forced stories - The House Of Ordeals

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rajkumari
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Re: forced stories - The House Of Ordeals

Unread post by rajkumari » 22 Feb 2017 14:16

Part 7 – The ordeal of Samantha continues.

Samantha was quivering, kneeling on the board of nails, weeping in a kneeling position. The albino was rummaging around, looking for his tools. Elder could see she was trying to control her pain, her body looked tensed, her eyes shut, sweat pouring down her face. She was biting down hard on the underwear stuffed in her mouth. “So here we are!” The albino yelled, returning with rusty garden shears. “Open your eyes baby see what I’ve got!” she barely opened them, fearful, panicking. “We got to get rid of your clothes right? One at a time…” she mewed into her gag as he stepped closer. “We need access to your lovely young flesh yes?” She started pleading through her gag, shaking her head. This excited him more. “But of course, we should really tie your arms down to the pole…” He moved to the back of her, she turned her head to follow him. She felt him fidgeting with the leather straps along the solid pole she leaned against. She felt him thread the straps beneath and around her bound arms then pulled it tight like a belt, hooking metal teeth into the holes. He did this thrice, once around her upper arms, another at her elbows and a third strap securing her wrists to the pole. Elder admired the device, it was well designed, the straps ran through the pole and hung out from each side. Made from thick leather, it was hard to break. There were many holes in the straps with heavy buckles so he could pull it as tight as possible, designed to fit different arm girths, crushing arms together to the pole. The pole was steady, driven and anchored deep in concrete so it was stable. No amount of struggling would budge it. The albino tightened her neck strap, forcing the back of her head to press against the top end of the pole. When he was done trying her down this way, he dragged a stool in front of her, adjusted the height and sat down, facing her.
“you all ready to go topless baby?” He laughed, handling the shears. “Say goodbye to your last piece of protection!”


He slipped the blades beneath the sweater and started to cut, slowly, upwards, from the side. He cut through ropes that bound the sweater to her body, ropes that didn’t need to hold her down anymore. She wept as he did this, she could feel the tension of her arms bound behind her to the pole and the loss of other ropes didn’t free her one bit. He cut carefully, so he wouldn’t damage her tank top. He wanted to strip her one garment at a time, to heighten her fear. “Bit by bit by bit.” He cooed as he snipped off the ruined sweater up along side her chest, past her neck a through the shoulder area. The sweater split open at the side to expose her tight tank top and the profile of her large breasts. The thin pink fabric was stuck to her skin, wet from all the sweat. Elder could smell her from where he stood watching. It made him hard. The albino also appeared more excited, not with fuck lust but with pain lust as he exposed more of her sensitive flesh. He stepped over to the other side and started snipping off the rest of the sweater, slowly cutting upwards, ropes falling away.
He was silent, suddenly, breathing heavy. He seemed calm, collected, focused. This scared her. She didn’t know exactly what was going to happen next. She dared not even make a sound as the shears finished off her sweater and it fell to the ground in ruins. She started heaving heavily, chest rising and falling, her lovely breasts stretching against the wet cloth hugging her body. Her arms were bound behind her tightly with black cable ties. Both mad men could clearly see the shape and color of her white bra through her top which was soggy. Without warning, the albino dropped the shears nosily then with his right hand, he pinched her right breast through her clothes, exactly at her nipples and twisted hard. She bucked against the pole and the sudden struggle shot renewed bursts of pain through her nailed knees. She screamed, long and hard before he let go of the twist. “You were getting too quiet my sweet!” The albino laughed and moved away to get his steel trolley. He ceremoniously brought it to the front of her, pushing slowly and excitedly, the contents of the metallic tray was covered by a black cloth. Her eyes widened, mind not daring to wonder what was beneath the cover.

“So,” he began, “let me introduce to you my toys…” He played with the ends of the black cloth, teasing but never really revealing the terrible array of pain instruments. She screwed her eyes, terrified. “Open your eyes bitch!” He yelled impatient, “unless you want me to glue them open!” she slowly opened her eyes and dread filled her like water in a tank. “I need you to use your imagination Samantha…imagine how I would use these tools on you…I’ve got your entire body to explore with these things…ha ha haaar…” His laugh was deep and menacing. “Lets start from your left,” he said slowly for effect, “and we move down the buffet of your inevitable torture…”


Very slowly, he flipped open the cloth revealing the first portion of the tray. “Section one….” He began, Samantha was already starting to weep noisily into her gag, “These are scalpels of various sizes. All stainless steel, they all get hot really fast under fire….all very sharp obviously, some serrated, some thin and clean. Some curved, some clawed and forked. Here you see some with needle like points, all different sizes, for piercing of course. Here is a rounded blade, the rolling kind. And here, “ he picked up one thicker than the rest. He pressed a small button at the bottom and the small rectangular blade started jerking up and down in a sawing motion, like a fucking machine, “Is one of my favorites…” Her mind reeled into the horrors of what would be done to her. Senseless noise escaped her.

“Second section.” He exposed a smaller compartment and picked up a silver nail clipper. “This one, I like too. Nice and slow, with small small cuts…” He grinned.
She could see that beneath each section, its corresponding number was printed in white bold fonts.

He unfurled the third section with relish, showing a collection of needles and thin black thread. She wept louder, “some parts of you need to be sewn up, some parts sewn open, can you guess which?” She was starting to feel nauseated with dread.

The fourth section scared her even more. Fishing hooks of various sizes gleamed against the black wood of the compartment, most of them were already stained with blood, some were stand alone hooks, others were small and attached to coiled lengths of fishing strings, at least 5 to 10 hooks on one string. There were small steel chains and balls of iron with different weights in an adjoining compartment. Small little silver clips with sharp teeth hung from the chains. There was also a roll of fishing string. “Imagine Samantha…” he reminded her with menace, “imagine what I can do with these little babies….” She let out a long despairing noise.

In the fifth section, he slowly revealed to her a staple gun and a stationary stapler. ‘Useful to attach things to your body I reckon…” There were boxes of different staple sizes.

There were matches and lighters in section six. “Fire fire burning bright! Cooking flesh is my delight! Scorching skin will be your plight!” he rhymed like a maniac against the sound of her garbled weeping. A small Bunsen burner attached via tube to a gas canister sitting on the second level of the trolley.

Section seven showed hot glue guns and glue tubes.

Section eight had an unplugged soldering iron…

Section nine had nails of various lengths and thickness, all rusty, and a small hammer. Scattered and mixed with the nails were thumbtacks and various safety pins. Elder wondered why he hadn’t group them with the needles.

Pliers and cutters sat in section ten, alongside tweezers and small tongs.

She nearly passed out just looking at the objects on display.

Samantha was making deep throated noises with every breath now, terrified. She started to pull and tug at her bonds, mildly at first, then quickly, almost ignoring her pain at her knees, desperate to break free from this madness before her. The albino stared at her into her eyes filling her with fear. He was holding up the nail clipper now….
He spoke with a deep slow whisper…”we need to remove your top….how can we torture you with your top on? How can we start our romance if you still have your bra protecting you? Hmm?” He chuckled, she started crying loudly as he pushed the trolley aside, pulled himself on the stool forward so he was very near her body. He touched her bare stomach under her top, she squealed, thinking he was starting to hurt her but no, he merely held the lower part of her top, feeling the thin fabric between his fingers and started clipping at it slowly, from the center near her belly button. Clip, clip clip, he purposefully and meticulously snipped. Her stomach was heaving in and out, faster with every second, heart pounding with horror. He grinned as he went on, clip, clip, clip, exposing her flat stomach, her solar plexus, ever so slowly cutting upwards, the bottom of her bra cups came to view, a white cotton bra. Elder could see her chest now, robust teenage flesh bundled tightly in her white bra as the pink top began opening up more and more like a curtain with every clip. The Albino resisted ripping apart the top, choosing to be patient, cutting through her chest and finally her neckline. The tightness of the top caused the two sides of the now maimed garment to spring open, exposing her well formed double D breasts in the tight bra. Slowly, the clip found its way to the left strap of the tank top. Clip. It fell away. Then the right. Clip. She moaned as her pink top fell and pooled around the back of her legs. Such a glorious sight. This young American teen in her white bra now, and black shorts, kneeling on a bloody board, body strapped to a pole.

Her tears streamed down over the leather pad over her mouth as she watched him pull the trolley near to him. He was watching her breast under all that cotton, wondering how he should start. She watched him through her tears, trembling, daring not to breathe. “Only your little bra left, between me and these…terrible tools…” he said, looking at the tools. “Oh what should we do to you first?” he studying his array, then pinched out a silver clip with jagged teeth, the one with a short chain attached to it.
“let’s test out your threshold hmmm? Shall we?” She shook her head in fear not defiance, the noise in her throat rising as he pressed open the clip and brought it close to her face, to show her exactly what it was, then he pretended it was a little creature, opening and closing the clips mouth playfully while lowering it to her right breast. He positioned the clip just over her nipples hiding underneath her bra. “here it comes…” She started screaming even before he clipped it on. When he did, her body jerked slightly at the sudden burst of pain. She tensed her body and fought against the burst, releasing a long gagged drawl. The clip pinched hard on her nipple but no blood came out. She had too much protection from the bra. She hummed a monotone to block out the pain. He gripped the clip and twisted it. She screamed some more, crying after the scream. Sobbing. Shaking her head. He released the clip, spat into her face. He picked out a lighter quickly, the type with a metal head. He lit it in front of her face and she flinched, taking deep breaths, afraid of what would come next. Her eyebrows arched up with fear. He let the fire burn bright, grinning in her face. “Hot, hot, hot…” he said. He let the fire heat up the metal. Then without warning, he released the gas killing the flame then tucked the lighter, burning hot head first into her left bra cup. Upon contact with fresh skin, she screamed and struggled and bucked, he pressed the hot metal against her left nipple, relishing her screaming and struggling. She was trashing her head left to right. He let it burn her, tilting his head, watching her face cramp up with pain. He pulled the lighter out, slowly dragging it against her young skin, staring at her. He yelled into her face. “This is nothing! Bitch! Nothing! Foreplay!” He appeared to be getting angrier, as if these mild tortures were irritating him. He was craving for blood now. His hand was trembling, her screaming subsided, catching her breath. She was sweating now, the drugs amplifying everything she was experiencing. He picked out a six sided dice and held it up to her face, adjusting his seat.

“You ready for a game Samantha baby?” He positioned his tray closer, tols gleaming in the bright white light in the torture room. He was getting started. He rolled the dice in his hands, cupped over it, then tossed it onto a small empty box on the tray, the dice bounced and stopped at four.
“Wow!” He exclaimed. “So early in the game, and you’re already at fishing hooks!”

He gently put both his hands on her rib cage, left and right. “You know what this means…” She started sobbing noisily. She started pleading again knowing it was no use, She tried to pull her body away, also knowing it was no use. “Time to unhook your bra…” He laughed at the joke, slipped his hands behind her back against her louder sobbing and half fear screams, “so that we can start hooking up your tender breasts…” He found the small clasp, gently undid it then ever so slowly, he held each open end and pulled it in opposite directions. Elder watched closely, the release of her white cotton bra and nearly ejaculated when he saw her large tits bounce free as the albino uncapped the bra from her body and pulled it over her head. Picking up the shearers that he dropped, he proceeded to cut the straps, letting her bra, mangled and forever lost, drop to the floor.
Elder stared at her round, soft breasts, her pink nipples and saw the red marks on the left breast where she had been burnt. The albino toyed with her nipples between his fingers, turning them slowly this way and that, delaying the inevitable pain that was to come. He held up his left hand, palms open before her like he was showing her a magic trick,” with this hand,” he said, “I’m going to pick out your first experience of sharp, acidic pain…”


She started heaving loudly, guttural, primal noises of NO. He started to giggle like a little child as he fished out the coiled fishing string, with the hooks tied upon it. He waved it in front of her terrified face. It pumped his blood watching her face turn into fear, knowing that she was all bound and topless now and he could start inflicting all sorts of pain upon her. With his right hand, he let the string of hooks dangle between her breasts. She jerked against her bonds, one last desperate attempt to somehow break free from this oncoming terror as he playfully allowed the small sharp hooks to slide and scratch against in the insides of her right breast. He pinched the lowest hook, the one at the end of the string, licked his dried lips from all that heavy breathing and carefully positioned the hook at the bottom, central part of her right tit, right at her ribs where the skin of her breasts joined the skin of her chest. He bent his head down a little to get a clearer view. “Here it comeees!!!” He gingerly pierced her tender flesh , the first sight of blood driving him crazy, the first sharp burst of pain sent shocks into her, it was like a sting that didn’t go away. He tugged the line upwards, hooking her deeper while he slowly hooked in the second hook into the side of her breast, pushing it into and under her skin. He tugged again and started circling her breast, slowly, deliberately pushing in the sharp little hooks as he went along the girth of her breast in a clockwise direction. Carefully, he released more string, mindful that at the end of the coil was another set of six nasty little hooks, to go around her left breast… Blood started dripping onto her torso and ribs, she was struggling and screaming and her crying was free and filled with pain. He pulled and tugged, some pierced parts started to tear a little, flesh ripping slightly. By the time he reached one full turn, the sixth hook had been cut and buried into her meat. Blood rolled down around her breast now from the little fresh holes. The albino was relishing this, the elder watched on fascinated, listening intently to the pitch of her crying, rubbing his erect cock. Samantha was shaking from the pain, which has only begun. The albino neatly circled the thin fishing string around her breast. After the third round, and without any remorse, he pulled the fishing line fast and tight, standing up to do this, he leveraged himself and tugged as hard and as viciously as he could. The hooks dug in deeper but did not break out. The string tightened considerably, biting into her skin, bulging out her breast. It was turning red from blood pressure and from the streaming crimson that streaked down her body like little red veins. He went round her breast two more times and paused when he had reached the point where the first hook was pierced. He carefully calculated the amount of string left. He needed to begin circling her left breast now.

He let the rest of the fishing line fall, studying the six hooks at the other end. He ran the line up through the valley of her breasts then circled it, anti-clockwise
Around her left breast.

After the third round, his fingers had reached the line of hooks at the other end. They were ready to be inserted one by one. He tugged mercilessly and hard on the fishing line, giving him a bit more slack. He pulled hard, never releasing the tension, the cinch pushing out her breast, cutting into her skin, the tension pulling against the hooks in her right breast, tightening, always tightening.

It was terrible, the tightness, the sharp sting, the prolonged pain of torn and hooked flesh. She was hysterical somewhat, swaying her body left to right, eyes screwed shut, sweating profusely. The albino reminded himself that the drug in her system was amplifying the pain. “Does it hurt Samantha? Hmm? Are you in PAIN?” He giggled loudly as his deft fingers began hooking her left breast. Like a meticulous model maker, he turned the hooks this way and that, slowly piercing her along the insides of her left tit, pulling the line after every hook had pierced. She was steadily screaming now, pauding only to catch her breath. The muffled quality of those screams, mixed with the crying noises, was such a turn on for the elder. He leaned into the albino’s ear and said, “I want to rape her…” The albino ignored him, he was focused on keeping the fishing line taut as he circled her left tit, piercing in the fourth and fifth hooks. He kept pulling, dragging and digging the hooks in, tearing slightly her skin listening to her screaming. The final hook reached just at the top of her left breast. He gave the line tension one last drag then carefully hooked it in. Both her breasts were bleeding now although not exactly profusely. Both her breasts bulged out, started to change color as blood flow was starting to show. Both her breasts appeared to be bunched closer to each other now, two melons touching each other, turning purple, thin hairline veins starting to show. The lower part of her heaving body, stomach contracting and tense, dealing with pain, looked like a work of art. Streaks and crooked lines of blood rolling down to pool and soak into the waistline of her soggy black shorts. Sweat streamed down her legs, her face was wet with tears and sweat. Small, signals of pain sounded from deep inside her gagged face and tense throat. She was extremely thirsty, throat sore from screaming. Pain still shooting from her knees and now sharp stings throbbed and pulsed around the insides of both her breasts. The taut fishing strings hurt her breasts from the inside, the pain concentrated and condensed in the core of her breasts. The albino sat back in his chair studying his handiwork. “Well done!” he grinned in her face. “Oh I’m not done yet sweetheart, don’t look so relieved. So much more flesh left to cover and see? He turned to the tray, “we still have so many hooks left! Bigger ones! And the weights! So much more we can do!” He laughed. She wept, disbelieving in the terror, disbelieving that more was coming. He suddenly grabbed both her breasts with his unruly paws and squeezed. New forms of pain shot through her chest like lightning, bursting into her head, she threw her head back, banging against the pole and screamed skywards, neck muscles bulging out, body swaying against her bonds. He clenched and turned her breasts, one clockwise the other anti clockwise, causing as much new damage as possible to her hooked points of pure pain. Her core felt like it was going to burst. He released his grip, fumbled for the small bottle of spray from the second level of the trolley and brought it out. “Now this!” he said with glee, “is filled with pure and thick salt water…” Her body shook with heavy sobbing, knowing what he was about to do. He purposefully moved the spray closer to her wounds…”bite down on my dirty underwear Sam, this might sting quite a bit…” He brought the nozzle close to her open wound and fired it off, close range, elevating the excruciating pain. The stinging shock made her jerk wildly as he fired off some more. The cries she made was almost inhuman, she nearly passed out but the drugs in her kept her wide-awake and alert to her pain. He sprayed some more; two, three bursts on each and every wound, taking his time to go around the 12 puncture wounds around her tits. He shot close, so the salt water was forced into her damaged flesh, seeping inside, stinging internally. Her body was dripping now with salt water and sweat and blood. He loved it. Her tits were turning slightly purple from the tightness. He put the spray aside and flicked his fingers hard against random wounds as if he was hammering in the hooks, plain and simple way of adding pain unto pain. He flicked her nipples hard a few times each, laughing as her nipples wobbled. He then dug the tips of his fingers into the thin, taut fishing line at the sides of her breast, and pulled, released, pulled, released. He was clearly enjoying this. She was clearly not. The pain was unbearable.

“Since you rolled a lucky four…” He said looking into the compartment on the tray for the right one, “let’s have four more hooks in your beautiful tits, one for each shall we?” She moaned and wept. “where’s mommy and daddy now hmmm?” He picked out a medium sized hook. It was new. Sharp. He held it before her terrified eyes. “ Do you think the police have any idea where you are?”
He pinched together the flesh around her left nipple first, then abruptly let go, as an idea hit him. “Let’s make this more interesting.” he said. He turned to face the tray and picked out a pair of pliers. He carefully used the tool to hold eye hole side of the hook. The sharp side jutted out from the tip of the pliers. With his free hand, he turned on the gas of the Bunsen burner. “Brother, could you please help me light this up? We’ve got a hook to cook for dear Samantha here…” He turned to the frantic girl, “silver is such a wonderful conductor of heat did you know? Your daddy ever brought you fishing Samantha? Hmm? ANSWER ME!” He slapped her breasts hard. She shook her head, crying. “Awwww what a pity…don’t worry, In a few seconds, I’ll show you exactly how to hook a living, writhing thing… like yourself…. Har har har har!! I AM YOUR DADDY NOW! And you deserve all the love you can get!” The fire burst from the burner and the albino brought the hook into the blue flame. “SO much love to give you pretty Samantha with your pretty braids and your pretty breasts with your pretty blood….” The hook was turning red fast. Samantha was getting more and more frantic. “Nice and hot, nice and BURNING hot!” He pinched her left nipple again to extrude the flesh then brought the freshly fired up hook close, turned the pliers to position the curved point then, against the backdrop of a deep throated scream of immense pain, he slowly punctured her skin along the rim of her light brown areola. She looked like she was having a fit but being bound kept her spasms to a bare minimum. Her struggling must’ve caused greater pain from her already injured knees. The burning silver hook sizzled as blood began to ooze from the wound. He twisted the pliers slightly and with more force, he dug the hook deeper into her breast, he turned the pliers a little again and pulled at it until the sharp tip pierced out from the other side of her areola. “There,” he said releasing the pliers to let the hook hang in her flesh. “And the finishing touches…” He picked out a fishing weight attached to a chain with a clip on its end. He clipped it to the end of the hook then let it drop. The weight pulled against the hook in her and he let it dangle and swing like a pendulum. The noise from her was a mixed mess of short sobbing bursts with intermittent sounds of screaming as she struggled to deal with the new onset of pain in her body and breast. “Just three more to go sweetheart!” He was already preparing the other hook.
It went in systematically just like the first, except through her right areola. The hook was heated up to a hot red and pierced slowly through her flesh, soundtracked by more hysterical screaming, sweating and body buckling. The albino spat in her face several times throughout his procedure. When he was done with the second hook, after chaining it to another fishing weight, he sat back to study his handiwork. Two dark grey weights on shining chains attached to medium sized hooks that pierced deep into her two tits. Blood and sweat dripping, she was getting nauseous again dizzy with pain. He pulled at the weights for fun just to hear her scream in different ways. He would never get bored with the sounds of gagged crying and mewing and despair. He loved it. He wanted to hurt her some more….

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rajkumari
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Re: forced stories - The House Of Ordeals

Unread post by rajkumari » 22 Feb 2017 14:17

Part 9: The Escalation of Samantha’s Pain.

The albino’s blood was pumping, his hands were shaking with excitement as he picked out the third medium sized hook and held it between his fingers of the right hand. “Where should the other two go hmm?” Samantha was pleading through he gag to stop. “Maybe we should hook your tits closer together yes?” He didn’t bother burning up the hook, instead he used the sides of hands to push her breasts together, the pressure forcing the other hooks around her tits to dig in deeper. She wailed as he studied how her flesh was bunched up now at the center. He gripped her tits and pushed them harder together so her flesh meshed, blood dripping form wounds. With his deft fingers he pierced through the surface of her left breast then wriggled the hook deeper and dragged it out into her right breast. Just barely the tip of the third hook protruded. She was of course gurgling with pain, sweat running down her tensed face. He left go of her tits and the hook surprisingly held her flesh together but it looked like it might tear through anytime. He picked up the fourth hook, pushed her tits together again and surgically inserted it through the front of her two breasts, successfully and artfully holding both tits together with the instruments of pain. “Time to roll the dice again! And I just realized, 6 sides die with more than six options! How silly of me, I’ll roll it twice and add them!” He quickly picked up the die and tossed it. “5! And…” He rolled it again, “3! That’s an 8! Let’s see, what is 8?!” He checked the compartments of the tray. His face lit u p. “Oh we need a power point for this…” He picked up the unplugged soldering iron and let the black wire dangle. “You’re going to LOVE this one! The pain is very very different!” Samantha’s face turned pale almost instantly. A rising, terrified protest began in her throat as the albino fumbled around for a power point. Tears flowed freely, her breathing turned into hyperventilation as her mind reeled at the possible uses of such a terrible machine. She started screaming again, she tried struggling to break free but it was no use as he pushed in the plug and the red light came on. He held on to the thing like a weapon and waved it in front of her face. “I’m thinking we can draw some pictures on your tits! This leaves nice, deep burn marks…I hope you like the smell of burning flesh because I do!” She shook her head furiously, eyes widened and body trembling with pre-emptive shock. The iron began heating up, he licked his lips, she kept jerking against her bonds, coughing into her gag because of the panic rising steadily in her. He pulled his stool closer to her. The soldering iron had already heated up. “Left or right breast first?” tears rolled down her face. “I say right!, right? Hahaha!” He held the thing with his right hand and with his left he squeezed her fleshy large breast. “hjere it comes!” she screamed into her gag even before contact. When the tip touched her skin, the pain shot through her innocent body like a bolt of electric hurt. Her skin sizzled as he pushed the tip slightly just at the rim of her areola and dragged the iron hot instrument upwards the top side of her breast. She struggled furiously and howled into her gag causing the burn line to be jagged a little. “stop moving bitch! You’re messing up my art work!” He laughed hard, his tongue sticking out as he drew a few more lines with the burning thing. The smell of fresh excited him, the sizzling sound of evaporating blood made his heart race. He slowly and painfully drew his first smiley face somewhere along the side of her right tit. The pain was of course excruciating. Young flesh on fire, each drag brought a renewed hurt as he punctured two small holes in the circle and drew a smile. He move don to her left breast, tracing the outline of her other areola, burning a deep brown streak of pain around her nipples, slowly, menacingly, he let the terrible hot iron scar her deeply. He started writing on his slave, spelling out S L U T right across her flesh. She was sweating profusely, crying loudly and gurgling and groaning in that muffled way that was so erotic. Elder was a silent watcher, masturbating as he watched his brother finish off SLUT. The albino jabbed the burning thing into her right breast again, just under her nipple and purposely let the tip sink into her skin. He punctured many holes after that, like hot knives burning inn soft butter. Her flesh bubbled and swelled around the puncture marks that were turning nearly black. She threw her head in all sorts of direction, trying her best to distract form the pain that exploded in her brain with every contact. Sweat ran down her lovely body, pooling around her shorts. He thought unpleasantly of the other big breasted girl, the one who bit off his cock and his anger fueled him to cause greater harm to this bitch, who could do nothing to hurt him. It was he who would hurt her, very very badly. He slowly took his time to write W H O R E right across her right breast, the O circling her nipple. Her body was now defiled with insults. He spat onto her left breast then started chanting something sinister. She felt as terrible emotion of fear escalating, of dread and impossible helplessness fill her up. When he finished chanting , he burned the magickal formulae into her skin. She realized that this black magic was ANCHORING all the terrible feelings he had somehow raised in her. With every turn and puncture and drag of the hot iron tip, the disturbing feelings escalated and remained at that stationary vibration. He was sealing in those emotions with a spell. “you WILL never be at peace, NEVER!” He directed all his powers into finishing off the sigil of horror. When he was done, he put the iron down then pinched both her nipples and twisted hard. He was losing energy, about to pass out from all the pain. Just then, there was a knock on the door. The elder opened it. It was the crone. A figure was standing behind her.
“my dearie sons, look who dropped by!” Elder’s face lit up with an evil smile of appreciation. The albino turned away from his object of anger and saw his old old friend walk in. “Good evening Masters,” The DarkStalker bowed as he came in, “I don’t suppose you need a hand torturing this beautiful one?” The albino grinned, “Why the hell do you think I called you? Come in! see! There’s plenty of toys here and I was JUST getting started with her tits! Pull up a chair!” He turned back to Samantha, who was now even more afraid with a second torturer in the room, “We still have lots to do to this rich little abused meat!”



Eleven. Epilogue

The elder hides in a cave, thousands of miles north of the house of Ordeals.
He is masturbating to fractured memories, episodes of the past month clings to his scattered mind. The last sexually pleasing thing he did was the most vivid. The hanging of Samantha Roberts, the stretching of her body, her naked form. Then memories of what happened next came haunting him again. Did it take a lot for elder to be haunted? He after all dealt with demons, but nothing like the demon that came up that night a month ago. All the fire, all the screaming, Graheg in psychic pain. For a demon to be in pain. What was that like? Elder never wanted to admit ’retribution.’ He never believed it in. He believed in a balancing of forces. Something had come undone, something had become inbalanced in the house of ordeals and it had something to do with the girl who died, buried alive in the basement. It was her fault, elder decided. It was her bloody fault.

Graheg was still with him, parts of its consciousness and spirit and energy didn’t die in the fire. It crawled into elder and hid in his subconscious. The witch mother was gone. Completely. Her power translated and spent in some other domain now. Elder wonders about darkstalker. He was the only other aspect of the house that survived the ordeal of the house of ordeals. He and Samantha of course. Sam was always his toy to begin with so it was right that he escaped with her, bound, gagged, trapped in that black suitcase on wheels. Did elder remember the very end? The smoke and debris, the collapsed house, the burning wasteland? Did he remember watching Darkstalker leave dragging the suitcase with sam inside? Perhaps. His memory is hazy but he wishes to remember the best parts only.

Elder was eating pussy when his phone rang. His Asian chinese girl had her legs bound and spread cruelly across the filthy bed. Her mouth still stuffed with someone’s soiled underwear, he cannot remember whose. Tape , round and rounds of thick heavy duty tape kept the garment bulging in her mouth. Her pussy was clean shaven, he remembers the taste, sucking on her raped cunt. The phone was ringing, distracting him. Irritated, he stopped his dessert and answered. “What?!” It was the albino. “We want you to come watch us inflict terrible pain unto dear samantha’s virgin cunt.”
“Why the hell should I leave my own games to watch yours?”
“because you want to know what color panties she’s wearing my dear brother, you always loved the revealing of a teens panties right? Plus staple gun. I know you like to watch me use the staple gun…” Elders cock grew hungry with those words. “mmm.” He clicked off the phone and crawled back on top of the Asian teen, licking her frightened face. “I’ll be back.”

A cold chill had run up elder’s spine when he transited form his room, through the hall into the torture chamber. For a second his mind drifted to the burial basement but he didn’t bother about the feeling. He should have. It was the first sign that something was going wrong. The black candle that was usually lit in the hall for protection was blown off but no one seemed to have noticed. That was the other sign…
Samantha was crying into her gag when elder entered. Albino was seated before her spread legs with the cart of tools by his side. Darkstalker was in a sofa watching everyone with delight, occasionally touching himself as he imagined the stripping of Samantha. “Wecome brother! We can started now…” A moan escaped sam’s gagged face as the albino carefully selected his instrument. A small curved silver scissors. “say goodbye to your shorts my sweet.” He cooed, she cried as he pulled his seat closer to her cunt. Elder sat in a nearby sofa leaning forward, lighting a cigarette. He could see the sweat running down her tanned taut legs, dripping onto the floor. He loved the way she was spread, he imagined the pain she felt in her arms, especially the thumbs under all that leather. The rope was creaking, her face red. He psychically entered her mind. It was filled with terror. He was already expecting a new range of pain. She was forcing he rmind not to think of the tools on the tray and what would be used and how it would feel on her soft virgin meat between her legs. She was trembling. Slowly, Albino inserted the open silver blades between the fabric of her shorts at her right inner thigh. He snipped upwards meticulously, cutting through, towards her cunt. He cut along the bikini line and stopped just as part of her shorts fell open slightly to reveal the soggy white panties. Then he returned to his initial cut, just an inch apart and started cutting again upwards. He was systematically turning her shorts into a Hawaiian grass skirt. Just strips of cloth. He hummed as he continued cutting, revealing bit by bit the cotton white panties she was wearing. HE didn’t cut through the elastic band of course. That would just make her shorts fall away and would spoil the show. He did cut the strips at different lengths. Snipping some strips half off so more of her inner thighs and legs could be exposed. By the time he went past the sides of her shorts bending his head between her legs to cut at the back of her shorts, pieces of the strips were clinging to her sweaty flesh. He started working on the left side of the shorts…

Elder is cold in the cave. There is the sound of water running down ancient rock from somewhere deeper inside. He never ventured further than needed, crouching in a corner before a make shift fire built from gathered wood from broken trees nearby. The cave, the expanse of rock and the small woods wasn’t too far from a dirt road. He had walked here, fleeing, as far as possible from the house of ordeals.
His train of thought is broken now, he remembers samantha’s shorts hanging around her torso in shreds, the basic outline of her panties beneath. He was licking her skin, her thighs, up and down her bikini line. “Enough!” Darkstalker was saying. Give her pain! Come on!” He was getting impatient.

Her shorts was finally falling away with the last few snips of the silver blades, revealing her flat stomach and white low cut panties, soggy from her sweating and all that water having splashed on her. Both the boiling and non boiling water to wash off the filth. The tortures started small and almost meaninglessly. A lighter heated up, the metal pressed against her inner thighs. At some stage, elder remembers getting in his knees and biting her cunt through her panties. No blood flowed, not yet. Albino was laughing, slapping sam’s face hard several times. All the while, an uneasy cold was settling into the house as the girl in the basement was breathing her final minutes of lost air in that coffin, her mind given up, her sub consciousness latching on to dark, unsettled finalities bred from despair and anger. Perhaps, her full potential of a life fully lived was cut short so destructively that she had become destructive herself. Bound and gagged with barbed wires, air running out, young teenage angst evolving in her desperate houses. Her heart slowing, death coming. She was bait for something larger and more terrifying in the air. Something got hold of her in her final throes. Something spoke to her in that dark. Something came through her broken body and it wanted violence.

Elder remembered peeling off samantha’s panties with his teeth.

Her remembers the albino sitting fat and cross legged on the floor next to her right leg with a pair of pliers. Oh the screaming. The digging of steel into the small nail of her left foot. That tiny breaking sound of a toe nail being broken off. The trashing.

What else did elder remember?

That she was cleanly shaven, her young pussy lips nicely hidden, smooth cunt, shapely, rounded wet with saliva. A small razor running up the side of her bikini line, opening up a wound….salt…

Perhaps, samantha’s pain and the black despair of the girl in the coffin created the portal. No one knows. Maybe the demon that came through the basement death wasn’t a demon at all, but a righteous anger, or a dark angel or even the disturbed aspect of the tortured girl in the box. No one knows.

What everyone knows was the violence. And that Graheg was afraid. The witch was afraid. Certainly. Can one imagine that? The terrible witch who only knew how to instill fear in young girls, was afraid herself. The terrible rape god Graheg was afraid itself. Imagine the terror of the beast that came through…

Elder was fucking Samantha, with her panties ripped apart and tossed, with parts of her virgin cunt was mutilated with staples, her pussy lips pulled out, folded and stapled open, each crack of the stapler shooting sharp merciless pain through her entire body. Elder fucked her that way. Were there heated pins involved before the rape? Needles? Elder thinks adrenaline was pumped into her system at some stage to keep her sharp and alert.

Maybe there was fire and candles too, burning her cunt.

There was certainly fire when that other demon awoke, bursting through the body of the girl who died, coiled in barbed wire in a box.

How can an angel be so violent? Elder thinks in the cave. And the noise it made…

Perhaps, the reason why Darkstalker could escape was because the girl in the basement didn’t direct any anger towards him. He was never there at her rape, at her live burial, so he was not in her mind. He was not part of the ritual to Graheg. The brothers, the witch mother, the demon Graheg. All of them were in her mind. They were her targets. She remembers the Graheg the most. How it manifested in Elder, how elder raped her.

And why was Elder spared? Maybe that was the ultimate torture. To reel at the sense of family lost. To be the one left behind, to be granted life and memory rather than death and oblivion. That’s what they say isn’t it? Death is too easy. They must live and suffer the consequences…

__

Elder was raping Samantha, hugging her youthful body, drilling his hard cock into her virgin cunt kept open with staples. Her fucked her hard, listening to her garbled gagged screaming, biting her tits through the tank top. Pumping and pumping. Maybe her thumb was dislocated through that act. He heard a popping sound from above her head followed by howling.

He continued anyway, continued fucking her so hard he didn’t realize the ground was shaking. Through the noise of Darkstalker cheering and albino laughing, they did not hear the witch mother screaming.

It was only when the walls started to ignite with a strange unholy fire did they actually stop to take stock. Only when the cold, that was mounting, turned suddenly into a massive, unsettling heat did they stop and realize that something big and ugly was going to happen.

The girl in the coffin had drew in her final breath and the demon who manifested through her suffering, drew in its first.

Then all of hell broke loose.

__

It was time to leave the cave. To keep moving.

It was time to forget. The guts and stomach being ripped out from the witch’s body. That look of terror on her face as she faced the thing that had come from the basement.

All the blood. Elder cannot forget.

He cannot forget the broken neck of his brother, head twisted around, 360 degrees. The lungs pulled out through the gaping mouth of the other brother.

All the other girls gone.

What happened to them? Their discarded panties and bras, ropes and tape, leather straps, chains, cuffs; those were the only tangible things left. And the empty beds. Were they set free? Were they…taken?

The worst was seeing the statue of graheg on the floor, smashed, the panties on the altar burning. And the noise. The noise of two demons fighting, of Graheg retreating….of the walls collapsing….of the land turning into some kind of frozen fire…

A piece of the graheg statue, its penis, was kept by Elder as he fled the scene. Maybe that is how Graheg had remains with him. He was vomiting as he ran, going past the bodies of his brothers that still convulsed long after death. Elder could not bear thinking. What it was like for the body to die but the spirit to still twist and turn in destroyed flesh and bone. The ground had opened up, noxious gas had risen, choking everything but never killing Elder and Darkstalker. Elder remembers watching Darkstalker slash the ropes that held Samantha hanging. Somehow, a suitcase was in the corner, elder remembers it was the albino’s suitcase, used to transport girls or to keep them in a tight box torture. How darkstalker still had the sense to pack up a girl, elder did not know. He admired the man for that. Keeping calm and economical and productive in the face of carnage of confusion. It was almost funny. All hell breaking loose but Darkstalker still insisting on having things his way. He was certainly not done with Samantha. That much Elder knew, watching him dragging that suitcase through the wasteland, away towards the rover, vanishing past trees in the distance.

And the sirens screaming, coming for the broken house of ordeals. Spirits of his family screaming in the fog that was somehow being sucked into the ground.

Where was his family now? In some kind of hell? Where were the girls?

So many unanswered questions.

Elder leaves the cave. Carrying with him the broken black penis of Graheg.
Elder leaves the cave to find another country, another town, to gather his thoughts and perhaps to start it all over again, when the time is right, when the terror at the house of ordeals had settled into a manageable memory. He believes he can do se, even though he was supposedly spared to relive the horror all over again, he believes he can overcome what had happened. His lust would help him achieve that. Lust is the greatest power beyond all other powers that wishes to destroy him.

He sticks his hand in his pocket as he moves towards the rising sun. He feels the softness of the little white panties he picked up as he fled. He doesn’t know whose panties it is, but it reminds him of his life ahead, of the possibility of finding a fresh teen victim once again. He pulls out the panties and sniffs it deeply. He will be O.K again. The memory of his family will live on in heart forever. He will hunt again.

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seema
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Re: forced stories - The House Of Ordeals

Unread post by seema » 24 Feb 2017 20:59

very erotic

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