Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

It took a while but once I was sure Zarina’s breasts were clean, I dried them in dabs with another sterile bandage. I retrieved bottles of aloe vera and vitamin E, put on a latex glove, and, gently as I could, rubbed the oils all over the mounds of her breasts. Then I wrapped them in yet another bandage, fresh out of a package. As a final gesture, I passed her a towel to dry herself off with.

In any other time before Zarina would have thanked me for this unfamiliar luxury with some over-the-top enthusiasm and reference to how generous I was being to my slave. But now she just kept staring at the ground while she wordlessly dried herself off, taking special care and going gingerly on the areas around her breasts. I accepted that in this case. My real concern was keeping her bandage dry and clean. Then I lifted her up in my arms and carried her out to the gym.

It did not seem to register with Zarina where I was taking her. I laid her down on the waterproof mattress, where she had been tied up many a time, surrounded by the instruments of torture that she knew were in the drawers and cabinets. I pulled her limbs out into a spread eagle and locked each one to a corner of the bed, but she did not seem to even notice. She closed her eyes, as if to fall asleep. Unfortunately for her, I was feeling pretty self-assured with my treatment of her burns, so my sadism and lust had replaced my fleeting sympathy.

“Now it is time for me to try one of those few methods of torture I’ve been thinking of.”

Zarina’s eyes went wide open and she bolted upright as far as her restraints and shoulders would allow, but no sound came out of her mouth.

I went on explaining, “There are basically seven accessible areas of sensitive tissues on your body which I will target in order: the auditory canals in your ears, the lining inside your nose, inside your mouth and throat, your eyes, your breasts and nipples in particular, your anus, and, of course, your vagina and clitoris.”

“Whaaa?! But you already tortured me!!! You boiled my boobs until the skin blistered and burned!!!” 

Zarina had not been listening to what I just said. She was stuck on the idea that I was going to torture her again.

I calmly went back and explained, “Yes, that was for not getting me hard in time. Before that you offered to let me try out a new kind of torture on you.”

“THAT’S NOT FAIR!!!”

Zarina thrashed against her restraints. I did not respond. Down here she knew there was nothing fair about being my sex slave. But her response did indicate that she viewed, at least sub-consciously, her life here as some kind of a game with set rules. That made me optimistic about her foreseeable future as a slave.

Ignoring her complaint, I continued on, “now I have been wanting to test out a couple of new formulations of capsaicin drops I have returned with….”

Zarina shrieked at the top of her lungs at the mention of capsaicin.

“…and you are going to help me. It’s going to be something of a blind control study, in that you might literally be blinded after I rub the capsaicin in your eyes. Theoretically the blindness should only be temporary.”

Zarina was hyperventilating now.

“….. For every part of your body that has a pair or two sides, I am going to rub one capsaicin drop on the left side and the other formulation on the right side. Then after you have stopped screaming for a while, you can tell me which one is worse. As should be expected, I’ll randomize it so that it’s not always the same formula on one side. I know you may think to resort to reverse psychology or something and lie to me, but whichever one you say isn’t as bad, on total score, will be coated on dildos that are going up your pussy or ass whenever you next need to be punished.”

Zarina howled and was crying hard.

“…. I promise you that I will keep my word on this next challenge. I have asked you to be honest with me at times and, for all my manipulative games, you should know when I am being honest with you.”

“But, but…,” Zarina blubbered, “You obviously have never felt how much that stuff burns!!! And new formulas???!!! WHAT KIND OF SICK SHIT IS THAT???!!! 

I let her sob for a while and tried to keep up my impression of what doctor’s call ‘bedside manner.’

After choking up, Zarina’s voice lowered, “…I can’t take it. I have no strength left….”

“You seem to be straining plenty hard against your restraints right now,” I pointed out.

“But, Aman Allahım! My eyes?! My clit?! MY BREASTS AND NIPPLES???!!! YOU JUST TOOK A LOT OF TIME TO TREAT THEM!!! WHY???!!!”

Zarina had a point and I was happy to see she made the connection. So I paused my calm, and probably sociopathic, explainer:

“I wasn’t lying when I said I care about the long-term health and mental well-being of my slaves,” I said in a more jocular tone and tried to joke, “I don’t think I’m actually bi-polar or anything either.”

Zarina did not seem to react to my levity or colloquial voice, and who could blame her?

I switched back to my expository demeanor: “But you are right to notice that it does not make any sense to waste all the effort I just went through to treat the wounds on your breasts. Torturing them all over again could lead to permanent damage and a potentially life-threatening emergency. If nothing else, you’re beauty is recovering, so why risk that?”

Zarina held her breath for a second. That I was agreeing with her logic seemed to stop her panic, but she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She knew there was always another shoe to drop.

I kept her waiting with baited breath for several moments, then revealed my scheme:

“So I’m going to give you the chance to reduce the targets on your body: for every time that you make me cum, I will not test the capsaicin on a part of your body. I will skip your body parts in order, again: ears, nose, eyes, mouth, breasts, inside your asshole and the rim, and finally’s let’s count as one the whole vagina from your pussy lips and clitoris down to your urethra hole and cervix. So if you can make me cum 7 times before sunset, you will avoid punishment entirely.”

“Wait, so what time is sunset? How much time do I have? You know I have no way of keeping track of time down here.”

Zarina clearly hated the idea, but she was listening now.

“Nuh-uh. Not going to take away the suspense. I’ll will say that I’m not setting you up purposely to fail just so that I have an excuse to torture you. Hopefully you can believe that I wouldn’t need to do that. So, again, you should trust that I’ll keep my word. I also don’t think this is an unrealistic goal given your sexual charms and the fact that I haven’t fucked you for the past couple of days.”

“But my breasts are still third to last! If I can’t make you cum 5 times by the deadline then you’re going to destroy them with these new cursed spicy drops!”

“Well that’s to give you some motivation. But if indeed you cannot save your tits by sunset, then I will promise to only apply the capsaicin to the skin of your breasts where it does not appear to be damaged. For example, your nipples looked relatively intact, with only a couple of small blisters. Also the underside your breasts, where the skin was scrunched up and not as exposed when you pressed against the base of the tray.”

I could see the resentment seething out of Zarina’s every facial feature. After a deep breath it looked like she moved on and seemed to focus on her mission at hand: 

“Not that you need my permission, but let’s get this started. Do I have to pleasure you while my arms and legs are tied down the whole time?”

This was the first thing Zarina said in a normal voice since I carried her into the room. I detected a hint of mockery in her tone, but I kind of liked what it meant. She was my sex slave and knew the clock was ticking down again.

“No. It’s always more enjoyable for me when you can move freely. And that of course betters your chance of success.”

“Wow, thanks,” Zarina said, truly being sarcastic now.

I couldn’t punish her for such a natural reaction.