Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

Within two weeks, Zarina had gone from looking battered in her first days to unrecognizable. There were swaths of deep black and purple bruises all over her body, and burns and fresh cuts were scattered on top of old marks. The vast majority of her skin was damaged in some way, with her private parts having borne the brunt of my abuse, even though I was intentionally rotating which parts I targeted. 

Zarina’s body simply stopped healing. I recalled a similar phenomena during infamously arduous military courses, where I looked down at my hands and noticed that my cuts looked as fresh as they had been days prior. My hands did not started healing again until I finished those courses and got some real sleep and rest. Zarina would have to earn her rest in an even more laborious fashion.

As arousing as it was to cause Zarina all these injuries and to look at the marks that appeared, I also have classical standards of beauty for women. Seeing her look like a body on an operating table was not titillating for me. She no longer had the appearance of the girl who other women hated because she was physically perfect, ostensibly without trying. I had put Zarina in both a figurative and many literal double binds. 

While I had made sure that none of the methods of torture killed Zarina immediately, there was an increasing probability that the cumulative impact was going to cause her premature death. Rhabdomyolysis usually only occurs in free societies in people who work out too hard, such as CrossFit zealots. Basically, ‘rhabdo’ is when muscles are broken down into toxic byproducts that leak into the bloodstream and cause kidney failure. Ordinarily, it is natural to lift weights to induce micro tears in muscles, so that they grow back bigger. But the human body never evolved to shred and drink its own muscles.

In less fortunate societies, rhabdo can be caused by crush injuries, where muscles are compressed, or simply when a person is stuck in a fixed position for too long. Hypothermia and hyperthermia (high body temperature) are also contributing factors. In other words, any serious damage to muscle, such as that caused by, you know, burning or torture. I was conscious that I was doing all these things to Zarina, and acknowledge in particular that the DC shock convulsions might be overloading her muscles as much as the most grueling Crossfit workouts could. 

I was thus increasingly compelled to begin the next phase of her sex slave indoctrination, which would give her a chance to earn a break or at least lessen her agony. In order to make the rules of my games clear, I knew I had to start speaking to Zarina. She had already caught on that English was my native tongue, starting when I could not help but exclaim in the depths of climax. After that revelation she implored me frequently in English to stop or show her some mercy. That was one of first times I realized how observant Zarina was, though, to be fair, she had every incentive to be. Woefully for Zarina, I would get very turned on hearing her bewail how much her body parts hurt or verbalizing what I had just done to her.

I had spent some time planning how I could mold a girl into my idea of a perfect slave. The schedule for opening a channel of communication with Zarina had not been set in advance, but it felt unavoidable after the umpteenth morning of brutal rape and atrocious trial and error. As my heart rate was gradually coming down out in the courtyard, I stared at Zarina drooling and lying on a steel table, languid except for involuntary shivers, with her limbs being stretched tightly by the special polyprene restraints. She looked like she had been caught in a spider web, having used up all of her energy struggling in days past, and was just waiting to be torn part and consumed. Throughout the morning, a single tear would periodically trickle down her cheek, but even her tear ducts seemed depleted. 

I recalled you can tell from a picture of a medical patient that their story had a sad ending if they are lying on a metal table. This is because, in most first world hospitals, the only metal tables are in the morgue. Zarina had been fastened to a metal table on many other days, but by today her wounds had come to look like illustrations for multiple chapters in a trauma textbook. The tipping point for me that day was the condition of her skin. Lacerations in her tissues that I could swear I had inflicted more than a week prior had reopened, and were oozing and dribbling blood. What was becoming an even more pressing concern were the very fresh burns all over her flesh. I knew I had been playing with fire, often literally, but I did not want to permanently scar her formerly flawless skin.

This morning’s burns were the result of the latest iteration of testing increasingly higher concentrations of hydrosulfuric acid from her neck down. Sulfuric acid can cause more damage than other comparable ‘strong acids,’ such as hydrochloric or nitric acid. Concentrations of 1.5 molar or higher have to be stored in certain materials and labeled as ‘corrosive.’ Sulfuric acid is highly corrosive to many metals, but not steel like the table Zarina was lying on, nor her polyprene restraints, at least at outdoor temperatures and today’s concentration. 

The acid I had just burned her all over with was 15 moles per liter, or over 80% concentration. Few human are so unfortunate as Zarina to have experienced the gradient difference: by comparison, 5 molar or 32% is known as battery acid. Hazardous as this might sound, I had read enough medical studies to feel confident she would not be disfigured by this high of a concentration, so long as she quickly received the proper treatment. Nevertheless, I knew I was flirting with levels that could require skin grafts. 

Fortunately for both of us, treatment was easy: 30 minutes of rinsing with cold water. Ice water is often used in industrial preparations of higher concentrations of sulfuric acid, as there is a chemical reaction which can boil both the water and the acid on the surface layer. So afterwards seemed as good a time as any for her at least daily ice bath. 

While none of Zarina’s sulfuric acid burns had left lasting lesions yet, she had immediately developed a Pavlovian reaction to the sulfur smell of the acid. In Christian tradition, sulfur was believed to be what hellfire was made of, and thus a sign of the Devil. I have always been an atheist and Zarina was not a Christian, but I had successfully converted Zarina to believing in this kind of hell and that I was the Devil.