bijou closely. Her face, though contorted in pain, was still beautiful. Her body was still exciting to look at, despite being distorted by the incredible tension of the rack. Her breasts were nearly flat from the tension, but somehow no less attractive for that. Her entire body was now soaked with sweat.

He looked at the clock. From the first turn of the crank, administering that initial gentle pain, to the fracturing of her wrists, Bijou had been on the rack for a little over four hours.

He walked to Piper. The blonde girl moaned at his approach. He smiled and carelessly pushed the wooden winch to a new degree of tension. She shrieked, and David heard another of her joints give way, but he ignored her and returned to look at Bijou.

Again, he savored the moment, enjoying the Korean girl’s pain. Finally, he walked to the winch and grasped a ring attached to the mechanism. He looked one last time at Bijou, and yanked the ring, pulling a heavy pin from the winch.

Instantly, the winch released its tension, and Bijou’s stretched body retracted like a tense spring. The action brought no relief to the girl. Quite the contrary, with the violent contraction of her body, raw nerve endings collided and broken bits of bone ground against one another in a cacophony of agony. Her entire body exploded in electric fire as nerves from every inch competed for attention with their signals of excruciating pain. Joints that had been pulled apart for hours closed like clamps, crushing nerves that had repositioned during her ordeal. The bones in her broken wrists ground together. Her pelvis, shoulders, elbows and knees all erupted in fireworks of agony.

With the release of the tension, however, she could finally breathe, and she let loose a horrifying scream, embodying all of the pain and horror she was experiencing and had endured for hours. The scream continued, at last a luxury that had been unavailable to her for so long, tapering off only after several minutes to rasping sobs.

David crossed over to Piper, pulling the pin on the mechanism holding her tight as well. She, too, screamed, although she’d not been stretched nearly to the extent of Bijou.

David unbuckled the restraints on Bijou’s wrists, then did the same to those on her ankles. The girl made a brief attempt to pull her arms to her torso, but ceased almost before she had begun. Not only was the eruption of pain too severe to continue, but her torn ligaments and dislocated joints refused to permit the movement. She continued to lie on the rack, her arms remaining helplessly over her head and her legs spread, as though she were still bound.

From the gasps of pain coming from the table next to her, she surmised that Piper was being similarly released. And then David walked to the door and left. Soon, there were no sounds in the room but the low groaning of the two women in their residual pain.

Someone would be by to collect them, she thought.

After a time, the pain grew more dull, and Bijou realized that the powerful drugs that had been keeping her awake and alert were beginning to wear off. She drifted in and out of consciousness, but each time she began to fade, the continuous pain in this joint or that muscle would jolt her back to awareness. Occasionally, she heard a spontaneous cry from Piper, and knew that the blonde girl was suffering in much the same way.

Eventually, however, the amphetamine effect eroded further. Finally, the pain and sheer exhaustion from her ordeal prevailed, and darkness fell upon her.