Hour 8
Now after eight hours of unimaginable terrors and torments, Stacy was
beginning to silently ask for death. The toll was enormous on her body,
but her captor had a way of only damaging her non-essential parts, and
after she passed out he would just force her back with vinegar and water
or violent slapping about the face. She could not simply die.
Her mind was almost numb. Strangely, the panic of earlier hours had
been replaced by a kind of complacency. She expected to be tortured,
and she was not expecting to live. Yes, she was still in pain. But her
mind was adjusting.
She could only assume that Kim's mind was in a similar way. Kim was
lying unconscious on the stone floor, her mouth encrusted with dried cum
from their captor. Her breasts had been de-needled, and the blood from
those barbs was plentiful; it spilled out like a red creek from under
her motionless body. Her breathing was shallow, and Stacy had to wonder
how much more her sister could withstand.
Stacy's wounds were less bloody, but equally painful and distressing.
She was sitting Indian style on the floor, her thin neck chained to the
wall, and in this position, she could inspect her poor pussy. All the
lips, inner and outer were torn from that hook which ripped right
throiugh them. Stacy gingerly fingered her pussy lips and marvelled at
how stretched they remained even after the tension was released. She
said a prayer of thanks too that her sensitive clit had been spared.
Without warning, her captor reappeared from a dark corner. His smile
was creeping along his face as he moved in toward Kim. Stacy wanted to
say something terrible, something that would make him feel guilt and
remorse, but her tongue was so ripped and badly swollen that the words
came out like those of a one-year-old. He merely glanced at her
battered body and smirked.
The man in the black suit pulled out a small carving knife and let the
single light bulb's illumination reflect off the metal. With his free
hand, he slapped Kim around until she started to groan and roll, slowly,
painfully returning to consciousness.
From the pulley in the ceiling he brought down a chain and collar,
attached the collar snugly to Kim's neck, and raised her off the floor.
Her neck strained while he hoisted her body up and left only her tip
toes touching the dirty stone floor. She gagged and gargled at this
discomfort, but she had no idea how the discomfort would grow.
With the carving knife, the man in black took aim at her curvaceous
36-23-36 body. The man set his knife just under her right nipple and
sliced delicately into her flesh, as if to accentuate the pain. She
throttled off an animal-like scream and he proceeded to carve her
nickel-sized nipple completely from her breast.
He held the bloody piece in his hand and moved over to Stacy. He
gripped her jaw, but there was no fight left in Stacy and she almost
allowed her mouth to stay nice and wide. With her mouth open, he tossed
Kim's nipple in and forced her to swallow.
Kim looked on in shock. She stared down at her destroyed breast meat,
then at her sister eating her nipple, and then back again at her breast.
Kim could not fathom the words for this mind-boggling taboo.
Again with the handy knife, the man lowered his aim on Stacy's as-yet
spared clit. He wedged his knife playfully between the clit proper and
the hood in which it cloistered. The blade gave several tingle
sensations to Stacy, but then her world was all pain once more. The
clit was exposed and he wasted no time: he sliced off Stacy's juicy
little pleasure center and held up the clit to Stacy's unbelieving eyes.
First, he rubbed her clit along her sweat-soaked face, along her cheek,
just lightly touching her lips. Then he moved back to his other victim
and force fed Kim. Stacy watched in horror as her own sister swallowed
her precious clit.
Kim's breast was still bleeding profusely so he cauterized her wound
with a small branding tool. Once more, the smell of burning flesh
filled the room. As Kim was on her way to passing out, he slid his
practiced knife between her thighs and cut off several inches of her
outer pussy lip. Kim's eyes closed again, and he ushered the flesh over
to sister Stacy.
This time, Stacy just opened her mouth without provocation and accepted
the flesh as food, chewing it slightly before swallowing her sister's
pussy. The sweet juices mixed with blood and the taste was not at all
offensive to Stacy.
What's come over me, she thought to herself. I just don't care anymore,
she answered.
The man in black swiped up some off Kim's breast blood and smeared the
liquid like warpaint on Stacy's face. He also covered his huge fingers
with blood and thrust them into Stacy's mouth. As he forcibly drove his
fingers into her, she tried as best she could to use her tongue, licking
the blood clean off his digits.
Over and over again, Stacy repeated to herself: "I just don't care
anymore, I just don't care anymore."
End of Part 8
