A special toy, for a special kind of torture.
With many thanks to softprincessdenied.bdsmlr.com, although I can’t find a link to the original story now.
All chapters of this story can be found here.
I heard of the click of the lock as I tried to process what he just told me.
Going out? Recording?
Another girl?
The vibrations of the machine, so well calibrated to my body, made it increasingly difficult to think. I could feel my body slipping, helplessly, closer, exactly as I wrote the code to do.
My breaths became shallow; I didn’t want to believe what he told me. I didn’t want to believe that he had taken what would’ve been simply a cruelty, and made it something so much worse.
Would he really do that to me?
I thought about his wicked smile, crawling across his cheeks, about his laugh that seem to skate over my skin and touch things low in my body. Would he really do that to me?
Oh, yes. Yes, he would. He liked the sound of my screams.
I felt the first tension drip down my wrists to settle below my ribs. My fear felt good, and it seemed to feed my helpless arousal, a merciless cycle. I felt the edge coming and my muscles contracted, waiting for the inevitable pain.
I knew I couldn’t stop it; I thought about the thick adobe walls, and how no one but him would hear me scream.
The pain of the electricity was blinding. If I had had thoughts, any thoughts… Arousal, fear, anxiety… They were wiped clean. My mind was a blank, staticky white space, as the electricity poured across my most sensitive spots.
The angry, buzzing torture filled every piece of me, chasing away any breath of pleasure with which the machine might have brought me.
It was impossible to tell how long this torture lasted, but eventually I heard nothing more than my ragged breathing. Only then did I realize I have been screaming, and my throat ached from the force of it.
I worked to catch my breath, to try to get control over my body again. I tried so hard to control the fear welling below my sternum, and to clear the adrenaline that was sloshing through my veins.
But the infernal machine knew me too well. I had coded the algorithm too well.
I fell over the edge again and again, helplessly, each time rewarded with the biting venom of the electricity. Over and over my body ricocheted between pleasure and pain, until my brain could no longer tell the difference. I screamed in agony and fear, powerless against my own devious code.
The machine did exactly as it was designed to do. Time slowed down, each minute melting into the next until they were meaningless, an arbitrary measurement of nothingness. My code worked perfectly, while his electrodes taught me to fear every incoming climax.
Seconds dripped down like they do in nightmares, when you’re helpless to stop the big, bad thing that’s about to sink its fangs into you. There was no space in between pleasure and pain, caught in the swirling, sucking void of my own suffering.
I was sobbing, broken, when I felt his fingers under my jaw, tipping my face up to look at him. Even through my tears, I saw the perfect spiral curls fall across his forehead, those icy eyes, that smile that made my pulse race.
“How’s it going?”
I laughed, I think. But it sounded more like a ragged cry than anything else. “You’re a monster.“
His smile widened. “Not any worse than you. It’s your code, remember?“
“Yeah, but you made it so much worse.“
He sucked on his bottom lip, and as I watched my pussy contracted and the machine shocked me again. “Damn you,“ I moaned, as my vision blurred with pain.
How dare he be so attractive.
He traced his finger down my chest, across the marks from earlier and through the sheen of sweat that had gathered there. “Are you ready to take a break?”
“Please, for the love of God, get me off of this.“
His face settled in to the expression that said he was teasing, accommodating. Like he was just going to give me exactly what I wanted. A gentleman always obliges.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smack that expression of his face, or jump his bones. I hoped that he would get me unhooked before the machine read my body too well, and electrocuted me again.
“This… This isn’t exactly what I was imagining.” A soft voice, filled with maybe wonder — or maybe fear — came from behind him.
He moved to reveal the other woman, a cute brunette with loose curls cascading down her back. Her eyes were wide, showing too much white, and making her amber irises look stark.
I had forgotten that he had intended to bring another girl back, and a new wave of humiliation washed over my body. Suddenly, I was very conscious of where I was, and how naked I was, and what I was doing.
He wrapped his arm around her, playing a soft kiss against the side of her neck.
I watched her breathing, slow, calm, and his tenderness nearly gutted me. I felt my mouth drop open, uncomprehending, at the sheer unfairness. Every nerve screamed under my skin, and this other girl got softness.
Emotions swirled through my body; pain, fear, desire. Deep, sternum-crushing humiliation. I watched him touch her, and I wanted to scream for an entirely different reason, apart from the vibrating torture between my legs.
“Don’t worry baby,“ he said. “It’ll all be pleasure, for you.“ He turned and looked at me. “She really does get off on this, don’t you?“
The burning sear of degradation cooled in the pit of my stomach, and dripped into my pussy. I shook my head, begging, as I felt the unceasing vibrations of the machine bring me to the edge of orgasm again. I screamed as electricity tore through my tortured cunt.
He pulled the other woman closer to him, as I cried. “See? She loves it.“
He took out his phone and push the button, and the awful machine finally quieted. He unhooked the restraints and lifted me carefully off and onto the floor. I lay on my side, sobbing, feeling the solidness of the wooden planks beneath my body, as if they were the last real thing in existence.
His fingers brushed across my cheeks, and I felt him kneel next to my ear and whisper. “Save your tears, I’m not done with you.”
He turned and leaned those perfect lips against her mouth, running his fingers through her hair. He said something I couldn’t hear over the rush of my own pulse, but I did hear her response. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, baby,” he soothed. “It’s all pleasure for you.“
I knew that tone of voice.
Sweet, syrupy. The voice that made you look, made you say yes. That voice that he used to captivate and entrance. His voice made me ache.
I thought about the first time that we had used the sybian. About how good it had felt, as it learned all the little idiosyncrasies of my body, every response that the algorithm would use to further torture me. I almost wanted to get up and warn her. I almost wanted to stop her to say — don’t. Don’t do it, it’s a trap.
But I knew how charming he could be. She was already lost.
I heard her clothes drop to the floor and the click of the restraints around her ankles.
Bitch, I thought.
The whirring of the machine brought back memories of earlier in the evening and I felt my whole body contract.
Fuck — I was afraid. He had made me afraid of the machine.
“Oh gods,“ she moaned. The sounds of her delighted pleasure filled the room. “Oh, God, yes!“ Her moans and the sound of the vibrations shivered up and down my arms, and I clenched my teeth with envy.
I envied her pleasure, her lack of fear.
He leaned down next to me, getting very close to my ear. “Are you ready?” The sound of his voice still blossomed desire in my core.
“Ready…?“ I said, my voice wavering. He dragged me to my feet by my hair, and I yelped in protest. “Please… What are you doing?”
He turned me around so that we were both watching her, lost in her own ecstasy.
He drew my hands behind my back, as his fingers snaked around my throat, squeezing. “Do you see that?“ He pressed harder into each thudding artery. “You know that this is a trap, don’t you? Should we show her what comes next?“ He growled into my ear as my breath became thready. “I think you and her are going to become… very well acquainted.”
That phrase should have given me pause, but it was so hard to think. I couldn’t imagine what kind of torture would come next.
He walked me over to the adjacent door frame, thick and solid with its ancient wooden beams. Bolted across the door frame was a wooden panel, its width no wider than my index finger. He lifted my leg over the piece of wood, and let me straddle it. If I stood on my very tip toes, my tortured pussy cleared it. But the awful realization dawned, that as soon as I relaxed my muscles, all my weight would be concentrated on my very sensitive, very sore pussy. I looked at him, unbelieving. “You can’t be serious,“ I said.
That intoxicating smile crawled across his face, as he grabbed another set of restraints and secured them around my wrists. He ran a short chain up through a hook in the ceiling, and my arms were shackled above my head, loosely. There was enough slack that I would have to rely on my already exhausted muscles to keep me off of the wooden torture between my legs.
“Please… Please don’t do this…“ I begged.
“I just didn’t want you to feel left out,“ he said, in that tone of voice that sounded like pure innocence.
I gave him the look that comment deserved.
Helpless inevitability settled over me, and I hissed as I gingerly let my clit come down on that thin piece of wood.
Maybe it would’ve been tolerable had I not spent the last — what had it been? An hour? — having countless edges and countless electric shocks, but I was already so broken that even the tiniest new torment was a fresh dimension of pain. I screamed and immediately brought myself back up on the balls of my feet. My breath came in short, staccato bursts, as I watched him unbutton his jeans and pull down his zipper.
The seconds dilated; even as I watched him move, my muscles shook with the terrible effort to protect my tortured flesh.
He slipped his jeans from his hips, and let them puddle on the floor. He smiled at me, with that insidious smile that liquefied my insides. The inescapable pull of gravity overcame my own effort, and I felt the tears on my cheeks as my world was distilled down of the point between my legs.
He turned and slid his fingers through her dark hair, tipping her face up so I could see the delirious pleasure strewn across her face. The algorithm was working, I knew. I knew it would learn everything about her body, the same as it had learned everything about mine.
Her brow furrowed, her eyes struggled to focus, as she watched me, as I watched her. There was something in her face, as if she knew she should be worried, or something — but couldn’t quite gather up enough of herself to fully realize it.
He stepped in front of her, blocking most of her view, and brought his cock to her lips.
Envy burned sick in my stomach, as I watched her open her mouth and swallow his cock.
Her body shivered with orgasm, as she pleasured him with her throat. His deep strokes brought strangled moans of desire, as she rode the currents of her bliss.
I cried, as I bounced helplessly on this vicious piece of wood. My mind spiraled, fell into that beautiful abyss of mirrored torture, pain and pleasure, powerless.
I knew that he would keep her there as long as he desired. He would fuck her mouth, take his pleasure, as she rode the machine with her own inescapable satisfaction. I hung in my restraints, sobbing through my torture as I listened to her moan around his cock.
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