Spirits Broken

Taking Clares’ ankle he forced it into the restraint at the bottom of the bed on the opposite side. He then twisted her other ankle until she was forced to turn over or have it broken, so strong was his grip, and he secured it in place at the bottom of the bed. Moving to the top, he forced her wrists into the restraints that lay there.

Thinking he had finished, Clare was shocked when he started turning a handle in the bed side that gradually tightened the restraints until she was stretched to the limit and unable to move.

Pulling her head back by her hair he forced open her unwilling mouth and slowly inserted a metal bung that totally filled her mouth, making it impossible for her to speak, and which reached deeply to the back of her throat. Clare knew she had to relax her throat to take it or she would be sick. The man then left, he had made no sound and not uttered a word in the time he had been there.

By now Clare realised that she was in deep trouble, what had started out as a bit of fun on that night a year ago was no longer fun. Her submission to her master was all a bit of fun, but this….this …..this was beyond fun and deadly serious.

She thought about all that had happened again and about how the start of this had excited her so much. Firstly the anticipation, followed by the shock of the situation with the two lorry drivers and then the gut wrenching feelings during that drive. Even during that there had been excitement about what was to come. “Now, well now, I’m not so sure”. The caning had disturbed Clare because she had no idea who had done it or who had seen it. She brooded about that for some time.

About half an hour passed and then the door opened. Clare tried to turn her head to see who had come into the room but couldn’t. Whoever it was, stood directly behind her and was absolutely silent. All she could do was anticipate what would happen next so she clenched her arse cheeks expecting another caning.

It seemed like ages, but was probably only one or two minutes, before a voice spoke.

“Hello, Clare.” It was her Master!! . Clares’ emotions ran wild with excitement and the thrill of expectation knowing that this person above all others knew her limits and that she had been pushed way beyond anything they had done together. Master would release her now so that they could cuddle and kiss. So they could share the friendship and partnership that had built up over the last year.

Instead of the release from her bonds that she had expected, Clare felt her silk trousers slowly being pulled down.

“You missed your phone call, Clare, I’m very disappointed in you. All you had to do was be home for one phone call and you would be living like a queen right now.”

“Instead, you are here, at my mercy and unable to even beg for forgiveness.”

“When I spoke on the phone to you, I told you that you would be severely punished. That punishment has already started, with your caning on deck. It will continue in here until we reach our destination.”

“If you struggle and resist, it will be even more severe, if you accept your punishment for your own failing, then it will be less so.”

“Do you accept your punishments willingly, Clare?”

Clare nodded her acceptance, what else could she do in this situation?

A caressing hand then played across her still sore bum, fondling it, gently rubbing it like had happened before, though Clare could sense a difference this time. Suddenly, she felt a sharp thrust into her anus as a plug was inserted firmly into her and then another one was shoved deep into her pussy. She tried to scream in pain but the plug in her mouth prevented almost all sound. Both of them were cold and instinctively Clare knew they were metal, which meant electric.

Never before had her arse been stretched to this extent, it felt as if it was being split in two by the plug. Clare tried to scream in the hope that it would be removed but no sound could escape her mouth. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to relax her arse to ease the pain she was suffering.

Then the first charge was applied to the plugs, Clares’ body convulsed with the pain and the intensity of the pleasure that this form of stimulation gave her. Again the plugs were charged and she felt the flood of pain through her body and the glorious aftermath as the initial pain wore off. This was Clares’ favourite punishment as it so often made her climax. The pain of the butt plug stretching her arse wore off as the effect of this greater pain took over.

The next electric surge however was far more than she had taken previously and Clare again tried to scream in agony as again she was pushed way beyond anything she had taken before. The sweetness of her juices started flowing from within her as the shock dropped off and the pleasure of recovery started. Another charge, again a strong one, and Clare tried to scream and pulled against her bonds as she succumbed to a shattering orgasm in its aftermath.

Four more times she was given shocks each time more powerful than the last. Clares tears were now continuous as she was shocked again and again and her body shook in convulsions until eventually she passed out with the pain.

When Clare woke up, she was free of restraints and had no plugs or gags in her. She tried to get up off the bed but was still weak and shaking from the punishment she had been given. Eventually she managed to pull herself up to a half sitting position on the bed. She felt as if she had been beaten from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, but at least she was still alive.

Clare rose unsteadily and moved to the bathroom where she tried to freshen herself up. She looked at the shower and shook her head. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

Returning to the main room, she looked at the table and the food that was waiting for her there. Picking up a piece of toast she sat nibbling at a corner trying to understand what had happened and why. Surely this couldn’t all be about one phone call could it? Clare tried to gather her thoughts about what was happening and why but her thoughts were so scattered by what had happened that she could scarcely concentrate on eating let alone on the events of that day so far.

The days passed and each day Clare suffered greater torment. Very early on the second day out her nipples and tits had suffered badly.

That first time, she was attached to the bed face up and blindfolded immediately after her breakfast. It started with some affectionate and loving flickers on her nipples through the soft silk of her top by her master. Clare instinctively knew that touch, she had felt it so many times before and had enjoyed it. This time though, she knew it was just a prelude to more pain and mentally prepared herself for what was to come. Those gentle ministrations hadn’t lasted long though before the squeezing started, gently at first and then slowly getting harder until Clare definitely started to feel the pinch. At each new squeeze, Clare started to squeal in protest and squirm on the bed.

“Be still and silent”!! Clare was told by her master “or suffer for it. This is all part of your punishment, remember you agreed to accept it.”

The squeezing became harder and longer on her nipples as Clare tried to muster all the self-control she could find. Despite her best efforts, she found it impossible to remain as ordered and she started to moan, initially with pleasure but, as it got rougher, in pain.

Clare’s blindfold was removed and she noticed the Arab who had strapped her to the bed the day before was now in the room. He moved forward and taking her tits in his large hands proceeded to twist them roughly, almost as if he was trying to twist them off. Squeezing them as he twisted, caused Clare to scream in pain and beg for it to stop but she knew that this was going to go on for a lot longer.

The skin on her nipples was so sore because of the force used on them and she knew that they had lost their top layer of flesh. Opening her eyes, as her torment stopped she looked at the two people in the room trying to gauge what would happen next, but all she could see was a tray but not what was on it.

It didn’t take long for her to find out as her master picked up a clamp and attached it to her left nipple. Clare screamed as the pain coursed through her body, at which the inside of her left thigh received a slap from a whip. Another clamp was attached to her right nipple, again Clare screamed as it bit into her already sore nipple. Another slap from the whip, this time on her right thigh. More and more clamps were attached to her tits and as each was applied her thighs were whipped until her tits were covered and her thighs stung with the constant whipping.

After a short respite one of the clamps was tightened on her left tit, increasing the pain and torment. As it had been from the start of this torture her left thigh was given another stroke from the whip. Each clamp was tightened in turn and for each tightening her thighs received another stroke until they felt red raw.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours the clamps were released. Each time a clamp was released another whip stroke added to the pain she felt as the blood rushed to the parts of her body that had been deprived of it. Clares thoughts swung wildly between relief and fear. Relief that the clamps were off and fear at what would come next.

The following day still sore and very painful from what had happened the previous day Clare was sure that she would be suffering further torment. As the day had passed she started to wonder if she would have a day without pain. Then as her evening meal was removed from the room the Arab came in and pinned her to the bed, again face up as she had been the previous day.

In walked a woman, whom Clare had not seen before. She moved towards the bed and lifted Clares top to reveal her inflamed tits. Opening the case that she carried she removed a small plastic container which she opened to reveal several long sharp needles, all of differing thicknesses.

Clare drew in a sharp breath as she realised how the needles were going to be used. A bottle was taken out and the liquid inside applied to Clares upper body.

The first of the needles was scratched lightly over the surface of her upper torso before being pushed slowly into the flesh of her tits. Clare screamed as the first of the needles was pushed in above her nipple and then appeared about an inch further across. Blood appeared on her body which was wiped away. A second needle was pushed in about 2 centimetres above the first in the same way and then a third further above. This was then repeated on her other tit in the same way. Clare was screaming incessantly at the pain that this torture was inflicting on her. Clare was unable to think as her thoughts were totally scrambled by this invasion of her body.

Finally the thickest needles was placed against her nipples and forced through them and out the other side, piercing them both. Each of these needles were then bent with pliers into a hoop to prevent their removal. At this point the woman wiped away the blood and left the room.

All that night Clare was left restrained on the bed, trying to recover, understand and think. The following morning the ‘needlewoman’ returned. She chained Clares nipples together with a single link that pulled the rings hard. Clare felt as if they were being pulled out of her nipples as they seemed to tear at the flesh. Once finished she was again left alone.

That day Clare received no food or drink. The following day she only had gruel and water as the mind and physical punishments seemed to continue.

The needles and clamps that had been used on her tits had made them so sore that even showering would hurt her and the light material of her clothes felt like sandpaper against her skin. Clare had always hated nipple play and it had gone on day after day, hour after hour.

Each night Clare tried to sleep but her body was crying out in pain, pleading to be set free of the constant torment that it had suffered. Mentally and physically, Clare felt exhausted, unwilling or unable to prevent what was happening almost constantly crying both because of the pain and because of the frustration of not knowing why this was all happening to her. Unable to think straight any longer, she waited to see what would happen next.

A while later Clare realised that the boat had stopped moving and was silent. A meal was brought in for her, as it had been throughout most of the journey with not a word said. The ‘needlewoman’ also appeared and removed the rings from her nipples. Clare was now totally free of all implements. She sat and ate, again trying to think back over the voyage.

The punishments she had taken had made her cry every time, but she had agreed to take what was given. The electrical stimulation had gone further than she could imagine possible; the canings and nipple torture had reduced her from a self-confident worldly woman almost to a nervous wreck. Despite all this, and all the other pain and suffering, Clare was determined not to break, not to give them the pleasure of seeing her fall but to stare them right back in the face.

The door opened, Clare cringed, expecting more punishment, while she waited to see who walked into the cabin. She looked up and it was her master.

“Follow me” was all she said. Clare immediately rose and followed her out of the cabin. She was no longer aware of her clothes as the silk delicately whispered around her body, revealing the glories within to all that wished to look. Clare knew that her whole body was covered with red stripes from the canings and blood spots from the needles but so confused and bewildered was she by all that had happened that she no longer was aware of her body. Moving up on deck, she approached the gangway and was shown the way to a waiting car. Clare climbed into the car, which moved off straight away.

As the driver pushed his way through the teeming traffic and pedestrians Clare looked around. It certainly seemed an Arab city and she then spotted a road sign in Arabic, which confirmed it. After about a 10 minute drive the car pulled into the drive of a big house where a houseboy approached the car and opened the door for Clare. She started to move up the stairs and was greeted, she assumed, by the housekeeper who was babbling in Arabic.

Clare was shown to a door, when she opened it she saw the room was full of women. Many of them were of a similar age to her and dressed in the same fashion as she was.

“It’s a harem!” she exclaimed to the housekeeper.

“Yes” replied a familiar voice from behind her, “and you are its newest member, number 13, and you, so superstitious, how ironic.”

Clare turned in amazement; there next to her master was Bob, her husband.

“Hello 13, you know Joanne, she seduced and trained you after the Christmas party on my orders. Now you will understand the meaning of submission.”

Bob pushed Clare into the room and she heard the door slam and a bolt pushed into place. Clare collapsed on to a pile of cushions and wept, her whole body shaking as the full impact of what had happened, and why, hit her. The pain she suffered at this betrayal was far greater than anything physical that she had endured in the past week Her fate seemed as sealed as the door behind her, or was it?