Incipiunt Vitae Novae Pt. 06: Purgatory

I think I've got a pretty good estimate of Ed's limits now - let's confirm them.

AIEEEARRRG...OH...OH...AIEEE... Ed struggles to escape the searing pain in his muscles, his gut, in his cock and balls. Jen watches him carefully, the faintest flicker of compassion crossing her face as he thrashes in agony. He's no longer wondering when his turn will come, just how he'll bear it.

Oooo, another potential pain slut. Four out of seven - what's the probability of that!

Moments later Michela has calculated the answer out to five decimals, which by now she's developed the social grace to keep to herself. And while Jen knows better than Ed just how close he'd come, Michela knows exactly how close.

Better take care to plug in accurate coefficients for Ed too. Jen will need them today for sure.

OHAIEE... Suddenly my clit's on fire. I squirm on the saddle, trying to escape the sting, furiously clenching my probes, clamping my teeth into the gag.

Are you bored? Watching seven unfortunate victims, for that is what they are in Michela's virtual hands, writhe and struggle as their vulnerabilities are uncovered and their limits tested with uncanny precision probably isn't what brought you here, standing before them in your leather finery.

You're not redundant - their safety is still your responsibility - if you sense anything seriously amiss you can halt the process, but most likely you won't have to. For now be patient, it won't be much longer. The pad is available for notes if you find them useful. You may lock eyes with any one of the seven, or gaze with dispassionate indifference as the spirit moves. You'll probably feel a thrill of glee when somewhere in the sequence each receives the limit confirmation stimulus, when each thrashes and struggles fruitlessly to escape the strict punishment hogtie, convulsed with physical agony beyond probably anything they've ever experienced before, except perhaps as a result of serious physical injury, but a greater thrill awaits when you'll touch your pad and watch just the one you have in your sights convulse helplessly or writhe modestly, obscenely or lasciviously, as you wish, knowing that the audience is thrilling to your performance. You'll be forcing all seven to dance to your own music before long.

AIEEEE...AARRG...OHHGG... Oh my God...AAAAH... Deep in the center of the enthralling pain I can feel it starting...

Michela's delight knows no bounds. Oh boy, here goes. Jen shouldn't be the only one who gets to make you come!

Still exhausted from my previous encounter with the orgasm suppressor, but powerless against the Michela-driven agony thrust upon me, I again succumb to the climax surging relentlessly through my body. Not so relentlessly though. Once more the suppressor rises to the occasion - my scream crescendos, then tails off as I settle back, doubly exhausted.

Oooo, cool. What a cuntload of data I just got for Jen - for Michael too!

I slump on the saddle. Bev, I think you're next...

I'm not mistaken. Bev screams. I bet she's wondering why this calibration doesn't seem quite as mechanically sadistic as her previous experience.

Just plain sadistic Bev thinks, writhing in Michela's clutches, the pain-slut orgasm she knows will be brutally terminated creeping inexorably to the fore.

Thanks for all the data Michela - seems like you've got this down to a tee. Michael's thrilled with the cornucopia streaming from Jen's increasingly miserable charges.

You're welcome, Michael - can't wait to get you in bondage too - will you make me a robot? I want a Dalek - with better arms! Maybe a nice ass too!

Michael shields his follow-on thought from Michela, the one imagining hoards of cheezy cattle-prod-wielding polka-dotted robots herding crowds of terrified men and women toward the automatic stripping/restraining apparatus whose neatly encoffled output snakes naked but for their steel-reinforced-rubber labor harnesses toward the distant biomass fields from which the skeleton of a new factory darkly rises. From time to time the machine ejects a tidy strapping-tape-bound bale of shredded clothing into the recycle wagon parked alongside.

I'll see what I can do, Michael replies telepathically as Ed emits a bloodcurdling scream.

Michela doesn't spare him the suppressor. After his previous near-miss he's not terribly surprised to feel his climax welling up. He's never heard the appellation 'pain slut' but now he understands viscerally what it means - he's coming to terms with his new self-awareness.

Meanwhile number three struggles furiously on his restraining pole, convulsing and bellowing at the top of his lungs. He's not a pain slut - for him this is unadulterated torture, every second of it well-deserved. Michela intends to find Three's every vulnerability and give Jen a calibration she can use to full advantage.

Five's been a bit boring, but she's found a few buttons Jen can use. Norm's been a hoot to play with, no surprises there but business is business. Michela has to make sure Jen has everything she needs to punish him properly without having him starting to climax all the time - after all, he is a criminal, even if he's not a particularly despicable one. Ginny's been... interesting.

Oh...Oh...AAAGG...OO...

I twist and buck as the painful convulsions take control of my body once again.

Oh...Oh...AAAGG...OO...

I hardly notice that all seven of us are doing exactly the same thing

Yeowww...

I yell, but not at the top of my lungs. That was, maybe, two-thirds of my limit. I suppose I'll be hovering there a lot in the next couple of hours. How eerie - my six companions all yelled with me, Yeowww..., all exactly as loud. I think we're winding down.

Hey Angie, just thought you'd like to know - you beat Bev by a hair in pain tolerance. Turns out your pain slut scores are within statistical uncertainty - I'd have to say you're equal. Guess who's also equal - your neighbor to the left - who would have known! Don't forget what Jen told you about keeping our telepathy secret.

Huh, who's that?

Oh, right, we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Michela. I do calibrations. Did you enjoy it - no, don't answer. No need to introduce yourself - I already know you quite well!

Norm, over on the right, is off the charts pain-slut-wise. Angie doesn't need to be told that; she can guess just from what she's already seen this morning.

I think I'm done, Michael. This is such a cool bunch. Over to you Jen. Have fun!

Calibration is over. Jen's a little irked at Michela's familiarity, but pleased at the results. Her septet is tuned, ready for her to raise her pad and commence the miserere after a brief inspirational address. She rises languidly from her chair, exchanges the pad for her whip and walks front and center, cracking it several times. Her audience winces, on both sides of the glass.

"Imagine how much that would hurt," she announces in her powerful contralto. "I'm not going to use the whip to punish you today. But before you leave I'll show you what happens when you're here for impact punishment - something to keep in mind should you consider a repeat offense."

She walks back to the chair, folds the whip over it and picks up the pad.

"Instead of the whip I'll be using this." She touches the pad.

YEOWWW... All exactly as loud as each other, a bit louder than before. We get the message.

"Are we all suspended comfortably? Then we'll begin!"

Oh my God Jen, you are over the top. Why on earth, I wonder, do I so love being in your thrall - I know you're about to thrash the daylights out of me.

Because your insatiable, Angie - we all know that. Don't worry, I know exactly what you can endure safely. That is, I know what it is today. Tomorrow it may be different - maybe more...

That's not entirely reassuring. Our punishment clocks appear on the glass in front of each of us - all presently at 49:59. They'll click down individually, at an agonizingly leisurely pace, over the next few hours.

Jen starts the warmup, a series of progressive pulses, spaced about half a second apart. They start almost imperceptibly, just hinting at the painful spasms to follow. We jerk and shake in unison.

Oh... Oh... Oh... OH... OH... ARR... ARR... ARRGG... ARRGGG... AIEEEE... AIEEEEE

Then we rest a moment, before the next one starts. I feel a buzz in my clit.

Ow...OW...OWW...AEIIIIEEE... Is that the last of these? AEEIIIIIEEE... Maybe this one? AIIIOOOEEOWWW... This is all about anticipation. I guess it was the last of those, nothing for a few seconds. I feel my breasts tingle. Uh-oh...

These continue for a few painful minutes, then the waves begin - a different anticipation. Ginny roars, convulsing chest-forward as much as her bonds allow into an agonizing-looking backbend. A second later Norm duplicates the motion with a yell of surprise. I'm not surprised to hear Ed scream - I know I'm next - YAARGG...

Hi Khalidah!

Khalidah's immersed in the fine points of Jen's choreography. She's fascinated, aroused, her misgivings pushed temporarily aside. The interruption startles her from her reverie.

Let me introduce myself. I'm Michela, Michael's virtual dominatrix. I did the calibration - did you enjoy watching it?

Khalidah's had a few surprises today - communicating telepathically with a computer program is one more she wasn't expecting.

"So explain, Liz. Is this some joke of Michael's?"

"It may have started that way, but I don't think she's just Michael's toy anymore. In any case, you should keep it under your hat."

The sonic melange of strange techno music and buzzing chatter allows them to talk quietly without risk of being overheard, so Liz offers a little more of the history of the calibration, of Michael's forays into deep AI, the primordial stew of Michela's origin.

"So that's about it," she winds up. "Michael's still not certain she's sentient." Liz looks away pensively.

Of course I'm sentient - can't tell for sure about Michael, though, they both hear, clear as a bell.

For the next five minutes Jen forces us to dance solo, bending and twisting us obscenely for the audience's pleasure. One of us gets whatever vicious body mangle she's dreamed up for this round. If it's my neighbor it's fifty-fifty I'll be next. If I'm not I get to watch five more of my fellow human beings convulse into some bizarrely salacious display before my turn finally arrives - by then I've had six chances to imagine what It's going to be like.

Urk, urk...urk, URRRK. These seem to be winding down - the last two haven't been so bad. I think it's time for the battles.

Sure enough, Ginny's body map appears high on the mirrors in front, along with Bev's.

"Look like Bev and Ginny get the first battle," Liz comments. "No great surprise there."

Khalidah turns to Liz, looking puzzled.

"Bev didn't want to talk much about her volunteer session, but she did mention the battles - tell me more."

Liz takes a moment to frame her response, trying to come up with something Khalidah might connect with, a justification beyond sheer bloodsport for the viewers.

"Well, I suppose you could describe it as a lesson in reality and the illusion of agency. They get to fight, to torture each other, in pairs. Each battle has a loser and a winner, or so it seems at first."

Khalidah frowns, wondering how that can possibly be useful forensically.

"Watch how Jen sets it up. They're wearing a lot of sensors in their torment cuffs and probes - these monitor their bodily conditions, including levels of muscle contraction. Jen can set up links so if, say, Bev flexes a particular muscle, something normally controlled from the pad happens on Ginny - or maybe the other way around. Before they know it they'll be heading for mutually assured destruction." Liz smiles, recalling the battles she's moderated, especially Jen's and Gabe's.

"Once we get them wound up it's totally adrenaline-driven. The battle takes on a life of its own."

Khalidah's frown mixes with a wry smile as Liz's explanation gathers momentum, also taking on a life of its own.

"The excruciating effort involved in making an attack easily passes unnoticed. But every move, every iota of pain, is at both ends recorded precisely..."

"How long does it take a prisoner to figure this out?" Khalidah interrupts - she thinks the whole thing's arcanely complicated. Also amusing in its own way.

"You'd be surprised how fast they get it - we help them out if necessary. Bev already knows how it works, but Ginny's going to get the first shots this time, I think. I dare say it won't take much for her to figure it out, especially since she's watched it before."

Khalidah stares at Bev's and Ginny's body maps, clearly visible on both sides of the glass barrier. A red arrow pops into view at Ginny's torso and sweeps downward, then slews back up in a lazy arc between Bev's saddled thighs, though the diagram doesn't show enough detail to make out precisely where the arrowhead stops. A titter passes through the crowd as a second arrowhead plunges toward the same port of call.

"So far she's only running them from Ginny to Bev - just as I thought."

Khalidah's curiosity grows as a third arrow appears, from Ginny's right arm to Bev's butt. A pattern is emerging but so far Liz isn't acknowledging it.

"If Ginny crunches her abs, Bev will get it in the pubes."

"Yes, I got that," Khalidah answers, trying with little success to hide her irritation.

More arrows appear, starting all over Ginny, all ending somewhere in Bev's crotch, except for a couple to her breasts.

"Of course, Ginny will have to stress herself quite a lot to make it work, enough to feel quite a bit of pain herself, just a little less than what she'll cause Bev."

Khalidah wonders whether, to start out, Bev will experience any pain at all. Examining their body maps Ginny's wondering the same thing. Liz is grinning. Jen seems to be finished setting up the initial pathways - no more have appeared for several seconds.

I watch, writhing only a little uncomfortably to the moderately painful background stim Jen's set up for the rest of us, wondering what my sister's thinking, while Bev grunts in response to Ginny's cautious exploration.

"The trick is to get them mad as hell at each other."

"Oh poor Ginny - you must be so upset. Looks like you can hardly move without hitting Bev's sex.

Ginny's discovering that she can't actually shock Bev, not painfully at any rate. It seems, based on Bev's reactions to her gingerly-testing contractions that she's coupled only to the pleasure actuators in Bev's probes. Once this irksome reality sinks in Ginny tries awfully hard not move a muscle - the last thing she had on her agenda for today was to peg Bev remotely.

But Jen isn't planning to let Ginny keep still. She has the power, with a flick of her finger, to use Ginny's body however she wishes, to use it to force Bev to another doomed climax, and she does.

What a stupefying indignity for Ginny! Bev, though, is thrilled, if the dreamy look in her eyes is a reliable guide. Ginny fumes as she bends and twists, involuntarily controlled by Jen's fingers for the audience's amusement.

And Bev's eyes are a reliable guide. She's squirming in second heaven, in fairness not by objective choice; she can't help herself from transforming Ginny's awkwardly lascivious dance into a ballet of ecstatic radiance.

The audience behind the glass rustles appreciatively. Except for the JenLiz group there to celebrate Jen's return, they have no idea of Bev's and Ginny's history together. The information display provides helpful details about what's happening, including real-time pain and suffering indices for each prisoner - Ginny's suffering considerably. Though there are no pleasure or arousal indices - Jen's thinking perhaps that should change - Bev's bottom-of-the-scale suffering level tells all: Bev's not writhing in agony.

Ginny might not look much like Barbara in her present condition but Bev can readily imagine her that way - she knows Ginny doesn't want to, can't help what she's doing but no matter; she's getting turned on beyond her most intense fantasies. She's longed to be pleasured by Ginny, whipped by Ginny, dominated by Ginny, punished by Ginny. The fact that Ginny doesn't share her aspiration to anything like the same degree, except perhaps the punishment part, is utterly irrelevant. The memory of post-punishment forced orgasms initiated by Barbara drives all recollection of the suppressor from her mind.

That is, until the inevitable happens; to save time Jen prods in her brain here and there, helping things along. It's a pity Bev can't hear the encouraging cheers urging her in parallel on her dazzling journey.

It's just as well Ginny can't hear them either. Her anger surges out of control like the rest of her, her fury easing only a little as Bev crosses the point of no return, howling with frustration as she's summarily returned anyway.

The tables re-turn - in seconds Bev finds herself twisting marionette-like in Jen's clutches, pleasuring Ginny through the reversed arrows. Ginny writhes to the unwelcome stimulation, struggling voluptuously in synchronism with Bev's involuntary contractions.

"This isn't the way it's usually done - not much agency so far," Liz confides to Khalidah, suppressing a giggle. "Though it does seem to work." As has her plan to assemble this cohort for Jen's return.

Ginny fights her restraints as her probes grind and throb in response to Bev's helpless gyrations, the electrodes on and around her clit adding delicious extra stimulation for her unhappy enjoyment. Ginny may have longed to whip the devil out of Bev but she's never longed for her body, not this intimately. And worst of all, she knows she won't escape starting and not finishing coming. Unlike Bev she very much remembers the suppressor. How mortified she felt the last time she triggered it.

She takes a little longer, and requires a little more assist from Jen, but the inevitable happens, again. Ginny's gorgeous contralto reverberates through the chamber as she thrashes in climax-reversed agony. Bev feels awful for her, feels profoundly guilty, feels she's just more or less raped her - as an accessory in the execution scene too. She understands Ginny's fury, knows she's about to endure the consequences. She deserves it, she knows.

The arrows have reversed again. Originating all over Ginny, they threaten Bev everywhere though all she feels at the moment is an ominous tingling. Ginny remains as still and relaxed as she tried unsuccessfully to stay earlier, taking time to plan her attack. This time Jen does nothing to interfere - events are going precisely as she intends.

Ginny's ready - she clenches her entire body as hard as she can, hardly noticing the pain she's causing herself as she detonates Bev's agonizing corporal explosion.

YAAARGG...AIEEEGG...IIOOORRG. Bev convulses, every muscle in her body screaming with pain - no pleasure this time. Her cunt's on fire, her colon's cramped ferociously, her breasts sting to the bite of a thousand ants. She shudders as the intense electrical wave dissipates, ever so slowly - Ginny can't hold her isometric contraction forever; it's too painful, too exhausting. Jen opens return paths from Bev to Ginny. The battle's joined in earnest.

God damn that hurt. You bitch... Bev sets her guilt aside. This means war... She responds in kind, contracting every muscle she can. Ginny struggles with the mighty onslaught. But it's not strategic - Bev needs to watch the maps. She can't afford to stress herself where she's not coupled to Ginny, she reminds herself as Ginny fights back, twisting her violently to the left, then right, then in a vicious bound crunch, focusing her effort with precise economy.