Real Stories - September/October 2007

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She was to add to that torment at times as she had rummaged in my bag and pulled out a length of chain and a connector. Attaching that chain to my ankle manacles, she would use it to pull my feet off the floor as the whim took her; so my raw, agonizingly sore wrists took so all the weight of my hanging body. At intervals, she’d caress my agonized, helpless, naked body, cynically and sensuously running her fingers over the areas she’d assaulted acting as if she was really compassionate and taunt me with wicked contrived innocence telling me the torture would stop if only I'd reveal the information she required.

Her wide, flawlessly clear brown eyes momentarily displaying feigned sympathy for the ordeal I was experiencing. Then, still acting her phoney compassionate role, she’d perform brutally cruel acts. At other times she’d pretend to be genuinely perplexed as to why I stayed silent as she was thrashing me, callously ignoring the fact I was gagged and mimicking and mocking my desperate efforts to communicate. But most of the time she instinctively reverted to acting the role of the pitiless, female monster I’d mistakenly requested.

I was also aware at these moments from her bright, elated, luminous eyes and deep breathing that she was almost certainly getting some sort of sexual stimulation during these embraces. More especially when she'd rub her latex乳胶 — shiny rubber used for tight clothes clad pelvis and hips up and down against the hanging, raw flesh she now knew she could torment at will.