Diane
2. THE DUNGEON
Diane was deeply tired, but almost too frightened to notice. It was nearly four
AM, more than nine hours since her abduction and six hours since she was
delivered to this cage. The cage was tall and narrow, with just room enough for
her to stand. The short, sharp spikes on the bars discouraged leaning against
them, so all her weight had been on her feet the whole time. The leash fastened
to the roof of the cage so that it was taut about her neck made it unadvisable
to remove her shoes, and her feet hurt, as had her hands since the release of
the elbow cinch had sent blood back into her lower arms. She was still
handcuffed and shackled, but the hood and gag had been removed before she was
locked in the cage. Her pleas to know what was happening to her and what had
happened to her loved ones were ignored, and after locking her in her captors
left without acknowledging her existence.
She could just barely turn around in her cage, and all that she saw made it seem
that she was in a nightmare from which she couldn't awake. The cage stood near
the center of a large room, positioned so it's occupant had a clear view of all
the instruments, an array of devices for restraint, torture, rape, plus some
whose functions Diane couldn't imagine and didn't want to know. All the metal
and leather in the room was clean and shining, but there were abundant blood
stains on the wooden tables and crosses, the stone floors and wall, and the
lengths of rope placed on hooks for easy access. Not that she needed the stains
to know what manner of events happened here, for the most fearful object in the
room, in a corner that she hadn't seen when she first looked around but now
found herself unable to look away from, lay on a low bench. What had once been
a woman lay on her back on the bench, her wrists cuffed behind her so they
pushed into her kidneys. Below the neck, there was no part of her body that was
not bruised, burned, or cut, but her untouched face was the most dreadful sight,
with it's bulging eyes and tongue and purple color. Leather cords had been tied
around the bench at the point of her neck, and had constricted until they buried
themselves in her throat.
The shearing sound of metal on metal alerted her to the opening of a door.
Though there were several closed doors leading out of the room, the one she had
come in was, she suspected, the only way out, as like most of the doors she had
passed through it was doubled. The door leading out was a solid door, and ten
feet into the room were bars and a locked cell door. Between the two doors
stood three men and a woman. Two of the men were muscular brutes like the ones
who had abducted her. The woman was about 5'4" but stood much taller in her
spike heeled boots, thirtyish, with wavy red hair halfway down her back and an
athletic physique well displayed by a snug leather bodysuit. The man they
followed was a short, thin, balding man of middle years. As the outer door
clanged shut, he pressed a sequence of keys on a remote control device he
carried and the inner door slid open to admit the group, then slid shut and
locked behind them. The group approached Diane with the older man in the lead,
the woman just behind him to his right, and the thugs trailing them both.
"Where are my children ?", Diane implored as they reached her. The leader
silently glanced at the redhead, who slipped a tubular object from a special
pocket on her right pants leg, stepped up to the cage, and shoved it through the
bars, pressing it against Diane's side, then looked into her eyes and quietly
said "Never speak unless ordered to, or in answer to a direct question", and
pressed a button.
"AAHHHH" screamed Diane as electric current surged into her and threw her
against the bars of the cage. As she was still wearing her jacket from work,
the spikes rent her clothes but didn't pierce her skin. While Diane stood
gasping and trembling, she smiled and said, "That was on low, dear", and stepped
back.
"I trust that faux pas won't be repeated again, Mrs. Scott. Protocol is observed
carefully here, and breaches are punished severely. A slave can never plead
ignorance as an excuse - or anything else, as no excuses are ever permitted.
However, I will now let you know some of the rules - only some, as we like to
leave room for the occasional surprise. I will do so not in an effort to save
you pain, but only to keep you from getting too badly damaged before we get a
chance to devise an appropriate program for you".
"You do not need to know who we are, beyond that I am 'Master'; several women,
easily identified by their mode of dress, are 'Mistress', and everyone else is
'Sir', 'Madam', or 'Slave'. Beyond that, no names are used, and you will never
hear yours again after I finish speaking. You are not to speak unless you are
ordered to speak, or are asked a direct question which cannot be answered with
head movements. We do allow some latitude for you to audibilize while under
torture. The standing rule - which anyone but a slave can change for any
particular session at their discretion - is that inarticulate ejaculations are
permitted at lower levels of pain and coherent speech allowed when in extreme
pain. The degree of pain you are suffering is a judgement for the inflictor of
the pain and there is no appeal. All judgements here are final, and no excuse,
including the impossibility of complying with an order, is ever accepted.
Failure is always punished, severely. Do not expect any justice or fairness,
there is none here, and do not hope for any compassion or mercy, for a slave
will receive none. You are here for my pleasure and that of my guests, and when
we are not using you, access to you is a fringe benefit of my employees. The
uses to which you will be put will vary but they will often involve pain and
degradation, more than you can imagine now. There is no interest in your
pleasure - well, that's not really true. Sometimes you will be required to fake
orgasms, but if we should ever observe you experiencing any pleasure we will put
a stop to it. Should you survive the training phase and we decide to keep you,
your clitoris will be removed to minimize the chance that you will ever feel any
sexual pleasure again. The key rule is that you will immediately and completely
obey every order you receive, no matter what. You may wonder why you should obey
orders that will cause you unimaginable agony. The reason is twofold: first,
because you will eventually do whatever we want you to, and the punishments for
hesitation, refusal or resistance will be added to the original program; second,
because no matter how terrible something seems there will always be something
worse. We deliberately seek to make your existence confusing, to deprive you of
any ability to predict our treatment of you, and therefore to deprive you of any
shred of control over your life, but there is this one unwavering absolute in
your existence: obedience will always be preferable to resistance.
You will die in this place. When you do, your corpse will be abused and then
destroyed, so no one outside our group will ever know what became of you.
Though it may interest you to know that we have priests among our number, you
will receive no sacraments in the balance of your life, and dying with
unconfessed sins your soul will, of course, go to Hell, which may be the only
place harder to leave than our establishment. However, you will not need to
abandon all hope when you enter Hell, as you will by then have realized that
your situation is completely hopeless. There have been many men and women
brought here over a period of many years and no one has ever left, except as
part of bricks made partly from a mixture of acidic solutions and an alkali
powder. Escape is quite impossible, as the fragment of our security that you
were permitted to see should show you; there is much more you did not see, and
for you there is no way out of this secular hell. We maintain a low profile,
keep - by whatever means necessary - great secrecy, and have acquired the
protection of local law enforcement authorities, so the chance of rescue is
infinitesimal; should there ever be a chance of a search all the captives will
be killed and their bodies destroyed before anyone can reach the dungeons.
Release is of course quite unthinkable, as it could not be risked even if we
wished to, and we have never wished to. Some have sought to obtain their
freedom or reduce their suffering by seducing us, or by inducing compassion for
themselves. This has never succeeded. You will not be able to move anyone to
help you. In all of our eyes you ceased to be a human being when you were
captured, and therefore you have no rights or dignity, and no worth beyond the
pleasure you give us. In essence, Diane Scott died a few hours ago, and what
stands before me now is no more than an organic toy. For what's it's worth, we
do not blame you or hate you, and your presence here is merely your misfortune,
not the penalty of some judgement upon you. The only judgement made was that a
very pretty, intelligent, healthy, and wholesome woman, sexually compliant but
with virtually no sex drive - yes, we do know a lot about you - with a good
Catholic upbringing, high morals, a solid fifteen year marriage, and three
children that she adores, would be well suited to the varieties of pleasure
featured here."
"What about my -AAARRGHH !"
"That was medium."
"Your children and your mother have been secured at another location. She will
be permitted to care for them, and they will all be quite comfortable so long as
you perform. Unlike you they have no idea where they are and have not seen and
will never see any faces. They can be released with no danger to us, and they
will be when you finish your training, if you have not, by your failures, killed
them by then. Some women can never be turned into good slaves. We have uses
for such women, as you can see", said the Master, gesturing towards the bench.
"She was quite entertaining while she lasted, which was only a few weeks. A
slave may survive for several years - or may die for our amusement at any time -
but victims never last long. The great majority of the people brought here prove
useful only as victims and must be replaced in a short time. During training we
will establish whether you will make a good slave. We would prefer not to have
to haphazardly damage by punishment a body on which we wish to conduct
controlled programs of torture. This is where you children will be useful. Each
act of resistance will bring death to one of them. Any time you do not perform
up to expectations one of them will be severely punished ".
"Please, no", Diane sobbed. "I'll do AARRGHHH ! - IEEEE - OOOO - PLEASE STOP -
OOHHHH !"
"I think, Mistress, that her sides aren't responsive enough any longer. Please
apply some current to her right breast".
"AAAAAAAAAOOOOOOO-"
"She's passed out".
"Gentlemen, take her out of there before she strangles" .
"Her pain tolerance isn't much".
"Or it may be that her breasts are very sensitive. In any event, I'm sure you
can improve that, Mistress. Men, prop her up against that post and tie her to
it. Mistress, wake her".
As the mistress pressed a tube of smelling salts to Diane's nose, Diane came
gasping and coughing to consciousness. The mistress shook Diane's head and asked
"Do you know where you are ?" Diane started to speak but the mistress placed a
finger across Diane's lips. "Just move your head", she commanded. "You know
where you are ?" Diane nodded. "Will you speak again without orders ?" Diane
shook her head. "She's ready, Master".
" 'You'll do' WHAT, Diane ? It should have been obvious that you can't bargain
with us. You'll do whatever we want when we want, and you have nothing,
absolutely nothing, to say about it. We control you completely, and you can
control nothing, therefore you can offer nothing. That should be obvious. For
a woman reported to be quite bright, you aren't learning very well", the master
said. "Presumably that reflects concern for your mother and children
overwhelming your sense. If you continue to feel such concern for them, they
should come through their captivity unharmed. When we have completed an
assessment of you, any of them that survive will be dumped alive at a safe
location and help summoned. This will be true regardless of what the decision
about you might be. Even if we decide to execute you at that time, the
surviving hostages will be freed. However, should you commit a violation
sufficient to provoke your execution - which, I should mention, doesn't need be
a very significant violation - before the assessment is finished, then all the
hostages will be killed. You also should also know that should you commit
suicide or suffer a self-inflicted injury that mars your looks or diminishes
your ability to perform your duties to such a degree that we feel it's not
worthwhile to keep you alive, the hostages will be killed. The assessment
usually takes between two and six weeks. During it your obedience, your
responsiveness to and capacity for withstanding pain, and your ability to give
pleasure, will be trained and tested. You will also be degraded and humiliated,
partly to break your spirit but primarily so that when we are done with you
there will be very few things that anyone can imagine to do to, or ask of, you
that you will find too revolting to handle. But we have some imaginative people
coming through here, and there will always be someone coming up with something
to sicken even the most hardened slaves.
"You may now be wondering if you can trust me. Since you're a smart woman, the
answer is obvious: you can make no other choice. If I am lying, your loved ones
will be killed no matter what. If I'm telling the truth, then they have a
chance at life. We all must choose what it is we believe. You must choose to
believe me, and behave accordingly."
"Sir," the master said to one of the men, "call the hostage location and get her
mother. Do be sure to use a scrambled signal and to alter voices on this end".
A few moments later he had the connection. "You will not speak, Diane, not a
sound", the master ordered.
"Mrs. Ridenour, please say hello to your daughter".
"DIANE! ARE YOU THERE, DIANE ? WHAT'S HAPPENING ? THEY TOOK THE BOYS AND ME
AND -"
"That should be sufficient to convince you they are alive and we have them.
From now on, you will simply have to have faith that they continue to survive."
What happened to Tom ?, Diane wondered. She longed to ask if he were alright,
but was too afraid of the electric prod to dare.
"You've had a rather trying day, Mrs. Scott, so we'll put you to bed after we
finish the last element of your orientation. Gentlemen, take off all the
restraints. I believe we can trust her to restrain herself". The ropes around
Diane's legs and chest pinning her to the post were removed, then her wrists and
ankles were unchained. "Please walk to those doors to your left, Mrs. Scott.
Sir, please open them and turn on the equipment." Diane stepped into a room
filled with audiovisual equipment. "Your first duty as a slave will be to
remove, yourself, and before the video camera, the items that you wore as a free
person. I offer you the option of immediate execution - we'll find some
exquisitely painful death for you - under the terms previously discussed. No ?
I didn't think so. There's a mark on the floor where you should stand. The
camera is on. Go to your mark, and remove everything, now".
Diane gingerly stepped into a brightly lit spot between several video cameras.
The bright lights trained on her cut off the rest of the room to her, and for a
moment she stood, trembling despite the heat, trying to rub some feeling back
into her numb hands. Then she heard a voice say "get the hostage location back
on the line". "NO!", Diane screamed, and whipped off her badly torn jacket and
threw it to the floor. She immediately unbuckled the wide black leather belt
and let it drop, and then, slowly, as she tried to repress a sob, she pulled her
snug yellow top over her head and dropped it. As she unzipped her black skirt,
the sob began to break through her defenses and her high cheekbones gleamed from
the bright lights reflecting off her flowing tears. As her skirt slid to the
floor the tears began sliding off her face and her upper lip trembled, and when
Diane pushed her slip down the sob was rising in her throat. "Step out of your
clothes and push them away" came from somewhere beyond the lights, and as she
did so the sob came full throated and she turned from the camera and brought her
hands towards her face. "YOU WILL STAND UP STRAIGHT, KEEP YOUR HANDS AT YOUR
SIDES, AND FACE THE CAMERA, NOW", came as a roar from the darkness, and Diane
faced the camera as the cumulative terror and frustration and sudden sense of
shame and despair overwhelmed her, causing seismic sobs to surge from her
diaphragm and through her throat while a sea of tears poured from her eyes and
the impassive camera recorded it all. For several minutes she struggled to
suppress the racking sobs, but made no further attempt to hide them from the
camera or those people beyond the light who watched in silent rapture, drinking
in the intoxicant of Diane Scott's despair.
When at last she had regained control, a woman's voice, it's practiced tone of
boredom belying its owner's excitement, said "No one told you to stop". Diane
reached behind her back and undid her bra and slipped it off; her creamy white
breasts, which had fed three children through her prominent nipples, sagged
somewhat but were still a rousing sight. A somewhat raspy "Continue" was heard,
and Diane stepped out of her high heels and pulled her pantyhose down her slim
hips and firm buns and off her slender legs and stood naked and lovely in the
cruel bright light which silently confirmed that she was a natural blonde. "You
aren't done yet" the master said. Diane looked quizzically in the direction of
the sound and he prompted "your jewelry". She calmly removed the blue plastic
ornaments from her pierced ears and dropped her watch to the ground but her face
began to twist as she saw her last pieces. "Get the rings, Mistress", she
heard, and a basket on a pole appeared before Diane, allowing the mistress to
stay out of camera range. "Give them up, now", she ordered, and Diane began to
cry softly as she twisted her wedding and engagement rings off her finger and
dropped them in the basket and watched them withdrawn from her sight.
The master allowed the camera to record a little longer, capturing the sad, soft
tears that would complement her earlier violent sobbing, the said "Video off.
Mistress, give her a cloth. Slave, clean up your face. OK, sir, let's get some
photos. You, sir, gather up her clothes and burn them, all but the shoes.
Slave, put your shoes back on. OK, now let's get the standard shots: eyes
forward, eyes down, hands clasped behind her head, both profiles, looking back
over her shoulder, sitting, kneeling, on all fours from all angles, and laying
down with widely spread legs. You see, slave, we'll keep these photos and your
quite moving videotape here in our archives, which is in a room near the tanks
which store the acid we use to destroy bodies. If a search is ever imminent,
we'll put you slaves in the archive and flood it with acid - spread your legs
wider, you've got no dignity to preserve - which will obliterate all the
evidence of any individual persons having been here. What a tragic loss that
will be - the pictures, of course, not you organic pleasure devices. In
addition to the archives, the shots we're taking now will be copied on 48 hour
film - the picture disappears in 48 hours, just in case someone is so careless
as to not burn it - and delivered by overnight courier to some special friends
so they'll know we have a fresh new toy to play with; I expect you'll be meeting
some of them soon. Finished ? Good. OK, slave - you've probably noticed that
you lost your name when you lost your clothes; don't you ever dare utter it,
even when you think you're alone - give your shoes to the gentleman for
destruction - we have lots of pretty footwear for you - and follow me."
Diane meekly followed the Master and one guard to another room off the main
dungeon. As she did, she tried to cover as much of her nudity as she could with
her hands, prompting an order that she clasp her hands behind her head and not
move them again until she was ordered to do so. In the room she found the
mistress waiting with white-hot torch. Her rings were in a metal tray. "We
could hardly fail to notice how much they meant to you. Now watch carefully. Go
ahead, Mistress". With that, the mistress looked gleefully at Diane, then
applied the torch to Diane's wedding and engagement rings, completely melting
then boiling the gold very quickly, and then slowly heating the diamond until at
last it crumbled to dust.
DIANE, Part 2 by SD
