Stephanie's Humiliation Ch. 10

"Oh dear. Look what a mess you've made," the man smirked, finally switching off the bullet. "That will mean a punishment."

He took her down one leg at a time and methodically untied her wrists. She felt like she'd been emptied, flushed out. He picked up the arm sleeve again, securing her back into it, tightening every strap. Then the leash hooked onto her collar again and she was walked back into the side room and told to get back in the box.

"I'll be down in a few hours to feed you. Until then...get used to the dark."

The lid closed once more, drowning out the light and banging shut. Footsteps. Creaking floorboards. Darkness. Still. And then only the sound her heavy breathing.

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Being fed in the basement of the man known only to her as "the Doctor" meant having to eat sloppy pureed food from a bowl on the floor or suck a blended concoction through a straw. As food went, it tasted ok and her tormentor told her that it was highly nutritious so she wasn't allowed to skip out on any meals. Her other basic needs were filled by the use of a bucket in the corner of the room. Once in a while he would take her to a shower unit somewhere outside in a closed off building away from any prying eyes and spray her down with cold water. To follow, she would be doused in some sort of antibacterial powder and hosed again before being returned to her box.

In between seeing to her fundamental health and survival, she was his to do as he pleased and often that meant nothing more than being flogged, spanked or fucked. To say he was light on conversation was an understatement. Instead, his only words to her were commands or ridicule, reinforcing her place as his personal sex doll.

A week into her captivity in the Doctor's lair, Stephanie finally felt so numb and inhuman, she barely registered any emotion at being strung up again, her hands chained above her head and her legs spread out by a metal bar clamped between her ankles. But she watched. He made her watch. The surgical tray he kept topped with goodies sat directly in front of her and she watched him pull a pair of rubber gloves on and prep a pincer like device with a bottle of antiseptic. Fear in her eyes told him she was alert and ready as he rolled his thumb and finger around her left breast, making her nipple protrude.

He took hold of it, tugging it towards him, making her gasp underneath the ballgag. She could only watch as he smothered it with alcohol and then teased the ends of the needled claws to it. He hadn't told her not to scream and when she did, it was muffled by the gag and the walls and the barren land around the building. No one could hear her except the Doctor and he enjoyed the music of her futile wailing. Each nipple was pierced through and inserted into the holes were a pair of small metal hoops.

Smiling at the decorations, he then wiped the pinchers again and crouched to observe her shaking womanhood. She looked down beyond her swaying tits and whined into the gag, begging for mercy. That only worked to do the opposite. He masturbated her gently for a while with his fingertips, overwhelming the panic and pain. Soon, he had her precious clitoris pinched between his fingers and moments later, her distorted screams reverberated again along the wooden beams above them. A third hoop adorned her most sensitive spot.

Stephanie's head dropped and she slipped in and out of consciousness as he swabbed the pincers once more. He realized it would be easier for both of them this way and he took her ponytail in his hand, using it to lean her head back and hold her in place. She could vaguely feel a tickle. The metal instrument was pressing into her nostrils, gripping her septum. She awoke in another spark of white pain only to disappear into abyss again. The fourth and final ring dangled from her nose.

The Doctor cleaned the piercings and left her to sleep for a few minutes until he could numb the areas as much as possible with anesthetic cream. Then he half woke her again with a few slaps to her face and body, stirring her back into cold reality. He wasn't done yet. His pincers were placed back on the tray and he exchanged it for a charged needle. The smooth skin below her navel was the perfect start. He set to work, switching the device on and pressing it onto her flesh. Stephanie stirred again, uncomfortable but accepting something far from the sensation she had just experienced. He traced his hand carefully as an artist would, looping and shading. Throughout the process, she felt like she was hallucinating again, the combination of numbness, soreness and endless vibration playing havoc with her senses.

At some point, he disappeared from view and she felt the needle again dragging over her skin, this time in small motions over her left buttock. It didn't hurt as much this time, maybe because it was a less sensitive area or maybe because she was getting used to the pain. Her mind sprinted through dark winding corridors and into vast tunnels, trying to escape. How adorable, he thought, as her ass tensed and flexed in response to his calligraphy. How satisfying that her pure snow white skin should be branded by his hand. The Madame would be delighted.

When he was done, he made no effort to move her but instead left her to swing from her bonds and contemplate her new modifications and the horrifying possibilities of the days ahead.

What has he done to me?...What has he DONE TO ME?!

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The secret society gathered every month under a large mock medieval-like building in the suburbs known to others in the neighborhood simple as 'the castle'. Like the Doctor's basement, they kept much of their secrets hidden away underground, where a series of wine cellars had been converted into a dungeon complex for the society's meetings. Membership to the society was strictly controlled but those who were permitted had to pass a series of tests to confirm they were on the same level as their peers, believed in the same philosophy and possessed the same desires. The Doctor had been a member for years.

Around twenty men gathered in the building. They donned their ritual cloaks and hoods and proceeded down the stairway into the candlelit stonewall tunnels. Despite being a dungeon, the place was clean and dry, befitting its previous existence as a wine cellar. Woven tapestries hung from the walls and blood red carpets lined many of the floors.

They proceeded through a corridor where a human figure in a leather mask and straightjacket lay bent over, upside down, leaning against one of the archways on her shoulders. Her shapely legs were wide open and, as she balanced there, a thick candle was held in the crevice of her open pussy, steadily dripping hot wax down her belly. The woman made no complaint but as the members walked by, they could see she was gagged and blindfolded and barely aware of their presence. They moved on, passing another woman a few yards later, positioned in exactly the same way, lighting their journey into the depths of the prison like a human candelabra.

Deeper into the complex, a large hall bore the markings of the main room, with a half circle of thrones at each end, spaced out like the arrangement of an amphitheater. Each man had one throne and on an elevated platform along one length of the room, a more elaborate throne had been prepared, ready to seat the Grand Leader. Next to this majestic chair, another female figure waited on hands and knees, naked except for a skintight mask and a glass table surface across her back. She remained motionless like the others.

Elsewhere in the room, the furniture and amenities were tailored to the depraved intentions of the society's members. A large St Andrews Cross stood in one corner. In another, a full length standing cage. There was also a smaller cage and old-fashioned wooden stocks, both of which contained a young woman each, dressed in nothing but a rubber mask and ballet boots. They were the bottom rung of this secret society and nothing about their confinement suggested they would be given an easy ride.

A sex-swing hung from the ceiling near to a sinister looking padded seat with a multitude of straps that gave it the appearance of an electric chair. Along the wall, a large rack held a series of ominous items. Paddles, whips, hooks, ropes, cuffs, canes, brushes, plugs, masks, clamps, weights...anything that could be thought to be of use was lined up neatly, all provided in a range of materials from the traditional to the modern. In the center of the room, a single padded leather bench stood proudly like a sacrificial altar.

The Doctor sat down in his throne and waved a hand for the other members to follow his lead. He plucked a grape from a bowl on his makeshift table and swirled it in his mouth. "I hereby commence this meeting and welcome you all to tonight's ceremony in the name and spirit of Sade."

'All hail the master of darkness and truth! Welcome brother!' The men responded in unison.

"Welcome brothers! Today we initiate a new gimp into the dungeon. This sacrifice has been made by the society's dear friend Madame Snyde..."

'Praise her name!' they chorused.

"...and will be with us for the remainder of the month. Let us honor this generous endowment by defiling it to the limits of our imagination."

'We make this oath, brother!'

"Good," the Doctor said flatly, clapping his hands together. The men turned to a corridor, hearing the clicking of heels on the stone ground.

Stephanie Coy emerged from the shadows, dressed in the same tight latex bondage outfit bestowed upon her since her arrival into the Doctor's custody, her arms bound behind her with handcuffs and her face concealed. As she teetered into the light, the hooded deviants observed the silver tray balanced in front of her, hooked around her neck and carrying a handful of drinks. A chain from the front of her collar held the far end of the tray aloft but it swung gently as she moved and she did everything in her power to keep it level. She was to be their servant that evening in more ways than one.

They scrutinized her naked silicon-enhanced tits, now decorated with her new hoop piercings in each pale cherry nipple. As she came closer, they admired her pristinely waxed cunt, smooth as velvet. A few inches above it, the word 'OWNED' ornamented her ivory skin, freshly tattooed in blue with a hint of tender redness still outlining the letters. Her glassy eyes looked straight ahead from underneath the constricting gimp mask and her dark red tail of hair flowed out in a tall cascade from atop her head. The ballgag remained in its rightful place. She stood before them and as slowly and carefully as she could, she bent at the knees, keeping her back completely straight, so that the delicately balanced tray was at a comfortable level for the senior members to take a goblet of wine each.

"Isn't it pretty? And useful too." The Doctor rose from his throne and stepped down to the middle of the chamber. "Come here, whore."

Free of drinks, Stephanie moved only slightly more easily towards her master on her red ballet boots. Her delectable ass jiggled temptingly with each step and the words permanently branded across the top of each bare cheek were visible under the flickering candlelight of the dungeon, forever affirming her true being: 'FUCK PIG'.

She stood to attention in the Doctor's presence, knowing anything less than perfect obedience could ruin her. He turned her to face her audience, removed the tray and then circled her slowly, inspecting her body before putting it to the test for the evening. From the rack, he selected a pair of loose chains each about ten inches long. On one end was a rounded metal clip and on the other, a small iron weight. He pressed Stephanie's round breasts together, rolling them in circles to demonstrate their motion to the gathered men. The chain's clicked into place onto the piercings and the Doctor gently released his grip on the weights, letting them drop. They yanked each globe downwards, placing an immediate strain on each puffy nipple and causing the slavegirl to mewl. The brothers murmured, pleased with the sight of her struggling to control her composure. Playfully, the Doctor flicked at each weight, making her bountiful orbs swing to and fro.

Another pair of weights came off the rack and Stephanie's eyes filled with dread as she anticipated the inevitable and the Doctor forced her legs to spread. As each clip snagged her labia, the jolt of pain was already enough to make her heart race. Then, lowering them slowly, the Doctor let go, allowing the iron loads to drag her pussy lips down with them and drawing out another loud whimper. Stephanie shook in discomfort and all four weights swung freely. Gravity was her tormentor, tugging hard on her most sensitive areas. She could feel her cunt being stretched and tried to keep as still as possible to avoid any more unwanted pressure. The men sat and watched, emotionless to her suffering.

As she concentrated on trying to block out the sensations, she felt the sudden and familiar sting of his flogger strike her across the back of her thighs, causing her to dip and almost buckle to her knees. Somehow, she stayed up and the leather whips struck her again and again, kissing her flesh and rocking the weights on their harnesses. Her already susceptible breasts felt the brunt of his strikes and as he worked down her belly, she cried out, feeling each of the leather ribbons inch across her still-fresh tattoo and then to the equally uncomfortable spot below.

When he was happy with her resolve, he helped her to kneel and bend over. As she rested her face and chest on the cold floor, she sighed in relief as the pressure was removed from her chest, though her labia still cried out for mercy. There was to be none that night. Instead, with her ass in the air and her knees parted wide, the Doctor invited one of his brothers to approach. This first druid-like volunteer plucked a candlestick from the stand by his seat and held it aloft as he came forward. In solemn silence, he stood over the girl and waited for an unbearable few seconds before tilting the candle and dripping a shower of hot wax over her backside. Stephanie squirmed in shock, but the pain didn't last long and the wax cooled quickly against her skin.

The Doctor exchanged the flogger for the candle and turned, retreating to his seat. The passing of the torch had been performed and the ritual could continue at their leisure. Already impatient, the men stood and crowded around, watching as the man with the whip began to slap the tails across her ass, breaking the wax away in small pieces. His wrist affected a circling motion and the flogger pin-wheeled over and over, punishing her and cleaning her at the same time. He kept the motion going for several minutes until he was happy that her pinkened cheeks were free of wax.

The cloaked figures then lifted her off the floor and lay her back across the bench, hooking her arms underneath so that her wrists remained bound underneath her. The men pulled at the weights, visibly smiling from beneath their hoods as she squealed and writhed in response. If for nothing but the fact they were in the way, they finally removed the clips. Her nipples and cunt lips throbbed but they continued to grope and pinch her in each spot, reminding her of their dominance.

"Get her legs spread. We need easy access," one of the men mumbled.

Two of the others pushed Stephanie's thighs upwards and outwards, exposing her vulnerable holes. Two leather straps were pulled round her knees and secured tightly, keeping her legs bent and locked and guaranteeing that she could not protect her modesty in any way. Another freed her from her gag, giving her another rare wave of relief as her aching jaw stretched and moved freely. Only it didn't last long and another device was curtly fastened in its place, this time a metal mouth spreader, clamping her teeth open and her maw available for use.

And used it was. The line of men began to create an informal system and the one with the candle, a senior member of the society, was the first to throw his cloak open and straddle her face. His cock pressed into the awaiting oral cavity and his hips moved back and forth roughly. Stephanie had already been ordered to pleasure them all and her tongue darted out, massaging the tip and shaft.

"That's it, bitch. You're a well trained little serf, aren't you?" he said.

Stephanie couldn't respond with her mouth full and her lips stretched wide by the steel claws of the spreader. Not that she needed to. She felt the flogger come down again on her gaping pink cunt, making her emit a muffled cry. While his friends beat her, the man fucking her face shut her up by driving further inside her, sinking all the way to the back of her gullet and holding it there until he could feel her panic and her throat contract. Pulling back out, he continued to pump her mouth at his own pace, using his grip on her ponytail to keep her head forward at the right level.

"How does it feel, brother?" the Doctor asked, placing his feet up on his human table.

"Most excellent," came the reply. "I do like a warm hole to play in at the end of a long week." The others murmured in agreement.

The senior member generously swapped places with a fellow deviant a minute later. There were lots of men in the room and each one had paid his dues to have some fun. The next man practically sat on her chest, using her unnatural double-D's to rest himself on as he flopped his prick between them. His hands forcefully squashed them together and the tit-fucking commenced. The hooded stranger was happy to find that her soft assets made for the perfect sensation, rubbing the length of his long member through her deep valley and lubricated with perspiration generated by her own fear and exertion. Stephanie's body reacted with unbridled desire, at odds with the horror her mind was processing, knowing every one of the strangers would have her that night.

At this point, some of the men drifted off to have fun with the other slaves. The woman in the cage was led out and was placed in the dreaded chair, her arms, legs and neck all strapped into the seat tightly. Some of the brothers descended on her with low-volt cattle prods and clothes-pegs, while one of them began to bind her heavy breasts with rope. As they did, the woman in the stocks, bent over and helpless, was treated to a caning. Both of their squeals only seemed to encourage the men even more.

By now, the dungeon was warming up with the activity and some of the men tossed their cloaks back behind their shoulder to keep cool, standing naked and ready to take part. They were all strangely considerate towards each other's time, spending just a couple of minutes on Stephanie's mouth and tits before moving aside to let another take their place and circling back to prepare themselves for another turn. Not being in a hurry, they knew they could drag this ritual out to the early hours.

One of the senior members touched her pussy, feeling the moisture come off on his hand. "Well fancy that...Perfect timing."

He leaned over her and positioned his rod at her sopping fuckhole and his hands on her knees for support. Then he plowed into her, parting her lips and pistoning his cock into her hot tunnel. His eyes flashed with joy from beneath the hood. Unable to move against the bench, Stephanie lay there and felt herself become an object for his sexual urges. A mindless masturbatory aid. A ripe piece of meat to plunder. She became more and more damp, her nerves jangling and synapses exploding with her own base cravings. Another man held her head forward, making her watch, which only added to her dark desire.

"This is the best pussy I've had in a long time," the first deviant muttered to his peers. "Like a wet velvet glove."