Carly had received the call earlier in the month. Her Spanish contact had managed to find a torture cabinet. It had been authenticated as genuine, and, though it was a bare shell, there was a written description of how it had been when last used, by the Inquisition.

Carly was a collector. Especially in items that had been used for torture in years gone by. She owned several items which had been used y famous torturers through the ages. Some she had found cheap, as the seller didn’t really know what they had, but others had cost her dearly. This one, the cabinet, was, perhaps the most expensive to date, but it was genuine, and came with descriptions.

She had only heard of it, originally, in passing. Someone had mentioned that, at one time, they locked the victims in the cabinet, and tortured them for days at a time, not allowing them to sleep, eat or anything.

To Carly, this was a must have item. She knew it would never pass normal import channels. If the Spanish government found out about it, no9t only would they refuse to allow it to leave the country, they would destroy it. Hence the cost.

It was delivered early one Sunday morning, and moves immediately to her basement, where all her other items were stored. No-one asked questions, no-one even enquired about any of the other stuff she had. The men simply delivered the item, and left.

The cabinet was around ten feet square, and though now empty of the torture tools once used, she smiled as she saw the dark stains in the wood, obviously caused by blood. A lot of blood. The whole of the inside was splattered with dark stains.

She couldn’t even imagine what had happened to the many victims the cabinet had held. Maybe the descriptions of the torture tools would give her some idea.

She picked up the manila envelope that had been pinned to the inside of the cabinet, and took it upstairs where there was more light. She could hardly control herself as she mounted the stairs, the envelope grasped in her hands.

Carly read the descriptions avidly. As she did so, she could only imagine the pain the victims would have felt.

Up the centre of the cabinet it said there was an arc, five feet long, four feet high. From the eight corners of the cabinet ran chains and manacles, to hold and stretch the victims limbs. At the base of the arc would be a metal cage that was fastened over the victim’s head, stretching the neck, and holding the head still.

Carly tried to imagine how this would feel. The victim would be stretched, as if on a rack, the head pulled down and backwards, stretching the spinal column. Any movement would be impossible. Then, the victim was whipped severely, with leather and chain whips. It was pretty obvious to Carly, that chain whips would lacerate the flesh easily. Especially as it was being pulled so tight over the arc.

Carly’s other passion, was the pain itself. Her body was testament to this. It bore many scars from “Testing” some of the items in her collection. She loved pain. Not causing it, but actually being in pain. She had. At one time. Pierced her own nipples, with antique equipment. It had hurt like mad, but at the same time, had made her orgasm. Thus was her love of pain.

She had worn a “witches tongue” to bed, knowing that if she tried to move her head, the spike would stick deep into her throat, possibly ruining her voice for life. She needed to experience pain, on a regular basis.

Apart from testing the equipment she owned, she was also a member of a local BDSM club, where, occasionally, she would attend, and allow whoever wanted to do, to whip her. The one proviso was, that they did not pull back. They either used full force, or they didn’t get to the starting post.

One guy had started whipping her, and suddenly saw flesh break on her back. He told her he had to stop, as she was bleeding. She groaned, and insisted that he carry on. He did so, until Carly had taken enough, but he never offered to play with her again.

Pain turned Carly on, and to think what pain had taken place in the cabinet, let her thoughts run wild. She could imagine someone being whipped, their bodies fully stretched. Any movement they made, could easily dislocate limbs. What pain? What pleasure.

That night, Carly slept in the cabinet, naked, trying to imagine how it would feel, if she were a victim. Her orgasm was the best she had felt in ages, and she hadn’t even touched herself.

Tom loved Carly. Not in a “lets get married and have kids” sort of way/ but Tom was a sadist. He loved the idea that others could, and did, suffer purely for his own pleasure.

And Carly loved to suffer. She got off on it more than she did with sex.

Tom had discovered he was different when he was younger. He had never felt sympathy for anyone or anything. He could never feel another persons pain, or emotions. He felt no empathy for them at all.

When he was three year old his mother gave birth to a daughter, his sister. She died at the age of ten, but Tom felt nothing. No tears, no emotion at all. His parents turned against him, and until he left home, they made his life hell.

When he finally left home he swore he would never return, and never did. Even his mother’s funeral was missed. He could have gone, but he could find no reason to do so. During his life, many people had died, people he knew, people he didn’t know, but he had never been to a funeral since his sisters funeral.

When he discovered BDSM he suddenly realised that was where he belonged. Women were almost lining up to get whipped, caned, and Tom was in his element, though he had to temper himself. Though these women enjoyed pain, there was a limit to what they could take.

It was by pure luck that he had met Carly. She had been in a club with another man, who had been whipping her as hard as he could. She screamed, and cried, but she would not let him stop. Her back was black and blue, but still she begged for more.

Only later, when she was sitting drinking some wine did he approach her.

He told her he wished he could find someone as strong as she was. Someone who relished the pain, not simply enjoyed it for a while, then wanted it to stop.

She looked at him through half closed eyes, studying his face.

“So you think you can make me beg you to stop?”

Tom smiled back at her.

“I don’t know”, he answered. “All I know is that I have not yet found anyone who can go where I take them, and not give in before the journey ends.”

Carly smiled.

“That’s some boast. You want to meet me next week, and see who gets off the bus first?”

Tom laughed loudly.

“Are you sure you want to try that? You haven’t seen me play yet. I could be far too harsh for you. And that would not make either of us feel good”

“Wednesday evening. Bring your best shot, and we shall see.”

Carly gave him the address, as she rose from her seat and went back to the man who had been whipping her earlier.

That had been how it had started. And that day he learned something new about himself. No matter how far he went, he could always go further. And Carly? He had given up whipping her. Not because she asked, but because he had pulled a muscle in his arm whilst whipping her.

But there had been other times, and still she had not begged for him to stop. They had decided to put time limits on their sessions, because it had already become clear than neither would stop of their own accord, and without the time limit, serious injury could be caused.

They were well suited in that respect, but Tom did not make the error of thinking she would be great as a wife.

On one previous session they had been watching brutal videos. In one, a girl had her tits nailed to a wooden plank. Tom saw her eyes light up as Carly watched it. She had great tits, and had tied them up several times, feeling them grow hard. But would she let him actually nail them to a plank?

He had to know. He planned it for her next visit to his place, so he could have everything in place when the time was right.

When she arrived the next time everything was ready. He had bought stainless steel ails, and had sterilised them several times, in readiness.

She undressed, as she usually did when they were together, and he told her to kneel in front of the coffee table. Taking her arms he pulled her hands behind her, and cuffed them together. She said nothing, she never did. She simply waited to discover what plans he had this time.

Her eyes lit up as she saw him place a piece of floor board onto the table, and placed four three inch nails close by, with a hammer.

He knelt at the other side of the coffee table. And pulled her tits down and out, so that her nipples were about half way across the piece of wood. Picking up the first of the nails, he placed it on her right tit, less than half an inch away from, and to one side of her nipple. Without warning, he picked the hammer up and hit the head of the nail hard, sending it through her flesh, and buried itself deep into the wood.

Carly hissed through clenched teeth, but made no attempt to get up. The pain had been less than she had imagined it would be, though it was definitely painful. She felt the familiar feeling between her legs as he picked up the second nail, and placed this on the other side of her nipple. She knew that would already need pincers to remove the nails from the wood, as she felt the second nail pass through her flesh, and sink into the wood.

Again, with clenched teeth she hissed in pain. Now she knew how the girl in the video had felt. Strangely enough, Carly wanted more. To do what others had done was fine, but never enough, she needed to go that one step further, to undiscovered places. Not to be the first, but to experience what no-one else had.

She was already in her own world and hardly felt the last two nails go through her other tit.  She looked down and saw the nails buried through her tits and into the wood.

He told her to stand up, and as she did so, she felt the weight of the wood pull the nails deeper through her tits, so that only the heads were visible to her.

He guided her to a wall, and told her to face it, standing right next to it. He unlocked the cuffs and told her to hold the piece of wood against the wall. A little higher than was comfortable.

As she did so, standing on her toes, Tom picked up four more nails, and held the first near the end of the piece of wood. Carly didn’t need to ask. She knew what he was doing, as he hammered the first nail through the wood, and into the wall beyond. Another nail followed in it’s wake, and Carly knew that unless he released her, she would not get free of her position.

This was made more clear as, after he had nailed the other end of the piece of wood to the wall, he placed her hands in front of her, and cuffed them again.

Carly’s toes were already aching, and as she tried to lower herself to ease the pressure, she felt the pull on her tits, stretching them. With her hands cuffed in front of her, she could do nothing to stop anything Tom wanted to do to her. She was, to Tom/s mind, in the perfect position.

She didn’t even turn her head as Tom picked up the first of his toys, a heavy flogger. Starting on her back, he began to whip her severely. He wanted her to scream, to shout, to beg him to stop. Blow after blow made her squeal, and eventually scream. But there was no begging. He put the flogger down and picked up the solid cane, and stood to one side, before bringing it down across her arse. Six, seven, eight. He counted the strokes as each blow brought angry red welts to the surface. The red turned to black, as he continued to pound her with the cane. She screamed, she cried. But still she did not beg for him to stop.

For over an hour he used the flogger and the cane, changing from one to the other without warning, so Carly would not know what to expect next. But still, though obviously in severe pain, she refused to give in.

Het tis were in agony, stretched as far as they would go, her hands were clenched in front of her, and even had they not been cuffed, she would have made no attempt to use them to stop Tom.

Here, in Tom, was a man who did exactly what he said he did. He would smile when causing her the greatest pain. He would laugh at her tears. Her feelings were not important, as long as he enjoyed what he was doing. And for her, she had never felt pleasure like this before. Her thighs were running with her own juices. Each stroke, each blow, made her hungry for the next.

When Tom had finally stopped and released her, her screams filling the room as he pulled the nails back through her tits, she sat huddled up on the sofa, looking across at him. She could not hide the smile, as she examined her damaged tits. So what that the girl had been nailed as well. She had not received the beatings that Carly had taken.

But what next?

Carly awoke from her dreams. They had been filled with women suffering at the hands of the inquisitors. She had imagined all sorts of torture that could have taken place within the cabinet. She knew, from studying the papers she had got with it, that once someone was in the cabinet, they would be totally helpless. Their arms and legs would be fully stretched, their back arched painfully, whilst her tormentors did whatever they wanted to her.

She sat up, looking at the dark stains in the wood. Carly was convinced the stains were old dried blood, evidence that whoever had been in it in the past, had suffered badly. She, herself, had suffered, especially at the hands of Tom, but obviously, nowhere near as much as the cabinets victims.

She wondered how it would feel to be stretched so taught, and then have someone make the suffering even greater. In some places, close to where the missing arch would have ended, their seemed to be greater dark stains, as if blood had pooled there. Obviously, this was where they had tortured women’s, and men’s genitals. She could only imagine how that would feel.

As yet, Tom had never touched her pussy, let alone torture it. That wasn’t the nature of their relationship. They didn’t have sex, they just enjoyed what each could do for the other.

But if Tom did torture her pussy, how far would he go? How would it feel to be helpless, and at the hands of the inquisitors? She could only dream.

She knew she didn’t want to go to the full extent that the original victims went. But to feel the callous way they were tortured, to endure what they endured, would be her greatest achievement. She knew Tom would help her to rebuild the cabinet. There was enough information to do that. But what then? Would she be willing to try it? Would Tom be willing to take her where she had never gone before? Into, perhaps, mortal danger?

Neither of them had really discussed just how far they were willing to go. They had both been happy to let things go naturally, testing each other a little more each time.

One time he had tied ropes around each tit, then fastened them to a winch, lifting her off her feet, her whole weight held by only her tits. Once she was secure, Tom left her for over two hours, whilst he went to watch the football on the television. Not once, even at half time, did he come back to see how she was getting on.

That was the way of things between them. No-one asked. If something felt right, it was done. She could, and often did, put her own ideas forwards. If it were going to make him happy, then it happened.

The only thing he had ever hinted at, that never took place, was to walk down the local shopping centre naked. This wasn’t because it didn’t please him, but out of respect for Carly’s career. If anyone she knew had seen her, it could have had dire consequences.

But this cabinet was designed for one purpose only, and one occupant. It could only ever bring dire pain to whoever was unfortunate to be within it when the torment started.

She took out the papers she had got with it, and studied them carefully. She drew, as best she could, the cradle that would have gone over the head. It was a cage, that hinged at the front ad locked at the back. Extensions within the head cage would hold the mouth wide open. Not to stop her screaming, but to give access to her tongue. The head would be pulled far back, and down, giving perfect access to the mouth, and, with the victim bound in place, she would have no way of preventing anything that was done to her.

The arc that had once filled the centre of the cabinet had been twelve inches wide, with metal bands that tightened across the victim’s waist. The band was a specific size, not variable. So whoever was in the cabinet, had their waist reduced to fit into it. This, Carly knew from wearing a corset, would make breathing harder, and screaming even more so.

The chains that ran to each corner of the cabinet were designed to stretch the victim’s limbs, and it appeared that no matter how tall the victim, the same chains were used. This meant that some of the victims would have already suffered dislocated limbs just to get in place.

Carly could not imagine how painful it must have been for them. Already in total agony, and then have their limbs stretched, their bodies stretched, and all before the torture even started.

These people, these victims had gone somewhere Carly had never been, to the very edge of their endurance. It may not have saved the victims, as they would still be put to death later, but to the very edge of their endurance, where they would have killed themselves to end the pain.

Could she really go that far herself? She doubted it, but, she had to know. Some people are afraid of the unknown. Some accept the unknown, Carly, like Tom, actually went in search of the unknown, challenging it. To rebuild this cabinet, and to then try it out, even if she were only held as they had been, would be a step others would never dream of taking. Carly not only dreamed of it, but hungered for it.

She made measurements, and then took an inch or two off each one, so that she would, if she succeeded, be stretched out much farther than ever she had before. There was a distinct chance her own limbs would end up dislocated, but she had to do it that way. To settle within what a person knew they could accept, was alien to her, and pointless. Where was the challenge in doing only that. The challenge had to be to extend oneself, go where there was no knowledge, just to gain that knowledge. To be able to say, “I did it”.

Carly had even found out the cabinet’s name. “la cámara de horrores”. Spanish for “Chamber of horrors”. And what horrors could have taken place within it’s wooden frame.

It took a dew minutes to get hold of Tom, and ask him to come around to see the cabinet. He agreed, but not for a few days, as he would be busy. But there were things Carly could do while she waited for him.

Tom was handy, both as a play partner, and because he was good with his hands. He would be able to re-create the head cage for her, and anything else she didn’t understand. Even some of the writings were in Spanish, which, no doubt, would become self explanatory when translated.

For two more night she slept in the cabinet, trying to get images of the suffering that had taken place inside it. The more she learned about it, the wilder her dreams became.

She imagined herself stretched tightly over the arc, her back pulled tight to it by the metal band. Her arms and legs stretched, whilst she was tortured. It was only there, the tortures, that she could not really imagine. She needed more information on what happened inside the cabinet. But none seemed to be forthcoming.

After Carly’s phone call, Tom rang a friend of his who was a Catholic priest. He told him what he was interested in, and asked what the priest could tell him. It was the next day when they met up.

“This cabinet”, the priest started. “It was perhaps the most fearful piece of equipment used in those dark ages. It was specifically designed to cause the most possible pain. Backs were broken. Arms and legs were dislocated. Even necks broken. Anyone who survived the cabinet, was deemed a witch, as they would have needed the Devil’s help to survive. Once inside it, a victim could look forward to a slow and agonising death. If their arms and legs were not dislocated, there was a metal rod placed between their legs that extended fifteen inches inside the victim. It mattered not whether the victim was male of female. The head was pulled so far back it placed a lot of pressure on the neck, often breaking it. Even that was not enough. A spike was driven through the victim’s tongue, to stop them asking the Devil for help, and the spike was then pulled by ropes, stretching the tongue. There are records showing that the tongue had even been ripped out this way. It was the worst piece of equipment they used, and few actually know of it’s existence. I had to go into the archives to find out about it for you.”

Tom thanked the priest, but refused to say why he was interested in the cabinet. No matter what Carly thought she knew about it, Tom now knew more, and would help her to rebuild it, to it’s original specifications. He knew she always wanted to test herself. This would be the ultimate test. And he? He would put her in place, and then leave her for the night. There would be no easy release. Not midnight screams to be freed of it. He would be home, asleep, whilst Carly suffered.

It took them over three weeks to repair the cabinet. They had considered sanding the wood, but it was soon obvious that the blood had dried deep into the wood itself, and no amount of sanding would get rid of it.

He tried to tell her what he had learned from the priest, but he could see that the idea of this being their worst torture, was serving only to heighten her excitement. No matter how hard he tried to talk her out of it, he knew she would not let him.

This, of course, was Tom’s plan. He knew she really got off on the idea of pain. He had caused a lot of it himself. But this one. The ultimate test, would never be beaten. No matter what she tried after this, she would never top it. Of that, he was sure.

“So, what do you think?” asked Carly, as they stood looking at the finished cabinet? “I am not sure about that metal rod thing, but if it was a part of the original, then it has to be there, and be used.”

“That rod will go a full fifteen inches inside you. Do you realise what that means? It means it could be doing serious damage to you. Your body will be bent, but the rod goes in straight. It will not be very pleasant.”

Carly laughed at him.

“Since when did I do the pleasant things?”.

“You  know that once I start to pout you into it, I will not stop. Not only that, you will be there all night, as I have places to go. Its Saturday, and I have plans. This means I wont be around to release you until at least lunch time tomorrow. That’s a long time to be in pain, Carly”

“I know all that” she replied. “But this is a chance in a lifetime. To experience, first hand, some of the pains that they felt all them years ago. How could I turn that down? It’s not the time I spend in there, it’s the actual being there, unable to move, unable to get free. It doesn’t matter whether you come at six in the morning, or one in the afternoon. But it’s something I must try.”

“And if it gets too much for you? And I am not here to free you?”

“That, dear Tom, is my problem. You are absolved af all blame” again she laughed.

Tom wasn’t really bothered about how much pain she would be in. it would be the questions he would have to answer if anything went wrong overnight. He would not be available to free her until he awoke the next day, and he had no intention of setting alarm clocks. If he woke early, he would come and release her. If he awoke late, she would suffer until he arrived.

“One other thing, Tom. Tomorrow when you get back. Regardless of what I say, you are to whip my stomach and legs for at least twenty minutes before you release me. It doesn’t matter if you break my flesh, I rather think that being pulled tight over that arc, would pull my skin tight, and make it more susceptible, but its something I want. You have to promise, Tom”.

Tom knew she was asking to be taken well above any limits she may have already experienced. The addition of the words “Regardless of what I say” that would make the difference. By saying that, she knew that he would do it. She had never had or used a safe word in their relationship. And what she was saying now, was that she didn’t want one now. If she had one, she may use it, by not having one, it was not in her hands. Tom would be in total control, and she knew he would not be gentle when whipping her.

“Okay. On one condition.”

“What condition?” she asked.

“That I get to fuck you before I release you”

Carly looked at him. Sex had never been mentioned or considered before. But she knew he had her over a barrel. She wanted this so badly, and would have given anything for it. But the price he was now stating, had never entered her head. She also knew that, if he wanted to, he could fuck her whether she wanted it or not. She would be in no position to stop him.

“Okay” she agreed. “But this does not mean our relationship is going to be sexual from now on. I am happy with what we have.  I love the way you hurt me without thinking about it. And if, this time, the price for that pain, is sex, then I am willing to pay the price. But it has to be a one off. It cannot be a regular thing. That would change our relationship, and I wouldn’t want that”

Tom nodded his head. If this were going to be his only chance to fuck her, he would take it. He would have preferred her to allow it more often, but he did understand what she meant.

“Okay” he said at last. “I agree, a one off fuck. Whilst you are still helpless.”

Having agreed Carly moved into the cabinet and turned her hack to the arc.

“How do we do this?” she asked.

Tom moved her forwards and spread her legs wide. The chains from the bottom corners only just reached her ankles, pulling her legs wide apart. Making it difficult for Carly to stand. She had to fight hard to hold her balance. One her legs were secured, Tom helped her to lay slowly backwards. She could feel the arc bending her back in ways it was not designed to bend, but was already helpless to stop it.  Tom moved to one set og chains and moved them towards her left wrist.  They were a little too short, and he knew that if he were to get them in place, he would be almost pulling her shoulder out of it’s socket. But he had made her a promise, and he would keep it.

Pulling at her arm, and hearing her moan, he eventually managed to slip the metal cuff around her wrist. He could see how badly she was stretched already, and knew that by the time he had the other arm in place, she would be in much pain.

He moved over to the other side and pulled the chains as far as they would go. This time, they were even shorter, as her body had slid slightly over to the one side. It took all his strength to pull her arm within reach of the waiting cuffs, struggling to get it into place. As he finally managed it, he heard her gasp in pain.

The head cage was easy to apply, but then he began to pull it back and down, pulling her head backwards against the arc. Her view would be limited to the rear wall of the arc, and would be putting extreme pressure on her neck muscles and her larynx. That she could breathe at all was a miracle.

Satisfied that the restraints were all in place, he moved to the metal band across the centre of the arc. He began to pull the band over and across her stomach, knowing that as he did so, he would be making it even harder for her to breathe. Her waist was pulled in by a good four inches to allow the band to close and lock.

No matter what Carly tried to do from that point on, she would not get free until Tom returned the next day.

Only one thing remained. The long metal spear that would impale her. He had followed the instructions carefully, and the far end of it was lodged against the front of the cabinet. The other end, the extending end, would move either up or down, until it was placed inside her. Then it would only extend. She had given him instructions that it was to be fully extended, no matter what damage, if any, it caused. He knew he was going to fuck her in the morning, he chose to put the end of the sheaf against her arse. He had lightly lubricated it, but knew that it would not help Carly much. He heard her moan as she realised where he was going to put it, and tried to swuirm away from it before it entered her. But try as she may, she could not avoid it, as the end of the sheaf forced it’s way inside her arse.

It felt like a red hot spear, as it penetrated her. She had never had anything put in there before, and this was already hurting her more than she could ever have imagined. He tried to beg him to stop, but she knew, even as she did so, that he would not stop. Any chance of him stopping, and ceased when she had allowed him to restrain her ankles. As with every thing they did, once it started, it continued to it’s conclusion.

It felt as if the spear was in her stomach by the time Tom had finished pushing it into her, and pressed the locking pin home, no longer allowing it to release itself. Only he could release it, and that would not be for many hours.

Carly had never felt such pain before as she did at that moment. Not only from the spear, but her arms, her wrists, and her legs, all screamed with pain. Her neck already hurt, and though she could turn her head slightly from side to side, she could not do anything to ease the pressure caused by it being pulled so far back.

“I am going to turn the lights out, Carly. That way you wont know, if it is day or night. You wont know the time, you wont have any idea of how long you have been in the cabinet, or how long before I am due to return. Apparently, the victims in earlier times suffered this treatment, so shall you. I wills ee you when I return, Carly, but until then, you are on your own”

Carly heard his footsteps as he crossed the basement. She knew he was by the door, even though she could not see him anymore. Then it was dark. Not the dark of the streets, but pitch blackness. There were no windows in the basement. No way of letting any light inside. Once the door was closed, the room was as black as coal.

Even before Tom had reached the first floor, Carly was in agony. Her shoulders were already on fire, as were her ankles. The chains she had made shorter, were now really too short. There was no relief from them, as they stretched her arms further than they were ever meant to go. The arc seemed to press into her back even more, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

She had already discovered that she could only breathe slowly and shallow. Both the stretching of her neck, and the metal strap across her diaphragm were restricting her breathing.

She wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew, but reminded herself, that others in the past had suffered this torture, not of their own choosing. They had been forced into this position, and had then suffered even more.

She tried to wriggle about to make herself more comfortable, but the small amount she could move, also moved the spear buried deep in her arse, causing added pain and pressure. Any movement she tried to make, would only bring her added pain.

If only Tom had left the radio on, but that would have allowed her to keep track of time, which was not a part of his plans. She knew he would be getting pleasure from knowing that, even though it was her own idea, he had put her in this position, and was therefore administering her the pain she was feeling. And she was feeling a lot of that.

Even had she been able to scream, it would have been a futile thing. The basement was soundproofed. She could not even call out. To do so would need more breath than she could intake in this position. She knew she could move her head slightly from side to side, but that served no purpose. She could see nothing in the darkness that now veiled her.

How long had it been? Her arms were feeling more and more pain, as she tried to find a more comfortable position. Not that she had much leverage. From the waist down she had no movement at all. The metal band held her tight against the arc, whilst the ankle chains stretched her legs as far as they would ever go. And any movement, however slight, caused the spear to shit position inside her, sending a wave of sharp pain through her entire body.

She knew she would not sleep at all, but also knew she would, at some stage, have to answer the call of nature. Maybe that was part of the cause of the dark stains on the base of the cabinet. Unable to move, victims had been forced to pee where they lay. That may be possible, but would not explain the dark stains on other parts of the cabinet. Its walls as well as the base. They were most certainly blood stains.

How long she had been in the cabinet, or when it had actually started, Carly had no idea. But the pains in her shoulders and back seemed to be diminishing. Maybe the lack of movement had settled her body in the one position, and her muscles had no longer a need to stretch.

It seemed strange to her that such pain as she had felt, could ease itself once the body settled into one position. She moved her head the small amount she could, and felt pain in her shoulders. That, she told herself, was to be avoided.

But the other pains, in her legs, her back and even in her neck itself, seemed to be dying down, slowly. Nothing was as painful as it had been earlier. Perhaps she and Tom had got it wrong. Maybe the chains should have been fixed to a wheel that turned of it’s own accord, stretching the victim more and more.

But that wasn’t possible. They had followed the directions very carefully, and Carly had even made the restraining chains shorter deliberately. It obviously had to do with the body being in a single position for so long, that the muscles had settled.

As she lay there, feeling the pain go, she tried to occupy her mind. The darkness and silence was new to her. Normally, a person could hear sounds in their own home. A passing car, the electricity meter turning from one cycle to another, a clock ticking its way merrily to the next hour.

But here, in the basement, there were no sounds at all. Total silence to equal the total darkness. She needed to occupy her mind, and tried to imagine what horrors the past victims had endured whilst held in the position she now found herself in.

She knew, now, that whatever befell them, they were incapable of preventing. She, herself, could make no movement at all. Whatever came their way, they would have had to endure. They may have screamed, but they could not avoid it. Just as she could not avoid the whipping she would get when Tom returned.

She suddenly realised she had told him she wanted whipping, not flogging. The two were totally separate entities. The flogger, though quite painful, was never as severe as the whip. Tom’s whip was six feet long, and when cracked, the tip of the whip had crossed the sound barrier. And she remembered she had told him she was to be whipped, for half an hour. That would be a severe and relentless whipping. Even one stroke every thirty seconds, would mean sixty strokes, across her taut body. She could not #defend herself, and she had told him to continue regardless of what she said.

It was now that she realised she had meant to say he should flog her, but she had said whip. She could try to tell him she had made a mistake, but her words were going to come back and haunt her, of that she was sure. Regardless of what she said, he was to whip her for half an hour. At least sixty strokes, more possibly ninety, as Tom had never, to her mind, taken more than twenty seconds between each stroke.

Carly’s mind raced as she tried to find a way out of what she had said. But she knew there was no way out of it. She had given him permission. Not only that, she had told him that if she started bleeding, he was to still carry on. He was to show no mercy to her.

When she fell asleep, Carly had no idea. But she woke with the urge she felt every morning. Her bladder was full, and she knew she could do nothing to stop what was about to happen. She could only hope that Tom had not set up an infrared camera to keep an eye on her, as she began to pee. She could not move her hips, as she felt the srpay leave her body. She could hear it splashing against the bottom wall of the cabinet, and could only imagine the pool it would make.

It then struck her that if it were squirting that far, the dark stains at the foot of the arc, was not piss, but blood.

Would her blood be added to it? Would the cabinet have breathed new life, given by her? She would not know until the ordeal was over, and she was released.

How many more hours? How long had she been alone? How long had she slept? There was no way of her knowing the answer to any of these questions. Until Tom returned and told her the time, she would not know how long she had been in the cabinet.

Now lying awake. She realised the pain had totally stopped. But she knew that worse was yet to come. Every muscle involved, had been stretched more than ever before. She knew that when they were returned to their normal position, there would be pain. How much pain, she could not begin to imagine.

Carly could not remember falling back to sleep. But she was awoken by blinding light as Tom came into the basement and illuminated the place.

She tried to close her eyes, but the light seemed to burn straight through her eye lids. So dark had it been before, that the lights were now too bright for her to handle.

She heard Tom move over towards where she lay, and place something on the grounc. Moments later, she heard a zipper, and some things being shifted about.

The pain came without warning. Tom stood to one side of the cabinet, whip in hand, and sent the first blow straight across her stomach.

Carly screamed, though in her restricted position, it came out as less than a scream, more of a guttural moan, as a line of fire crossed her tight stomach. The next phase had started without a word, and she knew she could do nothing to stop it. Tom would use the whip wherever he wanted. The first blow, across her stomach, did not mean he would stick to tat one area.

He worst fears were realised as the next blow came across her thighs.  The pain of the whip was more than she could have imagined, but when the whip had hit her thighs, she had inadvertently move her foot. This set off a chain of pain she had never experienced before, as muscles that had lain dormant all night, were dragged into action.

She knew she couldn’t handle what was coming, but there was no way to stop it, as Tom lashed her body time after time. Each whip blow brought its own pain, its own desire to be freed. She tried to tell him to stop, that she couldn’t handle it, but Tom was not listening to her. She had told him to ignore her, and he would do just that.

Her tits, her stomach and her thighs were a mess of angry red welts as Tom administered the punishment she, herself, had asked for. Her screams filled her head, though not the basement. Her head rocked painfully from side to side with each vicious blow of the whip. In his usual style, Tom was not holding back.

Each blow was intentional. And hard. He could see blood weeping from a few of the welts, but still he continued in his task

Carly had no answer to the pain she was feeling, and could do nothing to stop it. She begged, screamed and begged again for it to stop, but the blows continued to rain down on her stomach and her tits, often down across her thighs as well.

She could not count the blows. But she did know that at the rate he was whipping her, ninety had been a very low estimate. She could feel warm blood tricking across her stomach, and her upper thighs. He had obviously opened wounds with the whip, but that would not deter him.

Not a single part of the front of her body escaped the attention of the whip, as Tom took to his task in earnest. She could hear him breathing heavy, and prayed he would stop, taking pity on her. But pity ws not a word in Tom’s vocabulary, especially when she had told him that no matter what she said or did, he was not to take any notice until the time was up.

When the end came, Carly was already a weeping mess, uncontrollably sobbing. It took her several minutes to realise that the rain of blows had come to a halt, and that the half hour had expired. Every part of her stomach and tits was in agony. Her thighs were on fire, as Tom began to undress.

Carly knew what was coming, but was, by now, too weak to stop him even had she not been still fastened down.

As Tom moved between her legs, stroking his cock, he could see the blood on her inner thighs where the whip had broken the skin. He rubbed his cock into the blood, as lubricant, before placing the head against Carly’s open pussy lips.

He slowly fed the head inside her, before grabbing her hips, and thrusting deep inside her.

He heard her moan. Some of it was due to the sudden invasion of her pussy, but the rest was the pressure he was forcing onto the long spear still buried deep in her arse. Whether she liked it or not, Carly was being double penetrated, and unable to do anything to stop it happening.

Tom began slowly, at first, but he had waited for this all night. If this as going to be the only time he got to fuck Carly, he wanted it to be good.

After a few minutes, he started to move a little faster, driving a little deeper, hearing her moan in pain as each time he moved her hips, the spear moved in her arse,c auing more pain.

He tried to lift her hips up to meet his thrusts, but they could not be moved, so moving closer to her, he was able to ram the whole length of his cock deep inside her.

Whether the pain did it, or the fact  she was being fucked in such a way, Tom would never know, but her pussy seemed to grip him as he pressed himself deep inside her. There was no gentleness now, just pure animal lust as he rammed his cock hard and deep inside her. She had said nothing about pulling out before he came, and at that moment, Carly seemed totally incoherent. He was filled with lust, and the knowledge that each thrust into her, caused more and more pain.

He knew he was about to cum, as he drove as deep and hard a s he could. Carly seemed aware of it at the same time. Her head shaking from side to side, silently begging him to pull out before it was too late. But it was already too late,.

Tom rammed himself all the way in to her pussy, grabbing her hips to pull her as far as her restraints would let her, as he moaned loudly, his cock jerking deep inside her pussy, as he flooded it with his hot juices. Carly didn’t know what came over her, but as Tom came inside her, everything turned white in front of her eyes, nothing mattered, the pain, the room, the world. Nothing mattered, as she felt her own orgasm explode, filling her with warmth, pain, agony and Tom.

Almost immediately Tom pulled his cock out of her, and moved to the other end of the arc. She could see him as his hands moved to release the tie that held her head back, and as he lifted her head, the pain that shot through her was almost unbearable. The neck muscles which had tightened during the night, were now being stretched back to normal. But it was not over yet. As with the original head cage, Carly’s mouth had been held open, and Tom now moved his hips forwards, forcing his cock into her mouth.

She could do nothing but squeal in agony from the pain, as he rammed his cock into her mouth, forcing her to clean it.

What happened next was certainly not planned. He held his cock still in her mouth, as he told her she needed a drink. Even before she realised what he meant, she could feel him pissing into her mouth.

She gagged and choked, as he filled her mouth with the nasty taste of his piss. She tried to move her head away, but he held it firm, as he continued to piss into her open mouth. She could not swallow, and she could feel the hot liquid running out of her mouth, and down her face.

Tears filled her eyes, as the taste filled her mouth and throat..

Eventually finishing, Tom finally pulled his cock from her mouth and started to laugh.

“You wanted to know what the victims had to put up with? Now you know. Or you know some of it. The victims were subjected to a lot more than you have been. Think yourself lucky I am not an inquisitor.

Carly sobbed like a baby as she realised that Tom had done nothing he shouldn’t have don. She “had” wanted to know what the earlier victims had endured. And she had faced it, and was still alive. In agony, but still alive.

She knew, even before another word was spoken, that she had gone much further than she ever thought she could go, had done more than she ever dreamed possible, but having done that, she, and Tom, knew that there would be another step forwards.

There was always another step forwards.

TO BE CONTINUED.