The Wax Dungeon

The Wax Dungeon.

By Anagram

Jessica handed over twenty Euros to the old lady behind the glass pane, who in return handed back a small, red, unmarked ticket. Jess stepped past the gilded booth and through a turnstile into what she was certain would be nothing more than an over-priced tourist trap. With two hours to wait for her train she had chosen to kill time at what the pamphlet from the hotel called “most terrified experiencing of city”. Once inside, however, she was mildly comforted by the masses of people muttering Oohs and Aahs as they stepped from one exhibit to the next. It was the work of Johan Petrov, a world famous wax modeller, and whilst she personally hadn't heard of him, the place did certainly present itself as more of an art gallery than a wax museum.

As Jess followed the flow of the crowd, she passed magnificently rendered models of famous singers, actors, kings and queens, as well as some more infamous historical figures. Despite her initial cynicism, she had to admit that it was all quite exquisite. As she moved through various eras, her attention was caught by a dark wooden door with a fluorescent light above it that blinked “Dungeon” in comical bloody lettering. This was what she'd come for. On the door, read a semi-serious warning, advising no admittance to those under the age of eighteen as the Dungeon exhibits depict scenes of a sexually violent nature. If she hadn't been convinced before, she was now. She opened the heavy wooden door and slipped down the stairs into the darkness.

Inside, the Dungeon was laid out much the same as the floor above. Glass walls and cabinets enclosed scenes of horror, pain and suffering in incredibly lifelike detail. After passing the more standard depictions of Iron Maidens, Guillotines and stretching racks, she came to a section displaying more contemporary forms of torture. One tall glass cabinet displayed a model of a naked woman, bound tightly in metal, her head encased in a wooden box, suspended by her breasts which were painted a deep purple colour. Another nearby exhibit showed woman, naked and hooded, bound to a bed while a machine rhythmically pushed an oversized dildo in and out of her vagina. Amazingly, the wax model twisted and writhed, and onlookers would stare mesmerised by the reality of the scene. Further down, patrons peered through a glass window at woman's arse protruding from a pillory while two mechanical priests took turns in caning the wax flesh. In another scenario, a woman, naked and hooded like all the others, sat tightly restrained in wooden chair. Besides her, a sinister wax torturer sat in front of an electric generator. Small red wires left the device and attached themselves to the wax girl by means of sharp-toothed clamps to her nipples and her clit, which had been sculpted with incredible accuracy. The torturer's hand moved over the switch and the generator lit up. The wax victim sprang into action, contorting and shaking violently, straining against her bonds. A recording of a muffled scream filled the room. The torturer's hand moved back, the lights went off and the victim flopped lifelessly back into its seated position. The torturer's mouth opened and played an evil laugh, then the hand moved, the power went on and the wax girl jumped back to life, thrashing around wildly.

Further past the audience, behind a red curtain, a glass window displayed an unfinished model. Jess wandered down, parted the drapes and peered through the glass, trying to get an impression of the model on the other side. Inside was dark and vague, but she could make out some kind of wooden frame. Next to the window was a doorway that, Jess presumed, lead inside the exhibit. Caught by curiosity, she tried the handle and to her surprise it was unlocked. She glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and slipped into the display room.

Inside it was dark, but as Jess's eyes adapted to the darkness, a tall wooden contraption made itself clear to her. It was a tall frame, topped with a thin wooden pyramid, rising to about chest height. A panel below the frame labelled it “The Judas Cradle.” Hanging from above was a long rope with a loop connected to a pulley, and on the floor was a long metal bar with shackles at each end and heavy weights attached. She was about to take a closer look when she was suddenly wrenched back by a tight wire around her neck. A hand grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her, immobilising her. Jess tried to scream, but the tight wire let no air in or out of her lungs. She kicked and flailed but it only seemed to tighten the wire on her throat. She could feel the bulk of a large man holding her, but she could not turn to see him. Her lungs felt like they were about to cave in, when the wire gave some slack — just enough for her to gasp — before it closed tightly again. There seemed to be a moment of stillness as Jess's struggles became weak. Then the Man spoke.

“Take off your clothes.” Then it was silent again.

Oh fuck, thought Jess, what kind of perverted trap have I fallen into? With her free hand, she waved it around, trying to strike the Man. In response the wire tightened and her arm twisted painfully around.

“Don't make me.” Said the Man. “Take off your clothes, now.”

Jess's eyes started to water. Her heart was pounding, but her pitiful sobs couldn't drag any air past her constricted windpipe.

“Do it.” He said.

Jess was feeling ill, like she was going to vomit. Her whole body shook in fear but the Man had no sympathy. Only when her hand moved towards her shirt and began undoing the buttons did his grip loosen. She sucked in as much air as she could before the wire tightened again.

“Faster.” He said. With some more air, she felt a little more dextrous and speed up her actions. Her shirt opened up and she slipped her free arm out. She undid the zipper down the side of her skirt and let it fall around her ankles.

“All of it,” the Man said. Jess stepped out of her skirt and kicked off her shoes. Standing barefoot in her underwear, she shook and cried silently, her weak hands fumbling for her bra strap. She tried to unclasp it, but she couldn't seem to get it. She cried heavy tears of humiliation, thinking how ridiculous she must have looked.

“You don't get to breathe until its all off,” he said calmly. Jess tried again, straining her wrist and fingers, until she finally undid the clasp. She felt the elastic around her loosen and pulled the strap off her shoulder, releasing her breasts. Before she had had time to think, the wire yanked at her throat, reminding her she wasn't finished. Her air was fast running out, she felt like she was drowning. Her legs shook beneath her like an earthquake. Quickly, she slid her panties down her thigh and off, stepping out of them. She stood there, totally naked, shivering with fear and desperate for oxygen. The wire on her neck went slack giving her a chance to breathe. She dragged big lungfuls of air making a horrible moan like a wounded cow. The man forced her to the floor and grabbed her other wrist, twisting it up between her shoulder blades to meet her other hand. Her throat felt like it had collapsed. She tried to scream out but only the pathetic cow moan emerged. Her arms were so sore and tired that she barely felt the rope winding tightly around them. Just as she was beginning to get her voice back, a huge rubber plug forced its way into her mouth. She screamed and choked against it, but it was so big her lips stretched around its girth, sealing in even a murmur. She felt the straps around her face tighten and buckle up behind her head, pulling strands of hair with it.

Suddenly, the man released her. Her instincts, both to run and to fall to the floor, were rudely prevented by the rope that hung from the ceiling and bound her wrists. In the dim light she could see the Man in front of her, but his features were blurred and distorted by the well of tears that clouded her vision. Her whole body was crumpled over as her arms flexed unnaturally back and up behind her.

She couldn't see from the tears in her eyes, but Jess swore she could feel him smile.

“Perfect,” said the Man, “you will make a fine exhibit.”

Jess didn't know what was happening, but every thought her mind could conjure brought forth a fearful shudder. As she began to regain her strength, perfectly timed, her body was hoisted up into the air by the cable around her neck. Jess instantly began choking and seizing at the sensation of being hanged, but she found that, despite the tearing pain around her throat, she could actually manage tiny shallow breaths. She felt the Man's hand on her ankle and she swung it forwards, feeling her foot make contact with his face. He made a loud grunt and let go her ankle, Jess feeling successful swung another foot forward, toes outstretched, and this time felt the slimy bounce of his eyeball against her toenail. This time, he stumbled back and held his hand to his face, giving a loud scream. Jess, however, could only dangle there as he cleared his wounded eye.

“You'll pay for that,” he said.

Jess felt herself lowering and, despite the fear of retribution, felt a pride in hurting him. As she descended, her legs fell either side of the wooden pyramid that made up the top of the Judas Cradle. The descent stopped and again she felt the Man's hand on her ankle — much tighter and more forceful than before. This time he was protected from her other foot by the frame of the Judas Cradle and easily wrapped a metal shackle around her ankle. When he released her, Jess felt a tremendous weight pulling at her leg. She remembered the weighted bar with cuffs that sat beneath the frame, and fought the Man as he fixed her other ankle to it. Not only did the shackles add weight, but they forced her legs wide apart. Her nakedness came flushing back in a wave of humiliation as she felt the cool air between the folds of her pussy.  As if noticing her embarrassment, the Man began touching her lightly between her legs, coaxing her to tears once more.

He left her momentarily, then again she felt herself drop. She had been desperate to be released from the wire noose, but instantly regretted her wish as the wooden point of the Cradle stabbed at her opening. The Man's hands probed her sex, pushing aside her lips to guide the point into her. Then slowly, Jess felt herself sinking once more. The wooden pyramid quickly slide up her vagina, growing wider until she felt her opening stretching. With her legs spread, not a single part of her body offered any resistance to the cradle as the full weight of her body, and more, began to rest on the cruel wooden pyramid that threatened to tear her insides.

Her throat still felt like it was taking all her weight, despite the pressure on her tender hole, and she became convinced that, over time, the cruel device would split her in half.

What a horrific way to die, she thought. How could someone do that to a person... to me?

Ever so slowly, she felt her body push harder down against the sharp pyramid invading her. As it filled her, she felt the agonising stretching and tearing of her poor hole. It seemed to go on forever, she was sure it was halfway up her gut by now — and yet so much of her weight still hung on the wire noose. The pain in her pussy swelled from agonising to excruciating, Jess didn't understand how so much pain could be done to her without tearing her two. And yet it grew and grew, deeper than anything she had ever known. Between choked screams and sobs, Jess managed to catch a glimpse of her body. Far from the mutilation she had expected to see, the top of the Cradle had hardly entered her at all — she had barely stretched a few inches. A quick jolt of slack in the noose dropped her another inch or two, giving her a taste of just how far she had to go. A few more quick drops and Jess felt a tear around her opening. Her eyes were popping out of their sockets and every vein and muscle throbbed red against her skin. She couldn't believe how much she could suffer. A slip more and she became certain she would die. But again, a glance down showed no blood or carnage or raw flesh, only a distended cunt wrapped around a wooden pyramid. Further she sank, feeling the point inside her pressing against her cervix and forcing itself in. Then, as she slipped down again she began to feel her hip bones flex. She could almost hear the bones cracking like glaciers. Jess was in so much pain she barely noticed the cable around her neck had become loose. The Man slipped it over her head and stepped back to admire her suffering.

Despite the lack of blood and gore, she did look a terrible sight. The pyramid shape pushed through the skin across her belly and stretched her vagina like a ring of elastic bands. The cruelty was accentuated by the tightness of her thighs which were spread so wide as to only brush the wood that had been forced inside her. Jess twitched on the Cradle, but could barely manage to cry, tears and snot flowing all over her gagged face. The Man disappeared into the darkened corner and emerged with a reel of fishing line. Jess felt the Man's palm cup her small naked breast. She felt the sharp wire around it, then felt it tighten, cutting deep into her tit. The Man wound the wire tighter and tighter around her breast, and soon the sharp cutting was replaced with a horrible crushing feeling. It seemed to get tighter and tighter, crushing her tender breast, bringing forth deep moans of agony. Looking down, she watched her breast crushed like a balloon, and it felt like it was about to burst. He tied off the wire and then repeated the procedure on her other breast. Soon both of Jess's pert breasts had been reduced to tiny red bulges, like ripe tomatoes, throbbing against her brutally pinched skin.

Not long after, the Man returned with two vicious looking clamps with sharp spiked teeth, He wasted no time and  attached them to her small hard nipples. The initial bite was weak, but still enough to bring a fresh scream through her gag. The real torture came when he attached heavy lead weights to each clamp. The jaws bit down harder as the more weight was hung from them, and Jess began screaming and crying as her nipples were slowly crushed and stretched away from her taught swollen breasts. The Man didn't stop, but kept adding more and more weight, letting the teeth slice in to her tormented nipples. Eventually, her realised any more weight and the tiny clamps would rip the girl's nipples off in shreds.

Jess was heaving and stammering from the torment. She was losing her sense of self, starting to forget there was anything but pain. She tried to remember what it felt like before, but should couldn't. No matter what she tried to think of, no matter what question she asked herself, the only answer was pain. Horrible, inhuman pain.

After a brief pause to admire his work, the Man returned with the twine. His movement was different this time. He seemed almost pleased... excited. The look in his eyes terrified Jess utterly. What more could he possibly do to me?

The Man approached her and gently caressed her tiny clit, which lay hidden between the stretched folds of her labia. Despite her pain and humiliation, he managed to coax her tiny button out from its hood. Jess felt how tender and sensitive it was, his mere touch brought sensations that cut through the fog of the pain and directed her attention straight to it. She felt the sharp wire loop around it and tighten, causing her to scream and jerk, the heavy weights on her nipples yanking back in response. Slowly she felt the wire around her clit pull harder, cruelly stretching it out. The Man added lead weights to the end like he had with her nipples and watched it pull the tiny nub out, whilst Jess screamed and thrashed with a new pain unlike any other. More weights were added, and the wire pulled her poor clit out further, the tip red and throbbing. More weight again, and this time she thought he might rip the poor thing off.

But he stopped. Jess could see her most sensitive point stretched out from her body and lying on the wood of the Judas Cradle. She moaned and cried like an animal, her body shaking uncontrollably. Then, from out of the darkness, the Man produced a hammer and a nail. He held them up in front of Jess's eyes so she could get a clear look at them. He then lowered them down and gently placed the point of the nail against the bulging head of her outstretched clit. Jess screamed in anticipation, shaking her head at him, trying to force the words through to beg for mercy.

“I told you you'd pay for it” he said. With that, he brought the hammer down on the head of the nail and the steel tore through her swollen clit and into the wood beneath it. It was like another world enveloped her. She was sucked down into a black hole of pain that centred around her mutilated clit. Jess's eyes rolled back and her body started convulsing. She had now lost all sense of her self. Her body surrendered to the pain and she lost control. Without knowing it, she urinated all over herself. The Man watched her descending into shock. He opened a small phial of ammonia under her nose and she spasmed into consciousness.

Jess's world of agony took hold of her with a vengeance. She instantly began struggling and thrashing in her bonds, screaming her lungs out through the plug in her mouth. Her violent motions only aggravated the pain, and soon she had the sense to let the exhaustion take over. The Man looked into her eyes, and Jess looked back in a pathetic, hollow way. He was satisfied that she was broken. Trapped in her own body of agony — her inner hell — Jess would have gladly welcomed the noose back around her neck. In fact, she cursed herself for not taking her own life when she had the chance. She still had a vague semblance of time, but no real idea how much longer she would live. Every second was like an hour — an hour too long.

“I know what you're thinking,” the Man said, “and don't worry. I haven't done enough damage to you to actually kill you. As long as I keep feeding you and make sure you don't get any infections, there's no limit to how long you can survive in this state. The last girl I had for two years. In the end, it was really just her mind that gave up.”

He walked over to Jess, her eyes catching the jumper leads in his hands. He opened the jaws wide and attached them to her small, bulbous tits. The clamps bit down hard on her tit flesh and Jess felt a horrible tear inside of her as her mammaries were split under the pressure. He clipped on two more wires to the metal clamps that bit into her nipples. A handful of other clamps were attached to the folds of her tense pussy, making Jess wince and shiver. Finally he took two more small alligator clamps. One he clipped on to the nail that impaled her clit and the last one was carefully placed around the head of her clit itself, being careful to make sure that the sharp metal teeth didn't make contact with the nail. The added pain to her horribly tortured clit gave Jess a new reason to scream and she began kicking in her bonds again. Much sooner, she lost the strength and simply sat there crying.

“See, no matter how bad it gets, it can always get worse. Remember that.” The Man walked over to her and stared her straight in the eyes, all red and filled with tears.

“Now listen carefully,” he said, “you're a wax doll, which means you must behave like a wax doll. You may not move, not even a tiny amount. If you do...”

Suddenly, every point in Jess's body was on fire. A red hot, screaming pain that ripped at her tits, her nipples, her pussy and worst of all, her poor little clit. Then, in an instant, it was gone. It stunned her perception, her eyes taking a few seconds to refocus.

“It goes a lot higher than that. The trigger is wired to a motion sensor, so you need to keep very, very still to avoid getting shocked. Every time you set it off, the voltage goes up. It's all about incentive.” The Man brushed her wet cheek and then wrapped a blindfold around her eyes. The material was translucent, allowing Jess a limited field of vision, but hiding her eyes from the outside.

The Man stepped over to the door at looked at her. Jess looked back through the fine material. She was exactly as he wanted her. Total loss of dignity, of principle, of self. She would have done anything, literally anything to be released from her suffering. Nothing mattered to her anymore — all she knew was pain and fear.

The Man opened the door, turning a switch as he left. A small red light lit up as the motion sensor was activated. It flashed a few times and then went solid. Panic gripped her and every muscle in her body went rigid. Now alone, even the faint distraction of the Man's voice was gone. All her attention was on her naked, abused body. Every touch was one of pain, not a single sensation was of anything other than cruelest agony.

Staring ahead, she looked at the glass window through which she had first peeked into the dark room. As she stared at it, the curtains on the other side seemed to ripple. She watched it intently diverting as much of her attention away from her body. As she watched the curtains, a sudden force drew them open. Behind the glass, a dozen people crowded and stared at her naked, tortured form. Her heart sank into the deepest pit of humiliation. Tens, soon to be hundreds, and eventually thousands would walk past this window and gaze upon her — splayed and suffering for all to see. Some would photograph her, some stumble back in disgust, and others would watch with a faint lust, secretly touching themselves through a hole in their jacket pocket.

She couldn't handle it. She shook and jumped around, trying to get their attention, hoping they would see that she was not a doll, but a captive victim. But before she had even moved an inch, the horrible fire of the electricity flowed into her tenderest flesh and burnt her alive. She instantly lost herself and went limp, slumping down onto the spike in her cunt. The electricity cut out and she was released. Through the window, she saw the audience laughing and smiling, thrilled and entertained.

Behind the crowd, Jess spotted him — the Man — watching her with pride. He looked her in the eye and with a knowing smile, turned, and walked away.