Extract 1

“The gag,” I said brusquely to Trish.  Trish retrieved a broad strap with an O-ring in
the middle.  Monica roughly pulled back Emma’s head by her pigtails, causing her to look
upwards and go “aargh!” as her jaw opened involuntarily and Trish jammed the ring between
Emma’s teeth, then buckled it firmly behind her neck as her head was released.  

“I orri!  Ease ed ee oh!”  I was astonished as a tear came into Emma’s eye and slid down
her cheek.  Jillian had noticed it, too, and came in for a close-up shot.  I took the
knife and placed it under the last remaining buttons of Emma’s white blouse that hugged
her figure, then with a flick I removed the buttons and let the garment fall open.  Emma
tried to close it with her manacled hands, but could not move them sufficiently.  With two
further quick movements I slit the material from the collar down the length of the short
sleeves, and Monica yanked it clear.  In the space of seconds Emma was now naked above the
waist, and at once looked more lovely, but vastly more vulnerable.

I snapped my fingers at Trish, making a squeezing gesture with thumb and forefinger. 
Emma rolled her eyes as she tried to see what Trish was retrieving from the table, and
shook her head at the sight of the two small crocodile clips with trailing lengths of
string a metre long.

“Ngoh! Ngoh!” she pleaded, as I rolled her brown nipples until they became hard and
pointy.  “Ngoooohhh!” she wailed as I released the first clip into her flesh.  The
corrugated teeth bit into the tender skin and Emma cried out.  When I released the other
one she was panting hard through her open mouth and making throaty noises of pain.

“Just a little warm up, my dear,” I said.  “A mere forerunner of the long process to
come.  Emma screwed up her eyes and shook her head, making a noise that sounded like
“gaarhh!”

Extract 2

As my eyes became accustomed to the gloom I realised this must be some sort of reservoir
beneath the castle, although the place smelt strongly of something vaguely cloying that I
could not identify.  I made out several rectangular pools carved out of stone with water
shimmering under the light.  Then I saw Megan, and my heart raced.  

She was suspended in a pool perhaps three metres long by half that width.  Like me, her
neck was trapped in a yoke, which spanned the breadth of the pool.  Two large steel spikes
were driven through holes in the end of the yoke to prevent the yoke moving.  She was
submerged up to the top of her breasts, but it was evident that the buoyancy of her body
was insufficient to stop some weight being borne on her chin and jaw resting on the yoke. 


I looked closely at the pool and at the pale outline of Megan’s naked body beneath the
surface.  I had the sudden realisation that this was not water but rather, some sort of
oil, which perhaps explained the smell.  Megan’s gagged face looked imploringly at me, and
at that point I also noticed the knotted rope that poked through the yoke just in front of
her face, matched by a further, longer rope poking out through the wood behind her head. 
The rope seemed to go down between her legs, but I could not fathom the purpose of it.

My curiosity was soon appeased, as my own yoke was twisted into the cross-shoulder
position, and a rope was threaded upwards through a hole just in front of my face and
knotted by Mohammed. ..
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, and I had no choice but to obey.

“Mmmph!” I grunted as the shaft slid inside a couple of inches.  I could feel my
sphincter muscles stretching and could not suppress a whine of pain.  The rope was pulled
tight up my back and passed through the yoke hole behind my head where it was knotted by
Zara.

“Now, into the pool with you.”

Extract 3

I could not work out where this was going – why I – and presumably Megan – was imprisoned
in a mud sarcophagus.  How long would we be kept like this?  How long could we survive? 
We needed to drink and to perform bodily functions.  I had no idea how long had passed
since I had eaten.  My body felt warm, though not excessively so.  It seemed as though the
sun had baked the mud solid but now the mud was providing some insulation, although I knew
that if I was still lying somewhere in the sun, the mud would absorb the heat further and
I would start to bake like a dinner in the oven.  

The thought scared me.  Where exactly was I?  Was I on the back of a pickup in some dusty
square surrounded by throngs of unsuspecting locals?  I could hear nothing at all through
my earplugs and because of the thick mud shell around my head.  I strained to feel
vibrations through the solid medium, but there was nothing to suggest that I might not be
lying atop some deserted sand dune miles from the nearest habitation.

“Nnnnnmmmmrrrr!”  I moaned as loudly as I could manage through the nose tubes.  It was
not a scream or a cry, but a drawn out whine that achieved nothing, other than to add to
my own frustration and slowly rising fear.  I tried to wriggle my fingers or toes, but
they were locked solid in the embrace of the mud.  I could do absolutely nothing but lie
there and let my thoughts do their dreadful work.

Again, I must have dozed, eventually lulled by the all-encompassing warmth of my cocoon. 
My awakening was partly dreamlike in that I thought I detected footsteps – felt, rather
than heard.  I wasn’t sure if I had imagined them or not, until there was a sudden buzzing
in my pussy and clit, followed moments later by the plug in my arse, and then a gently
rising vibration on each nipple.  I groaned.  I did not need any more of this exquisite
torture.  My arse was already super sensitive from the treatment it had received, and
after Megan’s toes in the pool and the continuous state of restraint I had endured, I was
feeling enervated and weak. My mental resistance was slipping, too, and I did not know how
much more of this I could take.