Confession, Obsession. (part 1)

Here’s a story by my friend Brainsex – I think you might like it. Tell us what you think? ( this is not one of my session )

Prisoner X90 was like any other who had been thrown into the
interrogation cell. No one at the Truth Facility knew his real name,
no one cared. What the female interrogators in the former port
warehouse knew was that X90 had something to tell, that he was an enemy
of the state, that he would break. The well-trained women officers
were legendary in the hidden, closed and narrow world of torture. That
old saying that the female of the species was more brutal than the
male had never been truer in this dark, cold and isolated building.

X90 was soon to discover the truth of this old maxim. He would break,
he would squawk, he would pour out his secrets – above all, he would
suffer for his knowledge; the women of the Truth Facility was see to
it. X90, dressed in prison garb – loose fitting trousers and button-less
shirt – was thrown into the interrogation chamber – known by the
guards as ‘The Pain’. It was a small room – about 4 m square with bare
brick walls, wooden floor, high ceiling whose lines were broken by a
thick supporting beam into which were fixed a series of metal hooks
and pulleys.

The room was lit in a way favoured by the Nazi and Soviet
torture cells – a bare and rather dim bulb. In the middle of the room
was a strong metal chair, on the walls a series of shelves containing
black metal boxes. One wall had a pair of manacle cuffs attached to it
and there were some ominous looking tools – hammers, nails, knives and
rubber truncheons contained in a crate on the floor.

It was into this cold and menacing space that X90 was pushed. He was
shoved into The Pain by one of the Truth Facility’s most experienced
interrogators, Lady Wolverine. There was something ironic in the names
that the sorority of torturers gave themselves: Old Mother, Miss
Piggie, Helga the Welder, Mac the Knife. But of all these well trained
ladies, Lady Wolverine was one of the most experienced. She had broken
more men than she could remember. Her name suggested a
wolf-like nature; she enjoyed stalking and surrounding her victims,
she revelled in making them howl like a wounded creature in the
forest, she had strong and very sharp teeth.

There was something canine about her love of the scent and sight of blood. Blood letting – the very smell and colour of it, the way it would flow from the wounds she had created on the body of a prisoner, nothing was more exciting
to Lady Wolverine . The old canard of ‘the bitch on heat’ came nowhere
near to how she felt as she bloodied, bruised and mangled her
‘subjects’. X90 was about to enter the world of Lady Wolverine- he would be in that world for several days, he would be beaten, savaged, whipped and
tormented. His time with Lady Wolverine would begin without ceremony – it
would begin with her putting on a pair of neat, black leather gloves,
it would begin with a punch in the face. It would continue with a
shower of punches – each harder than the last. It would continue with
the arrival of a second interrogatrix – Mac the Knife. His suffering
was only just beginning.
X90 was about to enter the world of Lady Wolverine- he would be in that
world for several days, he would be beaten, savaged, whipped and
tormented. His time with Lady Wolverine would begin without ceremony – it
would begin with her putting on a pair of neat, black leather gloves,
it would begin with a punch in the face. It would continue with a
shower of punches – each harder than the last. It would continue with
the arrival of a second interrogatrix – Mac the Knife. His suffering
was only just beginning.

X90’s introduction to the world of Wolverine ended as he was kicked to the
floor with a powerful boot in his groin. Covered in purple bruises,
his lips swollen and bleeding, his eyes puffy and already darkening,
ribs tender and balls ballooning with pain; he fell into a deep sleep.
It was the final moments of Day One, what the interrogation experts
called ‘the softening’. He had not been asked anything, not questioned
about his spying activities, not even asked his name and number. Wolverine
had in fact said not a word; she let her fists and boot ends make it
clear who was in charge of his body – perhaps not yet his mind but
that would doubtless come later.

The prisoner fell into a deep but uncomfortable sleep – he was after
all simply prostrate on the cold, concrete floor of the torture
chamber. A single bulb flooded the cell with strong, white light but
there was not a chink of daylight to be enjoyed. His slumbers were
disturbed by the sound of the strong metal door of the oubliette
opening suddenly. As his bulging eyes tried to open (the sticky goo of
blood had glued them shut) he barely discerned, he caught his first
glimpse of two bodies framing the opened door. One he had seen before,
knew only too well: Lady Wolverine looked beautiful but full of menace;
she wore a crisp white blouse see-through enough to see her naked
breasts behind. Her rounded nipples seemed erect and pumped up – her
body was taut and ready for action – torture action. She wore a
military cap and a pair of loose-fitting trousers short enough to see a menacing pair of army boots.

The second figure was new to X90 – a slim, rather fragile-looking
young woman, a gamine with short red hair, a plain, grey teeshirt,
black shorts held up by a thick, brown leather belt. There was some
relief in X90’s mind that this second interrogatrix was a gentler soul
than the brutal Wolverine; a standard pair of trainers and white socks
gave the impression of a normal young woman – very pretty, nice dark
eyes and even a hint of lipstick. Was she going to be the ‘good cop’
to ’ bad (very bad) cop? His glimmer of hope was soon dashed when his half-closed eyes caught a glimpse of something reflecting the
light, some kind of mirror perhaps? As his eyes focused on the new
woman’s belt he suddenly realised what it was –the gleaming and
shining steel of a short-handled knife – serated like a vegetable
peeler. He had made his first acquaintance with Mac the Knife.

‘Prisoner X90 is to stand’, barked out Lady Wolverine . This curious form
of words was one that would become familiar to the spy. It was a house
rule that superior women would not address ‘subjects’ directly. The
passive tense was used to emphasise the distance between torturer and
victim. Thus Wolverine would say, ‘X90 will reveal the name of his
masters’ or ‘X90 will stop crying’…X90 stood as he was bid.

‘Prisoner X90 – will be asked to stand erect and to attention. That
will be the stance that this spy will take whenever his questioners
enter the room.’ This voice was softer and gentler than the Wolverine
strain. The slim young woman with the knife in her belt, Mac the
Knife, was the speaker. Yes, she was going to be the ‘good cop’. Wolverine
stayed in the doorway while Mac approached her standing subject. She
looked caring and even sympathetic: ‘Prisoner X90 has many marks on
his face, they look painful. X90 has had a nasty accidental fall?’ A
faint but warm smile came over the face of the lady with the knife.
X90 smiled back and nodded. This was a mistaken move.

Without warning the petite young woman slapped X90’s bruised face with
the back of her hand – her bony knuckles seared into the man’s soft
cheek making him double up in pain.

‘X90 will stand erect’ – the order barked by Wolverine was to be obeyed.
As he stood up again he saw the young woman, again looking at him with
apparent sympathy but this time holding out her small knife.

‘X90 shall not smile at his questioners, nor shall he look them in the
eyes. Rule 23B of the Interrogation Code. The punishment for this
transgression shall be a light cut. X90 shall put out his arm, his
left arm.’ The prisoner didn’t quite understand what he was being
asked to do. Hesitation was not an accepted response.

‘Very well – the prisoner has railed to conform with Rule 23B. I shall
now provide a remedy for his disobedience under Article 15 of the
Torture Codes’. Though none of this made any sense to X90, the next
action of the young woman spoke clear volumes; she took her knife and
in a lightening move made a cut across his already sore face. As the
blood began to ooze, the prisoner went to cover his face with his
hands. A mistake.

‘X90 has no permission to touch his face. Hands down!’ This order was
said with cold firmness by the young knife artist.

‘X90 shall put his hands out in front of him’. This command was
bellowed by Lady Wolverine – her first words that morning.. He did as he
was told. Wolverine approached, looked him in the eye, bared her teeth and snarled. She took an outstretched hand and delivered a savage bite to his forefinger. ‘X90 shall put his hands down!’

Bleeding now from the face and the new wound on his hand, X90’s
raddled mind reassessed the situation: he was at the mercy of bad cop – much worse cop!


Lights, Camera, Agony!

The Oubliette is an ideal place to make a powerful mistress/slave
movie as I discovered recently.

The filming began in the Oubliette’s ante-chamber – a room equipped
with full-height cage and torture bed.My cameraman (another slave) was
at the ready and it was really exciting to think that soon I’d be
watching a genuine torture session in my favourite play space.

Before the camera started rolling, I commanded the slave to
undress. He was nervous being somewhat inexperienced in the art of
masochistic delight – but he did as he was bid.. Suitably stripped, he
was placed in what interrogators call a ‘stress position’. One leg was
manacled in such as way that it was bent backwards, his heel locked
against upper thigh. He was strapped into a leather harness that
trapped his arms behind his back. He looked for all the world like a
stark naked one-legged Long John Silver. He was bound and ball-gagged
and slightly shaking perhaps with anticipation or was it fear?
I laughed (couldn’t help it) anticipating more fun to come with this
pathetic pirate.

It was time to ‘roll ‘em’ and get started in earnest.  I was dressed
in a striking outfit of leather jerkin, black hotpants, patterned
tights and heels and looked ready for action. I didn’t need a
clapperboard to start torturing the wretch before me.
Well, I was angry.  – the slave had been seeing other mistresses. That
is why he had been locked in the cage for – long enough to make him
look very sorry for
himself. Still, flirting with other mistresses was against all the
rules and wishes of his supreme goddess. I chided him severely as he
tried to apologise for his actions through a muffled mouth held tight
by the gag.

His Mistress then abused him for disobeying her orders by
attaching a pair of vicious nipple clamps and then giving the exposed
sole of his foot a firm slap. He did his best to howl in pain but it
came out more like a whimper.

Suitably chided, the slave was released from the cage and the painful
contortions of this leg position. His Mistress led him by the collar into
the main chamber of the Oubliette – the dungeon proper. I then  told the
slave to stand between two metal uprights. He looked nervous..the
correct response as I then got some lengths of rope and tied one
around his left testicle with its other end to the upright. I then
repeated this with his other ball and made sure that both ropes were
pulled tight so that his bollocks separated. His
legs were manacled and his hands tied. He was trussed in a painful and
oddly bizarre way. He was all mine!
Again his nipples were clamped and I giggled as I pulled hard on the chains. He
winced and let out another gurgle of pain through the rubber ball gag
in his mouth.

It was now that the real action began. I started to whip his body with
a flogger – all over his naked trunk and legs. Some of the blows fell
on his clamped nipples which must have really hurt: just what the
unfaithful slave deserved. But there was more pain to come.

All the time, I kept telling him that seeing other mistresses without
permission was a grave error, Mistress continued to abuse the naked
numptey with an electro-wand and next a vicious taser. This last
torture device was offered slowly but with menace. I insisted that the
slave ask for, no beg for, the taser on his cock and removed the gag
so that he could be heard begging. He could also be heard crying out
in pain as the buzzing volts went into
the  soft tissue of his penis. It’s all on film.