While Stoner and his cargo of fresh female flesh were making their way back to the compound, Justine and Cheryl were suffering the promised consequences of their small rebellion that morning. Stoner had instructed Jeremiah to think of something appropriate. The tall, lean, but muscular man entered Stoner’s bedroom and viewed the two abject women still ensconced in their tiny steel prison. They looked at him forlornly, knowing that the major domo would faithfully carry out any instructions that he had been given.
Jeremiah unlocked the cage and allowed the women to avail themselves of the tiny slave’s bathroom that was appurtenant to the master’s suite. When finished, he tied their hands behind them and led them to the kitchen area. They were still naked, and the bustling servants looked upon them with amusement. Jeremiah added to their mirth by ordering the women to their knees, to breakfast out of two wooden bowls that he placed on the floor.
Cheryl and Justine readily consumed the mealy porridge that had been served to them. There was no telling when they would next get to eat and they knew that they must avail themselves of this opportunity. Heads bowed, their hair flowing down to the floor, they spread their legs to allow themselves balance as they licked up the viscous sludge. It wasn’t good, but it was nourishment.
When they were finished, Jeremiah washed their faces and directed them to the door that led down to the bowels of the mansion. The women followed him dutifully, knowing well that any reluctance to obey would only worsen whatever torment he had in mind for them. The three descended the stairs into the musty, dank dungeon. The Discipline Room was set off from the rest of the cellar by a large, heavy, oak door with large iron hasps. A small window was cut into the middle of the door, lined with bars. A small trapdoor swung on hinges, which allowed the curious to look in, but, when closed, sealed off the inhabitants of the room from all contact with the outside.
Jeremiah unlocked the heavy door and swung it open. Trembling with fear, the two women reluctantly stepped into the room.
The room was about 30′ x 20′ and housed a number of exquisitely painful torture devices. From a wooden “horse” which cruelly split the labia of any woman perched on its pointed top to the iron maiden, which was designed to distribute, through a complex system of wires and probes to be inserted on and in the body, random, fierce electrical charges to the woman sealed into its darkness. There was also a large mattress in the corner for the purpose of fucking the victim before, after or during a respite from the painful punishments inflicted.
Jeremiah turned to the trembling women. They had both been brought here before by the hulking black man. Each time, he had inflicted long, cruel and painful abuses to their bodies.
Jeremiah directed the girls over to a short iron bar that hung from the ceiling by chains on its ends. He made the women stand on either side of the bar, which was hanging about six inches above the levels of their heads. Jeremiah grabbed both women by the throat with his huge, powerful hands, hands that extended almost all the way around their pale, white necks. He raised them both up off of the floor to their toes. The women choked and gagged at the pressure to their esophagi.
“Naughty, naughty girls,” Jeremiah said ominously. “You refused to let the master honor you by the use of your measly mouths. You should know by now that your mouths belong to him. You will learn today what happens to white whores who are reluctant to suck their master’s prick.”
The two women’s faces were turning red from the cutoff of oxygen. Their eyes began to bulge and their feet began to shuffle and dance. Jeremiah enjoyed their torment. “I have a special punishment for you,” he said to them.
He released the women’s necks and let them cough and sputter as they recovered their breath. He measured their relative heights visually. Cheryl was about two inches taller than the diminutive Justine. Jeremiah looked around and found a small board about 2″ thick and 2′ wide and long. He had Justine stand on it, bringing her eyes level with Cheryl’s.
“Stick out your tongue!” he ordered Justine. She did so hesitatingly. “All the way!” Jeremiah boomed.
When Justine’s tongue was extended to its full length, Jeremiah fastened a long, thin, wooden clamp on it. It was long enough to bar the retreat of the tongue into the mouth. Its bite was painful and Justine winced when Jeremiah snapped it closed. He gave a similar order to Cheryl. When had had finished affixing he device to Cheryl’s long, pink tongue, he ordered the women to stand still.
Both women had experienced the long and subtle torture of having devices clamped on tender parts of their anatomy. The pain gradually built to almost intolerable levels. But it was tolerable. The women expected Jeremiah to return with more clamps, which would be affixed to their tits, their lips or their vaginas.
But when Jeremiah returned, he held a three foot long leather strap. Small metal rings were attached at either end. He turned and faced Justine, his back to Cheryl, obscuring her view. He showed Justine what he had in his other hand. It was a large, thin fishing hook, with a barbed end and a sharp, pointy tip. Justine watched with bewilderment as he threaded the hook onto the end of the strap. With shock she watched as the harsh man grabbed her tongue and deftly pushed the tip of the hook through it.
“Aaaarrrrrrgh!” she cried. The hook sent a literally piercing pain through the woman’s mouth. Blood poured from the wound. Jeremiah smiled at the wailing wench. She would remember this day, he thought.
The ruthless man turned and faced Cheryl. She had not seen the cause of Justine’s anguished cry and her continuing violent moans, but she had heard them clearly. Something remarkably painful had been done to the blonde girl and was about to happen to her. She started to grimace and cry. Her tongue flapped helplessly outside of her mouth. Her hands were tied behind her, rendering resistance futile. She saw Jeremiah thread the strap through a small ring soldered to the top of the bar. He then presented her with the end of the strap in one hand and the shiny, pointy device in the other. Cheryl realized what was to be done with the hook and started to cry.
Jeremiah slapped her across the breasts. “You should have thought of this before you refused the Master!” he raged at her. “You’re a worthless white cunt!”
The vicious slap had stung Cheryl’s breasts and left a mark of red where the hand had landed. All of her wanted to flee. The reality of what this man was about to do to her was so macabre that it was almost unbelievable. She tried to beg for mercy, but, with her tongue extended, her voice sounded more like a gurgle than words. Jeremiah threaded the steel device through the end of the strap and then grabbed Cheryl by the tongue. He deftly slipped the hook through the meaty flesh. Cheryl echoed her sister slave’s strenuous lament. “Arrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrgh!” she cried, dancing on her feet, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
Jeremiah paused and let the girls take in each other’s distorted faces. The strap hung loosely over the bar. The callous man stepped back and pulled on a chain that was hooked onto the wall. It caused the bar to rise slowly. The women panicked as they realized that they were about to be hung by their tongues. Blood running down their mouths, they wailed plaintively. At first, the only effect was to take up the slack in the strap. But after a moment, the bar rose high enough that the girls were first drawn closer to the bar and then, gradually, their tongues extended upwards. When the women were stretched to their full heights, frantically trying to assuage the pressure on their tongues, the chain was halted and set fast against the wall.
Jeremiah waited a moment, enjoying the spectacle of the moaning, crying women. He had surprised them again with his devious cruelty. Anyone could beat a woman, he thought. He knew how to make them suffer.
Jeremiah stepped back to the women and produced a styptic pencil and a cotton cloth. First with Cheryl, he daubed the blood off of her tongue and applied the styptic pencil to the area surrounding the fishhook. Its fierce sting drew more moans and protests from the tortured girl. Satisfied that the flow of blood had ceased, he removed the clamp from her tongue. He performed the same operation on Justine, who reacted similarly. The women stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, their heads tilted back, unable to assimilate the terrible thing that was happening to them. Their eyes shifted to Jeremiah as he produced two long spreader bars. He affixed them to the women’s ankles, further stretching their powerless tongues and taxing further their poor feet. They were standing on the balls of their feet now, a posture sure to become unendurable within a short time. But the women had to endure, they had to suffer the pain. There was no ‘or else’. The only alternatives to enduring the terrible pain in their calves and feet was to either let the fishhooks tear a slice through their tongues or to strain and tear the muscles that held their tongues in their mouths.
Jeremiah pressed his body against the bodies of the distressed women, his arms encircling them. He was able to run his hands between both of the girls’ legs at once from behind and stroke the extended lips of their sexes. He manipulated them both into lubrication. “The next time,” he said to them sternly, as he pressed his fingers inside them, “you will think only of the pleasure of the Master.”