CHAPTER ONE
Sondra Rhodes squinted against the light as the black goggle blindfold was unclipped and
pulled back from her eyes. Her lightly tanned, supple young body wriggled and squirmed as
she strained against her bonds, flailing her long, streaked-blonde hair about her
shoulders.
She was chained stark naked and spreadeagled within an upright metal rack, her arms
and legs stretched out to its four corners and secured by heavy rubber-lined metal cuffs
about wrists and ankles. A rubber and metal collar ringed her neck, bearing the
inscription: SLUT 31. Her mouth was held in a permanent “O” of surprise by a black gag
ball fastened by an elastic cord to her collar. The ball held her tongue down and
stretched her normally petulant lips invitingly wide.
Despite the gag, Sondra still tried to snarl with indignant rage against the people
who had had brought her to this place, who had stripped, chained and collared her like an
animal!
As her eyes adjusted she saw she was in the middle of some large chamber,
illuminated only by the array of small spotlights that shone on her. Beyond this pool of
light were thirty or forty shadowy figures, while before her was a large television
screen.
A man stepped out of the shadows. The top half of his face was concealed beneath a
mask decorated with cat-like false ears and patterned with black and white camouflage
stripes. The same pattern was repeated on the broad lapels of his perfectly tailored
suit.
‘I’m called Mr Tiger,’ he said, his voice level and assured. ‘That is all you will
ever know about me, Sondra. If and when you are permitted to speak, you will of course
address me as “Master”, as you will any of the other members of this club.’
Sondra gurgled an insult intended to make it clear what she thought about this
suggestion. The lips under the tiger mask twitched into a smile.
‘Such anger in one so young and pretty,’ he exclaimed mildly, reaching out to
stroke the honey-coloured curls over Sondra’s tight little pouting pubes and receiving a
muffled shriek of indignation and a fresh spasm of struggles in reply. ‘No matter, we
shall tame that rebellious streak. First, a reminder why you are here, and a taste of
what is to come...’
In the wheeled base of the rack a motor hummed and gears whirred. Sondra looked
down. Rising from a metal box set between her widespread ankles were two metal rods, each
angled slightly inward. They were capped by what looked silver power drill bits the size
of vibrators, each rotating slowly but steadily.
Sondra began to buck and twist wildly, feeling the first cold tendrils of fear
intruding on her self-important rage. Other bizarrely masked men stepped out of the
shadows and grasp her hips; holding her steady while the phalluses rose towards their
destined sheaths.
‘Feeling less defiant now?’ Mr Tiger asked, as he slid his thumbs into her vagina
and wrenched the shiny coral pink elastic lips wide.
Unseen hands pried open her buttocks, stretching the tight roseate mouth of her
anus. Sick dread knotted Sondra’s stomach. This couldn’t be happening to her, she
thought dizzily! She was rich and beautiful and important and –
The drill tips ground against her anus and the folds of her labia. Sondra choked
in relief. The drills were not solid metal but silvered rubber thickly coated with oil!
But rubber or not they still mercilessly churned the tender flesh of her twin
tunnels as they screwed their way up into her, forcing her anal ring painfully wide and
chewing at her inner labia. On and on they bored. She went up onto the balls of her feet
to try to escape their advance. Oh God, oh shit, they weren’t going to stop! She could
feel the drill heads getting closer together, separated only by thin membranes that
divided her front and back passages. Her belly was bulging with the bulk of the front
drill that was a monster, bigger than any vibrator she’d ever used on herself. It was too
much! She’d burst...!
The motor cut and the drilling ceased.
Sondra was skewered, transfixed, impaled; standing on tiptoe to ease the pain of
the terrible things inside her; hardly daring to breath, a cold sweat lathering her body.
Even in extremis she realised that her nipples and clit were perversely hard, seasoning
her terror with shameful, confusing excitement.
The men released her hips and faded back into the shadows. Mr Tiger smiled
sardonically at the signs of her arousal. ‘You have the responses of a true slut, I see.
We should have expected as much. Never mind. Now that we have your complete attention,
we shall begin...’
The big screen came to life and sounds and images started to flow across it:
tabloid newspaper articles, revelations from trash magazines, television reports, home
videos... all featuring Sondra herself! It took a few moments for Sondra to understand
what she was seeing. Her life was literally passing before her eyes in sordid chunks.
A particularly unflattering image on the screen froze and was outlined by a
flashing red boarder. Simultaneously the screw dildo up her rear delivered a jolt of
electricity that tore through her entrails like a physical blow.
With a strangled shriek she jerked her hips forward, impaling herself even deeper
onto the front screw. It immediately delivered a searing jolt of its own, filling her
bowels with electric fire. The physical pressure and extreme stimulation was too much for
her bladder and she peed messily; urine spraying and squirting over the threads of the
dildo as it was forced out of her, splattering her thighs and tricking down the mounting
rod.
The images on the screen froze as a flashing caption was superimposed across them:
THE BITCH WET HERSELF!!! The shadowy audience burst into mocking cheers and scattered
applause.
As Sondra hung in her bonds, limp and sobbing, tears trickling over her
scarlet-flushed cheeks, real hopeless terror took hold. Now she knew what fear tasted
like.
‘This is just your initiation,’ said Mr Tiger gravely. ‘Judgement has been passed
upon you and now you are going to suffer for your sins...’ On the screen the montage of
images resumed playing. ‘From now on your pain is our pleasure. Welcome to Purgatory,
Sondra!’
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