• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.

Vanubati - A Story

Go to CruxDreams.com

y__

Guard
My first attempt at a story. I hope you enjoy!

PART 1




The whole travesty of a court case didn’t take longer than a few minutes. Two guards had stormed into my cell; one of them grabbed a thick strand of my hair, wrapped it around his wrist several times, and pulled me up.

“Move it, slave!” he yelled and pushed me through the cell door and along the corridor.

The concrete floor felt icy under my naked feet. There had been no need for the second guard. I was naked, my hands were shacked close together in my back, connected to the chain between my feet shackles through another chain, just long enough to stand upright. We were in a high-security prison. Where would I even try to go? They could have just politely asked me to follow them and I would have obeyed. I knew what fate was waiting for me and I knew it was inescapable. That scratching of the chains on the floor reminded me with every step.

They led me into the “courtroom” which looked more like a decrepit classroom. The guard positioned my exposed body just in front of the desk of the fat and sleazy judge. The other guard gave him a scrap of paper. There were just a few words scribbled onto it. The judge didn’t even look up.

“This impertinent slave has tried to flee from our glorious country?”

He immediately slammed the big wooden hammer onto the desk. Its bang echoed through the almost empty room.

“Guilty! The slave is sentenced to death by crucifixion in accordance with the laws and common sense. The sentence will be carried out tomorrow. Next!”

Under different circumstances that might even have been funny. “In accordance with the laws and common sense”! They made up the law just as they needed to. But I didn’t have a lot of time to think about that. The guard pushed me through the building again, this time taking a different turn. Finally, I was dragged into a small bureau. It was empty. One of the guards sighed.

“Where’s lazybones? I want to get off work sometimes.”

He sighed again and kicked into the back of my knees.

“Waiting position, slave!”

I assumed the required position, kneeling up with my legs spread as widely as possible. The guards started to talk about a rugby match that was supposed to happen that evening. There were bits of residual glue on the back of the desk. As if stickers had been removed. It’s strange that this occupied my mind with less than a day left to live. Adhesive. Sports. Kneeling. Waiting in a smelly office. Willingly devoted to fate. Not exactly how I pictured my final hours a few years ago.

Shuffled steps came closer from the other side of the door.

“Finally!” the guard whispered.

A grey office drudge with a bored look on his face entered and nodded at the guards.

“We bring another convict. Attempt to escape. Death by crucifixion.”

The grey shape slowly opened a huge folder.

“Slave registration number?”

“4905-9268” I replied mechanically.

The clerk noted my number.

“Done”, he said to himself. He hadn’t even looked at me. “Take the convict to deathrow.”

The guard dragged me onto my feet again. I was pushed along more corridors and down a flight of stairs. I front of a sturdy metal door we had to wait for a while, then a buzzer went off and the door swept open. A room to the left was separated from the walkway only by bars. In the dim light I could perceive at least a dozen of women huddled on the floor, naked and in chains like me. There was the sound of stifled sobs and clinking chains.

One guard reached for a shelf with a jumble of metal objects. He grabbed a metal bar in the shape of a “u” with another metal tube of wider diameter in the middle of the bending attached to it.

“Open your contemptible slave gob!”

I obeyed, and he rammed the iron spigot into my mouth. My jaws were painfully stretched. I retched and moaned. The guard fastened the counterpart at he back of my head and pushed the pieces together firmly before screwing them down. I started drooling immediately. The contraption compressed the corners of my mouth in a excruciatingly painful way.

“It’s unbearable! And that’s just the beginning”, it shot through my mind.

The guard inspected his work and nodded with approval.

“You have besmirched the name of our wonderful country, slave. You and the other convicts. You don’t deserve the comfort of talking amongst yourselves to grieve about your fate.”

He looked at me with a sadistic expression that sent cold shivers through my body. I burst into tears while he continued talking.

“This gag will not come off again before we take your lifeless body from the cross. You’ve spoken your last intelligible words, slave. They were your slave registration number. How pathetic! How do you feel about that? This cruel torture device has already been in the mouths of dozens of worthless slaves like you when they took their last breaths. Do you taste their desperation? The physical pain from this device will increase by every minute. But, believe me, the psychological torture will be way worse.”

With these final words he pushed me inside the room to the other women, all mirror images of my misery. The door slammed shut behind me.

“Enjoy the rest of your life, vermin!” the guard shouted scornful.

The sobbing became louder and mixed with groaning. The two men turned and started to walk away.

“She had nice eyes. Well … I wonder who’s gonna win the game tonight. Let’s have a beer, mate.”
 
Last edited by a moderator:

old slave

FELIS RESPICIENS
A new twist to me, the psychological and physical pain starts now, and stretches for an unknown time.
Please continue with the story
while she waits for the next stage, a little backstory would be good.
(but the grey text color is difficult to read in Light Theme background style):confused:
Yes, please test both themes (bottom left of screen)
 

montycrusto

Slave Trader
he rammed the iron spigot into my mouth. My jaws were painfully stretched.

women huddled on the floor, naked and in chains

He sighed again and kicked into the back of my knees.

“Waiting position, slave!”

grabbed a thick strand of my hair, wrapped it around his wrist several times, and pulled me up.
Absolutely f :eek:cking loving this story so far. I think you’ve been in my head.. this is perfect for me!! Looking forward to more.:clapping:
 

Eulalia

Poet Laureate
Staff member
(but the grey text color is dificult to read in Light Theme background style)
Thank you for pointing out where I can find the themes. I get your point.
Yes, unfortunately the 'colour palette' options include several that are invisible on one or other of the background theme -
I've reverted you first (fine) chapter to the default style, but if you want to choose a colour that can be read on both black and white backgrounds,
I can change that post to your chosen type.
 

y__

Guard
Yes, unfortunately the 'colour palette' options include several that are invisible on one or other of the background theme -
I've reverted you first (fine) chapter to the default style, but if you want to choose a colour that can be read on both black and white backgrounds,
I can change that post to your chosen type.
Thank you!

It can stay as it is now. I'll consider this problem in the future
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
Well, certainly off to a good start. Looking forward to the next part.
:popcorn:
 

jacksjg89

PROCRASTINATOR
You’ve spoken your last intelligible words, slave. They were your slave registration number. How pathetic! How do you feel about that?
This is the bit that really got to me.

If I have a criticism, it feels like the narrator is simply narrating the events rather than reacting to them. Want to get in her head, and know what she feels, and how she responds to each little humiliation and torment.
 

JoeyRainbow

Executioner
This is the bit that really got to me.
Yup, agreed.

“This gag will not come off again before we take your lifeless body from the cross. You’ve spoken your last intelligible words, slave. They were your slave registration number. How pathetic! How do you feel about that? This cruel torture device has already been in the mouths of dozens of worthless slaves like you when they took their last breaths. Do you taste their desperation? The physical pain from this device will increase by every minute. But, believe me, the psychological torture will be way worse.”

This whole paragraph... phwaar! The whole story is great (I'm also looking forward to hearing the events before and after) but this bit is what I, um, reacted to the most. The hopelessness, the degradation, the viciousness. I'm assuming she didn't know about the gag in advance. I can only imagine the grief that she'll experience as his words sink in.
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
The whole travesty of a court case
Is there any other kind on CF?
the fat and sleazy judge
Repeat above observation
Willingly devoted to fate.
The proper slave attitude. A pity you came to it so late.
There was the sound of stifled sobs and clinking chains.
Now that's what I call an enticing atmosphere!
“It’s unbearable! And that’s just the beginning”
Now that's what I call an enticing beginning!
Nice start. You've set the story and mood very well without verbosity (something I need to learn). I look forward to the next part.
 

y__

Guard
PART 2

My tear stained eyes needed to get used to the dim light, but my ears heard more than I wanted to: a bloodcurdling cacophony of moaning, groaning, panic-stricken coughing, and crying. The gagging contraption hurt so much! I retched and drooled helplessly. I couldn’t lower or lift my head because the slightest movement upwards or downwards increased the pressure on my jaws and skull. My head already felt like it was crushed.

I needed to find a place to sit. I slowly started my way across our last-ditch shelter and torture chamber at the same time. It was crowded. I took very small steps, but my feet met limbs or faces or torsos or chains everywhere. I felt as if I was about to black out. Quick, quick! Just find a place to sit and rest! I stumbled forward, almost tripped several times, and wasn’t sure if the suppressed groans came from myself or from the fellow doomed women who I hit with my shackles. I collapsed on a small free area and leaned against the cold wall.

A sigh of relieve would have escaped my mouth if it hadn’t been sealed by this metal gag. The hope for the slightest alleviation of my suffering was short lived. On the contrary, my misery got only worse. Before I had sunken down on the floor, I had a goal, no matter how insignificant it was. From now on it was just waiting for the inescapable. Waiting in excruciating pain. Waiting with only one thought in mind: It would only get worse.

The woman next to me moved suddenly and hit my knee with the heavy cuff around her foot. I screamed and cursed her in the gibberish that was possible with the big metal rod in my mouth. Our torturers knew their craft. Without the ability to speak, to apologize, to comfort, to get to know the fellow suffering former human being we were caged together with, they incited not solidarity, but hatred against each other. I swore to not let them win this ingenious mind game. They were the cause of our suffering.

It had been early afternoon when the guards had picked me up. Everything had gone so fast since then. It was still early afternoon. In our death cell there was no natural light and it was only lit by a cold neon light in the corridor. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, if it was still day, or night, or day again. We were to be crucified tomorrow, but when exactly? At least sixteen, maybe up to twenty-four hours we would have to wait in this hellhole, mercilessly yet effortlessly and anonymously tortured and hollowed out before the real torture was even about to begin.

The taste of this devilish cylinder in my mouth was repulsive. It had forced apart jaws before, broken minds and spirits. All I could taste was the dull bitter taste of metal. I thought about not the poor souls who had suffered from this thing before but about those who would come after me. I wished I could have left a taste of solace and compassion on it. Instead it made me retch again, regurgitating acidic stomach content. Some of it was pushed out of my nostrils and burned terribly. Some of it likely got into my lungs. But I wouldn’t die from pneumonia. I would die the way people say is the most torturous. With some extras thrown in.

I needed something to distract my mind from my thoughts, from my pain, and from the suppressed yet ear- and mindpiercing soundscape of suffering. The present was unbearable, the future would be hell. The past was the only refuge. I felt a warm viscous liquid on my thigh. Probably my neighbour drooled on it. Don’t let this get to you! Focus! How did all this happen? Maybe I had spoken my last words. “4905-9268.” Nothing for an anthology of famous last words. But the whole thing started with an even more insignificant word: “yes”. Another gush of saliva hit my thigh. It all seemed so long ago. A different life.

– – –​

“Yes, Mr. Omenill. I will go on the business trip to Belize.”

I felt uncomfortable and I should have declined. The country was in political turmoil, the military had seized power, it was a mess. But I was young and ambitious and didn’t want to give the impression I was afraid. Three days later my plane landed in Melbopan.

I had just left the airport when I was stopped by a soldier.

“Sorry, Miss, may I have a look into your bags, please?”

That was a bad start, but of course I agreed. The soldier looked handsome and seemed polite. I calmed down a bit. The soldier put my bag on the hood of a military vehicle and started to go through my stuff. He smiled as he came across my bras and panties. Suddenly his countenance darkened. He opened his hand and showed me a small plastic bag with white powder in it.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, shit! That’s not mine! I don’t know how it …”

He quickly grabbed my wrist and painfully bend my arm behind my back.

“You’re arrested for drug smuggling.”

He routinely cuffed my hands behind my back.

“No, wait, please, I …”

The handsome and polite soldier slapped my face with might.

“Shut up, gringo slut! Your immorality will not corrupt our country! Get in the car!”

My ears had not stopped ringing. I bit my lips and decided it was better to negotiate with a superior of this soldier. He would regret this slap in my face. After all, I was an American citizen. But his superior didn’t want to hear anything about my story either. I was stripped, cavity searched, made to wear ridiculous jail clothes that looked like an oversized pyjama, and put in a cell with two women who didn’t know a single word of English. Seven days I spent in this shithole of a third world prison, interrupted only by forced marches in the prison yard early in the morning and late in the afternoon. At every opportunity I asked to be allowed to make contact to the American embassy.

On the eighth day I was led into an office and was greeted by a brunette woman in her forties.

“Hi, I’m Maria Dolores. I’m a representative of the US embassy”, she introduced herself in flawless English with a strong Spanish accent. I sighed with relief.

“Finally. I’ve been tricked into this whole damn situation. I …”

“Sorry to interrupt. The prison regime doesn’t allow consultations longer than ten minutes. We have to move really fast.”

“What. I thought this …”

“Listen. You’re in a bad situation and we have to act wisely. You have been found with undeniable evidence of drugs in your bag. You will be sentences to live. Maybe prison, maybe hard labour. Probably hard labour.”

“What??? But …”

“Oh, will you shut up, Miss? We don’t have time for this. Let me help you. You will be imprisoned in this backward country for the rest of your life. Unless … Have you heard of Vanubati?”

Of course, I had heard of Vanubati. It had been in the news a lot ten years ago. A huge oil field had been found under this Pacific island. The former poor country had become filthy rich within a few months. Migrant workers were invited for rapid construction. But soon there were news of “late Roman decadence”. Their were reports of human rights violations, human trafficking, even modern slavery. But Vanubati was very remote, thousands of miles south of Hawaii, with nothing but the Pacific Ocean for hundreds of miles around. The public lost interest and the news faded.

“You need to sign yourself over to slavery in Vanubati if you want to avoid being in prison here. You will be a slave, but I think that is the better fate than suffering here.”

She kicked the leg of the desk.

“I’m sorry. It’s the best I can do for you. I have the papers with me. You could sign them right now.”

“A slave? But that’s impossible. I’m an American citizen. There must be another way to get me out of here. I’m innocent!”

“Well, Miss. I’m sorry that you can’t grasp the severity of your situation. Our time’s up. I hope you don’t regret that decision.”

Miss Dolores seemed more angry than disappointed or sad. That should have warned me. But I had no idea what horror was in store for me.
 
Last edited:

y__

Guard
PART 3

I couldn’t keep my eyes closed any longer, and my mind drifted back to the abject misery of the present. The woman next to me had collapsed against me, and her heavy convulsions pushed the sharp edge of her torturing gag painfully against my nipple. It wasn’t the worst pain I felt, not by far, but it was pain I could alleviate. In my utter helplessness this tiny ability to act to help myself was a beacon of hope.

I slowly moved my upper body away from the anguished creature next to me. Inch by inch, each slight movement accompanied by a frightening groan, escaping through the small space between my lips and the metal rod in my mouth. Instinctively I tried to grit my teeth, but with the jaws torn apart to the maximum this only sent an additional jolt of pain through my body.

The weight of the sharp metal piece pushed into my nipple by another body in agony slipped a bit lower. And lower again. Finally, the woman seemed to realize what was happening. She started to sit up, until eventually she sat upright, leaning against the wall of our torture chamber. We weren’t even able to provide something to lean against, not even the slightest comfort to raise each other’s moral. But I needed to try. I wanted to let her know that I appreciated her tremendous effort, wrung out of her despite unspeakable pain.

I turned my head to give her at least the consolation of a thankful smile, no matter how distorted it would be. But when I met her eyes, I was confronted with pure horror. I looked into a travesty; an image distorted by deepest suffering. I don’t even know if she was aware of me. She screeched constantly, only interrupted by short gasps when her lungs ran out of air. Only during those gasps she closed her eyes. Beyond that they were painfully widened and suffused with blood. The irises gyrated erratically. Threads of tears, snot, and spit hung from her nose, her lips, the corners of her mouth, and her chin, swinging and recombining in the rhythm of her convulsions. Her upper lip was wrenched back and bared the upper row of teeth. Her lower lip was swollen though, almost black from the lack of blood flow. Deep furrows were dug from her nose to the corners of her mouth and under her chin. The whole face was compressed by the evil device, giving it a waist like a corset invented by the devil himself.

The real horror was that I was looking at myself. I felt the constant flow of liquid over my breasts, running over my lower body, and dripping onto my thighs. My skull was about to explode. My jaw muscles had cramped, and I had to fight for every single draw of breath. I screeched in between them too. What for? Why not stop right now? But the cruel laws of nature didn’t allow me to simply stop breathing to end my suffering. The past, an intolerable anguish at the time, now appeared as an enticing fairyland.

– – –​

The day after the visit of Miss Dolores me and my cellmates were picked up for the usual morning walk in the prison yard, or so I thought, but this time I was separated and led into a kind of office. But this room was abnormally large for an office and didn’t contain anything other than a desk and a metal cabinet. Behind the desk sat the officer I had encountered after my arrest.

“Ah, the depraved dirty gringo slut. I heard you want to stay in our cute little country? Apparently you like law and order and submission like all you loose cunts do.”

“I want to see a lawyer and contact the American embassy again.”

The officer stood up and came round the desk, stopping right in front of me.

“You were saying?”

“I want to see a lawyer and contact the AmeRIIIII …”

I collapsed onto the floor and blacked out from his full force punch aimed directly under my ribcage. I was convulsing in pain.

“Sorry, Miss. I didn’t quite understand. Who do you want to contact?”

“The A – me – …”

Gasping for air I choked out the syllables before a kick in my guts turned them into a lengthy scream.

“Listen, stupid gringo cunt! You’re a drug smuggler. You don’t get a lawyer. You won’t contact the embassy. Here, in this building, I am the law, the judge, and the executioner.”

He nodded at the soldiers who had brought me in the room.

“Raise her up.”

The soldiers got a long piece of rope from the cabinet and tied my hands together. I was in too much pain to even attempt to fight them off. They grabbed my hair and jerked me up on my feet.

“Párate! Get up! Maldita puta!”

One of the men stood onto a chair and threaded the rope through a ring at the ceiling. Then they pulled until I was forced on tiptoes.

“Who do you want to contact?”

“I want to see a lawyer and contact the American embassy.”

The officer smiled.

“I like you. You’re a feisty one. Stupid, but feisty.”

He said something in Spanish and one of the soldiers produced a piece of dirty fabric, like a scarf, with a huge knot in the middle. The held the knot in front of my lips.

“Open!”

I pressed my lips together.

“Really? Do we need to whip sense into you? We can do this the hard way or the very hard way!”

The officer laughed at his own quip.

“What’s it gonna be, gringo cunt?”

Reluctantly I opened my mouth, and the knot was pushed in. Its taste was gross, as if it had been used to wipe the floor. The floor of a toilet maybe. It smelled of pee. But before I could process this vileness, my body was pulled up higher, my toes lost contact with the ground, my legs helplessly kicked around in the air. The soldiers fixated the rope, leaving me dangling. One of them grabbed my legs, forcing them together. The other one pulled a sling made into a piece of wire over my big toes, threaded the wire through a ring in the floor, pulled it tight and knotted it off.

I was painfully stretched. My wrist hurt, my shoulders hurt, my abdomen hurt. I started to cry. That was insanity! I was an American citizen! Oh. My. Fucking. God. The officer opened a drawer in the desk. A pair of scissors squeaked as he opened and closed them with a sadistic smile on his face.

“Strip the gringo cunt!”

The thin jail clothes were quickly cut from my body. I was trying to fight, but the only result was sharp pain in my wrists and shoulders and even sharper pain in my feet and toes.

“Estúpida zorra!”

Soon my body was totally exposed.

“Not too shabby, whore! Nice tits!”

At this moment the feelings of helplessness and shame were stronger than the pain. I wasn’t used to be naked in front of strangers yet.

“We’ll let you overthink your decision for while. Maybe you don’t want a lawyer in the end. We’ll see.”

They left the room and me marinating in a mixture of anguish, shame, and rage. I swore to myself this transgression would not go unpunished. These sadistic scumbags would not break me. My body was covered in sweat. Flies were orbiting my head, but inside there were only thoughts of revenge. But with every minute passing they were rolled back by pain, helplessness, and desperation. Without help from the outside I was doomed. I was hell-bend to do anything I could to get it.

Finally, the men entered the room again.

“Hello again, gringo cunt! We had a nice cup of coffee. What have you been up to? Changed your mind?”

I shook my head as vigorously as I could while it was wedged in between my arms.

“No? You still want a lawyer and contact the embassy?”

I nodded angrily.

“God, you’re really stupid. Rushing to your own doom. Well, okay, gringo cunt. So be it. I have bad news for you. You will be relocated to the prison in Radagar tomorrow. You will be out of reach of your countrymen.”

The officer leaned back and put his feet on the desk. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“Here in the capital we have to restrain ourselves. A lot of people from foreign countries, journalists. In Radagar, surrounded by jungle, our men can act much more freely. You are going to like it there, slut. They have really nice facilities. A rape rack, for instance. I assume you have an idea what that is used for. They also have a blowjob chair. I’d rather call it skullfuck chair, but I like to be crude. Being worked hard in the mines and fucked: that’s what you gringo whores are for. You’ll pay back for centuries of exploitation of our country. You’ll taste your own medicine.”

He came around the desk and stood before my naked exposed body.

“I’m quite jealous of the colleagues in Radagar. Maybe I can visit some time. But for now, I can at least do this!”

He pushed his hand between my legs and squeezed my sex harshly. I screamed into my gag and wriggled against my tight bondage. It felt like my pussy was turned to mush and my toes were cut off. Finally, the officer released his grip.

“Take the gringo cunt to isolation cell 6 until the transport is ready!”

I didn’t notice a lot of what happened next. I was close to loosing my consciousness: maybe I even lost it for a while. I remember the soldiers leading me, still naked and with legcuffs and my hands cuffed in front, across the prison yard to a small building. Inside it was hot and the air was sticky. The soldiers opened the room to a small cell without windows.

“De rodillas!”

I didn’t know what he expected.

“DE RODILLAS! Knees, whore!”

I knelt down and he locked the legcuffs to a ring in the floor embedded in concrete. Then he kicked me from behind between my shoulders. I could barely avoid falling flat on the hard floor. My handcuffs were locked to another ring in the floor. I was forced on all fours like an animal. The officer appeared in the doorframe.

“Enjoy your vacation in Radagar, gringo whore! Send me a postcard.”

The door slammed shut and I was left in the dark. My situation was hopeless. Hard work and sexual abuse at the arse-end of the world. I sobbed uncontrollably.

To my surprise the cell door opened again after only a short time.

“Oh my god! What happened to you?”

Miss Dolores knelt beside me and started stroking my head. I couldn't bring out a single word. I couldn’t stop crying.

“My dear, I need to get you out of here. They told me you will be relocated to Radagar. I know that odious place. It’s the vestibule of hell. And the mines are hell itself. You will not get back from there. You’re petite; they will work you to death within weeks.”

My crying got worse; my whole body was shaking.

“Help!” I wailed.

“You have to go to Vanubati! Become a slave but live! Better a maid than dead!”

“… … diplomats … … … … … my firm … … … … … citizen … …“

“Poor thing! The diplomats are all corrupt here. They are ensnared and spoiled by the powers that be. And what is your firm going to do? They will receive a letter that, unfortunately, you passed from a tropical disease. Go to Vanubati!”

“… … okay … … … … … I … …”

“Wise decision, my poor thing. I’ll call the guards and you sign the papers immediately.”

In retrospect, there was probably only one corrupt diplomat, Miss Dolores herself. But fear and terror can prevent one from seeing the most obvious thing. The next day I was loaded onto a ship at the harbour of Melbopan. At customs, I was treated as chattel, as a commodity. Still naked and in heavy shackles I was locked up in a makeshift prison cell in a container. A few weeks later the transport ship arrived in Vanubati.
 
Last edited:

montycrusto

Slave Trader
PART 3

I couldn’t keep my eyes closed any longer, and my mind drifted back to the abject misery of the present. The woman next to me had collapsed against me, and her heavy convulsions pushed the sharp edge of her torturing gag painfully against my nipple. It wasn’t the worst pain I felt, not by far, but it was pain I could alleviate. In my utter helplessness this tiny ability to act to help myself was a beacon of hope.

I slowly moved my upper body away from the anguished creature next to me. Inch by inch, each slight movement accompanied by a frightening groan, escaping through the small space between my lips and the metal rod in my mouth. Instinctively I tried to grit my teeth, but with the jaws torn apart to the maximum this only sent an additional jolt of pain through my body.

The weight of the sharp metal piece pushed into my nipple by another body in agony slipped a bit lower. And lower again. Finally, the woman seemed to realize what was happening. She started to sit up, until eventually she sat upright, leaning against the wall of our torture chamber. We weren’t even able to provide something to lean against, not even the slightest comfort to raise each other’s moral. But I needed to try. I wanted to let her know that I appreciated her tremendous effort, wrung out of her despite unspeakable pain.

I turned my head to give her at least the consolation of a thankful smile, no matter how distorted it would be. But when I met her eyes, I was confronted with pure horror. I looked into a travesty; an image distorted by deepest suffering. I don’t even know if she was aware of me. She screeched constantly, only interrupted by short gasps when her lungs ran out of air. Only during those gasps she closed her eyes. Beyond that they were painfully widened and suffused with blood. The irises gyrated erratically. Threads of tears, snot, and spit hung from her nose, her lips, the corners of her mouth, and her chin, swinging and recombining in the rhythm of her convulsions. Her upper lip was wrenched back and bared the upper row of teeth. Her lower lip was swollen though, almost black from the lack of blood flow. Deep furrows were dug from her nose to the corners of her mouth and under her chin. The whole face was compressed by the evil device, giving it a waist like a corset invented by the devil himself.

The real horror was that I was looking at myself. I felt the constant flow of liquid over my breasts, running over my lower body, and dripping onto my thighs. My skull was about to explode. My jaw muscles had cramped, and I had to fight for every single draw of breath. I screeched in between them too. What for? Why not stop right now? But the cruel laws of nature didn’t allow me to simply stop breathing to end my suffering. The past, an intolerable anguish at the time, now appeared as an enticing fairyland.

– – –​

The day after the visit of Miss Dolores me and my cellmates were picked up for the usual morning walk in the prison yard, or so I thought, but this time I was separated and led into a kind of office. But this room was abnormally large for an office and didn’t contain anything other than a desk and a metal cabinet. Behind the desk sat the officer I had encountered after my arrest.

“Ah, the depraved dirty gringo slut. I heard you want to stay in our cute little country? Apparently you like law and order and submission like all you loose cunts do.”

“I want to see a lawyer and contact the American embassy again.”

The officer stood up and came round the desk, stopping right in front of me.

“You were saying?”

“I want to see a lawyer and contact the AmeRIIIII …”

I collapsed onto the floor and blacked out from his full force punch aimed directly under my ribcage. I was convulsing in pain.

“Sorry, Miss. I didn’t quite understand. Who do you want to contact?”

“The A – me – …”

Gasping for air I choked out the syllables before a kick in my guts turned them into a lengthy scream.

“Listen, stupid gringo cunt! You’re a drug smuggler. You don’t get a lawyer. You won’t contact the embassy. Here, in this building, I am the law, the judge, and the executioner.”

He nodded at the soldiers who had brought me in the room.

“Raise her up.”

The soldiers got a long piece of rope from the cabinet and tied my hands together. I was in too much pain to even attempt to fight them off. They grabbed my hair and jerked me up on my feet.

“Párate! Get up! Maldita puta!”

One of the men stood onto a chair and threaded the rope through a ring at the ceiling. Then they pulled until I was forced on tiptoes.

“Who do you want to contact?”

“I want to see a lawyer and contact the American embassy.”

The officer smiled.

“I like you. You’re a feisty one. Stupid, but feisty.”

He said something in Spanish and one of the soldiers produced a piece of dirty fabric, like a scarf, with a huge knot in the middle. The held the knot in front of my lips.

“Open!”

I pressed my lips together.

“Really? Do we need to whip sense into you? We can do this the hard way or the very hard way!”

The officer laughed at his own quip.

“What’s it gonna be, gringo cunt?”

Reluctantly I opened my mouth, and the knot was pushed in. Its taste was gross, as if it had been used to wipe the floor. The floor of a toilet maybe. It smelled of pee. But before I could process this vileness, my body was pulled up higher, my toes lost contact with the ground, my legs helplessly kicked around in the air. The soldiers fixated the rope, leaving me dangling. One of them grabbed my legs, forcing them together. The other one pulled a sling made into a piece of wire over my big toes, threaded the wire through a ring in the floor, pulled it tight and knotted it off.

I was painfully stretched. My wrist hurt, my shoulders hurt, my abdomen hurt. I started to cry. That was insanity! I was an American citizen! Oh. My. Fucking. God. The officer opened a drawer in the desk. A pair of scissors squeaked as he opened and closed them with a sadistic smile on his face.

“Strip the gringo cunt!”

The thin jail clothes were quickly cut from my body. I was trying to fight, but the only result was sharp pain in my wrists and shoulders and even sharper pain in my feet and toes.

“Estúpida zorra!”

Soon my body was totally exposed.

“Not too shabby, whore! Nice tits!”

At this moment the feelings of helplessness and shame were stronger than the pain. I wasn’t used to be naked in front of strangers yet.

“We’ll let you overthink your decision for while. Maybe you don’t want a lawyer in the end. We’ll see.”

They left the room and me marinating in a mixture of anguish, shame, and rage. I swore to myself this transgression would not go unpunished. These sadistic scumbags would not break me. My body was covered in sweat. Flies were orbiting my head, but inside there were only thoughts of revenge. But with every minute passing they were rolled back by pain, helplessness, and desperation. Without help from the outside I was doomed. I was hell-bend to do anything I could to get it.

Finally, the men entered the room again.

“Hello again, gringo cunt! We had a nice cup of coffee. What have you been up to? Changed your mind?”

I shook my head as vigorously as I could while it was wedged in between my arms.

“No? You still want a lawyer and contact the embassy?”

I nodded angrily.

“God, you’re really stupid. Rushing to your own doom. Well, okay, gringo cunt. So be it. I have bad news for you. You will be relocated to the prison in Radagar tomorrow. You will be out of reach of your countrymen.”

The officer leaned back and put his feet on the desk. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“Here in the capital we have to restrain ourselves. A lot of people from foreign countries, journalists. In Radagar, surrounded by jungle, our men can act much more freely. You are going to like it there, slut. They have really nice facilities. A rape rack, for instance. I assume you have an idea what that is used for. They also have a blowjob chair. I’d rather call it skullfuck chair, but I like to be crude. Being worked hard in the mines and fucked: that’s what you gringo whores are for. You’ll pay back for centuries of exploitation of our country. You’ll taste your own medicine.”

He came around the desk and stood before my naked exposed body.

“I’m quite jealous of the colleagues in Radagar. Maybe I can visit some time. But for now, I can at least do this!”

He pushed his hand between my legs and squeezed my sex harshly. I screamed into my gag and wriggled against my tight bondage. It felt like my pussy was turned to mush and my toes were cut off. Finally, the officer released his grip.

“Take the gringo cunt to isolation cell 6 until the transport is ready!”

I didn’t notice a lot of what happened next. I was close to loosing my consciousness: maybe I even lost it for a while. I remember the soldiers leading me, still naked and with legcuffs and my hands cuffed in front, across the prison yard to a small building. Inside it was hot and the air was sticky. The soldiers opened the room to a small cell without windows.

“De rodillas!”

I didn’t know what he expected.

“DE RODILLAS! Knees, whore!”

I knelt down and he locked the legcuffs to a ring in the floor embedded in concrete. Then he kicked me from behind between my shoulders. I could barely avoid falling flat on the hard floor. My handcuffs were locked to another ring in the floor. I was forced on all fours like an animal. The officer appeared in the doorframe.

“Enjoy your vacation in Radagar, gringo whore! Send me a postcard.”

The door slammed shut and I was left in the dark. My situation was hopeless. Hard work and sexual abuse at the arse-end of the world. I sobbed uncontrollably.

To my surprise the cell door opened again after only a short time.

“Oh my god! What happened to you?”

Miss Dolores knelt beside me and started stroking my head. I couldn't bring out a single word. I couldn’t stop crying.

“My dear, I need to get you out of here. They told me you will be relocated to Radagar. I know that odious place. It’s the vestibule of hell. And the mines are hell itself. You will not get back from there. You’re petite; they will work you to death within weeks.”

My crying got worse; my whole body was shaking.

“Help!” I wailed.

“You have to go to Vanubati! Become a slave but live! Better a maid than dead!”

“… … diplomats … … … … … my firm … … … … … citizen … …“

“Poor thing! The diplomats are all corrupt here. They are ensnared and spoiled by the powers that be. And what is your firm going to do? They will receive a letter that, unfortunately, you passed from a tropical disease. Go to Vanubati!”

“… … okay … … … … … I … …”

“Wise decision, my poor thing. I’ll call the guards and you sign the papers immediately.”

In retrospect, there was probably only one corrupt diplomat, Miss Dolores herself. But fear and terror can prevent one from seeing the most obvious thing. The next day I was loaded onto a ship at the harbour of Melbopan. At customs, I was treated as chattel, as a commodity. Still naked and in heavy shackles I was locked up in a makeshift prison cell in a container. A few weeks later the transport ship arrived in Vanubati.
Whoa. Holy shit.. ** buffering** (response later) :icon12: :babeando::eek::icon12:
 

old slave

FELIS RESPICIENS
The irises gyrated erratically. Threads of tears, snot, and spit hung from her nose, her lips, the corners of her mouth, and her chin, swinging and recombining in the rhythm of her convulsions. Her upper lip was wrenched back and bared the upper row of teeth. Her lower lip was swollen though, almost black from the lack of blood flow. Deep furrows were dug from her nose to the corners of her mouth and under her chin. The whole face was compressed by the evil device, giving it a waist like a corset invented by the devil himself.

The real horror was that I was looking at myself.
One of the most powerful descriptions of suffering I have ever read.
Whoa. Holy shit..
What he said!!
 

montycrusto

Slave Trader
In Radagar, surrounded by jungle, our men can act much more freely. You are going to like it there, slut. They have really nice facilities. A rape rack, for instance. I assume you have an idea what that is used for. They also have a blowjob chair. I’d rather call it skullfuck chair, but I like to be crude
Aww..and it looks like we won’t get to see Radagar, since she chose Vanubati instead.. :( ..sounds like one of my “special prisons”.. and very well equipped.. but no doubt Vanubati has many wonders to present, as well. This story is so hot it burns, and beautifully written.
 
Top Bottom