Torturous Existence

by Candace Smith

  “Do you want the sentry, Colonel?” the man on her other side asked.

  The Colonel stared into her eyes again, and the threat was palpable. “No, she’ll follow,” his deep voice replied. He placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her out of the room as other couples were leaving.

  Sabra realized she was less afraid of the man when the others were around them. Now that she was walking beside him, padding barefoot along the smooth floors of the lodge towards the staircase, she began to tremble. It was the first time she had stood next to him, and she had underestimated his height. She barely came up to his broad shoulders. No wonder he did not need the help of a sentry to assist him.

  Her feet began to drag as they climbed the stairs, and she looked up at the doors facing out from the hall to the open balcony. Behind one of those doors she would be tormented by this man. Her lashed hands began nervously fisting together and her feet slowed further. His hand went behind her back again, urging her forward.

  At the top of the stairs they turned right and continued to the end of the hall where the only door facing them opened to a huge room that ran the width of the lodge. “This used to be a conference room and I had the walls removed to join it with the suites on either side,” the man informed her. Flames from the three fireplaces were already casting a golden glow across the polished wood floor, and with the light from a few kerosene lamps the dancing shadows gave the terrifying furnishings an even more frightening countenance.

  Sabra was still standing where he had left her, shivering harder with each passing moment and each nervous glance at a new contrivance whose only purpose would be to enhance her suffering. The Colonel was laying the shirt he had removed on a chair by the hearth of the center fireplace. He turned, and she took an involuntary step backwards at the obvious strength and power he possessed.

  Sabra licked her lips and looked at his eyes, afraid she might actually see the tick that preceded insanity. There was only the penetrating gaze of desire that forced her pussy to spasm and wet, and her mind to be thrown into turmoil as she envisioned being safely wrapped in his strong arms against his wide, tight chest.

  He strode up to her and took her arm to lead her to a post set by the side of the fireplace, where the flames cast shadows and distorted shapes. The Colonel pressed her into it so that her face rested against the polished wood. His body was pushing into hers, and she felt his skin on her back causing her to tremble in fear and clench madly in desire. After curling her hair behind her ear with a steady finger, he leaned down and said quietly, “You know what this is.” He traced the brand on her hip where it rested between their bodies. “No man could have gotten close enough to you to mark you without having you taste his whip.”

  Sabra began to silently cry. There was a shadowy remembrance of the sting and pain of the lashes Taylor had subjected her to, and she trembled at the thought of enduring it again. “Please, I can see it in your eyes. You know this is wrong,” she pleaded.

  The big hand moved from her hip and brushed up and down her side, and he pressed even closer to her. “It was wrong in the old world. Now, we decide the right and wrong of things. I’ve wanted to watch your hips rock and your ass clench while I lash you, and to listen to your screams as you acknowledge my power over you ever since you’re frightened green eyes stared up at me from where you were curled up on my office floor.” His lips moved close to her ear whispering, “And I feel your pussy pulsing and dripping with the anticipation of it.”

  Sabra let out a sob. What was wrong with her? How did he know these things? “I don’t,” she cried in denial. “How can you say that? How can you suggest I would want you to torture me?”

  The hand brushing down her side moved across the front of her hip to her slit. With one stroke he brought his hand up in front of her face, and her juices glistened in the firelight.

  She cried harder and said, “It’s not that. It’s not the thought of you whipping me. It’s not being able to have a man… a kind man… to hold me. That’s what it is. I miss the companionship.”

  “I see, and you were aroused by the mere touch of a man before? You’re lying to yourself. You want to feel a man’s mastery over you. You want to know he has the power to own you.”

  The man’s cruel suggestions were confusing her, and every word he spoke made her more aroused. It was a maddening confusion of feelings that she did not want to recognize as the truth. She wailed as he backed up and unlashed her wrists, only to secure them over her head.

  “Kiss the post for holding you,” he said, while his thumb caressed her wet cheek. Sabra pressed her lips together in defiance. He continued to stroke her cheek with one hand while the other reached around and pinched her nipple until she shrieked. “Kiss the post.” The pain on her sensitive erect bud was harsh, and she sobbed as she reluctantly kissed the wood. His hand immediately left her breast and flowed over her back and then over her bottom. Before he retreated, he said, “You will count the strokes.”

  Sabra was already wailing. On the floor in front of her, she saw the shadow of her form against the pole. Her eyes caught the movement, and an additional shadow lengthened in front of her, stretching out to gigantic height. An arm raised over the new shadow’s head and she recognized the shape of the whip in its hand. It seemed like slow motion as the shadow arm swung over, and she felt the flick of the fire on her bottom. Just as the Colonel had desired, her hips rocked into the pole and she shrieked at the intensity of the blow. “Stop,” she screamed. “Oh god, please…”

  He interrupted her cry, “Count it.”

  “One,” anything to make him stop, “please don’t…please.”

  Her tearful eyes saw the shadow reach out to the side and rush forward. The strike on the crease at the tops of her thighs felt like it had split open her flesh with the force, and she bellowed again as she pushed into the pole, clenching madly and trying to rid herself of the agony. A few seconds later a lighter strike, like a warning strike, caressed her thighs. “Count.”

  “Two… please, Colonel… it hurts so badly.”

  The shadow swung to the other side and the searing stinging torment was across her shoulders. “Three,” Sabra wailed in defeat.

  The Colonel walked up to her. “Ask me for one more,” he demanded. “It would please me, so tell me that is what you want.”

  Sabra shook her head and moaned. The Colonel ran the handle of the whip down her cheek towards her mouth, “Tell me, girl. Tell me you want one more stroke.”

  Sabra stared at the shadows moving on the floor and thought of the whip singeing her back like the flames of the fire. She was quivering from the pain of the welts and could almost sense her body forming purple bruises along the raised ridges. Taylor had never even kissed her with the whip, compared to the Colonel’s punishment.

  His lips were whispering in her ear again, “One more.”

  She had the irrational thought that he would lash her until her skin hung in ribbons, until he made her grovel, until he made her eyes glaze over with the despondent stare of permanent escape, if she did not do as he ordered. “One more,” her voice hitched a tormented quiet wail.

  The stiff leather handle continued to stroke her cheek. “One more, Colonel.”

  “One more, Colonel.” Yes, she acknowledged and would remember it was he that was torturing her.

  The last lash crossed the cheeks of her ass, and she jerked into the post and stiffened her thighs, tightening her bottom and wailing her torment… just as he had desired.

  He approached her, and the black leather snake of the whip whose fangs bit into her back cruelly was held in front of her, while his other hand stroked the back of her head. “Kiss it and thank me for teaching you.”

  Teaching her? Teaching her what? Teaching her that she had survived the epidemic that allowed the others to now rest in peace while she continued to survive the madness of the left over sickness? Her lips touched the merciless coil and she trembled, “Thank you, Colonel, for teaching me.�
� She felt the swollen hard bulge across her tortured bottom throb with her words.

  After replacing the whip on a hook by the fireplace, the Colonel untied her from the post. Sabra’s hands reached out to grip the wood for support, and she resisted the urge to reach back and feel her wounds. He had not given her permission to comfort herself.

  As if reading her mind, she felt his fingers trace the welts and he guided her to a full length mirror and turned her. She looked at the striations and was surprised to see not a single drop of blood. Sabra had been sure her flesh would be hanging where she had been flailed.

  He was standing in front of her and their eyes met in the mirror. “I am very skilled in my passion and prefer not to leave permanent scarring. It desensitizes the pain for future lessons.”

  “Lessons in what, Colonel?” Sabra risked getting punished for speaking out of turn.

  The man continued to stare into the reflection of her watery eyes, and the throbbing swelling of his cock was becoming a demanding ache. “Lessons to keep you safe. You must learn to obey without question, and we know fear… and pain… have proven to help us achieve this.”

  “And you have taken all decision and rights away from us?” she persisted.

  “I’m surprised you don’t understand by now. The problem is, of course, you have been conditioned to expect society to regard you as equals. That’s not the case anymore,” he replied. “Open.” He was pinching a ring gag between his fingers and Sabra’s eyes widened as she pulled back. “Perhaps you would like to go back to the post and repeat lesson one?”

  Any disillusionment that Sabra had allowed herself to feel about getting through to the man, was dispelled. The fiery throbbing in her back precluded any thought of risking a second whipping, and she opened her trembling lips.

  CHAPTER VII

  The Colonel

  The Colonel brought her over to a lewd looking device, and she tried to pull away while garbling protests through her drooling mouth. He gripped the front of her collar and raised her with one hand, while the other fondled her breasts. “You will learn your lessons, girl. The faster you learn, the quicker you will progress.”

  Progress to what? Different tortures? Different diabolical means for him to sate his madness? As he forced her onto the table, she wondered if the lessons were the same for all the women or if each of the rangers had their own schemes.

  Her legs were spread wide and secured over the arch of the stanchions that forced her knees to bend, further exposing her. She was sobbing quietly through the gag as her head was bowed back and the collar was hooked under the table so she was looking at the bulge in his jeans.

  Her arms were crushed under her as a belt secured her under her breasts and another ran over her hip bones. Not only was she bound so she was immobile, she could not see what he was doing with her head bent back. She understood the implications completely. With her mouth held open and her head at such an angle, she was an open access channeling down her throat. Thoughts of Taylor assaulted her again, and her core clenched as though in yearning while she moaned.

  The Colonel began speaking as he moved a chair between her spread legs. She felt his fingers idly stroke her pussy and it immediately responded to his caress. She heard him laugh softly. “You are not so far removed from the position I require, girl. When you let go of your rebellious, destructive thoughts and begin to think only about gratification, you will do what I desire to quench your arousal.”

  Sabra’s tears were splattering on the floor and she watched the water reflect the fire. His words were frightening, because more and more her thoughts were turning to what he was suggesting. Taylor had ignited a passion that still had not been satisfied. And this man, the Colonel, was even more demanding, more powerful… and more desirable to her.

  Fingers spread her puffy lips and stroked her slick folds, and there was an immediate response of clenching muscles as more cream lubricated his path. The little pearl of flesh that Taylor had found so threatening, exposed itself proudly to be included in his touch. She was quickly fighting her climax, and needing it so badly at the same time. The fingers stopped their strumming, and she groaned at the unfairness.

  “In the time before this new world, I was a Colonel… a researcher for the defense department. I worked at a laboratory, a top-notch facility that provided civilian pharmaceuticals, and the research for those drugs was being funded by the government in exchange for some more ‘specialty’ concoctions. I worked alongside a scientist, a brilliant man, and we were very close to completing a drug that would help strengthen the resolve and physique of our soldiers.”

  He stopped speaking as his fingers began coaxing her back to the brink, and when he felt her crisis he abandoned her again. Sabra was going insane with the need for completion. The Colonel continued, “For some reason, my friend believed all that crap about the end of the world. He’d confided in me that he was leaving, and that I would have to finish our work. This little drug we invented was extremely volatile, and there were very few places it could be kept safely. I discovered he had ‘borrowed’ some of our materials. The man was a much better scientist than conspirator, and I found a quantity of intriguing little black packages he was compiling. Naturally, as a researcher, my curiosity was peaked.”

  Once more she felt the fingers on her, this time entering her gripping walls, arousing her again, and halting her release. “My friend had put together a nasty little ‘bug’. I was rather surprised he combined the various bacteria. The addition of the drug we were working on, though, that was perplexing. He had concocted a decimating little pack, yet added our virility mix. I questioned him about how he thought it was all going to end, and eventually I discovered his real fear… that his wife or daughter would live through the catastrophe and be stuck trying to survive with the lazy, overindulgent men of our times to support them. He was a genius… though quite mad, of course.”

  “While he prepared to take his wife on this cruise around the world and deposit his little favors, I made plans of my own. I quickly discovered the various antidotes to his plague… after all, I’d help him research most of them, and after making sure I was immune, I added one more little bit to his packages.”

  “While we were researching the potion for our soldiers, we had already finished devising one for our enemies. One that would make them submissive and powerless. It did take some fancy maneuvering on my part to make sure it only attached itself to females.”

  In between the arousing torments, Sabra had been listening to him. As much as the men had been altered, so had the women. The explanation for her confusing acceptance to this new order was not comforting… it was infuriating.

  “I see you understand. Good, it should make things easier for you. The thought of a world where women know to kneel at a man’s feet was just too tempting for me, but as much as I’ve found the men more than willing to accept their new position, the old world conditioning has made it a slightly more difficult transition for the women.”

  “I did anticipate that, though. I came up here because it was rather obvious the cities were going to be a mess fairly quickly after my associate’s favors were delivered. I brought along a little device to help the women acquiesce. It didn’t seem fair to leave them in confusion.”

  Sabra felt fingers spread her labia, and then something pinched the base of her clit. Not too hard, but she began screaming at the thought he intended to cut it off, as Taylor had threatened to do.

  “Well, I don’t know what you are so upset about, but obviously any more meaningful discussion will have to wait until I’m through,” he said.

  Sabra felt a sting through her sensitive tissue and wondered if that had been the scalpel. If it had been, it was mercifully not too painful. She shuddered a few sobs, but her hysteria was curbed.

  “Settled down? Good. I’ve just implanted a most accommodating device. It is programmed into the solar generated tracking device in the office so you can be located at all times. I gather you have noticed
we do not keep our women leashed. They seem much happier that way. It also has the ability to vibrate, and we monitor your arousal, making sure you are kept pleasantly in need so you are much more willing to serve us and possibly be allowed your own gratification on occasion.”

  Sabra was in shock and silently crying as he continued to securely lock the door to any planned escape her and her friends might contrive. She had to tell Emmy and Betsy as soon as she could, so that if they had not been implanted, they could try to run… without her. She would not go with them harboring a tracking device.

  The Colonel continued to tell her the wonderful attributes of his invention. “There is a correcting shocking device to keep you out of trouble. It’s only fair to warn you that there are sensors in your wrist cuffs that will set it off if you attempt to pleasure yourself without permission. The whole balance of our program lies in keeping you in a state of denied arousal and willing to please.”

  “Let’s give it a try, shall we?” He rose from between her legs and she watched his upside down form walk over to a chair in front of the fire. He sat and removed his boots and turned his back to her while he removed his jeans.