The Fear - A Vignette

I don’t know where I am, except that I am naked on some dungeon table, my tits and cunt on display.

The last thing that I remember was being abducted late at night, on the country road where nobody lives, and where nobody goes after dark. I was there, alone, just as I had agreed with the website. I had been told to be there at one o’clock in the morning, holding an umbrella, and they would collect me, and deliver me to the dungeon of the cruellest mistress in the world.

   A black van pulled up beside me. Two women all dressed in black jumped out of the van. They had black woollen balaclavas disguising their features. one of the grabbed me from behind – not that I did anything to resist – while the other held a rag covered in chloroform over my face. The next thing that I knew I was waking up on this table.

   I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know what day it is. I don’t know what town I’m in. For all that I know they have smuggled me out of the country. The only thing which I know is that I am at the mercy of a lesbian sadist who I have never met, for a No Limits session. She has carte blanche to do anything that she wants to my defenceless body. I’m terrified. I’m horny.

   There are actually real wooden torches burning in metal holders on the walls of this chamber. They aren’t the only heating in this place. I can also see a brazier with some coals in one corner of this large stone chamber. Despite the brazier this place is cold, and my skin has goose pimples covering it. Or maybe it is the fear. I’m scared. I have effectively delivered myself up to somebody who might be a psychopath for all that I know. She is certainly going to torture me. But for all I know she might mutilate me. As nobody in the world knows where I am there is nothing to stop her from killing me. God, I wish that I could touch myself, and that my hands weren’t bound to the table above my head. But I am spread-eagled on the table.

   Is she going to use the irons in heating up in the brazier on my defenceless body? There would not be anything which I could do to stop her if she chose to do that. I imagine a branding iron, with the end of the metal glowing orange. What would it feel like to have something so hot grazing my skin? I know that it would be excruciating. I know that it would be more than I would be able to bear.

   Every dungeon needs a brazier with irons glowing inside it. Even if they are never used you need the threat that they might be. I’m terrified that they will be. Are you going to mutilate me with branding irons? Are you going to brand me all over my body? Press irons into my soft and defenceless breasts, listening to them sizzle? You would wake me back up should I faint, of course, so that I would be able to appreciate it when you press more irons into my defenceless flesh, working your way down my body until you come to my cunt. It is getting wet at the thought. But not wet enough to put out a red hot poker.

By turning my head from one side of the dungeon I can see the rest of the equipment in this dungeon. There is an iron maiden. It has been left open so that I can see some of the rusty iron spikes inside it. They are stained with what looks like dried blood. But I’m almost certain that the iron maiden is really just for show. People don’t really use things like that. Do they?

   There is a rack, with a metal windlass at one end. I imagine what it would be like to be chained down on that rack, like some victim during the time of the Inquisition, and to slowly have my limbs pulled out of their sockets.

   I can see a cage with rats inside it. I don’t like rats, and I’m scared that they are going to be used in my torture. Nobody would keep pets in their dungeon, would they? Once, years ago, I read a book called Kinflicks by Lisa Alther. In that book one of the characters had a pornographic poster on his wall. I remember that, on that poster, there was a woman whose breasts were being attacked by rats. I fear that the rats will be used on me in a similar manner. I find the idea of rats gnawing away at my defenceless breasts to be terrifying. And erotic.

   If she has rats she might have other creatures. I have read stories, on the internet, of women who had their labia held open so that ants could go inside and bite. Reading stories like that make me wet. I have always wondered if I could stand that sort of pain. But now I may be about to find out.

There is a standing X-frame. I think there is some clause somewhere stating that every dungeon has to have an X-frame. I can see that the shackles at the four corners of the frame have metal shackles. I imagine myself chained facing the X-frame, while this (as yet) unseen mistress plies a bullwhip all over my back, the leather drawing red lines all over my skin. I imagine that she will whip me until the blood is leaking from a hundred thin cuts.

   Or perhaps she will chain me the other way around, with my back to the frame. Then it will be my front which will come in for punishment. My breasts. The only point in chaining somebody like that is if you are going to whip their breasts. I imagine that she will start off with a cat o’ nine tails of supple leather – something painful, but not too severe. The she would use a thin lash of rubber wrapped around a strand of wire.

   There is a gynaecological chair. It has strapping along the leg sections. I imagine being tied into it, and my legs forced out so wide that it feels almost as though my hips are being dislocated; spread so wide my cunt would be utterly defenceless to anything which this mistress wanted to do. She could insert things deep inside me, my vagina spread by a speculum.

   I can see the whips hanging from the wall. There is a bullwhip, and that cat o’ nine tails. There is also a wooden paddle, with tiny needles coming out of the wood, so that if it was brought down on a pair of buttocks the needles would pierce the flesh. There are over a dozen whips in total.

Near to where I am there is a small table with an electrical torture machine on it. Its dials are lit up, so I know that it must be turned on at the wall. I fear that she intends to use it on me. She will attach sharp crocodile clamps to my defenceless labia. Then she will run a current through them. I understand that it is amps which are really dangerous, and that you can use a lot of volts without killing a person. How many volts can that machine give out? Enough to put me into agony. Not enough to kill me.

   I close my eyes, imagining that I am in some South American torture room, just like in a lot of stories that I have read. I am going to be tortured for information, the electricity shocking my cunt. I will tell everything that I know. But that is not enough for my torturers. They then torture me for pleasure, not caring that I have said everything that I can. A big, bulbous probe will be forced into my anus, and a long, thin one will be introduced into my urethra. Then the torture will continue, over and over, until I am almost out of my mind. The thought fills me with terror. The thought makes me wet. I’m sure that juices must be running down out of my cunt onto the table.

   There is another table to the other side of me. There is a box with a lot of long needles in there. I have always been scared of needles. I have not even had my ears pierced because of that. But it looks like she does not intend to pierce me once, but dozens of times. I bet that she will start with my breasts, turning them into pincushions, slowly working her way inwards until she drives a needle down through the centre of each nipple. Then she will begin putting needles into my pubic mound, working her way to my defenceless labia. I wonder what it will feel like when she thrusts a needle down the length of my erect clit?

There are other items on that table: pliers and scalpels and the like. I shudder to think what she intends to do with them.

It is then that the mistress enters the dungeon. She is tall, but the stiletto heeled boots she is wearing adds a good four inches to her height, making her well over six feet tall. The boots are shiny black leather, and they go all of the way to her upper thighs. There are studs running along the front of the boots, from the top down to the toes. The studs look sharp.

   She has a tight leather corset around her waist, constricting it. It gives her an hourglass figure, and causes her hips to sway as she walks towards me. She looks like sex on legs.

   Her skin is so pale that she looks almost like an albino. It is clear that this mistress is no sun-lover. Perhaps she spends all of her time in this dungeon. Her skin contrasts with the black leather of her costume.

   Her cunt is bare and hairless. She has a series of piercings in her labia, gold rings running down either side. Her breasts are bare, and larger than mine. There is a gold ring through each nipple.

   I can’t see her face. She is wearing a black leather hood. The hood covers the entirety of her head, hiding her features. There are slits for her eyes and her mouth, and a couple of nostril holes.

   She advances towards me. The heels of her boots click on the stone floors of the dungeon. She stands next to the table.

   “You are going to suffer such agonies as no one has ever suffered before.” she says, huskily. She picks up a pair of pliers and stands at the foot of the table, between my widespread legs. As the pliers close over my defenceless clit I cum as never before…