Tortured Sacrifice


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by John Savage

Pain and torment were needed. How else could he prepare the girls for sacrifice to the ancient demon? The girls were no strangers to pain, having worked for William Tremain, an expert in making incredible fantasies come true, fantasies of ropes and gags and whips and more. Now they had been snatched, and the suffering they faced was far more extreme than any of Tremain’s carefully crafted scenes. Surely Tremain was searching for them? And surely he would rescue them before it was too late?

Published: 5 / 2010         No. words: 53,300EX1t

Inside there were only two lights on, the spotlights shining down upon his waiting victims.  Brandy was no longer on her toes.  Those toes were stretched downward as if seeking the floor a good foot below them.  Her back was turned to the door so her wonderful ass was presented with its firmness and smooth skin.

Nancy was also suspended off the floor but by her ankles, her long brunette hair hanging down around her head to lightly brush the floor.  Like Brandy, she was turned so that her back side was presented.  Neither girl made a sound beyond their heavy, fearful breathing.

There was a small table before the girls, just inside the cones of light.  On it were two whips, one a single braided leather whip about two feet long, the other a slightly shorter shaft with a stiff leather end about two inches wide and twelve long.

First, the man inspected his victims.  He looked at both girls from all sides.  Neither had to fake the look of apprehension on their faces; they both knew that they were in for some real pain that night.  He did not touch them, but made a very close inspection, as if he were a meat grader for the government.  When he finally stepped back to the table, there was a look of satisfaction upon his face.

The whipping of two naked and helpless females began slowly and never hurried.  The two whips were alternated, each stroke being planted with precision and strength.  Each stroke evoked a gasp or cry from its victim.  Later, after both bottoms were covered with vivid marks, crisscrossed with welts and burning with agony, the fresh strokes, falling as they did upon tenderized flesh, evoked screams of genuine agony.

For over an hour he watched delighted as two lovely young female bodies jerked at each new delivery of pain.  Brandy danced in mid-air, legs flaying and kicking out but touching nothing.  Nancy jerked around at the end of her tether like a fish freshly pulled out of water will flop at the end of its line.  Her fingers fluttered and clenched wildly but her arms never moved from their position high on her back.  At times, she arched her back until she was almost looking straight down at the floor.  At other times she bent double until her head was nearly as high off the floor as her hips.

That and screaming were the only releases she had for the terrible pain.

Finally, the man tired of his game.  Carefully, he put the whip down upon the table.  One last time he circled the two hanging females, enjoying the sight of the tortured, multicolored flesh of their bottoms.  From waist to upper thighs, little of the skin was unmarked, often red and purples lines crossing over each other.

Then the man left.


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