To her left a stocky, bearded man, looking like a biker, and His assistants had found their territory. To Them the Heaven’s Gate Exhibition owed the charming crossie-girls which were welcoming all arrivals using the main gate. At the moment the biker was working on a slave being crucified upside down. Since the heavy wooden cross stood in a normal, upright position, the poor girl hung with wide spread legs from the cross beam. Her hands were nailed to the vertical beam’s wood just some inches above the floor. And there was another difference to the girls crucified outside: the nails had been driven through wrists and ankles, the cramped postures of her fingers and toes indicated the injury of the melianus nerves! The sensation this cruel treatment caused was similar to burning by fire.
As if this wasn’t enough agony, her clitoris, vulnerable and at the height of the biker’s face, was stretched and clamped into a small, polished device. A flat metal form was moved by the bearded man’s hand forwards and backwards, guided by the device. It seemed to run smooth, requesting no force due to its immense lubrication by blood. Vanessa felt puke shooting up her oesophagus and swallowed violently. The flat metal on its guiding device was a plane fitted with a razor blade, slicing away incredibly thin layers of flesh from the fixed clitoris. Bloody, circular wounds on the victim’s breasts proved that this instrument had already been successfully used on her nipples. The girl was beyond screaming.
Her eyes had glazed over and with every movement of the blade she retched clear slime which filled her nose and eyes. A mechanism set the blade a tenth of an millimetre deeper after each run, and soon, but not too soon, her clitoris, like the girl’s nipples, would be gone completely. “Do you like what you see?” “Yechhg…”- again Vanessa fought against the urge to vomit – “Yes, Grand Mistress.
” “Little liar. Let’s go to our ‘showroom’!” And again they passed torture excesses and pain orgies on their way. Infernal atrocities flooded the three slave’s minds. Visitors were invited to stick hollow needles into the unnaturally bulging breasts of a non-pregnant, but hormone- doped woman. Having done so, they used the needles as straws, pleasurably sucking milk or blood or both from the discoloured tits. The nozzle of an extruder had been forced deeply into the vagina of a dark-haired Spanish girl.
Terrible screams escaped her ball-gagged pout as her cervix and womb were crammed with a plethora of pepper paste. Soon her colon would get the same treatment. The crowd was enjoying these heinous performances, and even at the sixth day, you couldn’t had seen everything. With over eighty exhibitors and to all times at least 300 slavegirls under torture, this year’s HGE excelled the legendary one two years ago by far. As a Grand Mistress the sadistic redhead had a first-class area at Her disposal. At the far wall of the hall a HUGE concrete block, maybe a former machine’s foundation, overlooked the scenery. It was the stage for the main event to come.
Grand Mistress Gillian’s stand was occupying a third of the block’s front wall, about fifteen metres, and reached five metres into the hall. Vanessa shuddered. This seventy-five square metres mirrored and outdid all the horrors seen during the painful walk through the overcrowded turbine house. Like at the other stands this one hadn’t a real demarcation. It needed just a step from the aisle to be newly surrounded by suffering. Hanging on her arms by chains, a female slave was watched by a group of spectators. Her legs were spread by a bar at her knees and bound at her feet.
Though they weren’t fixed further, the young, gagged woman had decided to hold her knees bent and her feet bottom-high behind her to touch a special part of the sophisticated device hanging there. With trembling knees and cramping calves she pressed her feet’s balls from below against the underside of a piston. This way she tried frantically to hold it up in its glass cylinder, otherwise it would follow gravity, producing an even stronger vacuum than already existing. Indeed she had a very good reason to do so. Her clitoris had been sucked into a thin glass tube connected to the cylinder. Dark red, almost violet, her pleasure bud had been painfully elongated and was now only millimetres away from tiny, swirling blades rotating inside the tube. A little more low-pressure, and the centre of her womankind would be minced like in a mixer.
Clit-cutting must be a new torture trend! One Mistress was working over an East European girl with a bullwhip in the most brutal way. The slave had been mercilessly stretched in a metal frame, her long blonde hair bound to the structure’s top so her shoulders and back could receive the hateful kisses of the extra-cruel leather. From personal, painful experiences Vanessa knew about this Mistress’ horrible abilities with Her instrument. Under the teaching of Grand Mistress Gillian She had brought Her skills to perfection – a true Whip Mistress. She could de-nipple a breast with the first lash, aiming with a three-metres deathwhip like with a sniper rifle. At the moment She was determined to turn the howling slave’s back into raw meat.
The Whip Mistress had even changed part of Her clothes, wearing a sleeveless silken black blouse to Her gleaming latex trousers for more freedom of movement. So no spectator stood next to Her when She swung back for the next stroke. Like all before this one draw blood. The miserable slave was mangled from her neck down to her knee hollows, but the area between her shoulder blades had been totally spared the leather tongue. The tattoo on this spot showed a cat of prey’s face, and not one single lash lied inside a circle of fifteen centimetres in diameter around the finely executed motive. Artworks on skin. Worked out by the whip, the spot was a white-stranded island in a sea of blood.
The Whip Mistress took a break to wash Her slow-killing instrument in brine, then started anew. The slave’s screams got lost in the omnipresent noises of the fair as her bleeding flesh was inexorably kissed, licked and eaten away by the whip. The last one in the Grand Mistress’ staff was a Novice, a young, dark-blonde woman in leather who was an aspirant to the status of an Inferior Mistress. Grand Mistress Gillian detached the chain from Vanessa’s collar. “Pull out your arse hook and put it to the used toys over there.” “Yes, Grand Mistress! Thank you, Grand Mistress!
” Vanessa hurried to grab the metal end. With an embarrassing ‘plop’ the hook came free and she laid the slightly wet, but clean restraining device onto the rack as told. Her poor arsehole felt numb and severely swollen, but seemed to refuse closing. Vanessa didn’t dare touch it. The Grand Mistress took her by her upper arm, dragged her next to a coal filled brazier and forced her to kneel. She chained the blonde’s wrists to a ring in the floor between Vanessa’s legs, then left without a word, taking Michelle, Kate and the Inferior Mistress with Her. Soon Vanessa discovered that this kind of bondage was as well simple as effective, holding the beautiful slave on her knees and made her legs and arms useless.