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Chapter 6
A high pitched squeal, like fingernails down a blackboard, echoed throughout the playroom as Mr Black dragged a large covered object across the tiled floor. Pain, School and Christine all flinched at the horrible sound and guessed at what lay beneath its covering sheet.
Pain had just finished extracting herself from the heavy restraint laden chair where she had suffered Mr Black’s ministrations with the rasp file and sandpaper. School continued to write her lines, with one wary eye on the dark haired pervert. For her part, Christine was trying to clean the playroom as best she could in spite of the physical restrictions imposed on her by her bloomers.
Mister Black stood back, satisfied after manoeuvring the heavy screeching object to next to the wooden chair. He looked directly across the room to where Christine knelt cleaning.
“Finished?” He asked in the full knowledge that she had not, and indeed could never have completed the gargantuan cleaning task by herself and with her legs effectively hobbled.
“No Master.” Christine muttered in defeat.
Mr Black stalked her, slowly drawing closer, “What did I say to you this morning?”
Christine unconsciously began drawing back from his approach and scrabbled back into a corner of the room next to the towering Saint Andrews Cross she had been attempting to polish, “That I had to clean both floors.”
“And?” He loomed over her.
“And that you’d… you’d…” she stuttered unable to give voice to the threat he’d issued in the morning.
Mr Black bent over the cowering girl and yanked down her bloomers with forceful violence. Christine quivered in the corner and put her hands up to her head to protect herself from potential violence.
“I told you that I’d ream out your arsehole as you’d never been fucked before, didn’t I?” His hard and rough hands unsnapped the pin holding on her cloth diaper, Christine’s hands weakly tried to bat away his efforts to disrobe her, but he shrugged her off with ease. His next movement tore the cloth diaper viciously out from between her legs. Christine twisted about, trying to escape him and pushed herself into the corner as deeply as she could.
However she was surprised when he retreated, content to leave her wedged into the corner, her knees drawn up before her, her arms protecting her head.
“Well I keep my promises, but you see I have a small problem.”
Christine’s arms shrank back from her head and descended to cover her now exposed private parts.
He scanned the room. School stood in her cheerleader outfit, her lines suspended as she watched events across the playroom unfold. At the other extreme corner of the room Pain cowered in her white spike and bristle filled leather and latex suit. Her eye lashes clumped together where salt tears had dried after her ordeal on the chair, and to alleviate the agonising impact of her torturous high heels, she knelt.
Mister Black stepped back from his brutal disrobing of Christine and opened his stance so that he faced Pain and Christine equally. Christine, half naked, her bonnet in disarray and her bloomers about her knees swallowed with apprehension.
“My problem sluts, is that I only have one rock hard cock,” he unzipped his fly to reveal a long hard penis. Uncircumcised, it looked like an evil worm. “And I desperately want to test out your newly improved holes,” he winked at Pain whose eyes bulged at the thought.
“So I have a solution,” he whipped the cover of the heavy object off with a flourish.
The covers removal revealed a rocking horse: a white horse suspended in a swing stand, not on traditional rocking chair style rockers. The horse sported a gaudy golden bridle, pink reins and purple stirrups. At the back of the saddle emerged a cushioned seat fashioned in the shape of a huge purple love heart. But it was the pink saddle that really drew the eye, particularly its confrontingly purple – and strangely lifelike – cock that emerged from a hole in the saddle. The purple cock sat atop a simple mechanism that Mister Black demonstrated by pushing the horse: as it swung back and forward and the dildo pistoned up and down.
“Made from a cast of the real thing,” he contrasted the greyish appendage dangling out his fly with the purple replica on the horse, “Two-thirds to scale, but it should be enough to satisfy a randy little girl like you,” he raised his eyebrow and tilted his head in query to Christine, “How about it Lolita, you want to climb on that lovely little copy of my shlong and go for a widdle hawsey ride?” He asked in mock childish tones, “meanwhile I see just how loud piggy can squeal…” he grinned malevolently at Pain who swallowed fearfully in expectation of the potential ordeal confronting her.
“Alternatively, Pain can take your place on the horse and I’ll come over there and rape you with the real full-sized thing. Your choice.” He stood expectantly next to the rocking horse while Christine sat in the corner weighing up her terrible options.
Unexpectedly Mr Black turned on School, “Have you stopped? Did you want to ask me something? Do I need to get my cane?”
“No Sir!” She quickly chirped before rapidly completing her unfinished line: “..lines until I beg to have my cunt caned.”
“What’s it to be?” He barked at Christine and grinned as the imitation girl child started crawling toward the horse.
“Wonderful!” He clapped his hands together, “Get the fuck over here you fat-arsed slut, I’m going to grind your holes to mash!” He pointed from Pain back to the heavy chair. In spite of the fearful and almost incredulous look on her face Pain knew better than to disobey. Slowly she rose from her knees onto her tortured feet and slowly hobbled toward the imposing chair. The firm nodules within the soles and toes of her shoes ground into the soft flesh of her feet as she tottered across the floor.
Meanwhile Christine reached the garishly painted rocking horse. She shuddered as she gazed at the long purple latex cock emerging from the saddle. Slowly she pulled her bloomers the rest of the way down her legs and over her booties before clambering onto the horse. It swung back and forward as she swung her legs over the saddle, the purple cock now digging into the small of her back as she put her bootied feet in the purple stirrups.
While Christine arranged herself on the horse, Pain swung herself around on the hardwood chair and “assumed the position”, as Mister Black had demanded. This saw Pain kneel on the chair with her upper half bent over the back of the chair in much the same position that Christine had assumed when Mister White had raped her chilli seared anus.
Mister Black stroked his already engorged cock as he watched Pain pull down the zipper of her skin tight punishment panties to reveal the reddened, bristle scoured and spike assailed flesh of her vagina. Simultaneously he switched his gaze back and forth between the tortured blonde in front of him and Christine’s hesitant manoeuvrers on the rocking horse.
Her feet in the stirrups, Christine looked over her shoulder to her tormentor who nodded impatiently at the purple cock. Christine swallowed her pride and stood in the stirrups. She pushed her hips back slightly till the phallus brushed against her womanhood.
She felt a sense of abject shame as she contemplated what she was about to do to herself. Dressed (mostly) in her infantile clothing, a dribble of urine trickling down her thigh, calf and finally into her fleecy baby booties, she let the purple facsimile of Mr Black’s dick touch her hole. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the sinking feeling of indignity in her gut.
“What the fuck do you think your doing?” Mister Black stepped quickly next to the horse and slapped Christine’s face sharply.
She immediately pulled herself away from the purple dick and threw a look of indignation and shock at her oppressor, “What did I do?” She asked in a hurt but meek fashion.
“What fucking hole do you think that’s going in?” He pointed to the wobbly fake cock that Christine had been about to lower herself onto.
“Umm…” her stomach sank even further.
“I thought we’d made it abundantly clear Lolita. The only fuck hole in your body we’re concerned with is your delicate little arsehole.” His hand grabbed her about the jaw, thumb and forefinger digging into her cheeks and he thundered at her, “At what point did you think I would want to see you rub your little girl-hole on my nice purple cock? Hey?” He slapped her other cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to rock her head to the other side, “Unless otherwise instructed, when we tell you to fuck something, it goes in your shitter. You don’t–“ he slapped her again, “–put anything in your girl hole. Do you understand?” She nodded, “In fact, we’re renaming it, this–“ his hand released her face and darted between her legs where his fingers expertly pinched a tranche of her labia and clitoris, “is your ‘no-no hole’. Nothing goes in it, not a finger, not a thing. Understand? What is it?” He asked firmly, her labia and clitoris ground harshly between his firm thumb and forefinger.”
“My no-no hole,” she uttered in response.
“And what don’t you do with your ‘no-no hole’?” He barked in her ear.
“I don’t put anything in it.”
“So where does my purple cock go?”
“In the other one.” She groaned.
“Good.” He released her flesh, “Now that has a name what about this one?” He asked while pointing at her bottom.
She couldn’t believe what came out of her mouth, it just seemed to slip out, “Master White made me call it Miss Bum-Bum.”
Mister Black smiled wickedly. “I like it. Good. From now on Lolita, that’s your no-no hole and that’s Miss Bum-Bum. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whimpered in embarrassment.
“What are you going to do now?” He stood over her, glowering.
“Put it in Miss Bum-Bum.” She answered.
“What?” The back of his hand rose threateningly.
“I’m going to put the purple cock in Miss Bum-Bum… Master.” She added as an afterthought. Mister Black’s hand withdrew and he hulked back toward Pain kneeling on her wooden chair.
She rose in the stirrups again and stood over the phallus. The horse rocked gently back and forward – the jelly like dildo bobbing slowly up and down. Christine peered down at the horrid copy of Black’s wormy penis with its prominent foreskin and partially obscured cock’s eye. It made the phallus look alien and foreign.
Several things occurred to Christine in rapid succession as she clenched her eyes shut and mentally prepared herself. First, the purple dick was thinner than Mister White’s, and that was a good thing. White had viciously raped her ass the previous day, a memory that she was trying desperately to suppress. But at least this dong was thinner. On the down side it was longer. Black’s un-cut cock, ugly as it was, was of a more traditional length and girth. Where White’s weapon had resembled a stubby beer can, Black’s was more like a thick courgette.
It also occurred to her that she didn’t have to contend with chilli this time. The searing pain that had come from having had a chilli in her rectum overnight had made yesterday’s rape unbearable. So an upside was that she wouldn’t be forcing the purple invader into a searing ring of burning muscle.
But there was no lubricant. That hadn’t been a problem when she thought the dildo was destined for her vagina, where she had hoped her body would react to the invader, unwanted even though it had been. But now? Now it was destined for an entirely unlubricated orifice. Could she spit on it? Was that allowed?
But how could she even think like this! Sodomy’s a sin! Rape was one thing – she wasn’t a theologian but she was pretty sure God didn’t apportion sin to rape victims. But this was different! She was voluntarily going to push the cock into her bowels.
In the shower she’d penetrated herself: but only to clean herself. The enema bulbs? Well they’d been forced into her by Pain. The chilli? Black at his most dastardly. White’s cock: rape. But this? This was beyond the pale. If she sank on the cock she’d be a sodomite. Was it enough that the threat of violence made it okay?
Christine finally weighed up a terrible calculus. With the latex cock wobbling about the entrance to her bottom she faced a terrible final question. Fuck herself, without lubricant, on the purple but reduced scale dildo, or invoke Mister Black’s wrath and his promise to be raped by the full length and thickness of his cock in her unlubricated anus. She knew God would understand.
She dropped a line of spittle on the dildo and watched it dribble down the dildo’s purple length.
Next to the rocking horse, Pain gritted her teeth as she felt Mister Black wrap his hand in her ponytail. His free hand he used to guide his now fully engorged rod toward the gap in Pain’s panties. The blonde’s eyes bulged as she felt his cock head touch her entrance. Mister Black had spent several hours scraping and scratching the surface layers of skin from Pain’s labia, clitoris and even the entrance to her vaginal tract. Consequently she could feel every pulse of blood through the delicate membranes. She was also feeling hot and cold far more sensitively, particularly the heat of his cock as it touched her damaged hole.
It was not the first time that Pain had undergone such treatment, but it was her worst experience so far. Mister Black went just a little further each time he carried out the procedure. Each time he took just a little more skin, leaving her even redder and rawer than the previous attempt. He was becoming a master of his adopted art.
Black pulled on her ponytail as his cock head sunk into her weeping hole. The heat of the blood coursing through his cock drove her crazy; the friction from his rigid and rock hard cock against the pulverised flesh of her hole set her screaming; but worst of all was the intense agony set off as his pelvis mashed against the gusset of her panties. Bristles rasped against already exceptionally scoured flesh, small rubber spikes sank into her clitoris and up and down the length of her inner labia. Pain cried out like a banshee with his first thrust. She had only a moment to catch her breath before he sawed his cock out and in again.
“No! Oh God! Take it out, please! Oh my God! Oh it hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much! For God’s sake please take it out!” The last ‘please’, she roared out with the full strength of her lungs, stomach and diaphragm.
Any normal person, well any person with even a modicum of empathy, would have gone slowly in Pain’s scoured and tortured hole. Not Black, this was a rough, hard fuck. He was a bucking bronco, a rutting dog on an unwilling bitch. He smashed his cock back and forward with a vengeance, burying his full length in and out of Pain’s suffering orifice.
Now Christine felt the spit covered purple cock touch her anus. She cast a furtive look toward Black, hoping beyond hope that his attention was elsewhere. But he stared straight at her, lust and evil in his eyes. He looked ready to do bloody murder and if Christine had had any residual thoughts of the alternative, Black’s murderous gaze convinced her otherwise.
For the first time in her life, Christine willingly penetrated her own bottom with a foreign object. She took it slowly, feeling the broad head of the scaled down replica of Mister Black’s cock open up her anus and enter her bowels proper. She used every trick she had learned. She pushed out to help herself relax and allowed the bulbous head in. With relief she felt the slightly lubricated object push past the important ring of muscle. Slowly she sat further onto the cock, allowing its horrific length to fill her more and more.
Mister Black looked across Pain’s back to Christine with an evil grin on his face. Before him he saw a flat-chested girl with a pretty nose and cherubic face wearing a bonnet, an infantile romper top and baby booties slowly impaling her anus on an exact copy of his cock. Little wisps of strawberry blonde hair escaped from the bonnet and dangled suggestively around the nape of her neck.
This vision of insane perversion was scored to a soundtrack of screams and remonstrations from Pain as she squealed and screamed with the insane hurt being inflicted in her.
Ultimately Christine sank to the base of the dildo. Her buttocks settled on the purple saddle of the rocking horse with seven inches of fabricated latex cock buried in her bottom. She bit her bottom lip, trying to ignore the growing sense of shame that assailed her.
It is said that there is no worse feeling that the sense of impending doom. It is not just a feeling of fear, nor just a sense that something bad is going to happen. It is rather the almost complete and total realisation that the single most terrible thing that could possible befall you is about to befall you. Heart attack survivors talk of it. Healthy people who have been told they have weeks to live talk of it.
With her anus distended by the latex cock, Christine felt her stomach descend into the depths of hell, she felt as though her blood pressure tripled in a moment and her heart began thumping so hard that she felt it might explode. She felt impending doom.
She was fucking her own arse…
Her rectum was being split open by a fake cock.
Her pristine and sacrosanct anus was being defiled, and by her own hand.
The self realisation of what she was doing struck home like a sledgehammer blow to the concrete foundations of her world. And a little bit of the foundation crumbled under the blow.
“Rock it. I want to see it go in and out.” Mister Black demanded of her as he thrust forward with a particularly vicious jab of his hips. Pain screamed to underline his demand.
Christine closed her eyes and pushed back as gently as she could with her legs in the stirrups. The horse rocked back, the dildo pulled out, the horse rocked forward, the dildo thrust back into to its full length and pulled back out again.
Each time the latex cock pulled out, it pulled her clinging sphincter with it, stretching the little rubbery ring out of her. Each thrust back in pushed the muscle back the other way. The replica cock was entirely complete: every vein, every bump, every little feature of Black’s cock was represented. And every little bit chafed past her rectum as the dildo slid roughly in and out.
After a half dozen rocks of the horse back and forward Christine realised that the modest dollop of spit she imparted on the dildo was near exhausted. The cock was dry, her anus was dry, and even though the dildo was soft and pliable latex, it still tugged and rasped against the delicate membranes in her bottom. Fate dictated that only one of two outcomes were inevitable. Either something would tear, a capillary with luck, and her own blood would lubricate the cock as it relentlessly sawed in and out of her anus. Alternatively her flesh would hold but it would continue rasping dryly over the surface of the dildo. The tight muscles of her rectum would suction tightly to the latex and stretch it further into and out of her body, ultimately she would prolapse or worse. She needed lubricant.
Thus it was that Mr Black finally shot his load into Pain’s tortured and ragingly agonised hole to the sight of Christine lifting herself off the pink dildo to spit upon it a second time, only to then force it back into her aching back passage and engulf its purplish length into her newly stretched and once virginal arsehole.
---
Mister Green’s ugly visage sat smugly between Christine’s knees, poking and prodding about with a lengthy stainless steel probe. The feeling was exceptionally uncomfortable. “Hmmm,” the probe gouged into Christine’s most sensitive places, “this is looking promising, see how this isn’t contracting properly. Oh how silly of me, of course you can’t see from up there.
“If you could, you’d see that the probe has been fully inserted and is in fact all the way into your actual bladder. That must be exceptionally uncomfortable.” Christine could only nod in agreement. There was nothing erotic about the procedure that he was carrying out, she felt violated, like a high school science experiment: a carcass being roughly dissected by disinterested school children. Coming on the back of her ride on the rocking horse, she was feeling particularly vulnerable with her aching bottom still throbbing from its thorough reaming at the hands of the purple dildo.
“What I’m attempting to achieve here is quite simple and elegant. Urination occurs when three things happen: first when the bladder gets to be about a quarter full you begin to feel the need to urinate. At this stage the inner sphincter at the top of the urethra automatically relaxes. The third thing that has to happen is that the outer sphincter has to be relaxed. This is a voluntarily operated muscle, unlike the inner sphincter, which is largely automatic.
“Understand so far? So what we’ve been doing is stretching this muscle here,” he indicated a spot with his finger, not that it mattered, Christine couldn’t see a thing, she could only feel Mister Green’s rummaging about with his cold hard probe. “This is the outer set of muscles, the voluntarily activated ones. Using a tapered catheter tube we’ve been increasingly stretching this very important muscle. Already I can see that it’s not reacting in the way that it ordinarily should. In a few more days I’d say that it will be irreparably impaired.”
Hearing the explanation in such a clinical fashion plunged her into a deep depression.
“So at the moment you’re constantly and uncontrollably dripping urine into your diaper because we’ve artificially bypassed both bladder control sphincters with the catheter. But in a few days time we’re going to remove it and then your going to encounter a whole new experience. Without the catheter you’ll regain a semblance of bladder control. You won’t leak all the time as you do at the moment. What will happen instead is your bladder will fill to the point when you feel like you need to go. When that happens, the inner sphincter will relax – as normal – and the only thing stopping you from urinating will be the outer muscles, the ones that we’ve been stretching.
“Imagine that you have to go to the toilet. Imagine the pressure you feel building. Imagine you’re sitting in the middle of a room of people. You hold on right? You squeeze those muscles until you have an opportunity to duck off to the bathroom. Well not for much longer. What will happen from now on is that as soon as a sufficient pool of urine has built up you’re going to start to feel the need to go to the bathroom. And you’re going to squeeze down tight and hope and pray you won’t disgrace herself. You’ll be crossing your fingers, and your legs, that you can hold on until you can scramble to the toilet. But you won’t have time because your inner bladder muscles will automatically relax – you’ll be clamping down as hard as you can with the outer – feeling like you can hold it off, and then a flood of piss is going come streaming down your legs. Hot yellow steaming piss. And the only thing stopping it splashing all over the floor will be the diaper you’ll have to wear for the rest of your life.
“Now, I ask you, isn’t that just the most delicious humiliation you can possibly imagine?” Mister Green asked lustfully.
“Now I must admit that I don’t share Master White’s particular fascination with small girl children, but I do have to say that this is one of the single cruellest things that I’ve ever had the privilege to inflict on a slut. I must admit I am enjoying it greatly.
“You see it’s the lack of control that’s the most pleasing aspect. You’ll feel like you can control yourself, you’re still going to be able to clench down with those muscles of yours, the only difference is that it’s not going to do anything!
“And an even more interesting question for you my dear,” he looked directly at Christine’s face, “is what will you feel like the day when you realise that you couldn’t even be bothered trying any more. How long before you realise that it’s pointless trying to stop pissing yourself in your pants? How long will it take before you just gush into your diaper like a little toddler? How soul destroying is that moment going to be for you?”
A single tear trickled down her cheek as she envisaged his words play out in her mind.
“But we’re not at that point yet, we need to stretch this little muscle a bit more first,” Christine felt the cold steel probe being removed and quickly replaced with a newer, larger, catheter. He expertly seated the new tube inside her before removing the syringe.
Strapped to the gynaecological chair there was little that she could do. What made her helplessness even worse was the fact that she knew every moment the tube stayed inside her it was causing irreparable damage that would inevitably lead to her suffering the horrific fate that Mister Green had just finished describing in painful detail.
“Now this is also something that you are going to have to learn to cope with Lolita,” he pulled her labia and bottom cheeks apart, “Diaper rash. Hold on while I get some powder.” He got to his feet and opened a cupboard in the wall.
Christine took the opportunity to turn her head about and espy Rubber. It was peculiar to see her out of her ubiquitous black rubber maid’s uniform, but there she was, asleep in the infirmary’s bed and breathing normally.
“Ah, yes, your little friend is fine. Well she was after I finished a modest reconstructive vagioplasty. A few stitches here, a bit of a nip and tuck there. Give her a week or so and she’ll be back in circulation. You can also tell the rest of your friends that she’s fine. She should also have some new jewellery to show you when she comes back upstairs.”
“Jewellry?” Christine asked.
“No, no, not now. You’ll find out in time.” Mister Green squirted a cloud of baby powder onto Christine’s naked mound and bottom. “You’ll need to keep an eye on this, the powder should soak up the excess moisture, but if it gets much worse we’ll have to think about alternative options. Petroleum jelly might work. That would act as a barrier to the piss.” Mister Green unfolded a new cloth diaper and began pinning Christine into it.
“It’s the ammonia in your piss that does it. The pH levels are all wrong and they break down the outer layers of skin. It can get very painful if you let it go too far. So use this every time you change and I’ll take another look tomorrow. Worst case scenario and we switch to smearing your nether regions with Vaseline.”
---
Christine stumbled up the stairs with the outfit she’d selected for tomorrow under her arm. Thankfully Mister Green had forgotten to fasten the leather hobbles in her bloomers and so she was able to walk properly. Well as properly as possible with a bulky thick diaper between her legs and a modest case of diaper rash. The cloth chafed and she found that waddling helped reduce the friction, even though the act merely reinforced her childish appearance. She stopped half way up the stairs and sucked back a sniffle as this latest realisation hit her.
She was damp already, and in a few days she’d be permanently incontinent. Her anus ached from repeated abuse and she was so very tired of being exposed to all of the terrible things that happened in this place.
She’d never been more depressed and disheartened in all of her life. Nevertheless she sucked back a deep breath, composed herself and resumed her climb.
Entering the common room she found School, still in her blue and yellow cheerleader suit soaking her hand and wrist in a bowl of warm water. Christine caught a glimpse of Pain lying on the bed in her room. She walked up to the table, pulled out a chair and joined School. The redhead looked up curiously, obvious questions about Rubber on the tip of her lips.
“She’s okay. She’s sleeping. Mister Green said he gave her a ‘vagioplasty’ and then he made a comment about jewellery.”
“What? Sorry, start again, this time from the beginning.” School instructed. The redhead then made Christine repeat back everything that she could remember.
“I don’t like the sound of this jewellery. But you said she looked okay?”
“She was asleep, but she looked peaceful.”
“What about Rubber?” Pain asked from the door to her room, she stood awkwardly in her nodule-lined shoes.
“She’s okay,” Christine repeated what she’d just shared with School while Pain hobbled the half dozen feet to the table and sat down opposite Christine. However it very quickly became clear to School that the atmosphere between Pain and Christine was especially negative. Christine struggled to stop herself from glowering at the plump blonde across the table. Pain, in turn, looked about ready to cry. Although in fairness, the Blonde had just been raped in the most brutal fashion.
“Umm, I might just go and find something else for my wrist,” School excused herself and left the room.
“I need to talk to you,” Pain started.
“I don’t have anything to say,” Christine said carefully.
“Please, just five minutes, can you just let me explain?”
Christine thought carefully, and ultimately she nodded. Whatever her failings, Pain was still a human being, and one that had suffered some of the most horrific things imaginable in the last day or so. She owed her the opportunity to try and explain, even if it was only because Christine felt sorry for how the poor girl had been treated by the Masters.
“I’m sorry. I really stuffed up. But the worst of it all is that I’ve stuffed up being your friend, which is what I really wanted more than anything else.” The blonde looked down at her hands and opened her heart.
“You see School at least has Rubber and Rubber has School. You don’t know how hard it is here when you’ve got no one to talk to. No one to share with. Sometimes I think that it would almost be endurable if I could just talk to someone else. If I just knew that I wasn’t in this all by myself, then I could just close my eyes and put up with it. But I’ve got no one.
“Until you came, I was the new girl. The other three had all known each other for a long time and I was the odd one out. And then when you came along it was wonderful. I was no longer the new girl. I knew things and could share them with you and help you and I thought that I could be your friend and then I’d have someone to talk to and someone to share with.
“I’m just so lonely. And I’m scared.” She looked up for the first time and Christine could see tears welling up in the Blonde’s cornflower blue eyes.
“And I didn’t mean to kiss you, it just happened. I don’t know what came over me. But I did, and I ruined it and now you hate me.” She looked down again. “That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say, I think I’ll go now.” She went to stand and Christine stopped her.
“Are you a lesbian?” Christine asked sincerely.
Pain stopped. And she sat back down and looked Christine straight in the eye. “No. That’s the first time. And it was an accident.”
“Do you swear to God?” Christine asked.
“Yes.”
“Because where I come from its wrong to do that. And I shouldn’t associate with sinners.” Christine said with a steady voice.
“I understand that,” Pain said, but in such a way that suggested she had more to add but couldn’t quite articulate it at this point.
“But you say it was a mistake.”
“Yes.”
“And you just want to be my friend?” Christine asked, a little warmer this time.
Pain looked straight at Christine again and said very gently, “Yes, I want nothing more than that.” The comment could have been taken one of two ways, Christine took it one way, Pain meant it in another.
But then tears spilt out of Christine’s own eyes, “Good,” she finally released all the pent up fear and tension that had been building and she’d tried desperately to bottle up, “I really someone too,” and Pain saw just how badly Christine had been affected by the last two days. She jumped up and in spite of the agony inflicted by her shoes, she circled the table and embraced Christine who was sobbing freely now.
“They’re going to take away my control!” She bellowed, “It’s almost done now, he says just another day or so. And then I’ll have to wear these for ever!” She grabbed at her bulky diaper and then disparagingly let it go in disgust.
“Please help me, I’m wet and I’m chafed in between my legs and in my private places and I can’t stop it and soon it will be for ever and they keep hurting Miss Bum-Bum,” she didn’t even realise she’d used the infantile term the Masters had started insisting she use.
“And now they’re making me do things that are wrong. Not just wrong, but really wrong! I’m a sodomite! I’m going to go to hell!” She was truly hysterical now.
“Hey. Hey!” Pain soothed Christine, wiping away a trail of snot that dribbled from her nose as she blubbered. “Hey, stop it! You’re not going to go to hell. It’s not the same in here. They make you do these things.”
“It doesn’t matter! I put something in my bottom, that’s against God, its wrong!”
“No you’re not. Hey, look at me,” Pain pulled Christine’s hands away from her eyes. “Now listen to yourself. Now it has been a while since I went to church but the last time I remember suicide was a sin. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Christine sniffed.
“So if you didn’t do what the Masters said, what would happen?”
“They’d punish me.” Christine said quietly.
“And if you kept on disobeying you, what do you think would happen. If you fought back, or if you struggled or tried to hurt them. What do you think they would do?” Pain asked.
“They’d hurt me?”
“Worse than that, if you kept it up, you’d disappear. They’d kill you. Right?”
“Well, yes–“
Pain continued on her train of thought, “so if you invite death by resisting them, then isn’t that a form of suicide?”
“I suppose–“
“So then how can doing what you’re forced to do possibly be a sin. You can’t have it coming and going. Not doing what they want would be tantamount to suicide but doing what they want is also a sin?” Pain asked rhetorically.
“I don’t–“ Christine was confused, but Pain battled on.
“You think you’ve done wrong because you tried to limit your own pain and suffering and that in doing so you had to do something wrong to yourself. So you’re worried that means you did it willingly and that therefore it’s a sin. This is why religion is silly, sometimes you have to use reason and your head Lolita,”
“Christine, my real name’s Christine.”
“Samantha, but don’t let anyone know that or we’ll both get in a whole lot of trouble. But let me get back to what I was saying, you’ve got to get this silly idea that there is black and white in here out of your head. We have to make decisions every day that are irksome and morally murky. At the end of every one of them can only be one consideration, stay alive. Stay alive and get out of here.
“That means we have to do things that would ordinarily be wrong just so we can avoid enduring something even worse. The enema the other day, I did that to you willingly didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Christine said.
“No I didn’t. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. But I knew that if I didn’t do it to you that Mister White would have, and he would have made it worse. He wanted to shove it in you dry, remember?”
“Yes,” Christine shuddered.
“So I had no other choice but to do it myself and make sure it hurt as least as possible. That’s a virtue, not a sin. Do you have a brain in there?” Samantha tapped Christine’s head gently.
“Yes.”
“So what part of you thinks that what happened to you and me today means any of it was our fault, or that it means that we’re bad people. I know I’m not a bad person, sure I occasionally fuck up and accidentally kiss girls that I happen to want to like me a lot – that was a joke,” she hurriedly added as Christine looked at her strangely for a moment, “I’m not a bad person, I used to sponsor an African kid, when I was outside, I worked shitty wages for a charity because they do good work and I don’t need the extra money I’d get by going corporate. Am I Mother Teresa? Fuck no, but if you asked any one of my friends they’d say I was a good person.
“Now I’ve only known you a couple of days Christine, but you seem like a good person too. A little bit too churchy for my tastes, but that doesn’t really matter,”
“Don’t you believe in God?” Christine asked slightly shocked.
“Would it upset you if I said I didn’t?” Samantha responded.
“I suppose not, but–“
“No, you can’t try and convince me either. Let me say only one more thing on this topic for the time being.
“In the situation we find ourselves in there are only two possible scenarios. Either we are here because God has decided to test us, or possibly that God hasn’t decided that at all, but that we can – through our faith – trust in him that this is all his will and that if only we trust to his will and surrender to him can we find peace with ourselves and learn to accept our fate.
“Or, there is no God. We’ve been kidnapped by depraved sexual sadists who enjoy imparting pain and humiliation on young women and that its more likely than not that eventually they will tire of us, cut our throats and dump our bodies in a swamp somewhere. At the end of all this we die, probably painfully and after much suffering. There is no heaven, there is no hell, there’s nothing but a cold grave and nothingness.
“So ask yourself: If I had a choice, to have faith or not, which would I prefer? Faith every time. The problem is Christine, I can’t bring myself to believe, no matter how hard I try. And you can’t make someone believe.”
“That’s very sad. God loves you anyway.” Christine tried anyway.
“Thankyou for trying.” Samantha shrugged. “Look, ultimately you need to realise that our only one hope is that maybe, just maybe, these fuckheads are actually telling the truth that they’ll eventually let us go.”
“They are you know.” Sophie said through the girl’s ear pieces.
“Sophie, how long have you been listening?” Samantha asked the ceiling.
“Long enough to know you’ve both broken a very big rule. Don’t you let anyone else know that you know each other’s names.”
“We won’t.” Christine answered.
“Sophie, you said they’re telling the truth. How can we know that?”
“Well there’s me.”
“But you’re just a voice, I’ve never even met you,” Samantha said suspiciously.
“I was called Petgirl. Mistress Scarlet’s idea I found out later. She thought it would be exceptionally sexy to force a girl to adopt the role of different animals… and then mate them.”
“Oh my god–“
“I’ve never heard any of this–“ Christine and Samantha each said simultaneously.
“First I had a dog outfit. My feet used to get strapped to my thighs and my hands to my shoulders and they put dog paws on my knees and elbows. They gave me a mechanical tail that was dual tail and butt plug. I had whiskers emerging from a gag, big floppy ears and a skin tight body suit patterned with brown spots. They led me about with a choke chain at first.
“Then they’d bring in the animals. My first was Maximillian, he was a german shepherd. It took a lot of work but they eventually trained him to rape me on command.
“The worst part was after the orgasm. Most dogs have a bulb in their penis. It inflates during sex and locks the dogs together, aids insemination. So Max would fuck me for a few seconds, come inside me and then be locked to me for up to twenty minutes. I still remember the drool and wet nose on my back and face.
“The dog phase passed, for three long years I was a dog, a cat and finally a horse. The cat was bad enough, they couldn’t find a big cat tame enough for the purpose, but Mistress Scarlet had read somewhere that cat’s have barbs in their penises designed to rake walls of the female on withdrawal. The blood helps ovulation. So she rigged up a dildo with spikes that extended on withdrawal.
“I finished as a pony. Proper pony shoes, tack, bridle, the whole kit and caboodle. They brought in a hobby pony, I called him Jack, and for six months I had to learn to accommodate a horse’s cock.
“And I thought just like you two did as well. They couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. They’d just kill us rather than go to all the trouble of letting us go and hoping that we keep our mouths shut.
“But they are telling the truth. One evening I was to be put in the cell, I drew the short straw, and Mister Black had told me he was going to stay with me all night until I took all of Jack’s cock to the hilt of all my poor stretched holes, mouth, cunt and arse. I still remember the way he delivered the sentence. I thought I was going to choke to death on Jack’s horsey cock. The others were all put in their bedrooms, the doors were locked down and then as calm as anything Mister Black told me I was being let free.
“My heart leapt into my mouth. He gave me a change of clothes and took me downstairs. All four of them then sat me down to dinner in the dining room. They explained to me that I was to receive a new identity, $5 million dollars and a plane ticket to wherever I wanted to go in the world. They explained that they hoped the money was enough to keep my mouth shut, but that if it ran out, to phone a particular number. They also told me that they’re intimately connected to local law enforcement and at the first hint that I tried to contact the law the first thing they’d do would be kill all of you.
“And then I got it. That’s why all of us keep our mouths shut, it’s not the money, it’s the threat of killing whoever they currently have. Could I possibly live with the deaths of four innocent girls on my conscience? Never.
“And that’s also why they don’t want you knowing each other’s names. Imagine if you found out names, you could find addresses and find each other. And then you’d talk, maybe only to each other, but there’s a saying that a secret is no longer a secret when another person knows it. It wouldn’t take make to accidentally let something slip. And then pow! Four dead girls who otherwise would have eventually gone free.”
Samantha had been suspicious from the beginning of Sophie’s speech, but now she voiced her concerns, “That’s a nice story, but how is it supposed to make us believe that you’re real and the story’s true?”
“Because the only other person who know the pony’s name is School. It was her idea of a joke because as a little girl she’d always wanted a pony called Jack. When it arrived she named it Jack.”
“But that just proves your still alive, it doesn’t prove anything else, you could still be a captive, just stuck in a radio room somewhere chained to a desk.” Christine said.
“That’s easy. I drive a blue Fiat. Tomorrow I will park across the street. I have brown hair and I will be wearing a white and black polka dot skirt suit. I will leave my leather briefcase ‘accidentally on purpose’ on the roof of the car, cross the street and then ‘realise’ I’ve left my case behind. I will do all of that at the exact same time that your doors open. If you look out your windows you will see it’s me, that I’m unfettered and free to come and go as I please. And you can also ask School and Rubber what I look like so you can compare notes.
“Would that satisfy you overly cautious and curious girls?”
Christine and Samantha shared a glance. “I guess so.” Samantha answered for both of them.
“Good, now listen to me very carefully. I know you’ve told each other your first names, now whatever you do, do not share any more personal details. No birthdates, no addresses, no surnames, nothing. Remember what I told you about security. One day you’ll get out and you won’t ever want to be put in the situation where you inadvertently kill four innocent girls because you’ve got loose lips. Get through the next year or two and then forget about it.”
---
“So where does that leave us.” Christine asked after Sophie left them alone. They’d retreated to Samantha’s bedroom.
“Well while it’s nice to know your real name, I think we’d better stick to calling each other by our new ones. I think we should even try to think of each other that way too, because otherwise we’ll let something slip in a moment of stress or panic, and those seem to happen pretty regularly around here.”
“I agree.” Christine/Lolita concurred.
“But I think she’s telling the truth. Tomorrow will tell I suppose.”
“If she was, it’s pretty horrible what they did to her. A horse, yuck!” Christine offered.
“I kind of empathised with the cat penis thing.”
“Oh… yeah.”
“Can I ask you a huge favour?” Samantha/Pain asked timidly. “But before I do, I want you to know that I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t really really worried. Particularly because of the kissing thing. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”
“Ummm, okay, I suppose so, what?” Christine answered carefully.
“He really hurt me today, Mister Black I mean, I can’t tell with my fingers, but I think he’s really damaged me and I’m really worried and I don’t want to go to Green because he’ll hurt me more and I think I’m ruined and…” Pain took a leaf out of her own book and took a deep breath to try and calm down.
“I need you to please look at my vagina and tell me how bad it is. Please? My imagination is running wild. Could you please?” Pain asked with obvious reluctance, but the desperation in her eyes was clear.
Her automatic reaction was one of revulsion, and then she thought about what Pain had told her earlier, about being rational instead of thinking everything was black and white. What was worse? Leaving Pain in doubt as to how bad the injuries to her most sensitive of places were? Or having a quick look and providing certainty, even if it was bad news?
How could she not agree when you thought about it like that.
“Okay, how do you want to do it?”
Pain lay down and spread her chubby thighs apart. She was clearly upset at what she was going to hear and she was holding her hands together as though she were praying.
Christine knelt down and unzipped the long zipper running down the centre of the evil panty gusset. As the zip parted, the two elastic straps running either side of the zip pulled Pain’s labial lip apart. Christine felt a shiver pass up her spine as she saw the tightly packed collection of thin rubber spikes and stiff scrubbing brush bristles within the panties.
The sight confronting her was horrific. The entire inner membranes of Pain’s flesh were purple and red. Sworls of very fine scratches ran the length of her inner lips. Several areas showed slowly weeping blood, not from scratches or lesions of any kind, but from areas where the skin had been scraped so thin that blood was leeching to the surface.
The poor girl’s anus and perineum was a little better. Here she had avoided Mister Black’s cock and consequent encounters with the spikes and bristles that had driven into her vagina during her rape. So her puckered anus was only scraped red and raw instead of weeping blood and purple like her vagina. Her poor clitoris though was the worst of all. Here Mister Black’s violent rape had smashed a small crown of sharp spikes repeatedly into the poor little nubbin. Christine wouldn’t have thought it possible for such a small piece of flesh to be so damaged, but she saw dozens of small puncture marks immediately in and around what should have been her seat of pleasure.
“What do you see?” A worried Pain asked.
“Your bums okay, it’s just red, it’ll get better, pretty quickly I think. I’m more worried about the other bits though.”
“Like what”.
“Your hole’s bleeding a little. Not really bleeding you know, just seeping a bit. I think that’s just from the scraping. But your poor little button, it looks really bad.”
“How?” She asked.
“It’s been stabbed by the spikes.”
“Is it bleeding, is there tearing?”
“No and no.”
“Then its okay.” Pain breathed a sigh of relief.
“What, how can that be the case, it looks…” she was going to say ‘minced meat’ but thought that might scare Pain too much. “really nasty”.
“Since they put the spikes in, I’m always getting stabbed there. At first I was worried, but now… It’s par for the course.”
“But, aren’t you worried that puncturing it like that over and over will damage it?”
Pain sat up, she zipped up her own panties and turned away from Christine, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it. Thank you for looking.”
“What is it?” Christine knew something was wrong. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, go away. I don’t want to talk. Look, thankyou very much for doing that, I know it was tough for you, but you have made me feel better. Thank you. Please I just want to be alone for a minute.”
“No.” Christine said firmly. “If we’re going to be friends, then you have to tell me. I let you in. Now it’s your turn.”
“Please?” Pain asked once more, indicating she wanted to be alone.
Christine grabbed her arm and spun her about, “No. Tell me.”
“Don’t you get it Lolita? I said it was par for the course,”
“So?” Christine asked naively.
“Those spikes, every time they stab me, they hurt, and they stab into nerve endings, and that hurts too. But every time one of those little things stabs me, it desensitizes me even more. Three months in these panties now. I tried to masturbate the other night, naked, with my finger, just to see if I could.
“I can’t feel pleasure in my clitoris anymore Christine. I had to scratch myself with my own nails and pinch my clitoris just to get off. Now do you get it? They call me Pain because they’ve promised when they’ve finished with me pain will be the only way I will be able to get any sexual satisfaction. Well it’s started already. I can’t even come anymore! Last night I had needs, and I got up in the middle of the night and put these on, just so I could rub myself to get off!
“I becoming what they want. And I’m afraid I’m coming to like it.”
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