Thursday, May 14, 2009

Marie: Wooden Pony Ride

The irons holding my legs apart, my arms in front of me and my head bent over in a rigid position were designed to minimize movement. They succeeded at this task excepti0nally well, as I was unable to lay down, wriggle across the floor, or even lean my head back against the wall. My entire body was fixed in place and unable to move.

The result was cramping. Horrible cramping, my arms, legs and most importantly my back, screaming out for some relief from this horrible position. Sleep was impossible, even if my mental state had calmed enough to allow sleep. As it was, I was shaking from pain, fear, disgust and worry.

Why was I here? What had I done to warrant being treated as a heretic or witch? Had someone accused me?

My ankles were bloody from the constant scraping and stress of the irons on my flesh. My wrists fared slightly better, as did my neck, though the odd, slightly bent position of my head was responsible for most of the agony that was traveling across my back.

From the smell of the place, I was underground. A small amount of light shown through the heavy wooden door of the cell, from a lamp outside in the passageway. The dirt floor was covered with old straw that appeared very moldy and matted. The stench made it clear that the cell had held a number of other prisoners who had not been given a chamber pot. I tried breathing through my mouth as much as possible.

Time lost its meaning with no vision of the outside light. There were occasional sounds that echoed past, down the corridor outside. Thumps, the sound of something being dragged or dropped. An ocassional moan, and even screams. Nothing ever intelligable as speech except when I heard a mans voice calling out for mercy. The voice stopped suddenly and did not continue.

I could tell something of how long I was there, locked in the irons, by my body functions. My bladder became full, and I began to hurt from the need to relieve myself. After a while I knew that there was no choice, and I simply let it go, soiling myself and the ground on which I sat. I grew hungry, and the sharp pains of an empty stomach, while familiar to me, made it hard to cope with the cold that continued to encourage my body to shake uncontrolably. I broke down in sobs, wondering what was to be my fate.

Without warning, the sound of a heavy bolt sliding across my door drew my attention. The door swung open, revealing two guards that I believe were the ones that originally imprisoned me. One produced a simple metal key that fit in the inverted V of my restraints and unlocked them. As they loosened and were removed, I attempted to move but immediately fell to the ground on my face. My arms and legs were unable to hold me up, the painful cramps and immobility had temporarily seized them.

"Please... please listen to me. Whatever you think I have done, it can not be true. I am a faithful follower of the church, and am a good citizen. Have mercy!"

The two men responded to my pleas by grabbing the remnants of my dress and bodice, and pulling hard, ripping them off my body. I lay naked on the rotting filth of the straw.

"She speaks," one of the guards grunted. "Tell her to shut up."

"Shut up. We don't care whether you are guilty, or even why they arrested you," grunted the other guard. "But I do care that one as enticing as yourself should be in my prison. I care very much..."

His rough hands slid from my knees up the back of my thighs to my arse, and there remained a few moments, cupping my flesh. His fingers then probed the crack of my arse and spread it, moving deeper and penetrating my hole, then sliding out and between my legs to probe the softer flesh there.

I tried to move, wiggle to get away, but was too weak to put up much of a fight. In response to my feeble protest, the first guard spread my legs and positioned himself behind me. The other guard grabbed my ankles and pulled, making sure I could not struggle or break free when the first ruffian entered me.

Which he did. There in that dismal cell, face down on the dirt and moldy straw my arse was lifted above the ground slightly and I felt the hard flesh press against me. It pushed harder and suddenly broke through the resistance of my flesh and plunged deeper. He let out a grunt as he felt my body surround his member, stimulating it. My flesh served its purpose against my will, surrounding his cock tightly, stroking it as it shoved in and out.

I simply lay limply as he used me. It took forever until his thrusts became more urgent, his grunting louder, and his hand grabbed and pulled at the flesh of my hips, shoving himself as deeply inside me as he could. His body shuddered, and I could barely feel the warm spurt deep inside me.

It didn't matter. Laying on the floor was such a relief from the horrible cramped position in the irons, anything that would allow me some extra time to stretch out my legs and back was OK with me. I didn't even wonder whether I would get pregnant, a common worry of raped women.

My face lay on the floor, turned to the side so I could look at the two men as they talked before the open door to the small cell. The one that had held my legs during the rape bore the marks of my teeth from when I had bitten him during the first rape. He was insisting on something, demanding it. I didn't understand.

It was decided, whatever they had been discussing. My hands were roughly pulled behind my back and tied there with rope. The knots were very tight, and bit into my flesh as the one guard pulled them tight around my wrists. I moaned, and started to cry again, wondering what was going to happen next. I wanted to just lay on the ground for a while.

No! I wanted water! I was so thirsty! I had had nothing to eat or drink in the last day, and felt the need throughout my body. As the two guards pulled me to my feet, I begged them for water.

"You will get water soon enough," one man said as I was half led, half dragged out of the cell and down the corridor outside. It was quiet, no noise came from any of the other doors that lined the prison corridor. I wondered how long people survived here, whether there were poor souls that had spent years behind one of those heavy oak doors, or if death typically overtook prisoners faster than that.

"We thought you deserved some amusement. You are going on a pony ride," the guards started laughing at that as we entered a larger room that was filled with clutter of all sorts of things. It appeared to be a woodworker's shop, with posts and cutting benches, tools and vices to work the wood. Not being versed in the carpenter's trade, I did not understand what most of these items were for.

A very strange carpenter's bench was set up in the middle of the floor. Rather than a flat place on top to hold the wood being carved, it had two boards that sloped sharply upward to a point. The edge at the top was well worn, and darkened in some way.

I was positioned near this bench.

A rope was hanging from the ceiling in front of me. I wasn't sure what was about to happen, but I knew it wasn't going to be good. I panicked, and started to beg hysterically. "Please, please... I have done nothing, I will do whatever you ask, rape me, take me, just don't hurt me any more! I am innocent, I will confess to anything you wish, just please don't hurt me!"

One guard took my left breast and lifted it slightly, and wrapped the rope around it several times near the base. Each time he wrapped around, the rope was tighter and I felt the flesh of my breast bulge out, the blood being cut off and pressure building up. The immense pressure of the tight bonds made the breast ache, and small shooting pains ran through it from the protruding nipple back to the constricted flesh at my chest.

My right breast was lifted as well, fondled roughly and a second rope looped around it in the same manner. The pain was not terrible, but I felt the blood cut off, the tissue of my breast placed under tremendous pressure. It felt strangely as if the milk in them would come squirting out at any moment so great were they being squeezed. Both breasts were jutting out like balloons in a hideous fashion, and the pain was slowly increasing as the pressure continued. They were turning purple before my eyes.

Growing weak, my knees buckled and I began to sink to the floor. The guards lifted me back up, and then took the rope hanging from the ceiling and tied it securely to the ropes that compressed and surrounded my breasts.

Without warning, one of the men gave one giant heave and the rope slid upward toward the ceiling. My breasts were pulled with it, and my back arched as I leaned back and tried to release some of the pressure and pain from the tight pulling pressure. My breath came in gasps, as the pain increased, spreading from my breasts to my chest and under my arms. My cries for mercy continued but were ignored.

I struggled on my toes for a little while, trying to relieve as much pressure and pain as I could. But it was for nothing, for with another pull, the rope yanked me off my feet and I was dangling by my breasts several feet in the air. A searing pain shot through my chest and sides, around to my back. It felt that the flesh of my breasts would be crushed, and the agony increased as I was pulled higher and higher in rough jerks. Each jerk of the rope yanked on my breasts, threatening to pull them right off of my body, and I began to scream with fear and pain.

The screams quickly stopped, as I discovered there was only one way to minimize the crushing pain... and that was to stay as still as possible. I could not move, swing on the ropes, even breathing heavily caused added pain. My eyes squeezed shut against the tears and I practiced keeping my legs straight and unmoving. My breathing came in steady gasps.

Something hit my leg. Something hard. I swung slightly, and screamed for a moment as the pain in my left breast shot out like a knife. Something was being placed underneath me, and in moments I realized that the strange wooden bench was being placed between my legs. I pressed my legs against the sides, seeking any relief from the weight of my body crushing and tearing the soft flesh of my bulbous breasts. It was impossible, the sides of the bench were angled too greatly, and I resumed my practice of moving as little as possible.

I don't know how long I hung there, the fire of my flesh slowly being torn away from the bones of my chest increasing by the minute. Grunting, moaning, making small mewling noises but no longer crying, I hung there. Until...

Suddenly, the rope was released. I plunged down the distance of a foot or two and with an agonizing jolt, the sharp point of the bench stopped my descent. The sharp topmost part of the bench slammed in to my cunt with a great force, and for a moment I felt that the bones of my groin and hips my be shattered. My screams were loud from the unexpected wedge driven in to my most private places, spreading my legs and the sensitive flesh of my cunt wide, digging in deeply.

"You like our little horse... eh?" The guard rasped the question and then coughed from the dank dirty air in the dungeon.

I simply cried, relieved that my breasts no longer held my weight, but the agony in my chest remained as well as new agonies spreading from my cunt to my thighs. I tried to struggle free and dismount the evil pony upon which I sat and was giving me so much pain. My left leg slid up, pushing down on the steeply angled wooden pony. As it did so, the weight of my body shifted back and I rocked back so that the sharp ridge cut in to my ass. My cries continued but I was still struggling to get my leg over.

"Oh...no... we shall have none of that!" The guard pulled the rope up, and my breasts were raised before my eyes once again, though not high enough to significantly relieve the pressure of my weight on the pony. If I climbed down from the pony now, I would place all my weight on my breasts once again and I was convinced the rope would dig, slice and eventually shred my breasts from my body.

The other man was dragging something over to where I sat in agony, whimpering with the pain in my breasts and between my legs. It was a weight, a large, heavy stone with a ring on the top. Placing it directly below my left foot, a heavy leather thong was tied to the weight. One of the men lifted the weight with both hands, so heavy was it that he strained and heaved to keep it up. As he held it the other tied the leather strip to my left ankle with several loops. When he was done, the weight was released.

I screamed, the sound echoing and pounding the stone walls of the prison. The pain was horrendous as the weight nearly jerked my leg out of my hip socket. A searing lightening bolt of agony ripped up from the ankle through my leg, knee and hip. The strain was worse than anything I imagined could be born by my body.

As I was just beginning to realize that the pain was not only in my leg and hip, but that my tender flesh between my legs was being driven down and impaled on the sharp ridge of the pony, the guards repeated the operation with another weight attached to my right ankle.

When the second weight was released, the burning torture of stretched muscles and strained joints more than doubled. Black spots formed before my eyes and I felt the world receding, disappearing as my brain began to lose its senses.

My faint did not last long. Water was poured on my agonized body, bringing me around. A cup was offered to me, filled with water. I was sobbing with pain, but I managed to drink it all, I was so desperately thirsty.

The pain in my breasts was now the least of my horrors. Agony ripped through my waist, hips, cunt, and legs. The sharp pressure of the pony felt like it would tear me apart at any moment, driving its way through my hips. The ridge was situated directly under my vagina, spreading my soft lips cruelly. The weights attached to my legs prevented me from lifting them even an inch.

The two guards stood before me, enjoying my whimpering cries and agonized pleas. I simply sat on the pony, enduring the pain.

After a few minutes, the guards turned, exited the chamber, and left, slamming the door closed behind them. I was alone in my agony, to suffer for as long as they might desire. I screamed out in horror and pleaded to be released, by death if necessary. Instead, I simply remained on the sickening wooden pony, bleeding from between my legs, breasts blackening before my eyes, the joints of my legs slowly but surely stretching and parting.

The pain increased as time went on. No added pressure or torture was applied, I was alone. Left to ride alone in my agony. Constant pressure and tearing pulled me slowly apart, in an agonizing mockery of my body. I no longer remembered where I was, I no longer remember my family, friends... or even why I was there. I simply knew pain, constant, deep pain, throughout my lower body.

Pain became my life, unable to move or change position the pain slowly increased and spread. I screamed for mercy whenever I heard a sound, even the scuffle of a rat. My mind slipped, and I began babbling confessions to meaningless acts, with no one there to hear. The ridge of the pony had separated and deeply penetrated my vagina, tearing flesh slowly... oh so slowly...

How much time passed, I do not know. I remember realizing that I had lost the contents of my bladder when I smelled my urine as it spread down the sides of the pony and dribbled down my legs.

It had been hours... days? since I had slept. It was impossible to sleep on that horse of death. The pain was too great. My head lolled to the side, my hair soaking wet by the heat and sweat of my body. I wondered whether it had been a few hours or a few days, there was no way to tell. Consciousness seemed to fade at times, but never for long. The pain would not allow it.

Thirst overcame me until it was almost as bad as the pain in my cunt. My lips cracked, and bled. My tongue swelled, and I found I could no longer cry or scream. I simply made low grunting moans with what energy I had left.

I had begun to believe I might die soon when the chamber door was unlocked with a loud scraping of metal, and one of the guards entered. He observed my body, ran his hand up and down, feeling all its orifices and pinching my nipples (which had long since gone completely numb). He raised a cup of water to me, which I quickly drank without thinking. It made me sick, but when he offered another cup I drank it as well.

"peeeasee... eeaassee...." I could not form the words properly any more, but I begged nonetheless.

First the left weight was removed, dropping to the floor with a heavy thunk when he cut the thong. My leg screamed and cramped and I cried out with the sudden torture of the leg slipping back in place, muscles pulling back and knotting. The second leg hurt even worse.

With a single yank, I was lifted off the wooden pony by my tortured breasts, swung out of the way and then dropped to the dirt floor.

I fainted, and knew no more.


5 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm really liking your new "Marie" series. Thanks for posting!

bitchHunter said...

Hi!
Are you doing OK? I hope to read your new story sooner.

J said...

I am most impressed with the quality of your prose. As the saying goes, "you have a way with words." Your story is horrifyingly erotic. Though appealing to a select audience of like-minded "deviants," it truly is appealing--AND arousing. Thank you for sharing your craft.

Anonymous said...

fucking pig's!! if that is supposed to turn you on , you are past help. The people who did this this to a person, guess what? They are going straight to hell, and it will be 1000x worse and Omg, you people are sick!

Aurélie Catena said...

Lovely! You have a way to bring all this to life with your words. I love it!