Hela... is Ch. 02 - Pain

When he awoke he found himself naked in the chair with his calves roped to the legs and his forearms roped to the arms. I'd fastened a collar around his neck and connected the chain to the rear of the chair's back, pulling his head backwards into an uncomfortable position.

His initial reaction was to call me a bitch and attempt to spit in my face. He missed, but I didn't. I slapped him across the face, hard, followed by backhanding him. The rings sliced into his cheek and he screamed as the blood ran down his face.

"Who the fuck are you?" he slurred. "Why're you doing this to me?"

I placed my foot on his cock and ground a spiked heel into his balls. Tears ran down his face as he asked for a reason. His voice, now quieter, had that pleading tone, coupled with alcohol, that comes from someone who knows they are at the other person's mercy. Not that there would be any mercy from me!

"You owe a lot of money to my clients. I don't know how much and I don't care. The men you deal with are no longer prepared to accept your promises to repay them and I'm sure you must know they aren't men to annoy. They requested my help and, because I'm good at what I do, are paying me very well for my services. My instructions are to dispose of you in any manner I think fit. After which they'll take over your businesses, and find the stash you have undoubtedly hidden away."

His fear hung in the air like storm clouds over a polished glass lake.

I reached inside my goody bag, produced a black latex hood, and slipping it over his head, zipped it up the back, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. A set of headphones which gave off a low, buzzing sound covered his ears. I buckled on the detachable eye mask and zipped his mouth, leaving him unable to see, hear or speak.

I removed my hood, took my earbuds from my goody bag, plugged into my smartphone and settled back to listen to some music. He struggled against his bonds but, after a few minutes, gave up. Eventually his head sank towards his chest. After an hour, knowing he had lost all sense of time, I decided to continue his discomfort.

After putting my earbuds and player away, and replacing my disguise, I unbuckled his eye mask, removed his headphones, and unzipped his mouth. His eyes blinked rapidly, readjusting to the light, and looked around for an escape route which wasn't there.Then he appealed to what he thought was one of my vices. Greed.

"Whatever you're being paid I'll pay double. I'll leave town. I'll leave the country. I'm sure you're clever enough to make up a good reason why there's no body." The shock of the situation was sobering him up fast and his desperate pleading was amusing to hear. I always liked it when a target began behaving like that without knowing my nasty side was in full flow. It may be business but there's no reason why, on some occasions, I shouldn't enjoy it.

"How can you pay me double when you don't know how much I'm getting paid?" I asked him, scornfully. "Where's the money going to come from? You've no money otherwise you'd have paid your debts."

"I've got money stashed away," he babbled. "It's hidden in my house. Under the floor in the kitchen. Release me and I'll get it for you." His eyes watered as he desperately sought for some way out.

I laughed at him. "You're appealing to my greed? But I'm not greedy, you dumb fuck." It was true. I get paid so much for my services I don't have to be greedy. Although I am guilty of the sins of pride, lust, and wrath.

He screamed at me that he would triple my fee, despite still not knowing how much I was being paid. He apparently didn't realise what an idiot he was, so I told him. I stepped towards him, bent down until we were face to face, eye to eye.

"You are such a stupid guy. You've just told me where your money's hidden, so thank you and I'll pass that information on to my clients. Your brain is about as useful as tits on a bull. But right now I need to be on my way because I want a good night's sleep, which I won't get staying here."

"What about me?" His pitiful pleas had no effect on me. They never do, no matter who's the target. A job's a job.

"I need you sober, so you'll be here undisturbed, to get some rest before we meet again tomorrow."

"So I'm sleeping on that bed?" he said, looking at the soft mattress and sheets.

"No. You're spending the night in those." I indicated the stocks, which were just behind him. He craned his neck and then looked back at me in disbelief. "I won't be able to sleep fastened in those." He sounded so surprised, as if he never expected me to leave him in such discomfort.

"That's your problem, I really need to be going. I'm going to release you from the chair, so you can move to the stocks." I removed all the restraints except for those tying his wrists and ankles.

"I'm going to untie the rope tying your right wrist. You'll then be able to untie the other wrist and your ankles. Then I want you to walk across to the stocks. Don't try to be a smartass. Don't try to attack me. If you do you'll regret it."

You could almost see the workings of his brain as he thought through his attack plan. He must really have been thinking how stupid I must be, to put myself in a position for him to overcome me. He was used, because of his size, to be intimidating to people and must have thought I would be intimidated as well.

I removed the rope tie by pulling the slip knot and quickly moved to sit on the throne. He undid the rest of his bonds, giving the impression of a defeated man, stood up slowly, and then charged towards me, arms outstretched, hands ready to claw my neck. He only took one step. A second later he was lying on the floor, foetal position, clutching his balls, and screaming.

I remained relaxed on the throne, waiting for him to stop screaming, and it was a good two minutes before he was able to turn his head and look towards me, the agony still etched on his face. I lifted my hand and showed him the small black box I was holding. My voice was calm.

"You are stupid! You didn't feel the cock ring because you were too drunk. I fitted it when you were unconscious. I did warn you not to attack me. Any more attempts and I'll zap you again."

I held the control box up so he could see it more clearly. "It's got five levels. I just gave you level three. Next time you'll get four. If you want your balls fried and you castrated then level five is the one."

I leaned forward to emphasise my next words. "You're now going to crawl over to those stocks ready to be fastened in for the night. Any questions?" He shook his head. "Good boy."

I zapped him with a three. When he was able to function again he turned his head towards me. "Why did you do it again? I didn't do anything!"

"Just as a reminder. Now crawl!"

After several attempts he managed to raise himself on to his hands and knees and crawled to the stocks. That's when I zapped him again. His tormented cry echoed round the room, and this time he looked at me with tears running down his face. Not another sound escaped his lips as he reached for the stocks.

"Sit facing me," I said, casually relaxing on the throne, and holding the remote control so that he could see it. "Put your legs into position. Make sure your knees are over the wood. Then lower the middle section and snap the catches."

I sat watching him, with a smile on my lips, as he followed my instructions. Slowly, as he realised there was no point in resistance, he did as he was told. His legs were now held securely with his knees on the opposite side of the timber to his thighs. I sauntered over to him.

"Wrists in the hollows."

He leaned forward, stretching out his arms, and placed his wrists in the curved cutouts.

Without a word, I raised my hand, once again showing him the zapper control. That was all that was needed. His body language showed his acceptance. I lifted the hinged top section of the frame, flipped it across and lowered it into position trapping his wrists, and snapped the catch closed. Just to be sure I padlocked it. I couldn't see how he could escape but no point in taking needless chances.

I didn't blindfold or gag him. He could shout and scream as much as he wanted, no one would hear him, even if they were right outside the barn. Once the lights were turned off the room would be as black as pitch. The only thing he would be able to see would be the devils in his mind. He'd start wondering if I was coming back, let alone when, he'd lose all track of time, his throat would become dry as the booze wore off, and his stomach would rumble. He was going to have an enjoyable night!

Without giving him a second glance, I strode towards the exit, flicked off the lights, and closed the door behind me. He would have a long wait before I would be back. I changed back into my sweater, jeans and sneakers. I couldn't take the chance on my way back to the hotel of meeting a cop. Try being stopped at midnight wearing a catsuit and hooded mask and saying you're on your way to a fancy dress party as Selina Kyle in a dump like Fordham where the main event on the Fourth of July was probably a hula hoop competition.The thought did fly into my mind I could keep the catsuit on, walk into hotel reception, and watch the night manager orgasm down his trouser leg.

As it happened the drive back was uneventful. There was a different clerk from when I'd gone out. I tried not to attract her attention by hurrying as I walked to the elevator, but she was too busy reading the latest copy of some celebrity magazine to even acknowledge me. Young kids nowadays!

Despite eating earlier I was hungry but it was late and although there would likely be somewhere open it would be taking too much of a chance. I might be the only customer and that's when the staff are able to give the cops a good description. So I had to be satisfied with the two packets of chips in my bag. But at least I could raid the fridge for a couple of miniatures of red wine.

I slept like a log. That's not always the case. Sometimes my brain is busy buzzing with the job next day, going through all the possibilities, and trying to work out the answers to all the possible problems, but not this time. This time I had it all worked out. This time there would be no mistakes. Not that I usually had anything go wrong anyway.

*****

The next morning I drove out of town looking for somewhere to eat breakfast. I found a small roadside greasy spoon after about ten miles and stopped there. The parking lot was mud hardened by the sun. Until the next heavy rain. A balancing act as you walked up the bowed and creaking steps to the door which creaked as much as the steps. Cotton curtains from WW1 held together by Mississippi mist. But the tables, the counter and behind, including the cook, were clean. I was hungry and decided to take a chance and ordered the full works. Fortunately the food matched the cook and the counter, not the curtains and the door. Two mugs of steaming coffee. With cream. Why do the movies make it look as though only black coffee is drunk in my beloved country? I decided to take a six pack of Miller Lite, much better than that watery Bud crap.

I was in no hurry to get back to 'the subject' so, when I saw a sign that indicated a lake, I turned off onto a narrow road barely wide enough for two cars to squeeze past each other. After three hundred yards the road dead ended at the lake shore. Looked as if it was used by cars fairly often. Probably by one car with two people. Beautiful view over a calm lake. Not a sight or sound of human life or even birds. I found a smooth rock, just the right size for a seat, and opened up a beer. Time seemed to slow and I could have stayed there longer than I did it was so peaceful.

It was mid-morning when I arrived at the barn. After changing back into Anne Hathaway, I listened. All I could hear was steady breathing. I switched on the lights and, after my eyes had adjusted, saw him. Arms and legs stretched forward, head bent over as if waiting to be guillotined, and still held by the stocks. Taking hold of the ring on top of his hood I yanked his head up pulling off his hood. It took a few seconds for his brain to wake and then he looked up at me with bleary eyes covered in despair. I retrieved a set of ankle shackles from the wall and secured them to his legs.

"I'm going to release you from the stocks. Don't try to run away!" He didn't laugh at my joke. Some people have no sense of humour! I unlocked the padlock, unsnapped the catch, and lifted the top bar.

"Hold your hands out in front of you," I instructed. I fastened metal cuffs, connected by a short chain, to his wrists. He slumped backwards, and I freed his legs. Walking back to the throne I instructed, "Roll onto your stomach and crawl to me."

It seemed to take forever, but finally he came to rest with his head at my feet. I bent down and removed his hood.

"Lick my boots."

His tongue crawled out from between his lips and lapped at the leather. I didn't have him lick them for long it was just to emphasise my control and his submission.

"Roll onto your back," I commanded and, like a good dog, he obeyed. Even though the dungeon appeared clean, there's always a certain amount of dust left, particularly in the air, and with him crawling his body was grimy.

"Are you thirsty? Do you want to drink?" A hoarse yes escaped his lips.

I stood astride his head, with my feet shoulder width apart, and opened the zip that allowed access to my pussy.

"Open your mouth," I commanded.

He quickly followed my instruction and I pissed, with deadly accuracy, directly into his mouth. I hated this guy more than anyone I had ever met. Degrading him like this felt so good. The piss poured out of me so quickly he couldn't swallow it fast enough. He began to gag on it, with it running out of the sides of his mouth. I didn't want him to drown, so I stopped pissing in his mouth and sprayed his face, drenching him so the smell would invade his nostrils. I wanted to degrade and humiliate him because he was special.

I'd brought him something to eat from the café where I'd eaten breakfast. I put the paper plate on the floor by his head, he rolled over and saw his breakfast. Cold buttered grits. Without a word he held the plate steady with his chained hands, and ate the food like a dog. Which was all he was as far as I was concerned although, truth be told, I treat dogs better. I took the empty plate and looked at him. Lumps of grits mixed with drying piss certainly didn't make him look handsome. It was humiliating for him. That was the idea. I wouldn't normally treat a target like this but he was different.

He raised his head, as best he could, and in a voice barely above a whisper pleaded with me. "Kill me now. Please! You're going to kill me anyway. Do it now. Please."

He lay there, naked and bound, a pathetic shell of the man who yesterday had everything he ever wanted. Now it was all gone. I didn't answer him. Instead I drew back my foot, and kicked him in the ribs. A grunt escaped from his lips. Walking round his body I kicked him savagely in his other side, with the same result.

"That should balance the pain," I said, callously. "Roll onto your back."

He rolled over and, placing a foot on his chest, I stepped across his body making sure plenty of weight went through my spiked heel. This time it was a scream, not a grunt. He deserved more.

"I am going to kill you. But not quickly. I don't torture my victims before they die, unless I have to interrogate them, but you are the exception. Unless you are someone like me you can't possibly imagine how it feels to tell someone to do something and, no matter how degrading or humiliating, they do it without hesitation, even when they know they're going to die. Targets in the past have asked who I am. That doesn't matter. It's not important today and it won't be important tomorrow because there's never a tomorrow for them."

Leaving him lying in his filth I went to the wall, lifted off the remote control box and pressed a button. A chain with a hook on the end descended from the ceiling and I connected it to the chain between his wrists. Pressing another button the chain retracted, dragging him across the floor and hauling him by his arms until his knees were bent under him and his ass was about two feet off the floor.

I stood in front of him, about six feet away, in silence for about thirty seconds. He just stared at me. One stride forward and I kicked him in the balls. Hard. The pointed toe of my boot digging deep. Backing up I did it again. He screamed each time and the chains shook. Walking behind him I stood quietly, waiting patiently. At first nothing happened and then, as his pain subsided, he took in the silence and looked around as best he could, trying to see where I was. I gave him a few seconds then kicked him in the balls again. As the pain exploded he screamed, pulling wildly against the chains. He sobbed. Screamed at me to stop. So I kicked him again. This was a special day for me even though he didn't know it. He deserved the the treatment I was unleashing and the pent up anger which had been contained for more than thirty years.

I pushed the button and he was hoisted up onto his toes. I extracted a multi tailed flogger from my goody bag and, with a flick of my wrist, I lightly struck his flaccid cock. I kept teasing him, caressing his cock with the falls and as he relaxed he rose to full prominence. That's when I struck! No wasted effort. A practiced technique. A flick of the wrist and I lashed him hard. He screamed. He was doing a lot of screaming today! By the time I stopped his cock was covered with purple stripes, his balls were black and blue, and he was begging me to stop with tears running down his cheeks.

I picked up a weapon I had specially made with him in mind. Originally a rough hewn plank I had cut it down to four by one with a carved polished handle. I showed him the smooth side, polished like the handle, and then showed him the rough hewn side. The fear in his eyes was priceless.

"The rough side is the side I'll be using. The side that will cover your ass in splinters."

I fastened the ball gag to cut down the noise. On another day I would have enjoyed his screams but today I didn't feel like it. I began laying into him as I'd promised. The splinters were coming loose and embedding themselves in the soft skin of his ass. The paddle was quite heavy and, with the effort I was putting in, my arm tired more quickly than I would have liked or expected. But by that time his ass was glowing crimson.

I changed to fingerless vampire gloves, ripping slivers of skin from his ass as I caressed it with my nails and the needles digging in. I did the same to his back and chest, the blood and hair being torn out mixing together. Normally I would only use my vampire gloves in a session with a masochist who enjoyed the feel of them and not to the same extent as today. Today wasn't for someone's pleasure, other than mine, but torture to someone who deserved it.

I could feel my pussy becoming more moist the more he moaned and his eyes watered as they pleaded with me to explain why. He would soon find out. I changed back into my original gloves, tied a scarf around his head as a blindfold, and removed the gag.

"I'm going to lower the chain so you're fully back on your feet. Then I'm going to remove the handcuffs. Don't do anything stupid. Don't try to remove the blindfold. Don't try and attack me. Do you understand?" I heard him mumble and asked again. "Speak up. Do you understand?"

"Yes." His voice was little more than a whisper.

I reached up, unlocked the cuffs, and as soon as he realised he was free, even though he was still blind, he threw himself backwards knocking me to the ground. He was on his back scrabbling to both get on his feet and pulling off the blindfold. I dived for the throne and grabbed what I needed just as he lunged forward trying to grasp my feet. With a split second to spare I hit the button, sighing in relief as the next sound I heard was the scream emitting from his throat.