Chapter 22 - Correcting Faults Is An Act Of Charity
The Oyabun was making a cautionary video to be shown to potential meddlers
so that they could fully understand the concept of consequences.
Mary stood nervously in the lawyer power suit she had been wearing when
kidnapped. She had been professionally made up. The suit had been clean, pressed
and starched. She looked every inch the corporate lawyer again.
The lighting crew adjusted the lighting and reflectors. The camera crew and
sound man double checked everything. All was ready.
The Oyabun was directing this one. His hard-edged voice cracked like the
whip of an overseer.
"Woman! What I want from you is simple! I will start by standing next to you
and making a speech in Japanese. You listen in respectful silence. After that, I
will leave you alone in front of the cameras. You take off your clothes, not
like a stripper, but in a simple, dignified, solemn way. Look very serious - no
smiling. Fold your clothes very neatly and place them on the floor in front of
you. Remove every stitch. When you are done, two large gentlemen will step up
and, standing on either side of you, will instruct you. Do what they say. Do you
understand what is required of you, woman?"
Mary, a very different Mary from before, spoke humbly and respectfully.
"Yes, Oyabun-san."
The Oyabun liked to make sure. When the pressure was on, the dumb cunts
sometimes got flustered and confused.
"Tell me what you have to do, woman!"
"You make a speech and then leave. I listen respectfully during the speech.
I remove my clothes for the cameras, looking as serious and dignified as I can
under the circumstances. I fold and stack my clothes on the floor in front of
me. I remove every stitch. When I am done, two large gentlemen will instruct me.
I simply do as they say."
"OK! Let's do it!"
The Oyabun stood next to Mary, who stood, looking prim and proper, not
understanding a word. In Japanese, he briefly outlined her unspeakable offense
and went on to quote Jocho Yamamoto who said that reprimanding and correcting
faults was an act of charity, but that one must be very careful to do it the
right way.
He stepped off the stage and resumed his seat in the director's chair. He
nodded encouragingly at Mary. Mary's fingers trembled nervously as she took off
her jacket, folded it neatly, squatted down and put it on the floor in front of
her. She was extremely apprehensive about what was in store for her. She felt
that her strapping, gang rape and ass-reaming had merely been a warm-up for the
main event. Her bum was still sore, but the welts had disappeared. Her fingers
had difficulty with the silk scarf knotted attractively around her throat, but
she managed, eventually. Shaking badly, she fumbled with the buttons of her
blouse, but slowly got them undone, one by one. She wondered if she was too
nervous and fucking up whatever the Oyabun had in mind. She glanced over at him.
He nodded approvingly. Discipline should never be easy. Mary continued her slow,
nervous striptease.
At last, she was done and stood naked before the cameras. Her clothes were
beautifully stacked and folded on the floor in front of her, her brightly
polished black high heels resting on top of her neatly folded panties. She had
been manicured and pedicured. Her hair had been done. Her fingernails and
toenails were neatly trimmed and polished. Her pubic hair had been brushed and
fluffed up. Her nipples had been lightly rouged. Mary looked like one very
fuckable female. The muscular bruisers stepped up on either side of her. They
weren't tall but were very broad across the shoulders, massive brutes who worked
out with very heavy weights indeed. The one to her right instructed her in
polite, formal English with a slight British accent.
"Madame Lawyer, turn and face me."
Licking her lips nervously, Mary did as she was bid. The one behind her
gripped her arms just above the elbows and pulled them behind her, forcing her
big bare breasts up and out. Mary looked at the big bruiser in front of her in
pure dread. The bruiser removed his jacket and tie, throwing them carelessly to
the ground next to Mary's neat stack of formal female apparel. He undid his
collar. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his
tattooes. Mary's lips trembled.
"Please..."
The air whooshed out of her as he buried a rock-hard fist in her diaphragm.
Mary crumpled to her knees. The goon behind her clamped her wrists together with
one hand. His other hand grabbed her hard by the hair and held her gasping face
up.
Quietly and out of camera, her clothing was removed form the floor so that
Mary could be surrounded by cameras while her once-proud face was pulped. The
bruiser went for the eyes first, carefully blacking them with short sharp jabs
until they were swollen shut. She could no longer see the blows coming, but
could merely dread them.
He broke her nose, gave her big cauliflower ears and two fat, bloody lips.
He held her battered face clamped between his hands. Pressing them together
violently, he snapped her jaw in two places.
He went to work on her torso, using her tits as punching bags - slapping,
jabbing and chopping viciously. Her bouncing boobs flew, slapping into each
other, bruising and swelling spectacularly.
He buried his fingers in her taut bare belly, kneading and crushing
brutally. The bruiser behind her held her face to one side as she yorked up her
breakfast onto the floor. After that they ignored her dry heaves as he continued
to crush her stomach and internal organs with his strong fingers. The bruiser
who was positioning her held her so that the cameras could capture her voiding
her bowels and emptying her bladder. Her crotch was scrubbed roughly with a
towel so that the bruiser wouldn't dirty his steel-toed combat boots as he
kicked her repeated in the crotch, lifting her feet off the ground with each
kick.
She was lowered down and her swollen, bleeding, brutally broken face was
scrubbed vigorously through her own vomit, piss and shit. The cameras panned
over her battered, bruised, bemerded body as her wrists and elbows were wired
together tightly behind her.
The thick steel pole set in the floor rose up to just below Mary's
breastbone. She was hoisted up and positioned carefully, legs spread over the
rounded end of the thick pole. Pushing down on her hips and pulling hard on her
legs, her bruised, swollen cuntlips wrapped around the pole as partial
penetration was acheived. Her ankles were shackled. The shackles were attached
to steel cables passing through pulleys set in the floor ending up at a powerful
winch.
The Oyabun liked his audience for this cautionary video to understand the
full implications.
"The rounded end to the spike means that it will push the many delicate
female organs aside as it penetrates rather than puncture them as a sharp point
would. As a result, she will rupture and bleed out a lot more slowly.
Penetration with a smoothly rounded tip is much more difficult, so she has to be
winched down onto the pole."
Mary cried out in agony as the winch started up and she was forced down over
the pole. The unlubricated thick steel staft slowly inched inside her.
Mary let out a shrill piercing shreik as the thick pole reached the end of
her vaginal passage and relentlessly tore through. Blood seeped slowly down her
inner thighs and made the pole slick.
When her toes touched the ground, the winch was stopped.
Two large barbed fishhooks were jabbed into her breasts, just behind the
aureola. Attached to steel wires in the ceiling, they were pulled up to keep her
upright, straddling the thick pole on tiptoe, tits stretched tight. Mary
screamed as the Oyabun plucked the taut wires.
The Oyabun produced a small ball-peen hammer.
"Never let it be said that my enemies can breath easily!"
Going down her ribcage, he cracked each of Mary's ribs on either side, so
that every breath was pure agony. Mary opened her mouth to gasp. Her tongue was
gripped by pliers.
"Of course, the lawyer's tongue must go! No dying speeches! She must focus
only on her pain."
A knife with a hooked blade was used to excise her tongue at the root. Mary
clamped her mouth shut. Blood seeped from her closed lips.
The Oyabun gestured at a large clock set behind her.
"Now we will see how long it takes the presumptious, arrogant lawyer to
die."
It took a long, long time. The Oyabun's enemies indeed had something to
think about.
