Monday, November 07, 2005

Image hosted by

Breast Torture

This is a short story I wrote on semicommission. Hope you all enjoy it while, yes, I continue to write my promissed sequal to Firestorm.


Breast Torture
By: Alan Gabriel

Her chains rattled as she struggled in vain, hoping not so much to escape as to relieve, even for a moment the pain coursing down her back from the severity of the angle at which her arms were lashed. No, she knew escape was far from possible and had accepted that. She waited, in slow perdition, waited for her capture to return and inflict his promised horrors upon her tender, exposed flesh.
Three hours she hung there, helpless, stripped, defenseless. Three hours her mind tormented her with visions of pain and terror. All too soon, she knew, they would be proven a pale pretense.
He had returned with a fresh surge of enthusiasm. He quickly went about laying out his needed tools: A small portable electric hot plate, two pots, one filled with water, the other with some thick, honey colored goop, and the needles.
Dozens and dozens of needles, all surgical quality, she knew, and all capped at the blunt end with a small rubber stopper. She knew that these were to prevent the needles from falling into the flesh and being irretrievable. She also knew this meant the full length of these needles would soon be shoved harshly into her pink skin.
A small, leather covered tray was strapped around her ribs, just below her trembling breasts. She didn’t know what this was for and tried not to conjure any images from her over-active imagination.
Dumping the needles into the pot of water, the man turned both burners on full and watched as the honey colored slime began to bubble and boil as well as the water steam and turn to white from the intense heat.
Slowly he took out a basting brush like the ones sold at the grocery store around Thanksgiving. He slowly dipped it into the boiling wax and then began to paint, with torturously deliberate strokes, the plump and fleshy mounds of her breasts.
She screamed into the gag as the intense heat began to burn her delicate skin and cried as she felt her luscious mammaries begin to fry under the cruel coatings of scalding wax. She expected him to coat her rosebud nipples as well but was surprised when he carefully avoided them altogether, peeling away the first hardened layer of wax, he then reapplied a new coat bringing new screams of pain and horror from her gagged lips.
Again and again, he covered her tits with smooth, even strokes, almost artistic in his approach, he seemed deeply concentrated in his work pausing only when his victim fainted from the pain. He quickly revived her, cruelly forcing her to enjoy his entire undertaking.
When he finally finished, he peeled the final layer off to reveal her once pale and lustrous orbs were now a tanned, almost roasted, shade of golden brown.
Tears streamed freely down her downy cheeks as she beheld her ruined glory.
Donning heat resistant gloves and a pair of steel tongs, her tormentor began to remove, one by one, the needles from the pot of scalding hot water and slowly, deliberately, drive them home into her aching teats.
She passed out several times as he began a slow spiral pattern up her breasts, circling the base first and covering completely her roasted mounds. Each time he revived her and forced her to feel the searing heat deep in her bosom as she was cooked from the inside out in a slow parody of spit roasting a suckling pig.
Over the next few hours, her ruined tits began to distend and turn to a deep purplish color before going to a darker shade of brown.
As the needles approached the summit of her swollen peaks, she once again suspected he would jam more needles into her aching nipples, only to find him pinning them `round the edges of her areolas, stretching them to their full size.
He left her like that, suffering the full effects of his treatment, alone in that dark dungeon. Each second dragged out in agonizing, unbearable hell.
When he returned, he smiled at her, and held up the one instrument of torment he had hidden from her glazed eyes.
The end of the branding iron glowed with demonic delight. Her eyes went wide as panic set in. She pleaded with those eyes as he stroked her throbbing nipples slowly and smiled.
When the red-hot metal was pressed into this last bit of unspoiled flesh, she screamed like never before. Without the gag, her cries would have been deafening. A woman screaming before God, begging for her soul. Her eyes rolled back into her head as the world was swallowed by darkness and she fainted.



Post a Comment

<< Home