Excerpt One:
The stairs twisted towards the outer wall and merged into a gloomy stone passage, passing
through a big wooden door then ending abruptly in a solid iron grille stretching across a
hole that looked out over the valley. For a moment I wondered where Mary and Shawnee
were, until Warren shone his torch on the distorted features of Mary’s face trapped
beneath the scold’s bridle. But it was only when Pearson came up behind Leila and myself,
with the fluorescent light that I saw the full horror of what they had done to my
friends.
The pair sat side by side on a low stone bench below the grille, facing us. Each was
locked in an identical device which held her body bent forward, knees close to chest. I
looked closely and saw that the contraption began with what was like a pair of bilboes
trapping the ankles. Four iron strips rose from the bilbo bar, two on either side of each
leg, to meet at the throat where an iron collar encircled the throat, making the victim
unable to straighten up. The wrists were trapped below the breasts, roughly palm to palm,
anchored between the vertical bars.
“Interesting device, isn’t it,” Pearson said, like a guide. “It’s called the Scavenger’s
Daughter. A corruption on the name Skivington – the chap who invented it. Very
uncomfortable after a few hours - just about impossible to move.”
Excerpt Two:
Emma’s arms were secured by velcro straps to stainless steel bars running beside her body
on the black vinyl padded bench. The bench sloped slightly upwards towards her head,
which was cradled in a dentist’s chair headrest, anchored by a strap across her forehead.
Her mouth was held open by a whitehead gag, the ratchet device holding her jaw wide and
allowing a clamp to be fitted to her tongue such that it was held protruding beyond her
lips. The clamp was as long as a pencil and extended either side of her mouth, such that
any attempt to retract her tongue brought the ends of the clamp up against the corners of
her mouth. It was a very uncomfortable situation, and poor Emma could do nothing other
than roll her eyes at the goings on around her.
Her body was further trapped by further velcro straps at the neck, above and below her
breasts, at her waist, and over each thigh. Marilyn was as usual singing the praises of
her products.
“The tongue clamp, as you can see, is a wonderful, much maligned and under-used gag,
particularly when combined with the whitehead. If you love to hear your slave moan and
squeal, this is the way to do it. Isn’t that right, Emma?” Marilyn gave one of Emma’s
nipples a hard twist. Emma let out an incoherent cry from her open mouth. Without the
use of tongue or lips to enunciate, it came out as an animal-like moan from deep in her
throat, totally different from the nasal hums that traditionally emanated from the nose of
a gagged slave.
“Having the air way clear like this means one can play with the nose,” Marilyn went on,
producing a double curved steel nose hook with plugs, and inserting it into Emma’s
nostrils. The hook ran up each side of her nose before joining above the bridge and
continuing with a thin cord. Marilyn pulled on this, increasing the pressure and
distorting Emma’s nose as she squirmed and gurgled, before the cord was finally tied off.
“This leaves us free to work our way down this lovely body,” said Marilyn. “Emma has
such lovely tits that it seemed only reasonable to use them to show off the latest in
suction devices.”
Excerpt Three:
“We’re going to have a little lesson in history, Monica,” Portia’s voice whispered. At
any other time it might have sounded sexy and beguiling. Now it sounded full of menace.
“You have no idea how long I’ve looked forward to this moment… How I’ve mentally toyed
with which switch to hit in regard to each indignity you’ve heaped on me… Should I start
at the beginning, and work back? Or start with the most recent humiliation you and your
team have inflicted on me? I wonder how long you can stand what I have in store for you?
You needn’t worry about fainting. I have you monitored for body temperature and pulse
rate. I can freeze you or steam you, or bring you to an orgasm while your nipples are
making you scream with pain. Except that you can’t really scream, can you? You can only
make those plaintive woo-woo noises which sound so pathetic, yet funny at the same time.”
She chuckled. “This is going to be just sooo… much fun, I’m almost wetting myself in
anticipation. And of course Jade will be here later to take you through her own personal
history of suffering at the hands of Monica Armstrong…” A sigh of pleasure. “God, this
is fun! So – are we lying comfortably? Then let us begin…”
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