Email:
Lespion@msn.com
Chapter
21 Rope
Burns
Larra had been gone for
hours. Melissa sweated in her
prison cage, both from the tropical heat and
fear. Fear for both herself and
Larra. The waiting was
terrible. If only she knew what
was happening. She could hear
a good deal of shouting and cheering from the centre of the
city. Somehow she knew that the
noise was linked to Larra. The
cheering and shouting went on for over an
hour. She supposed that was a
good thing. Then suddenly it
died down. Melissa’s stomach
went cold. She hardly dared think
about what might have happened to her companion at the hands of these cruel
warrior women.
Another hour went by. Melissa
became more and more apprehensive.
The longer Larra was away, the more she feared for her
safety.
Suddenly a commotion below her startled Melissa
out of her morbid thoughts.
A number of guards had entered the compound below
her. Within seconds her cage
was being lowered to the ground.
She was hauled out of the cage and bound in that same way that Larra
had been. Then, under heavy escort
she was herded through the maze that passed for streets in the
Suruani city.
After about fifteen minutes of marching she found herself standing
before a large building. Melissa
remembered it from before. It
was the royal palace. She and
Larra had been brought there after being captured by the
Suruani patrol.
Melissa and her escort marched through the heavily guarded palace door, but
this time she was not taken to the main audience chamber, but to a small
side room. There she found Queen
Takla seated upon a small throne at the far side
of the room. Melissa was marched
to the centre of the room and forced to kneel before the
queen. Defiantly, the girl refused
to bow her head and instead looked the dark-skinned queen in the
eyes. Seemingly unconcerned,
the queen actually smiled at her.
But it was a smile that made Melissa
shiver.
She looked about her. The room
was strangely bare of furniture except for the throne that the queen sat
on, and an odd wooden structure in the centre of the
room. More than anything else
it resembled a sturdily built hitching post, consisting of two upright posts
connected by a heavy wooden beam.
Melissa also noticed that there were a number of hooks fastened to
the ceiling beams. She suddenly
had a cold feeling in her gut.
The queen motioned with her hand and Melissa was hauled over to the horizontal
beam. Held by several women,
she was helpless to resist. The
tether was removed from between her legs, and she was hoisted into the
air. She was deposited on top
of the beam facing the queen, and then two women seized each of her legs
and forced them apart so that she was sitting on the beam with her legs spread
along its length, like some ballerina doing the
splits.
Melissa felt as if her hips were being dislocated and she almost cried out
at the rough treatment. But it
was to become much worse. Each
of her ankles was tied to the beam, preventing her from changing
position. Then additional ropes
were added at mid-calf; just above her knees; at mid-thigh; and finally where
her legs joined her body. The
rope the women were using was deliberately coarse, and it cut into
Melissa’s soft flesh.
Melissa gritted her teeth. Beads
of sweat stood out on her forehead.
Already she was in considerable pain, and her tormentors hadn’t
really done anything to her yet.
The position she was in was most unnatural and her hip joints burned
in agony. She tried to control
her breathing the way Larra had taught
her. Above all she had to remain
calm. Many tribal cultures respected
bravery. If she could bear up
under what they were doing to her, them maybe there might be a way out of
her desperate plight.
One of her torturers, as Melissa had come to think of them, looped a rope
through the hook in the ceiling above
her. She then tied the rope to
the lashings securing her wrists.
Eyes wide, Melissa followed the woman’s every
move. She took a deep
breath. She knew that this was
going to be painful.
To her surprise, however, nothing
happened. She had expected the
woman to haul on the rope, forcing her bound wrists toward the ceiling, but
instead, she merely placed a slight bit of tension on it, allowing Melissa
to keep her hands behind her backside.
For a few seconds she was puzzled.
If they were going to torture her, then pulling her arms out of their
sockets would have been the obvious thing to
do. Then she felt the tension
on the rope increase slightly.
Now it required a bit more of her strength to hold her arms in
place. Turning her head as far
as she could, Melissa tried to look behind her to see what the woman was
up to. What she saw sent a shuddered
through her.
The woman was not even holding onto the
rope. Instead she had looped
it through another hook in the ceiling and had placed an iron weight on it
to keep it taut. Even as Melissa
watched she added another weight.
The tension on her wrists
increased. With a feeling of
utter despair Melissa realized that it was only a matter of time until the
weight became so great that her shoulders would be
dislocated. But once again she
was surprised. The woman stopped
what she was doing and moved around in front of
her.
Still in considerable pain from the position of her legs, Melissa was relieved
but puzzled. What was the woman
up to? Then it came to
her. The reality was much crueler
than she had realized. Of course
the woman could have kept on adding weights until Melissa was screaming in
pain. But that would have resulted
in a relatively quick form of torture.
What she had set Melissa up for was a prolonged and very painful
experience. Melissa would be
forced to fight against the weight continually to avoid having her arms pulled
up to an impossibly painful angle.
Her captors would enjoy the spectacle of watching her struggle against
the unending and all-conquering force of gravity as she fought to preserve
herself. It would be so much
more enjoyable than simply wrenching Melissa’s arms upward in one quick
pull. The torture would be slow
and increasingly painful. And
it would be a torture that Melissa would try to
control. But slowly she would
fail. And as she failed her struggles
would become more and more frantic and her cries for mercy more and more
strident. The beads of sweat
on Melissa’s forehead became rivulets trickling down her face and dripping
onto her body and the floor.
Queen Takla
smiled. The young demon was
smart. It had already realized
its peril and was reacting as expected.
Stepping down from her throne she approached the
demon. The young white woman
was clearly suffering. Her chest
rose and fell and her large round breasts
quivered. Gently the dark queen
stretched out her hand and caressed the demon’s finely turned
ankle.
Takla marveled at the size of the female
demon. She had never seen any
woman that tall. Up close she
was even more impressive.
Strangely, she found herself wondering what it would be like if she
took the demon to bed. As queen
of the Suruani she had to be a virgin, but that
did not mean she could not indulge in sexual pleasure with members of her
own sex provided that no penetration took
place. And
Takla had taken ample advantage of
that. She stroked her hand up
the demon’s calf to the soft rounded curve of her thigh, her fingers
lingering on the coarse ropes that bound the leg tightly in place on the
beam.
She smiled again, the cruel curve of her lips momentarily distorting her
beauty. Perhaps the brown-haired
beauty was not a demon after all.
What if she was but a woman, and a woman to be
enjoyed? It might be fun to find
out how she responded to pleasure as well as
pain.
Melissa glared defiantly into the dark queen’s
eyes. She might be tortured and
helpless, but she would fight to the end before she ever gave
in. Then she
gasped. The Amazon queen was
caressing her most intimate place.
The combination of pain coupled with the sensation of pleasure as
the queen’s slender fingers slipped within her were almost more than
Melissa could bear. Her already
rapid breathing quickened and she arched her back as the probing fingers
slipped more deeply within
her.
Takla stepped back.
She was pleased at the way the demon had
responded. She was much more
like a woman than a demon. But
it was too soon. She wanted the
girl to suffer a bit more first.
Then the pleasure that came after would be that much more
enjoyable.
Melissa fought against the increasing upward pressure on her
arms. Her well defined musculature
gleamed with perspiration. She
tried to keep her features impassive.
She knew that she was an object on display for the enjoyment of the
dark queen and wanted to give the Amazon ruler as little pleasure as
possible. But she also knew that
she had betrayed herself when the queen’s skilled fingers had parted
her vulva. She should have responded
with shock and horror, but instead had almost welcomed the queen’s soft
touch. She remembered how she
had responded when Featherstone had raped
her. It was much the
same. Was she some sort of sordid
slut? Was her relationship with
Larra no more than just an offshoot of her own sexual
depravity? No, that could not
be. That time she had shared
with Larra had been much more than a sexual
adventure. There had been love
there, and mutual respect.
She was jolted back to reality. Her
torturers were only just starting on her.
The woman who had tied the weights to her wrists was back holding
another length of coarse rope.
Melissa noted that this rope was much thinner than those that bound
her legs. The queen was back
on her throne, watching the proceedings with great
interest.
“No,” Melissa thought, “not
that!” The woman with the
rope had lifted her left breast and was hefting it almost as if she was trying
to guess its weight. Melissa
tried to hold herself erect as if what was happening to her did not matter,
but she winced as the rope encircled her breast and was pulled
tight. The rope cut deep into
her tender quivering flesh causing her breast to bulge
out. She winced again, forcing
down a whimper as her right breast was given the same
treatment. But her tormentor
was not finished yet.
The Amazon produced a short sturdy stick and twisted it through the rope
binding her left breast. Then
slowly and deliberately, she began to turn the stick, using it as a lever
to tighten the rough cords.
Melissa’s breast turned bright red and then purple as the cruel
cords cut into it. The pain was
so intense that she completely forgot about the torture her arms and legs
were enduring. In a few seconds
Melissa’s left breast resembled a
balloon. A low moan escaped her
lips. She knew that she
couldn’t take much more pain.
Her torturer tied off the stick leaving Melissa’s left globe horribly
swollen and distorted and turned to her right
breast. The process was
repeated. Tears of pain flooded
from Melissa’s eyes. Her
beautiful breasts were now so hideously disfigured that she wondered if they
would ever return to normal.
Takla grinned with delight as she saw the demon’s
distress. She was ready for the
next step. Her warriors needed
no instruction; they had done this many times
before. She watched as her chief
torturer applied the final rope to her victim.
Melissa hurt so badly that she was sure nothing could get much
worse. She was
wrong. She had forgotten about
her most sensitive area. But
her torturer soon reminded her of it.
The woman was holding a heavier rope this time; a ten foot length
of cord about the thickness of two of her
fingers. While Melissa
struggled to keep from screaming in pain this rope was tied across her shoulder
blades and then brought forward under her armpits and above her
breasts. Then it was tied as
tightly as the torturer could pull it.
Melissa felt as if the woman was trying to force the breath from her
body.
When she was finished tightening the rope, there was still about a six foot
length dangling between Melissa’s swollen
breasts. The torturer took this
and pulled it between her thighs, making sure that it cut deep into the slit
between her legs. Then she circled
behind and pulled the rope up between Melissa’s tight
buttocks. Straining every muscle
the dark-skinned torturer pulled the rope tight, forcing it deep into
Melissa’s nether regions.
Then, still holding it tight, she tied the loose end to the rope
encircling Melissa’s upper chest.
Melissa screamed as the rope cut into
her. Even the slightest movement
of her body caused the coarse fibres to chaff and cut her tender
flesh. She was in absolute
agony. Everything that had been
done to her seemed to come together.
The agony of her splayed legs; the brutal pain of the weight forcing
her shoulders out of joint; the torment of her bound breasts; and finally
the horrible torture of the rope cutting into her vulva and anus all came
together in a frightening crescendo of
pain. She could no longer hold
back her suffering. She screamed
so loudly that she feared damage to her vocal cords, but was unable to stop
herself. Her body shook with
the anguish of her ordeal.
Queen Takla watched the satisfying spectacle of
the demon’s painful humiliation.
For awhile she reveled in the screams of her
victim. From time to time the
demon stopped screaming in order to spout some confused gibberish at
her. She knew that the demon
was begging for mercy and that made the spectacle all the more
enjoyable. Finally, however,
she decided to put an end to the frightful
noise. She nodded to the head
torturer.
Melissa was almost incoherent as she begged for
mercy. She did not even realize
that she was screaming out in English, a language that no
Suruani could
understand. And suddenly she
could not even do this. As she
opened her mouth wide to scream one more time a thick wooden dowel was forced
into her mouth. Her shrieks subsided
to muffled
howls. In her torment she began
to struggle wildly, not realizing that she was only causing herself greater
pain and exhausting herself uselessly.
But Melissa was beyond reason.
She only knew that her entire body was racked with
pain. Her battle went on for
several minutes until she finally collapsed, too exhausted to
continue.
Now only muffled whimpers came from her panting trembling
form. It was time for the piece
de resistance.
Takla rose from her
throne. In her hand she held
two small pointed pieces of bone, each about two inches long and eighth of
an inch wide. She moved directly
in front of the whimpering demon where she was sure that the agonized girl
could clearly see her. For a
brief instant her eyes and those of the demon
met. A flicker of recognition
flashed through the demon’s eyes.
In her agony and exhaustion, Melissa hardly realized what was happening around
her, but the presence of the queen in front of her caught her
attention. Brief thoughts flickered
through her mind. The queen was
one of the most beautiful women Melissa had ever
seen. How could someone so beautiful
be so cruel? Then she grunted
as another wave of pain roared through her
body. Strangely, the bar gag
helped. It gave her something
to bite down on. Without it she
might have bitten off her tongue.
She tried to force the pain into the back of her
mind. Somehow, after her initial
reaction to the torture, the pain seemed less
severe. Perhaps she was just
too exhausted to care.
She forced herself to meet the queen’s steady
gaze. Beaten as she was, and
covered with sweat, she still had the courage to look her tormentor in the
eye.
Takla reached toward her and touched her
cheek. As before the queen’s
fingers were like a gentle caress.
Slowly the queen’s fingertips stroked her cheek, and then descended
to her jaw line and down to the throbbing vein in Melissa’s
throat. It was almost like being
touched by a lover.
Takla’s fingers now brushed gently over
Melissa’ collarbone, just above her horribly swollen
breasts.
Melissa’s body arched as another wave of pain surged through
her. Trembling, she tried to
hold her body steady. Only in
that way could she alleviate the terrible agony of the ropes that held her
body in such an unnatural position.
Melissa whimpered through her gag as the queen lifted her engorged left
breast. The normally soft flesh
was stretched so tight Melissa feared it would
burst. Then she saw the
sharp pieces of bone in the queen’s other
hand. She tried to scream her
protest, but the gag muffled her cries.
Then pain surged through the tips of her breast as the queen thrust
the needle sharp point through the base of her
nipple. Swollen with blood from
their cruel bondage, a jet of the red fluid shot from Melissa’s breast
as she was pierced. Unable to
control herself, Melissa jerked her body against the terrible new
pain. The action sent waves of
pain surging through the other afflicted areas of her
body. She screamed under the
gag this time loudly enough that the queen actually took a backward
step. But
Takla was not quite
finished. She still had the other
bone needle.
Reaching out, she pinched the nipple of Melissa’s right breast between
her thumb and forefinger, and then while the demon screamed in agony thrust
it through the soft flesh. Another
fountain of blood erupted from the pierced
nipple. Melissa writhed in the
most excruciating agony, the pain reviving her hopeless struggle against
her bondage and
torture.
Takla returned to her
throne. Fascinated she watched
the demon struggle like a fly caught in
treacle. Blood poured from the
twin mounds of her breasts and coated the front of her body like thick red
paint. How long would the demon
last this time? She was impressed by the demon’s
strength. She had not expected
her to last this long. As she
watched the demon’s agonized thrashing, Takla
could still not help noticing how beautiful she
was. Even degraded and exhausted
as she was, the beautiful lines of the demon’s supple body could not
be disguised.
Takla felt the same carnal desire arising
in her that she had felt before.
Unconsciously, her hand went to the coal black nipple of her own breast
and she rubbed it gently. Almost
instantly it became erect. She
suppressed an unseemly moan of desire.
Motioning to her chief torturer she beckoned her
closer.
“Leave her like this for a few hours and then see that she is
healed. After
that bathe her and bring her to
me.” She rose and walked
to the door of the torture chamber.
Just before exiting she stopped and
turned. “Oh yes,” she
said as if in an afterthought.
“See to the violet-eyed demon as
well. I want her healthy
also. Then bring her to the palace
and make her secure. I will see
to her later.”
Finished Takla left the
room. As her litter bearers carried
her away, she lay back on the soft cushions and closed her
eyes. It had been a busy
day. But one that was most
rewarding. Her eyes opened again,
as if she could better review the torment she had just
witnessed.
“Yes,” she thought, “most
rewarding.” The demons had
provided excellent entertainment.
And in a few days might provide even more interesting
diversions. She closed her eyes
again. She needed her
rest.
PREVIOUS
CHAPTER WIZARD'S
LAIR MAIN PAGE
L'ESPION'S
STORY
PAGE