by L. L. Chance
Losing the battle seemed to take a lot of fight out of her, and she didn’t struggle much when I put the nipple clamps on her. Remembering something I’d seen while watching one of Sylvia’s sessions with a client, I got the ball of jute twine out of storage and tied the clamps to her big toes, which made sure she wouldn’t be moving her feet a millimeter.
Either out of a sense of defeat, or just because her neck was tired, her head was hanging down now. I wanted to be able to look her in the eyes when I started interrogating her, so I braided a leather thong into her hair and tied it off to one of the armbinder straps.
Now she had no choice but to look straight ahead, and after getting the room’s built-in video cameras ready to record at a moment’s notice, it was time to begin. I picked up the discarded cane and slid a folding chair in front of her. I sat and crossed my legs, absently tapping my thigh with the springy stick.
“I believe you came here with ulterior motives, and I want you to confess everything to me. Refusal will earn you a lot of pain, and only complete cooperation will guarantee your freedom. You may now speak freely.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” she demanded. “I don’t have any kind of hidden agenda. You’re crazy, and I demand you release me at once!”
“You’re in no position to make demands,” I calmly said, punctuating each word with a little snap at the jute twine pulling her nipples towards her toes. “Now let’s try this again, shall we? Tell me your secrets or I’ll give you a caning you’ll never forget.”
“Do your worst,” she snarled. “I ain’t telling you shit!”
“Very well,” I said, rising to my feet.
I’d expected her to deny everything to begin with, and knew it would most likely take the full three days to completely break her. I had time, and most importantly, I had the motivation. There was no way I was going to let her mess up our little utopia; I loved Sylvia and Claude too much to let some scheming, gold-digging cunt ruin everything.
I walked behind her and stood silently for several minutes in order to increase the tension. The moment I saw her start to relax I let loose and cracked the cane across both her ass cheeks, eliciting a howl of surprised pain from her throat. I briefly chuckled, but then fell silent again.
I kept my blows completely random, sometimes waiting up to ten minutes before striking again, other times waiting only a few seconds. Psychologically speaking, I think it was a lot more effective than just beating her ass raw, and it also prevented her from slipping into sub-space.
I kept it up for over an hour, and while she hadn’t confessed, I knew I was on to something since she started swearing at me after a while, vowing I’d never learn her secrets. Her ass was a mess of crisscrossed red welts by the time I was ready to change things up, and I figured sitting on her new bruises would be just as effective as any further caning back there.
I knew her legs were weak at this point, so I pulled the chair behind her and guided her arms over the backrest as I slowly lower her down. She screamed in agony when it caused the nipple clamps to pull off, and I felt a little chagrin at forgetting they were still there, but only chuckled again since I didn’t want her to know that was a simple mistake on my part.
I tied the end of the armbinder to the cross brace on the back legs of the chair before removing the spreader bar and pulling her legs back as far as I could. I tied them off to the back as well, which pulled her forward until her ass was barely on the seat.
I use a few of the longer belts to weld her firmly in place, and finished with a rope around each knee to pull them wide apart. I had to run those to rings on each of the side walls, but rope was never in short supply down here.
I went next door to Claude’s office and grabbed some throw pillows off the sofa and made myself a comfy little nest in front of her, absently fondling a thick leather strap as I waited for her to react. With my current position and the way her pussy was hanging over the edge of the seat, there was no doubt in her mind about what my next target would be.
“Confess to your crimes and tell me your secrets. If you cooperate, then this’ll all be over soon.”
“Not a chance, you psycho bitch!” she spat. “You can’t keep me here forever, and the moment I’m free you’ll rue the day you were born.”
I started raising my hand the second she called me a bitch, and landed my first blow between her legs just as she finished her diatribe. It drew a gasp out of her, but she seemed determined to not give me the satisfaction of hearing her scream or beg. Challenge accepted, game on.
Since I’d done the random thing earlier, and she could plainly see the blows coming this time, I decided on a regular, measured pace for each strike. I changed up the force of the blows a little, but each one came precisely three seconds apart.
I was concentrating so hard on my aim and my timing, I completely missed the signs that indicated she’d slipped into sub-space and was actually enjoying the punishment. It wasn’t until she had a massive orgasm right in front of me that I realized my mistake, and I cursed to myself for screwing up so badly.
Luckily she was in her own private world at the time and didn’t see my reaction. I got up and walked away before she recovered, going into Claude’s office so I could think in private about what to try next.
Corporeal punishment wasn’t going to be effective when dealing with a pain slut, so I’d have to try a different approach for my next interrogation. I knew from personal experience there was more than one way to torment someone, and if there was ever a time for desperate measures, this was it.
I had a plan that I knew would work, and smiled my first real smile in days.
Desperate Measures
The next part of my plan meant I had to change her bondage and allow her a little more freedom than I liked, although that was a relative term. I chained her right ankle to a ring embedded in the concrete and hobbled her other leg with a second short chain, leaving her able to move around in only a small circle.
I left the armbinder in place and gave her bread and water for dinner, each served in a shallow bowl since she’d be forced to eat and drink without the use of her arms. It was a fairly demeaning way to eat, and being forced to use the floor drain for her other needs was even worse in my mind.
I shut off the dungeon lights but left the hallway ones on so there was a bit of light coming through the crack at the bottom and the tiny viewing window. I grabbed my alarm clock, set it for three hours, and crashed on Claude’s couch.
I woke up easily for once and after taking a few minutes to compose myself, burst through the dungeon door. Not giving her time to react to my sudden appearance, I grabbed a magic wand vibrator and an extension cord off the shelf, plugging it in and turning it on high.
“Admit your crimes, confess your sins, and tell me your secrets,” I demanded, pressing the buzzing toy firmly over her mound.
“Ok, ok… you got me,” she said. “Back in sixth grade I pulled the ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ with Freddy Corners, while my friends were watching from around the corner. We all laughed at his little wiener and he’s hated me ever since.”
I refused to rise to her bait and simply sat on her ass while I let the toy rip an orgasm out of her. I shut it off as soon as she started cumming, and went back to the office. I set my alarm clock for two hours this time, and then repeated the process.
This time she told me the story of how she stole her roommate’s boyfriend in college one time, and while interesting, it still wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Not bothering to take a nap this time, I watched through the two-way mirror until it looked like she was asleep, then tried again.
I did it six times in total, and while I learned several humorous stories, she was winning this round and I couldn’t allow that to happen. I took a four hour nap this time, and steeled my resolve so I could put her through hell.
I gave her more bread and water, and even took her to the bathroom so she could take care of business. I didn’t want
to risk a mess with what I was about to do to her. I cleaned and re-lubed the butt plug while she was busy, sliding it back home much easier this time once she was finished and I’d wiped her clean.
I put a leather blindfold on her and locked it place, checking carefully around the edges to make sure there were no gaps. I didn’t want her to see what I was doing until it was too late for her to resist. After frog tying her legs, I left her kneeling in the middle of the room while I set it all up.
Sylvia had mounted a Sybian machine to a sheet of plywood and installed several tie-down rings around the edges. When properly used, it meant the sub had almost no freedom of movement, and was completely at the mercy (or lack thereof) of the person in charge.
I’d been bound to it before and while pleasant at first, it could be a cruel torture if left on for too long since the vibrator motor in the heart of the machine was no joke. It was harder than I thought it’d be to get her properly in place, and I had no doubt she figured out what was going on when I had her straddle the half-barrel device, but I eventually had her restrained well enough that she wouldn’t be going anywhere.
‘Admit your crimes, confess your sins, and tell me your secrets’ became almost like a mantra, and I repeated it every time she finished cumming, which was fairly often. I knew I was starting to wear her down when she began begging me to turn it off, but since she still refused to admit to anything, I kept it going without any respite.
I eventually had to shut it off and give her a break when she blacked out after a particularly loud and powerful orgasm, cursing to myself yet again while she slowly recovered from her ordeal. I gave her more water to replenish all the fluids she’d lost and stuffed a ring gag in her mouth.
I turned the machine to its lowest speed to keep her distracted, and walked next door to think again. Ok, so orgasm overload came close, but was still a little wide of the mark. I had less than twenty-four hours left to break her and get her confession on tape, but my foolproof plan hadn’t worked. What was left?
I stared at her for close to an hour, lost in thought, before realizing the solution was sitting in front of me the whole time. Punishment didn’t work and neither did forced orgasms, but there was one thing I knew from personal experience that was sure to break her; orgasm denial.
She was as limp as a rag doll when I released her from the Sybian, and I had to manhandle her over to the heavy bondage chair. Once I had her legs strapped down I removed the armbinder for the first time since we began, and she groaned in genuine relief when her arms fell free.
They literally fell free, since she couldn’t move them an inch after being restrained for so long. It was child’s play to get them strapped down to the armrests and finish with the rest of the built-in restraints. I knew the chair was perfect for another long-term bondage session, which was perfect since this would be my last chance and I had no plans of letter her get out until she gave a full confession.
I left the ring gag in place for now, telling her she could start nodding her head when she was ready to finally start talking. I also warned her that trying to speak for any reason other than what I wanted to hear would mean dire consequences for her.
I grabbed an eroscillator and jammed the end under her ass so it was pressed against the butt plug and turned it on, taking a second one and waving it in front of her face. She definitely looked worried after what I’d just put her through with the Sybian and shook her head violently in denial, but orgasms weren’t on today’s menu anymore, as she’d soon find out.
The eroscillator was a devilish device when used properly, able to deliver its vibrations to any target with pinpoint accuracy. It was a little hard to use when the goal was to keep someone on the edge, and I had to keep an extremely close eye on her to make sure I didn’t let her pop.
Despite how cruel I knew I was being, the sight of her writhing body and the smell of her musk was turning me on something fierce, and I used that against her as well by bringing myself off in front of her several times throughout the day, all while keeping her from getting her own relief.
She had a lot more willpower than I’d expected, and even though she was a complete and utter wreck, she still refused to nod her head in surrender. I kept at it relentlessly and knew she’d crack sooner or later. Nobody could hold out forever against this kind of stimulation, so it was only a matter of time. Patience was hard, though, since time was working against me.
Claire would start blabbing the moment they returned about how I tortured her the entire time they were gone, and if I wasn’t thrown in jail for unlawful imprisonment, I’d probably wish I was since it meant I’d be given over to her so she could extract her revenge. If I didn’t get my proof soon, I might have to skip town, and being forced to leave Sylvia and Claude would almost kill me.
I firmed my flagging resolve and kept going, driving her to the brink of insanity before she finally broke and began nodding like a broken bobble head doll. I stood slowly, my knees practically locked in place after kneeling for so long, and grabbed a fresh bottle of water on my way to turn the cameras on.
I gave her a few minutes to work the aches out of her jaw and slake her thirst before asking her one final time to confess. I held the eroscillator at the ready to make sure she knew I wasn’t going to put up with any shit, and let her begin.
“You win,” she began, still panting heavily. “I’ll tell you everything if you just let me have one single orgasm and then let me go free.”
“We’ll see how it goes. If my bullshit detector goes off, then we go right back to square one for a minimum of four more hours.”
“Oh God, no!” she gasped. “I’ll tell you everything you asked about and more.”
“I’m waiting,” I said cheerfully.
She began almost babbling in her haste to tell me everything, but there was a major problem with her confession; I had no clue what she was talking about. She rambled on about how she was a British spy and wanted to steal Claude’s secret documents, how she murdered the real Claire and had plastic surgery in order to take her place, and that she was supposed to kidnap the lot of us and sell us into slavery to a Middle-East sheik once her mission was over.
I was too stunned at the sheer amount of bullshit she was spouting off to do more than sit there and listen. When she started telling me the location and combination of her secret drop-safe, I shoved the vibrator back in place, intending to resume her denial torment.
Then it hit me. The only reason she had to spout such nonsense was she thought this was some sort of game, like a roleplaying fantasy. My mind was awhirl at the implications of what I’d done, and I absently held the toy over her clit until her orgasmic screams brought me back to myself.
I was unsure what to think right now, but the role-play idea gave me a slight glimmer of hope. If she thought it was all a game I designed for her amusement, I might be able to talk my way out of this mess. I let her have her requested orgasm and shut the toy off right after, but I left her bound to the chair while I stepped away to think again.
I felt like shit as I walked out the door, doubly so when the last thing I heard was her voice thanking me for the orgasm. Despite my desire to think and plan, I was emotionally and physically worn out, and fell asleep within minutes of lying on Claude’s sofa.
Fun and Games
I must’ve been even more tired than I thought, since I never woke while being restrained in my sleep. Even after I opened my eyes, it took me a while to realize I was bound and gagged, and I feared the worst.
After laying there for what seemed like forever, it was Billy who finally came to collect me and take me upstairs to where the others were waiting. I tried to indicate I wanted the gag out so I could explain to him what happened, but he ignored me and kept forcing me onwards.
Sylvia looked radiant sitting in the bright morning sunshine, and if nothing else, my idea for a surprise anniversary trip seemed to have done wonders for her. At least I did one thing right. Their light conversation came to a halt
when we came into view, and I found it impossible to look them in the eye right now. I hung my head in shame and waited for them to tear me a new one over what I’d done.
“Well here’s the little Lily now, looking surprisingly submissive,” Sylvia began. “From what Claire’s been telling us, we almost expected you to come out wearing a catsuit and wielding a whip. Oh yeah, I almost forgot… we took care of that option when we got home and found you asleep in Claude’s office, with Claire heavily restrained and left alone.”
“You’re in deep shit, little one,” Claude continued for her. “What you did was completely unacceptable, and the price you need to pay will be steep if you wish to continue staying with us. Do you?”
“Yes sir,” I quickly replied.
The one thing I’d decided before falling asleep was that I’d rather endure any punishment Claire chose to inflict on me in way of retribution, than leave the ones I loved.
“Good. Then it’s a simple matter of making sure you never do something so dangerous and stupid again. How many times do we have to tell you that you never leave a sub unattended before it finally sinks in?”
His question made me pause. Was I only in trouble for falling asleep and leaving Claire alone? What did Claire tell them about this last weekend? Sylvia began tearing into me about proper safety and aftercare practices, but I barely heard a word she said; my mind had gone numb out of relief.
Claire really did think it was a game I invented for her amusement. Fuck me sideways.
I knew there’d still be a major price for me to pay, but at least it’d be something I could handle and I wouldn’t be asked to leave. I was so loopy at the moment I hadn’t even noticed when she’d stopped talking, so I risked a look up. She was obviously waiting impatiently for an answer to a question I’d missed, but her face softened when she saw the hangdog expression on my face.