Chapter 8

Debra shifted her weight, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the effort was in vain. After being forced to strip she was led away and placed into an elaborate stock rig. One that trapped her wrists and neck in the usual way, another, which pinned her calf just below the knee and a third restrained her ankles. This forced her to remain on her knees with her upper torso, and arms, supported by the stocks. The position exposed her bare ass, and pussy to any who cared to molest her most private areas.

A ring gag held her mouth agape, drool dripped off her bottom lip and coated her chin. A final stock closed tightly around the base of her breasts with tiny spikes that cut into her flesh as it locked into place. Elastic bungees attached to the four corners of the breast stock stretched to the floor, and maintained continuous, torturous, pressure on her tender flesh. The spikes drew droplets of blood from her tits and made any movement agony.

All Debra could do was moan, and cry, while time ticked by. Eventually, Dominique entered, and Debra strained to see her, but the stocks made it hard to turn her head very far. “It’s time to begin,” Dominique said, and Debra heard a familiar voice. It took a moment, but she soon realized it was her own voice. A recording of her giving a Senate speech. “You’re going to listen to this while I make you suffer. That person on the recording is a strong, powerful woman, and I want you to associate that version of yourself with this place and the pain we inflict.”

Debra couldn’t say anything intelligible with the gag but it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway, as the next thing she felt was a scorching sting across her back. Debra twisted in the unforgiving stocks to escape the bite, but every hit found her sending new waves of pain across her body. Dominique brought the leather instrument down repeatedly. She spaced the hits out so Debra would feel the full effect of each strike. The whip connected with her body at every exposed point, from her ass, to her shoulder blades, and along her ribs. The stock holding her tits cut even deeper as she jumped with every assault.

Her face dripped with tears, and drool, as screams emanated from deep in her throat. When the beating finally stopped, Debra heaved, trying to catch her breath. Through the sounds of her own moans and gasps she could hear the voice of a much different woman under very different circumstances. Only, that woman was her, and the strength of that other woman’s words and her conviction taunted her. The contrast between, then, and her current state, was itself a humiliation.

“Save your tears, dear, we aren’t done yet,” Dominique said, and Debra sensed her moving toward her exposed feet. “I don’t want to neglect these dainty little feet.”