Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

After those first 60 hours of non-stop torture, Zarina was delirious from both the pain and lack of sleep. She was throwing up constantly despite her stomach having long since been emptied, even when I had not shoved anything down her throat to trigger her gag reflex. In the moment I hardly cared about her mental state, but I needed to start mixing in predicament bondage and stress positions to give myself, and thus her, some time to comparatively recuperate. Thus, her clit and pussy lips rode the sharp edge of a wooden horse throughout the third night. Then it was my electrified copper pony version with the lubricated edge the next night. Both nights I tied her arms in strappado to pull up her shoulder sockets and force her to take some weight off her broken tiptoes. My usual cock molded dildo was shoved through her ring gag, not only provided the rehydration she needed to survive my next day’s games, but also kept her screams down to a pleasant background lullaby.

During the day I would shove Zarina’s face into dog bowls of pet food and water and, with painful encouragement, she learned that she was to wolf down the whole bowl as fast as she could. I silently timed her meals, and after the electrocution of her trigeminal nerves I had to multiply her allotted time despite whipping and shocking her to hurry up. I am not particularly into humiliation, but for those that are they might enjoy the image of me raping Zarina’s ass with her face buried in pet food and a cane ripping into her back. During this first training phase the game was that she had to lick her dog bowl clean before I came to avoid additional punishment. 

I alternated between keeping ice baths and vats of near boiling water at the ready when she had to be cleaned off. Zarina’s stomach bulged to a disgusting extent as I pushed the volume of her digestive tract with enemas into the open air sewer outside in the courtyard, both to clean her out for anal rape and to trial different irritants to sting and/or burn her insides. Yet another early lesson about my standards for her body was demonstrated by pulling out all her hair from the neck down with a tweezer. But this was a big step down in terms of pain level for Zarina, and merely a mildly pleasant diversion for me to kill time during my umpteenth refractory period.

Zarina’s fifth night was spent in a wall sit with her ankles chained to the floor and jumper cables pulling tightly on her nipples, triggering a shock if she so much as moved or hit muscle failure. The 3D camera footage showed of course that she inevitably did, though I was impressed that she stayed upright for 40 minutes in the first round. The sixth night’s stress position found Zarina hogtied in the air with all her weight resting on her breasts, which were ground into piles of tiny obsidian flakes, salt, and stinging nettles. Broken glass is one of the sharpest substances on the planet, and it takes an electron micrograph to reveal how obsidian glass even sharper than a modern steel scalpel. My goal for the obsidian flakes was to avoid cutting her too deeply, but whether the incisions reached ‘a thousand cuts’ was dependent on her self-control to not move a muscle and shift her weight or induce a swing in the rope. Somehow this predicament was not callous enough for me, as I wrapped her breasts tightly with barbed wire cut off circulation to the point that her purple flesh looked like it was going to burst overnight.

Zarina was so catatonic that she constantly kept dozing off throughout all these nights of relative purgatory, only to be awoken a few moments later by the pangs. I had read somewhere that cumulative sleep duration is what ultimately counts, as awful as it is have your sleep interrupted. For example, volunteers who take 7 x 1-hour naps in a day do about as well as those get 7 straight hours of sleep. So yes there were times I passed out for over ten hours and Zarina was left alone, but her predicament torture kept her from drifting off for more than a few moments at a time. I know how tired I was at the end of these days, so I could not even imagine how many times worse it was for Zarina. The only reason I woke up when I did was the sudden fear that that there was an accident in the middle of the night and Zarina was permanently damaged. Ok, that and my immediate urge to rape and hurt her some more.

My arm strength and endurance had been well above average since before my military days, but like any novice I needed repeated practice to improve my technique and become more efficient in my movements. In this case I am speaking of my whipping and caning technique. Bondage ties always take a while to do correctly, especially when you are a beginner. But I quickly was figuring out shortcuts or more effective methods of restraining her in the positions I wanted. Chains with locking carabiners were the most convenient way to get her wrists and ankle cuffs into what ever position, and could be supplemented by other wires, cords, and ropes that I assessed and became comfortable with.