Excerpt from: The Pits of Despair

Having fallen foul of the barbaric system of Barbourian justice and at the mercy of Captain Velasquez, Penny has had no choice but to accept the punishment of the Pits of Despair…

Early the next morning, Penny was locked in the back of a small battered police van being driven by Velasquez along a desert road out of the city.

She was seated on a wooden slatted bench with a chain leash that was clipped to her yoke fastened to a ring bolted to the side panel of the van behind her. She was still naked except for the addition of simple rope-soled sandals to protect her feet. The efficient and versatile yoke was still locked about her neck, imprisoning her hands and its rubber gag bit was once more clamped between her teeth. The garter bands were bound about the roots of her breasts again, pricking her each time the van went over a bump. Perhaps they were there to dissuade her from thinking of making an escape attempt. Running wearing them would have been acutely painful, even without the new device that had been fitted to her.

A belt had been buckled about waist. From the front of it hung a chain comprising of rubber links alternating with metal spiked links, just like those one might see in a spiked park fence. This strange and fearsome chain ran down between her thighs and cut into the naked cleft of her vulva. The end of the chain emerged from between her buttocks where it connected to a yard of wire rope that passed through a ring suspended from the back of the belt. Its end was fastened to a metal hoop that hooked into holes drilled into the sides of what looked like an ancient metal cannonball. Quite literally, her vagina had been fitted with a ball and chain!

She had walked a few steps wearing the groin chain when she had clambered up into the van in the police station yard, and that had been humiliating and painful enough. She shivered at the thought of attempting to run while dragging it behind her.

Velasquez had laughed at her discomfort. ‘What do you think of our new pussy chains, Miss Dandridge? They are effective, are they not? No danger of you trying to escape while wearing one of them…’

But even sitting still in a pussy chain, as he so crudely called it, was an ordeal. With every bump of the rough road, the metal spikes ground into her cleft, humiliatingly making her vulva lubricate in response to try to ease this unnatural stimulation. Her juices already stained the slats of the seat beneath her, which she had noted miserably already bore ancient stains of its own. How many more women had Velasquez transported like this before her? What a beastly country!

To add her discomfort, although it was still early in the morning, the van’s interior heated rapidly. In the dimly lit stuffy rear compartment, Penny turned over her thoughts as morbidly she watched the sweat dripping off her nipples as her breasts jiggled with the bumps in the road. Velasquez had implied that he was friends with George, but surely he could not know how he treated an innocent Englishwoman. And the perverse truth was that he would never hear the truth of it from her. She was already a divorcee with an unhappy past. She dared not risk such an admission, however innocent she had been, in case it made him think again about their match. She must not lose him…

But to achieve that goal she had to survive a week in the pits of despair. What were they?

* * *

After about twenty minutes driving, the van came to a halt. The engine was turned off and Velasquez opened the rear doors. He unhooked Penny’s leash from the side of the van, picked up her pussy ball chain and dragged her outside.

Penny blinked in the brilliant sunlight, suddenly acutely aware of the shameful state of her bondage and exposure, fearing somebody would see her. But there was nobody in sight.

She was in a natural sandy-floored gully cutting into the side of what seemed to be a low rocky massif of orange and yellow sandstone. A ragged belt of blue sky high above her head together with sunlight reflecting off the top edges of the cleft illuminated the scene. The floor of the cleft was cut across with many tire tracks but only an American jeep and a foreign car of some type she did not recognise were parked nearby and they were both empty.

Apart from the narrow winding way they had come in between the rugged cliff faces, there was only one other visible exit from the narrowing end of the gulley. A ramp had been cut into the rock leading up to a cleft between the opposing cliff faces, which seemed to pinch together about it. In the rock beneath this ramp was a rough-hewn doorway closed with a heavy metal barred grille.

Velasquez jerked on Penny’s leash chain and led her up the ramp. Penny whimpered as she followed in his footsteps. Her bound breasts jiggled and wobbled with each step, while and the chain passing between her legs did its worst. As it was drawn tight and the heavy metal ball weight began to roll along at her heels, the rubber links stretched and contracted, gouging the metal spikes set between them into her furrow. They were not small enough or sharp enough to actually cut her flesh, but they dug and twisted and rubbed into her most sensitive organ, generating a terrible confusing surge of perverse arousal within her loins. After a few steps she was lubricating freely and dripping about the chain and down the insides of her thighs.

In its way it was horribly effective. She would not dare contemplate running away with it still attached to her.

And so in this painful manner, Penny made her way up the ramp after Velasquez until they reached the narrow cleft in the rocks, where they halted. Beyond this point she saw that the gully forked into two branches about a higher central peak. Both channels cut through the rocky hillside and wound away out of sight. Below her the natural wall on which she stood appeared to be sheer, falling away on the other side into the left-hand cleft.

‘Welcome to the Pits of Despair,’ Velasquez said grandly. ‘Originally it was a wadi or gully cut into the rock by water and wind and later enlarged by man. Some call it Africa’s Western Petra, although it is not as grand. Hundreds of years ago, this place was used as a retreat and hideout by the Barbary pirates who once ruled this coast. They improved and extended what nature had created, hollowing out many caves in the rock walls.

‘There are seven distinct sections to the wadi where it widens out and larger dwellings were created. Naturally, the pirates took female captives with them to help pass the time. It gained such a reputation for their suffering that prisoners sent here were said to be consigned to the pits of despair. Recently it has been renovated and modernised. Now each pit can be rented by paying guests, both local and foreign, who have bought the rights to amuse themselves with female criminals and those requiring correction that we supply to them. They deliver the discipline you deserve and we profit from it.’

Penny was looking at him in horror and disgust as the full meaning of his words sunk in. They were renting out these pits to rich people to exploit the helplessness of female prisoners for profit? How barbaric! But then given the history of this country, what did she expect?

Velasquez saw the look of disapproval on her face and read her thoughts. ‘Do not judge us by your modern values, Miss Dandridge. Our pirate ancestors did nothing worse than your British Empire in its heyday. Now we are a small country making our way in the world as best we can, using whatever resources come our way…’ he reached out and cupped and squeezed her bare bound breasts, making her shudder ‘… be they ancient stone or young living flesh.’ He pinched and twisted her nipples painfully until she whimpered. ‘I’m not asking you to approve of it, but do you understand?’

Desperately she nodded. He let go of her nipples.

‘Each pit is separated from the others by gates operated by the master’s,’ he continued. ‘When they are in place you will have to enter the side chambers if you wish to continue on. You will only be allowed out again after you have entertained each pit master in turn. For obvious reasons, they will each be masked and anonymous, and any names they may choose to give you will of course be false. Each master can keep you for a day and do more or less what they wish with you with the devices provided, just as Mr Singh did, as long as they leave no permanent marks. The pits join to form a circle to bring you back here again. The last one connects with the gate beneath us. For you that is the only way out. When you leave through that gate your punishment for resisting arrest and injuring a police officer will be completed. Then, as your official protector, I will take you back to the city and ensure you are kept safe and secure until George returns. After that, you will be his responsibility…’

Seven days until this nightmare was over! At least that gave her something to hope for, although what horrors and perversions awaited her between now and then she could only guess. She would soon find out…

‘Now you will enter the first pit,’ Velasquez told her.

He led her along the little path that ran along the top of the wall until they came to a metal frame that resembled a small crane. It was fitted with a hand winch and a drum of wire rope and was set on a swivelling base bolted to the rock. The end of its rope dangled from a pulley on the end of the jib higher than her head and was connected to a metal bracket with a pair of spring hooks dangling from it.

Velazquez had her stand under the bracket while he fastened the hooks to the rings on her yoke strut, as it had been linked to the electric pulley in the ceiling of his office the day before. When she was secure, Velasquez cranked the winch handle. The bracket rose, pulling the yoke cuffs that enclosed her neck and wrists upwards until it lifted her off her feet so that her sandals were hanging in mid-air. Then he swung the crane jib outward, dragging her over the side of the path so that she hung over the mouth of the gulley beyond. The metal ball rolled off the path after her and dropped until its chain hanging between her legs jerked it to a halt.

Penny screamed and bit on her gag bar at the sudden yank on the links of chain running through her cleft, softened only by the elastic give of the rubber links in the chain that spread the shock out. She dangled over the cliff-side with the weight of the terrible metal ball transmitted through its chain cutting up into her groin with her feet kicking wildly in mid-air. Her entire body weight plus that of the metal ball was taken by the cuffs about her neck and wrists which were cutting into her flesh. She felt as if her hands and head were going to be pulled off her body at any moment.

Gripped by panic and consumed by fear and pain her bladder gave way. She peed about the terrible links cutting into her groin and it squirted messily about them and over the insides of her thighs to fall in a sparkling patter of droplets to the sand beneath her.

Velasquez admired the spectacle she made and her humiliating and disgraceful loss of dignity for a moment and then asked: ‘Do promise to be a good girl and please each of your Masters in the pits, Miss Dandridge?’

But Penny was too consumed with gurgling in fear and kicking her feet in the air as if trying to find some invisible foothold to respond. He unhooked his quirt and reached out and smacked her churning bare buttocks with it. She shrieked in pain and nodded her head frantically as far as the terrible pressure on her neck allowed, while still sobbing and moaning. At that moment she would have agreed to anything.

Velasquez turned the crank handle and lowered her down the sheer wall until the metal ball sank into a soft pile of sand. The relief as its lost weight eased the tension in the terrible chain cutting through her groin was indescribable.

Her feet then touched the ground. As her weight came off the bracket, the sprung hooks that had been supporting her opened automatically. She sat down hard on her bottom, digging the chain spikes into her groin one last time, and then toppled onto her side. The wire rope wound up again and the crane jib swung out of sight, along with Velasquez’s head. There was no return by that means. The only way out was forward – through the Pits of Despair.

* * *

For a minute, Penny lay where she had fallen, with sand clinging uncomfortably to her wet bottom, snivelling pitifully as she struggled not let herself be consumed by fear and misery. Then with an effort, she scrambled to her feet and took in her surroundings.

The gully of the first pit, with its sculpted wind-scoured walls, was about fifty yards long by twenty across at its widest. At the far end where it narrowed again she could see a sliding solid metal gate topped by spiked railings. There were several dark round and oval openings cut into the cliff walls on both sides of the gully at different heights, which might have been windows. All were barred.

Everything was still and silent in the baking air. But were there unseen eyes behind the windows watching her even now? She shivered.

Lower down the rock walls there were a few larger openings served by ramps and flights of steps closed by metal doors and grilles. Only one door on her left at the top of a short ramp stood invitingly open.

She had no choice. She could not stay out here. She had to deliver herself naked and shamefully bound into the hands of the master of the pit.

Penny shuffled towards the door, towing the terrible pussy ball behind her, wincing as it rolled and bounced along and tugged the spiked chain in her cleft. Her bound breasts bobbed and jiggled as they jutted out before her, as offering themselves up for misuse. What a pitiful and degrading spectacle she made. Presumably that was the idea…

She climbed the ramp and peered fearfully through the open doorway. Beyond was a rounded smooth stone passageway that sloped upwards as it plunged deep into the rock. Its floor had been smoothly levelled while its upper curves had been painted with whitewash to reflect the light. There were modern electric bulbs set in the ceiling, which seemed incongruous in this setting.

Should she announce herself somehow? With her mouth gagged she could not speak and there was no doorbell to ring, but simply walking in seemed rude. And she realized how totally ridiculous her concerns were. This was not England and the rules were different here.

Laboriously, Penny climbed the passageway with the terrible pussy ball rattling along behind her until she came to a kind of landing and turned a corner into a large chamber.

Its high domed ceiling was also whitewashed, scattering light from a couple of the oval windows she had seen from outside which were set in deep recesses that pierced one wall. Local woven rush mats covered the floor. There were other heavy closed doors leading off the room and in an alcove was a gleaming metal toilet just like that in Velasquez’s cell. In the middle of the room was a heavy black wooden high-backed chair with a strange open seat. The chair frame was hung with leather straps and coiled wires and spring clips. These were connected to electric cables that ran across to a lectern that stood next to it supporting a panel covered in dials, knobs and switches. Facing the chair was a camera mounted on a tripod and there were photographic spotlights reflectors and dotted around it.

But these details Penny only had to time to take in at a glance. Her attention was occupied by the hooded man standing waiting for her. He was not quite what she had expected.

He wore a check-pattern shirt of soft cotton, blue jeans and cowboy boots. His head was covered by a baggy white hood with slots cut in it for his eyes and mouth. Hanging from his broad leather belt was a curious device with a heavy cylindrical handle complete with a switch, rather like a hand torch, a slender shaft and a small twin-pronged head. Everything but the shiny but blunt metal caps on the tips of the prongs was covered in black rubber.

‘They tell me you’re called Penny,’ he said, speaking with a broad American drawl. ‘Well you can call me Uncle Sam – at least you can when I unstop that pretty mouth of yours.’

Penny stomach churned but she knew there was nowhere to run. Trying not to let her fear show, she stood up as straight and proud as she could manage. The yoke held her arms up and out from her body, displaying her breasts, while the cruel chain cutting through her groin compelled her to stand with her legs apart, unwillingly displaying herself to his gaze. She knew what he was going to do to her, but despite the horror, she felt her nipples pricking up and her loins tingling.

Uncle Sam walked around her looking up and down with approval, as if he was inspecting something in a livestock show. He patted her bottom, squeezed her breasts and flicked her nipples, chucked her chin and stroked her hair. And she shivered and flinched at his touch, biting on her gag bit. Then he unbuckled the ball chain belt and took the terrible thing off her. His hand slid between her parted thighs and explored the hot sticky folds of her shaven vulva and the cleft of her buttocks.

‘Very fine,’ he said. ‘Top quality white woman flesh on show the way I like it: buck naked. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you…’

Penny felt sick and thought she was going to faint. Just get it over with, she pleaded silently.

He took hold of her hair and led across to the big chair. It looked even more sinister up close, and now she saw there was some kind of device underneath its hollow seat that was also connected to the switch panel.

Uncle Sam sat her down on the chair, with her knees spread wide. It was strange to feel her buttocks and thighs virtually unsupported. It also meant that her groin was exposed to the device lurking beneath the chair.

He pulled heavy straps over her ankles, pressing her heels and calves against the stout front legs of the chair. Then he pulled more straps over her thighs, pulling her knees out to the sides of the hollow chair seat. A single large strap feeding through from the back of the chair went across her stomach.

Only now did he unfasten her from her yoke. For the first time in almost a day, its weight was lifted from her shoulders and her arms were freed and she could bend her elbows and straighten them painfully. The terrible spiked garters were unbound from her breasts which could hang naturally once more. Looking down and fearing she had been scarred by their studs, Penny saw only pale sweaty bands with indentations in them that pricked and tingled as circulation returned. It had felt so much worse. Her bit gag came out with the yoke and her mouth was free.

Uncle Sam pressed his finger to her lips to warn her not to speak. ‘Don’t say anything now, Penny: you’ll have your chance to sing for me later…’

He pressed her hands down flat onto the heavy armrests of the chair and secured more buckles over her wrists and elbows. Another broad strap went across the high back of the chair over the front of her neck, pressing against her throat and lifting her head up. A rubber ball on an elastic cord was pulled across the chair back to plug her mouth again. A pair of brackets slid out of the chair back on either side of her head that pressed rubber pads against her temples, holding it facing forwards.

Uncle Sam stood back for a moment as if to admire the picture of helpless exposure she now made. Penny squirmed and strained against the straps, but she could hardly do more than wiggle her fingers and toes.

Then he began wiring her to the chair.

He fastened pairs of crocodile clips trailing coiled electric cables to her nipples and to her outer labia. Her eyes watered as the sharp teeth bit into her tender flesh. A single smaller clip and lighter cable he fastened to the hood of her clitoris, making her yelp in fear and fresh pain. Then he adjusted the device underneath the chair. Penny rolled her eyes trying to look downwards between her spread thighs and saw a pair of heavily ribbed and studded metal rods extending upwards. She groaned and bit on her gag as she felt them penetrating her anus and vagina, the ribs and studs grating against her sphincter and the sides of her passageways. She felt her vagina begin to lubricate in self-defence once more.

When he was done and she was fully wired and impaled, Uncle Sam checked her bonds again. Then he went to the camera tripod and began taking pictures of her. Methodically he moved the camera around and adjusted the lighting to capture images of her from different angles.

‘You look so fine seated there like that, like a queen on a throne, I want something to remember you by,’ he explained as he worked.

Penny snivelled as a fresh sense of shame overcame her. Not only was he planning some terrible torment for her, he was going to record it for inclusion in some obscene photograph album. Would he keep the pictures to himself or would he show them to other people? How many strange eyes would gloat over images of her suffering in years to come?

When he was done, Uncle Sam moved to the operating panel and began adjusting dials and throwing switches.

‘Now things are going to get really painful for you in a minute, Penny,’ he warned her. ‘But when they do, I don’t want you to try to be brave. I want you to struggle and cry all you like. I enjoy seeing women crying. It means you’re pouring out your insides and it’s honest and intimate. Then, when you’re properly tenderised, like a side of meat, I’ll give you a chance to speak. And then you’ll tell me everything. You see, I don’t like having my women just naked on the outside; I like to have them naked on the inside as well. I don’t mean just screwing your pretty holes: I’ll be doing that as well of course. I mean having fun breaking them down and getting inside their brains and finding out all their secrets. In a few hours, I’ll know everything about you. That’s real closeness, you know what I mean? How many men know their women like that?’

His plan was revolting and terrifying, but he was right. How many men knew their women that deeply? For that matter, how many women knew their men that well? If only she had known better in the past, she would have…

Uncle Sam pressed a final button and Penny screamed about her gag.

Stabbing jolts of electric current tore through her clipped nipples and seared into her clamped labia. The ribbed rods plugged into her vagina and rectum began to pump up and down at the same time delivering their own hammer blows of electric fire. Her wildly over-stimulated muscles caused her body to convulsive and jerk frantically, making her breasts bounce as she strained against her many straps. Leather and wood creaked, but she remained bound to the chair.

‘Don’t fight it, Penny,’ Uncle Sam said. ‘Embrace the pain…’

The muscles of her anal sphincter and vaginal sheath clenched wildly about the pumping ribbed rods as they delivered their relentless jolts of pain deep into her body. It was as if she was being violated by a pair of metal penises. In a helpless instinctive response her juices flowed wildly, dripping over them to ease their passage within her, as if welcoming their penetration.

And then the clip biting into her clitoris delivered its own special jolt of pain and directly into her most sensitive organ. And it was terrible and wonderful and almost unbelievable, and she never wanted to feel it again. But that fear immediately became a longing for more of the same so she could convince herself that it had been that bad.

And so on and on it went.

She reeled under the onslaught of the jolts of intimate pain, the tingling after-shocks, the convulsions, the pumping metal pistons and the relentless inner clenchings. Her nipples felt ready to burst and her vulva seemed to be on fire. Saliva dribbled from the corners of her mouth around straps of her gag that she was biting on continuously and dripped onto the pale upper slopes of her heaving breasts. The mechanism driving the pistons into her anus and rectum was covered with splashes of her juices which frothed and bubbled about the pumping shafts.

She was going to die, she knew it!

And then her loins exploded, and she fainted in a perverted confluence of agony and orgasmic delight.