Theresa's Punishment Part 4

A slap to the raw breast made the ordeal worsen by reviving the injuries that had until now been dormant thanks to the tissue regenerator.

"Will you reveal it?" inquired the girl, and slapped her hand across the contused skin once more.

Theresa shook her head, throwing it from side to side as the question was repeated, and another vicious smack delivered.

"Because if you do, you had better pray that you perish before I find out, for I will make the rest of your life a h.e.l.l of unimaginable suffering, understand?" she yelled.

Pelakh slapped Theresa's cheek and threw her head aside so she might deprive Theresa of visual warning of the five oscillating sweeps she hurled across her tormented cleavage.

The venom pa.s.sed as quickly as it had been born, and saying no more of the event, the girl led her back to the open path.

Pelakh was now in a joyful mood. Her stride was leisurely and without care, a trait for which Theresa was grateful as she tried to recover her own momentum and keep up.

The twisted arms of the vehicle ensnared her body, the d.i.l.d.os were sheathed within her, and the bit slipped into her automatically adopted rictus once more. The lingering effects of the hated drug made the mild discomfort a far keener affair.

The gig rocked as it sought to balance the new weight of the adolescent settling within, and taking up her whip, a few licks across her back had Theresa trotting back towards the main road and the family home beyond. Her weights bounced with her high strut to deliver a stinging soreness to her hypersensitive loins.

Only the light pouring from the apertures of the melancholy fortress allowed the structure to be distinguished from the land, for without a moon, this world's nights were thick and impervious.

The grooms had finished their races and had retired for the night. The fields were empty, the overseers and slaves slumbering in their respective beds, awaiting the rise of the sun to bring them once more into the open. Only the immobile scarecrows and prisoners occupied the deserted acres, the luckless unfortunates and recalcitrant slaves sealed in their positions of bondage on a whim or as actual punishment. From the road they could have been mistaken for ordinary stuffed manikins, maintaining the pretence that this was a normal plantation as could be spied anywhere on Earth, and it seemed that only the daylight would banish this amiable misconception.

A groom stood expectantly at the bay, ready to unfasten the filly from her burden and escort her back to the stable. Pelakh sojourned to the house without word, keeping the illusion that the trip had been no more than a jaunt across the land to take in some fresh air, and that she bore no special malice towards the slave now being led away to her small cell.

Guided by her reigns, she was delivered to the small box she called home, and once her reigns were secured and a tube brought to her parched lips, Theresa was gratefully left to what mentally remained herself.

A testing pull at her restraints confirmed that they were as intransigent as ever, and that no sigh of fate had left them loose enough to slip free from them this night. Suckling at the tube, the bolt was thrown and the footsteps of her gaoler dwindled into the dead calm. The placid quiet proved to be a most intoxicating lullaby that had her asleep in moments, especially with the soothing thought that Pelakh's playroom would not be anywhere near this quiet thanks to Menchev's bellows for clemency.

Chapter Six.

The opening of the door had her stir instinctively. Theresa wondered if perhaps morning had arrived, or if her extorted lover had come to continue with his depraved obsession. Would his pa.s.sion for her fade now that he was getting to know Pelakh's callousness, or would she be his solace in that d.a.m.ned state of blackmailed surrender?

When her heavy eyelids fluttered open and she focused, it was to take in the countenance of Morschka first wife of the Warmaster. The vision startled her awake. The tall woman was clad in her usual regal attire but it was her deportment that made her majestic. A set of skin tight leggings swept up her shapely legs and set her feet atop stiletto heels that had been incorporated into the polished slick hose. An overlaid set of studded briefs hurled their firm grasp over her hips and clasped to her as a vest top lifted up beyond their reach to present her cleavage in the firm clinch of the gleaming material. Short gloves coated her fingers, rendering each digit a smooth, almost phallic shaft, and an obsidian circlet set with dark gems swept her hair away from her saturnine cosmetic masterpiece.

Without any explanation for this unexpected visit, the mistress of the house took up her reigns and brought Theresa in her wake with harsh, impatient yanks.

It had seemed like an eternity since she was last in the house. Her incarnation as a maid was a distant memory that was now wreathed in the obscuring foggy veil of dreams and childhood trivia.

Little had changed - the furniture still breathed in its painful containment, and the decorative slaves still dangled from the ceiling or held keys or coats upon their hide.

Her hooves clopped loudly upon the stone pane of the floor and contrasted radically to Morschka's shrill clack of rapier heels. Ascending the stairs was difficult because the flaring nature of her footwear was barely able to fit upon the flight and this forced her to balance on the toes and leave the heel dangling precariously in the air. A slight loss of balance would have her tumbling down the entire length, and it was this knowledge that had her absolute concentration focused on remaining upright, although a small whisper in the lowest reaches of her mind begged for her to deliberately err, to fall and let injury preserve her from the far more terrible fate of Morschka's attentions. If she did not know full well that the women would torture her even if she were a crippled wreck, Theresa may have considered the notion.

Escorted through the barren corridors, the only eyes that discovered the pair were those of the furnishings, and they were too deranged from their perpetual imprisonment to truly see them.

Morschka stopped before a plain door and the sleek panel slithered aside before she stepped forward. Sensing the influx of occupants, the overhead lights rose through shades to create an ambient crimson glow with a dazzling aura at the heart. In this white column of radiance lay the confining slat from a set of stocks. They were of the hungriest design that not only ate wrists and neck, but brought the ankles forward to accompany the other joints. Two st.u.r.dy rings emerged at the front face between the holes for wrist and ankle, each with the last link of a long chain sealed onto them. These silvery lengths trailed upward through the piercing light and became lost in the blinding corona of the source.

What the woman's purpose was, Theresa had no clue, save that it would involve her suffering. Too frightened to dare to resist, she could only stare in dismay at the waiting amputated pillory.

The smooth tips of the woman's fingers began to slither upon her, removing her garb, stripping her naked. The brush of the alien dominatrix against her sent shivers through her flesh. Theresa's calamity at the looming event grew fiercer with every lost article of b.e.s.t.i.a.l attire.

An attempt to address her enslaver emerged only as a few grumbling barks, distressed noises that were ignored when her mane was gripped and used to present her to the dark wooden restraint.

Morschka opened the jaws of the archaic machine. The hinges gave a soft creak, a murmur of glee at finding a new soul to cuddle in their unforgiving orifices.

Head and wrist were slotted within, and Theresa winced as her legs were dragged around and the ankles dropped onto the awaiting semicircular grooves. The mistress lowered the raised plank and drew the slave's hair out to make sure she did not trap any when she finally sealed the two halves and shot the weighty latch.

Squinting in the dazzling beam, it appeared as though she was held within a slender white prison and that the rest of the chamber was lost behind a solid wall of blackness. Morschka withdrew, her stern and sultry frame being consumed by the darkness through degrees - her features and bare skin winked out, then the refractions upon the wrinkles and plains of her tight vestments followed until no trace of her remained save the steady metronome click of her heels.

The chains gave a restless shudder as toothed cogs gripped them. The whine of machinery resounded and the lengths retreated up. Theresa wailed as she felt the stocks rise and sc.r.a.pe her rear along the floor until her cheeks rose and entered the air. Her entrapped joints took on a throbbing ache and the ligaments declared their anguish with testy pounds. Theresa clawed at the taut chains in a frenzy, desperately seeking for a means to escape or at least ease her discomfort.

Materialising from the night that ruled beyond her cell of illumination, her persecutor lifted a small rectangular tray. The two p.r.o.ngs that emerged from one of the longest sides slipped into willing holes in the stocks and brought the bearer of the tools of her torture to within mere inches of Theresa's weeping eyes. She closed them with a scream when she saw what was awaiting her, and writhed upon her bonds to dislodge the implements as she craned her fingers forward to flick them from her vision.

The contents seemed to glow in the strong light, their metal surfaces reflecting the radiance in full to grant each one an almost angelic halo, even though there was nothing heavenly or seraphic about any of them. An osmotic syringe, shaped like a cigar box, with a small bottle of the terrible pain-increasing drug, screwed into the opposite end to the nozzle. A long phallus, the perpetually slick length armed with a dense array of minor blunt rubber studs, lay on its side, the handle extending from its base equipped with the two b.u.t.tons Theresa feared more than any other torment. Fanged and weighted clamps, their heads sculpted as clawed demonic hands lay in neat rows, like an army of sundered murderous paws awaiting the order to attack. A funnel with a flexible tube sprouting from it lay inverted next to a corked bottle of purple tinted ooze, and the sight that terrified her more than any other were the elaborate pinwheels and blades. Each handle was a rolling scene of patterns and twisted screaming faces. The pinwheels were a starburst of slender spines, a spur of the most vicious daggers. The blades were long and wickedly sharp, tools with no other purpose than to part the tissues of a helpless being. She would have deluded herself that they were agents playing a part in some psychological attack, one designed only to terrify, but the dark body and emerging crystalline rod of a tissue regenerator beside them told her otherwise.

The panicked wails and refusal to acknowledge the sight worked against her, for it allowed the woman to plunge the funnel into her gullet before she had a chance to deny ingress. The pliant hose slipped against her soft palate and dropped down her throat, turning from the path into her stomach to select a route to her lungs.

Theresa gagged against the intruder. Her eyes then watered and jerked wider as the bottle was raised. She tried to implore for clemency, but without even a spark of response from her a.s.sailant, the thick slime drooled over the lip and into the funnel. Her fight to get free increased as the liquid rolled slowly down her trachea, disrupting her breathing with coughs and hacks. Every inhale dragged flecks of liquid into her lungs and pure distraught panic consumed her. The sensation convinced her that it would be a fatal one; that Morschka had misjudged what she could withstand and thus she would perish from that ignorance.

Rivulets of blue flew from her lips as she hacked and cast out the odd portion of residue. Lines of the sludge dripped from her lips and flecked the underside of the draining funnel. With a swift yank, the funnel was drawn free and set aside, leaving Theresa to retch and splutter, her convulsing lungs bringing up the rapidly evaporating viscous slime. The coughs that were breaking into her exhales dwindled, and she began to breathe easier.

"I have temporarily neutralised the stifling of your speech, for I have questions you will answer," said the woman while she took up a pair of clamps.

"Where did you take my daughter tonight?"

Theresa almost replied instantly, her fright of the tools and her training in obedience bringing the words instinctively to her lips, but she held them back, suddenly realising that if she betrayed Pelakh's secret, she could expect the most heinous retribution for her perfidy. Despite Morschka's interrogation, she would have to remain mute, if for no other reason than to prevent the infliction of far worse and longer pains.

"Along roads for few hours, then back, Mistress," she uttered, her voice freed but weak from lack of true use and fractured from her lack of recent experience in speaking.

No sooner had the words been aired than she scowled as the tiny talons nipped her mammilla, and suddenly the full division of claws was a.s.sailing her as Morschka snapped the baleful devices to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and inner thighs. Their sharp nails pressed against the skin and released soft chimes while she quaked and ground her teeth in endurance.

The woman arose empty handed. The army of devices had been deployed and their bite had brought a dull compressed ache to each pinch of tissue.

"Where did you go?" repeated the woman in flat, even tones.

"I told you, Mistress, out for a trot, please, pleeeease, believe me. I'm telling the truth," she cried.

The alien females gloves sparkled in the light and her fingers stretched around the syringe and placed the cold tip to her thigh.

"No, don't, I-."

The hiss of the device cut off her words and she froze in mid sentence. The familiar trickle of warmth in the injected area betrayed that it was truly the correct drug. Theresa suddenly jerked against her bonds with a cry as the bite of the clamps and contortion of her body suddenly leapt up in intensity, making it feel as though the clamps were actually puncturing weighted hooks of pure fire, and the stocks garnered with razors that were gnawing into her joints.

"Mistress, I beg of you, please believe me," she wailed, upon seeing the aloof interrogator take up the grip of the pernicious d.i.l.d.o and turn the studded length in her grasp so that the light winked upon the ferocious points.

"Where?" she asked absently.

"I told you! I told you!" she wailed hysterically, and then screamed in protest as Morschka leant her elbow upon the wood before her and let her other hand carry the weapon beneath.

The p.r.i.c.kly tip kissed her womb and began to stroke her lips with menace. The cry of solicitation this caress inspired was transmogrified into a yowl of agony as weight was put behind the device. The jagged surfaces began to vanish into her, scratching abominably, filling the tender membranes with ardent heat. The pliant spines would normally have been a nagging discomfort, but the chemical was doing its work flawlessly and Theresa continued her scream, knowing that to inform would bring far graver consequences.

Beads of sweat gathered across her flesh, forming a light glaze while the weapon was ground back and forth. Morschka put her chin onto her hand and looked down upon Theresa's flushed and grimacing face with satisfaction and a small smile.

The implant sang and filled her with its ghastly discharge. This caused her resolve to crack and make her expend all her will in refraining from begging to tell all that she knew.

Every twist made her spasm, the studs animating her when they touched the most sensitive zones. Slower turns made her vibrate at a blurring pitch, every muscle riddled with tremors as her abdomen burned, but through it all, she managed to keep quiet. Theresa's fear of Pelakh was stronger than any other force.

A virulent tug drew out the rod, and the implant fell quiet once more. Through tear and sweat-stung eyes, Theresa saw the phallus drop onto the tray, and to her mortal sorrow, a pinwheel was borne aloft and turned in the woman's grip until it fitted snugly to her satisfaction. The dagger wheel seemed to smile in the bright light and cast dancing beams into her wide eyes.

The syringe was taken up and a large top-up dose administered. Clearly, Morschka wanted this torment to yield results.

The added wash of tragedy through her system had her shrieking as though the d.i.l.d.o had been reinserted, her every contusion now driving her insane with its pulsating agony. Even old and near faded welts regenerated to a potency that matched their initial application. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breathing was so swift as to be smaller than pants. Theresa thought that the drug alone would surely prompt a coronary because her body could not cope with such an overdose. However, she surmised that so long as she survived long enough to talk, Morschka cared little for whatever else happened.

Grabbing the toes of her left foot, the alien viper settled both elbows onto the slat and lowered the wheel onto the upturned sole. She bore it as an artist might wield a brush when about to lay down the first touch of paint upon the canvas of their masterpiece.

"Where?" said the woman almost unconsciously, her attention focused on where to draw the first line.

"Mistress, I don't know, I just led her on the roads, I swear I-'

A moment before the spur touched her instep, a spark of cyan static charge leapt from it and chewed into her skin. The tiny lightning bolt made the tissue incandescent as it wriggled and bored into her hypersensitive nerves. The wheel followed through and revealed that each charged spike would carry the minor static blast into every morsel they laid upon during their cruel voyage.

Theresa's words rose up to a squealing crescendo as the white hot spot entered her sole and extended outward in a fulgent line. She flew into wild paroxysms, bucking, her eyes s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g shut, jerking open, rolling and bulging, her jaws opened to the very limit so as to vent her torment in a monotonous wail. The extreme stretch distorted her visage to almost unrecognisable degrees as her skin darkened to a blood curdled red of strain and absolute distress.

The wheel rolled on, pressing into her sole and leaving the odd tiny spot of red. Morschka merrily let it voyage at random and then withdrew to let Theresa sink into ragged pants, her body twitching from shock, her teeth chattering as though she were naked in a blizzard. Hot flushes and cold cramps wandered through her form, her pulse raged as her heart was a.s.sailed by a tidal wave of adrenaline and the amphetamine quality of the drug.

Risking a glance to her throbbing foot, she saw several short lines of imprints running across the centre of her skin and several tiny specks of red were staining the small pool of acc.u.mulated sweat before it rolled down towards her ankles.

"Where did you take her?"

"I ... I ... t ... tol ... '

Guessing the rest, Morschka could not be troubled to hear it and the starburst wheel dropped. Its static bite made the press of the spines far more venomous, and the abundant agent in her veins took that torment and made it a thing without equal. The wheel trundled upon sensitive flesh and travelled aside. Theresa's mind churned under the pain, a peak of suffering she had never before come close to touching. She could not endure this, it was too much, but neither could she confess, not through lack of conviction, for now she wished only to give the answers her interrogator sought, but rather it was because Morschka in her verve for this task was permitting no respite. Every time she ended a lethargic trek, there was no pause before she began to etch anguish upon another line of skin. The woman's enthusiastic zeal was distracting her from her true goal of extracting information.

Surely their technology had brought into existence more proficient means to elicit data from the unwilling? Why choose such an outdated means? Why did they always have to be so blatantly cruel?

The screeches spewing from her throat began to shed their treble in favour of croaking ba.s.s. The strain of having her feet ravaged was proving too much for her fleetingly recovered vocal chords to handle.

The latest journey came to an end and there was no successor. Theresa hung slack, barely conscious, and completely unaware of her surroundings. Her feet were two sweat soaked and ravaged areas of throbbing suffering.

"Shall I continue or will you tell me where you took her," said the s.a.d.i.s.tic alien.

Morschka put the cold tip to Theresa's breast and the electric nip made the light touch a bitter presence. The wild glint in her eyes and the grin tainting the corners of her painted lips hinted at her wish for Theresa to lie again, so she might draw dimpled spots of agony across the pinched cleavage. Her body was powered by algolagnia and it was thumping in her heart.

"To ... to the ... Pain Gardens."

"And what occurred there?" she inquired.

Expecting more lies, she pressed the weapon closer until it pushed in the skin and drew a speck of crimson.

Theresa let her jaw drop open and groaned. She closed her eyes as she felt the refulgent pain spread from the shallow wound like roots from a superficial tree.

"They t ... tor ... tortured me," she burbled.

"They?"

"Pelakh and Temgach."

"What else did they do?"

Theresa paused, unable to complete her disclosure. The delay caused the points of the instrument to forego its playful tickle and sink deeper before slithering aside and decorating her with a furrow of specks. Theresa jerked her head back and shrieked afresh when the virgin skin bellowed with anger.

"She'll kill me if I tell!"

"And I will kill you if you do not. However, speak truthfully and I shall hide you away, send you where she cannot reach you," attested the woman with friendly conviction, as though she wanted only to help.

"You won't, you'll continue torturing me and hand me to Pelakh," Theresa shouted, unable to tolerate the meandering wheel, but fearful of giving up her precious secrets. Her terror was elevated by the fact that Morschka was only using the pinwheels, and that the scalpels remained to peel her like fruit if she continued to lie.

"I promise I will not, I swear on my family name, now tell me, slave, or I'll reduce these a.s.sets to b.l.o.o.d.y ribbons with a thousand slashes!" she hissed and laid a lithe hand to the blades to remind Theresa of their existence.

"They f.u.c.ked on me as I was tortured!" she yelled, when she felt the wheel winding its way toward a nipple.

The bilious spur fell away, leaving her with the deposited pains and the sensation of sweat dripping from her suspended abdomen.

"There, that was not so hard, was it?"

"You will protect me?" asked Theresa, unsure of whether the woman would adhere to her promise, after all, there would be little shame in breaking an oath to a beast.

"I shall, I will send you to the fields where she will not see you."

"NO! Please! Not that! Anything else," protested Theresa. Her voice was beginning to corrupt as her larynx sank towards its crippled state, depriving her of any other opportunity to air her grievances.

Morschka responded with a hearty laugh and left the column of light. She returned to the dangling slave a moment later with a small flask in her gloved hands.

"And as I swore, I will not torture you further, but before I heal those little grazes I had best clean them," she said.

The woman unscrewed the cap and tilted it over Theresa's right foot. She then paused and looked to the tear and sweat moistened features with a wide smirk.

"Now you may feel a little twinge of discomfort," she whispered, and then poured a clear fluid onto the minor specks.

Every single spot exploded with pain, the woe of each light puncture being restored simultaneously and magnified infinitely by the cleansing fluid. It felt as though acidic alcohol were being poured, and such was the level of rending misery swelling within her legs that when she finally acquired courage enough to view the injured extremities, she expected to see nought but withered bone, stripped of flesh by some potent corrosive agent. When she actually regarded a mere perspiration smeared foot, she was left dumbfounded as to how so much havoc could be manufactured without destroying her tissues.

Incoherent pleas and prayers flew over her chattering teeth and spilled from her quaking lips as the woman proceeded to the other foot. Morschka left the pain to fully permeate every available nerve before applying a fresh splash and this trickle was a harbinger of more mayhem.

Theresa's foot was turned into a source of dreadful harrowing, and again she squealed under the small quant.i.ty of callous disinfectant. She would almost be willing to amputate her own foot if it would but remove this physical tragedy.