Bondage / BDSM

Diane – Part 2 – The Dungeon

Diane was deeply tired, but almost too frightened to notice. It was nearly four AM, more than nine hours since her abduction and six hours since she was delivered to this cage. The cage was tall and narrow, with just room enough for her to stand.

Diane was deeply tired, but almost too frightened to notice. It was nearly four AM, more than nine hours since her abduction and six hours since she was delivered to this cage. The cage was tall and narrow, with just room enough for her to stand.

The short, sharp spikes on the bars discouraged leaning against them, so all her weight had been on her feet the whole time. The leash fastened to the roof of the cage so that it was taut about her neck made it unadvisable to remove her shoes, and her feet hurt, as had her hands since the release of the elbow cinch had sent blood back into her lower arms.

She was still handcuffed and shackled, but the hood and gag had been removed before she was locked in the cage. Her pleas to know what was happening to her and what had happened to her loved ones were ignored, and after locking her in her captors left without acknowledging her existence.

She could just barely turn around in her cage, and all that she saw made it seem that she was in a nightmare from which she couldn’t awake. The cage stood near the center of a large room, positioned so it’s occupant had a clear view of all the instruments, an array of devices for restraint, , rape, plus some whose functions Diane couldn’t imagine and didn’t want to know.

All the metal and leather in the room was clean and shining, but there were abundant blood stains on the wooden tables and crosses, the stone floors and wall, and the lengths of rope placed on hooks for easy access. Not that she needed the stains to know what manner of events happened here, for the most fearful object in the room, in a corner that she hadn’t seen when she first looked around but now found herself unable to look away from, lay on a low bench.

What had once been a woman lay on her back on the bench, her wrists cuffed behind her so they pushed into her kidneys.

Below the neck, there was no part of her body that was not bruised, burned, or cut, but her untouched face was the most dreadful sight, with it’s bulging eyes and tongue and purple color. Leather cords had been tied around the bench at the point of her neck, and had constricted until they buried themselves in her throat.

The shearing sound of metal on metal alerted her to the opening of a door. Though there were several closed doors leading out of the room, the one she had come in was, she suspected, the only way out, as like most of the doors she had passed through it was doubled.

The door leading out was a solid door, and ten feet into the room were bars and a locked cell door. Between the two doors stood three men and a woman. Two of the men were muscular brutes like the ones who had abducted her. The woman was about 5’4″ but stood much taller in her spike heeled boots, thirtyish, with wavy red hair halfway down her back and an athletic physique well displayed by a snug leather bodysuit.

The man they followed was a short, thin, balding man of middle years. As the outer door clanged shut, he pressed a sequence of keys on a remote control device he carried and the inner door slid open to admit the group, then slid shut and locked behind them. The group approached Diane with the older man in the lead, the woman just behind him to his right, and the thugs trailing them both.

“Where are my children ?”, Diane implored as they reached her. The leader silently glanced at the redhead, who slipped a tubular object from a special pocket on her right pants leg, stepped up to the cage, and shoved it through the bars, pressing it against Diane’s side, then looked into her eyes and quietly said “Never speak unless ordered to, or in answer to a direct question”, and pressed a button.

“AAHHHH” screamed Diane as electric current surged into her and threw her against the bars of the cage. As she was still wearing her jacket from work, the spikes rent her clothes but didn’t pierce her skin. While Diane stood gasping and trembling, she smiled and said, “That was on low, dear”, and stepped back.

“I trust that faux pas won’t be repeated again, Mrs. Scott. Protocol is observed carefully here, and breaches are punished severely. A slave can never plead ignorance as an excuse – or anything else, as no excuses are ever permitted. However, I will now let you know some of the rules – only some, as we like to leave room for the occasional surprise.

I will do so not in an effort to save you pain, but only to keep you from getting too badly damaged before we get a chance to devise an appropriate program for you”.

“You do not need to know who we are, beyond that I am ‘Master’; several women, easily identified by their mode of dress, are ‘Mistress’, and everyone else is ‘Sir’, ‘Madam’, or ‘Slave’. Beyond that, no names are used, and you will never hear yours again after I finish speaking. You are not to speak unless you are ordered to speak, or are asked a direct question which cannot be answered with head movements. We do allow some latitude for you to audibilize while under torture.

The standing rule – which anyone but a slave can change for any particular session at their discretion – is that inarticulate ejaculations are permitted at lower levels of pain and coherent speech allowed when in extreme pain. The degree of pain you are suffering is a judgement for the inflictor of the pain and there is no appeal. All judgements here are final, and no excuse, including the impossibility of complying with an order, is ever accepted. Failure is always punished, severely. Do not expect any justice or fairness, there is none here, and do not hope for any compassion or mercy, for a slave will receive none. You are here for my pleasure and that of my guests, and when we are not using you, access to you is a fringe benefit of my employees.

The uses to which you will be put will vary but they will often involve pain and degradation, more than you can imagine now. There is no interest in your pleasure – well, that’s not really true. Sometimes you will be required to fake orgasms, but if we should ever observe you experiencing any pleasure we will put a stop to it. Should you survive the training phase and we decide to keep you, your clitoris will be removed to minimize the chance that you will ever feel any sexual pleasure again. The key rule is that you will immediately and completely obey every order you receive, no matter what. You may wonder why you should obey orders that will cause you unimaginable agony.

The reason is twofold: first, because you will eventually do whatever we want you to, and the punishments for hesitation, refusal or resistance will be added to the original program; second, because no matter how terrible something seems there will always be something worse. We deliberately seek to make your existence confusing, to deprive you of any ability to predict our treatment of you, and therefore to deprive you of any shred of control over your life, but there is this one unwavering absolute in your existence: obedience will always be preferable to resistance.

You will die in this place. When you do, your corpse will be abused and then destroyed, so no one outside our group will ever know what became of you. Though it may interest you to know that we have priests among our number, you will receive no sacraments in the balance of your life, and dying with unconfessed sins your soul will, of course, go to Hell, which may be the only place harder to leave than our establishment. However, you will not need to abandon all hope when you enter Hell, as you will by then have realized that your situation is completely hopeless.

There have been many men and women brought here over a period of many years and no one has ever left, except as part of bricks made partly from a mixture of acidic solutions and an alkali powder. Escape is quite impossible, as the fragment of our security that you were permitted to see should show you; there is much more you did not see, and for you there is no way out of this secular hell.

We maintain a low profile, keep – by whatever means necessary – great secrecy, and have acquired the protection of local law enforcement authorities, so the chance of rescue is infinitesimal; should there ever be a chance of a search all the captives will be killed and their bodies destroyed before anyone can reach the dungeons.

Release is of course quite unthinkable, as it could not be risked even if we wished to, and we have never wished to. Some have sought to obtain their freedom or reduce their suffering by seducing us, or by inducing compassion for themselves. This has never succeeded. You will not be able to move anyone to help you. In all of our eyes you ceased to be a human being when you were captured, and therefore you have no rights or dignity, and no worth beyond the pleasure you give us. In essence, Diane Scott died a few hours ago, and what stands before me now is no more than an organic toy.

For what’s it’s worth, we do not blame you or hate you, and your presence here is merely your misfortune, not the penalty of some judgement upon you. The only judgement made was that a very pretty, intelligent, healthy, and wholesome woman, sexually compliant but with virtually no sex drive – yes, we do know a lot about you – with a good Catholic upbringing, high morals, a solid fifteen year marriage, and three children that she adores, would be well suited to the varieties of pleasure featured here.”

“What about my -AAARRGHH !”

“That was medium.”

“Your children and your mother have been secured at another location. She will be permitted to care for them, and they will all be quite comfortable so long as you perform. Unlike you they have no idea where they are and have not seen and will never see any faces.

They can be released with no danger to us, and they will be when you finish your training, if you have not, by your failures, killed them by then. Some women can never be turned into good slaves. We have uses for such women, as you can see”, said the Master, gesturing towards the bench. “She was quite entertaining while she lasted, which was only a few weeks. A slave may survive for several years – or may die for our amusement at any time – but victims never last long. The great majority of the people brought here prove useful only as victims and must be replaced in a short time.

During training we will establish whether you will make a good slave. We would prefer not to have to haphazardly damage by punishment a body on which we wish to conduct controlled programs of torture. This is where you children will be useful. Each act of resistance will bring death to one of them. Any time you do not perform up to expectations one of them will be severely punished “.

“Please, no”, Diane sobbed. “I’ll do AARRGHHH ! – IEEEE – OOOO – PLEASE STOP – OOHHHH !”

“I think, Mistress, that her sides aren’t responsive enough any longer. Please apply some current to her right breast”.

“AAAAAAAAAOOOOOOO-“

“She’s passed out”.

“Gentlemen, take her out of there before she strangles” .

“Her pain tolerance isn’t much”.

“Or it may be that her breasts are very sensitive. In any event, I’m sure you can improve that, Mistress. Men, prop her up against that post and tie her to it. Mistress, wake her”.

As the mistress pressed a tube of smelling salts to Diane’s nose, Diane came gasping and coughing to consciousness. The mistress shook Diane’s head and asked “Do you know where you are ?” Diane started to speak but the mistress placed a finger across Diane’s lips. “Just move your head”, she commanded. “You know where you are ?” Diane nodded. “Will you speak again without orders ?” Diane shook her head. “She’s ready, Master”.

” ‘You’ll do’ WHAT, Diane ? It should have been obvious that you can’t bargain with us.

You’ll do whatever we want when we want, and you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say about it. We control you completely, and you can control nothing, therefore you can offer nothing. That should be obvious. For a woman reported to be quite bright, you aren’t learning very well”, the master said. “Presumably that reflects concern for your mother and children overwhelming your sense. If you continue to feel such concern for them, they should come through their captivity unharmed. When we have completed an assessment of you, any of them that survive will be dumped alive at a safe location and help summoned. This will be true regardless of what the decision about you might be.

Even if we decide to execute you at that time, the surviving hostages will be freed. However, should you commit a violation sufficient to provoke your execution – which, I should mention, doesn’t need be a very significant violation – before the assessment is finished, then all the hostages will be killed. You also should also know that should you commit suicide or suffer a self-inflicted injury that mars your looks or diminishes your ability to perform your duties to such a degree that we feel it’s not worthwhile to keep you alive, the hostages will be killed.

The assessment usually takes between two and six weeks. During it your obedience, your responsiveness to and capacity for withstanding pain, and your ability to give pleasure, will be trained and tested. You will also be degraded and humiliated, partly to break your spirit but primarily so that when we are done with you there will be very few things that anyone can imagine to do to, or ask of, you that you will find too revolting to handle. But we have some imaginative people coming through here, and there will always be someone coming up with something to sicken even the most hardened slaves.

“You may now be wondering if you can trust me. Since you’re a smart woman, the answer is obvious: you can make no other choice. If I am lying, your loved ones will be killed no matter what. If I’m telling the truth, then they have a chance at life. We all must choose what it is we believe. You must choose to believe me, and behave accordingly.”

“Sir,” the master said to one of the men, “call the hostage location and get her mother. Do be sure to use a scrambled signal and to alter voices on this end”. A few moments later he had the connection. “You will not speak, Diane, not a sound”, the master ordered.

“Mrs. Ridenour, please say hello to your daughter”.

“DIANE! ARE YOU THERE, DIANE ? WHAT’S HAPPENING ? THEY TOOK

THE BOYS AND ME AND -“

“That should be sufficient to convince you they are alive and we have them.

From now on, you will simply have to have faith that they continue to survive.”

What happened to Tom ?, Diane wondered. She longed to ask if he were alright, but was too afraid of the electric prod to dare.

“You’ve had a rather trying day, Mrs. Scott, so we’ll put you to bed after we finish the last element of your orientation. Gentlemen, take off all the restraints. I believe we can trust her to restrain herself”. The ropes around Diane’s legs and chest pinning her to the post were removed, then her wrists and ankles were unchained.

“Please walk to those doors to your left, Mrs. Scott. Sir, please open them and turn on the equipment.” Diane stepped into a room filled with audiovisual equipment. “Your first duty as a slave will be to remove, yourself, and before the video camera, the items that you wore as a free person. I offer you the option of immediate execution – we’ll find some exquisitely painful death for you – under the terms previously discussed. No ? I didn’t think so. There’s a mark on the floor where you should stand. The camera is on. Go to your mark, and remove everything, now”.

Diane gingerly stepped into a brightly lit spot between several video cameras. The bright lights trained on her cut off the rest of the room to her, and for a moment she stood, trembling despite the heat, trying to rub some feeling back into her numb hands. Then she heard a voice say “get the hostage location back on the line”. “NO!”, Diane screamed, and whipped off her badly torn jacket and threw it to the floor.

She immediately unbuckled the wide black leather belt and let it drop, and then, slowly, as she tried to repress a sob, she pulled her snug yellow top over her head and dropped it. As she unzipped her black skirt, the sob began to break through her defenses and her high cheekbones gleamed from the bright lights reflecting off her flowing tears. As her skirt slid to the floor the tears began sliding off her face and pushed her slip down the sob was rising in her throat. “Step out of your clothes and push them away” came from somewhere beyond the lights, and as she did so the sob came full throated and she turned from the camera and brought her hands towards her face. “YOU WILL STAND UP STRAIGHT, KEEP YOUR HANDS AT YOUR SIDES, AND FACE THE CAMERA, NOW”, came as a roar from the darkness.

Diane faced the camera as the cumulative terror and frustration and sudden sense of shame and despair overwhelmed her, causing seismic sobs to surge from her diaphragm and through her throat while a sea of tears poured from her eyes and the impassive camera recorded it all. For several minutes she struggled to suppress the racking sobs, but made no further attempt to hide them from the camera or those people beyond the light who watched in silent rapture, drinking in the intoxicant of Diane Scott’s despair.

When at last she had regained control, a woman’s voice, it’s practiced tone of boredom belying its owner’s excitement, said “No one told you to stop”. Diane reached behind her back and undid her bra and slipped it off; her creamy white breasts, which had fed three children through her prominent nipples, sagged somewhat but were still a rousing sight. A somewhat raspy “Continue” was heard, and Diane stepped out of her high heels and pulled her pantyhose down her slim hips and firm buns and off her slender legs and stood naked and lovely in the cruel bright light which silently confirmed that she was a natural blonde.

“You aren’t done yet” the master said. Diane looked quizzically in the direction of the sound and he prompted “your jewelry”. She calmly removed the blue plastic ornaments from her pierced ears and dropped her watch to the ground but her face began to twist as she saw her last pieces. “Get the rings, Mistress”, she heard, and a basket on a pole appeared before Diane, allowing the mistress to stay out of camera range. “Give them up, now”, she ordered, and Diane began to cry softly as she twisted her wedding and engagement rings off her finger and dropped them in the basket and watched them withdrawn from her sight.

The master allowed the camera to record a little longer, capturing the sad, soft tears that would complement her earlier violent sobbing, the said “Video off. Mistress, give her a cloth. Slave, clean up your face. OK, sir, let’s get some photos. You, sir, gather up her clothes and burn them, all but the shoes. Slave, put your shoes back on. OK, now let’s get the standard shots: eyes forward, eyes down, hands clasped behind her head, both profiles, looking back over her shoulder, sitting, kneeling, on all fours from all angles, and laying down with widely spread legs.

You see, slave, we’ll keep these photos and your quite moving videotape here in our archives, which is in a room near the tanks which store the acid we use to destroy bodies. If a search is ever imminent, we’ll put you slaves in the archive and flood it with acid – spread your legs wider, you’ve got no dignity to preserve – which will obliterate all the evidence of any individual persons having been here. What a tragic loss that will be – the pictures, of course, not you organic pleasure devices.

In addition to the archives, the shots we’re taking now will be copied on 48 hour film – the picture disappears in 48 hours, just in case someone is so careless as to not burn it – and delivered by overnight courier to some special friends so they’ll know we have a fresh new toy to play with; I expect you’ll be meeting some of them soon. Finished ? Good. OK, slave – you’ve probably noticed that you lost your name when you lost your clothes; don’t you ever dare utter it, even when you think you’re alone – give your shoes to the gentleman for destruction – we have lots of pretty footwear for you – and follow me.”

Diane meekly followed the Master and one guard to another room off the main dungeon. As she did, she tried to cover as much of her nudity as she could with her hands, prompting an order that she clasp her hands behind her head and not move them again until she was ordered to do so. In the room she found the mistress waiting with white-hot torch. Her rings were in a metal tray.

“We could hardly fail to notice how much they meant to you. Now watch carefully. Go ahead, Mistress”. With that, the mistress looked gleefully at Diane, then applied the torch to Diane’s wedding and engagement rings, completely melting then boiling the gold very quickly, and then slowly heating the diamond until at last it crumbled to dust.

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