Extract from: The Purgatory Club

 

 

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 spread-eagled 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, filling the room with sounds and images. There were 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 were 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!'

***

After the screen went dark they unshackled Sondra from the rack.

She was trembling and so rubber-legged that two of the masked company had to hold her upright. Her vagina and rectum were sore and tingling from the ravages of the drill dildos and electric shocks, which had left her feeling reamed out and horribly aroused at the same time. But worse was the damage to her pride. They had made her disgrace herself in public, taken away her right to choose her pleasure and made her suffer for their amusement. And they said this was only the start.

The double doors at the end of the chamber were thrown open and a new device was wheeled in.

It was a low circular structure a good three metres across. As it got closer Sondra saw its outer wall surrounded a lower inner disk, with numbered slots marked about its circumference. The disk rose in a shallow cone to its centre, in which was set a shiny golden post capped by a matching golden crosspiece with knob-like ends...

She blinked as her sense of proportion kicked in. It was a giant roulette wheel!

'Now we're going to play a little game with you, Sondra,' said Mr Tiger. 'Tonight, one of our members will have the privilege of having you all to him, or her, self to do... well, more or less whatever they want. And you're going to help choose who it will be by going for a little spin.'

Sondra moaned and shook her head, tugging futilely at the hands holding her.

'Having regrets?' Tiger asked. 'Realising you've been a stupid girl? Well you should have thought of that years ago, because it's too late now!'

They upended Sondra and held her legs wide. The spout of a plastic funnel was thrust into her vagina, forcing it open. She choked with horror as she saw a glass jar filled with silver marble-sized balls held over the funnel mouth.

'Fifty silver balls and one red one,' Mr Tiger explained. 'Whoever has that land on the number they've chosen will win you for the night!'

They poured the balls into her, filling her elastic sheath with their cold, hard unnatural weight. The last few were rammed in with stiff fingers, making her stomach bulge. A bulldog clip pinched her labia shut, forcing a fresh yelp from behind her gag.

She was manhandled over the outer wall of the huge wheel and laid on the central spindle, so that its cap pressed into the small of her back. Her arms and legs were spread out along the four arms of the giant crosspiece and bound tight with rubber straps.

The entire masked company crowded round the edge of the wheel. She felt their eyes on her body; ogling her high round breasts with their perversely hard nipples tilted to the ceiling, gazing up into her stuffed and clamped pussy.

'The sooner you pop the red ball from that tight little cunt-purse of yours, the sooner the wheel stops,' Tiger told her.

The last attendant pulled the clip from her labia and climbed out of the wheel. A motor hummed somewhere below Sondra and the wheel began to turn, gradually picking up speed. The crowd started to call out encouragement: 'Spit them out, bitch!' 'Mine's number nine!' 'Bombs away!' 'Pop us a red over here, slut!'

She was spinning about her navel, her head filling with blood while the balls packed in her vagina seemed to grow ever heavier. Feeling sick and confused she began desperately squeezing and working her pussy muscles. Glistening with her juices, the balls began to spit from between her inflamed love lips. As they bounced and rattled about the inside of the wheel the crowd went wild...