And there was just one possibility to escape her multiple torments from spitting, branding, whipping and heating… The special trigger Grand Mistress Gillian had mentioned was integrated into Lindsay’s stiff fetish corset. A battery, two electrodes and a sensor which could detect amperage were molten into the rubber. The Grand Mistress reached between the kneeling Lindsay’s legs and connected a thin, short steel cable to the slave’s clitoris ring. The tightened cable was linked up with an electric source hidden in the ground directly under the spike-gagged slave, setting the girl’s body under a not too high voltage.
Since Lindsay knelt on concrete, she was insulated, and no current flew through her body back into the ground. The battery in her corset worked with exactly the same voltage as the source in the ground, 10 volts. The two electrodes, anode and cathode, were pressed onto Lindsay’s skin at different places, with no contact to each other but the slave’s body itself. The anode was directly connected to the battery’s (technical) negative pole by wire, the cathode’s wire ran first through the sensor, then to the battery’s positive pole. As long as the green-eyed girl was connected to the cable, a harmless current of some milliamperes ran from clit to the corset’s anode and to the battery’s “-“-pole, but not between the battery’s “+”-pole and cathode due to the equal voltage level on both sides. If the body-voltage vanished by removing the clit-cable, this equality would disappear. The cathode would led a current into the body, through the anode and to the negative battery pole.
This current could be detected by the sensor between battery and cathode and formed into a trigger signal for the counter. That was the theory; the reality would be far more bloody… Although Lindsay pressed her thighs to her calves to ease the strain on her clitoris, the steel cable was tight and without any slack. Her shaven pussy wasn’t more than twelve centimetres away from the floor. The Grand Mistress turned on the display and started the counter.
Numbers in an opaque colour flashed over the plane surface, transmitted to the video screens by the camera slaves. As smart the circuitry for the trigger was, as simple was the item for motivating the busty slave to cooperate. Grand Mistress Gillian pushed a burning tea candle between Lindsay’s legs. The slave gave a lasting howl through her permanently gagged mouth as the cruel little flame licked her labia like a true lover. Instinctively she tried to rise, but the steel cable didn’t let her clitoris ring go. Pain raced through her nerve-rich flesh, but she had no choice: the fire burned Lindsay’s already blistering vulva without mercy, sending the redhead into terrible agony. Again, now in blinding panic, she tensed her leg’s muscles.
She rose some centimetres, her clit-hole not tearing, just widening. But that wasn’t nearly enough to escape the greedy heat. Lindsay fell back, her luscious arse again at her heels. She screamed louder than ever, then tightened the muscles of her thighs and took a leap straight upwards. Her final shriek even outdid her last one as Lindsay landed on her left side and writhed on the ground in agony, blood pouring from the mutilated organ between her clenched legs. The heavy display scratched over the floor, the steel cable, with clitoris ring and shreds of flesh, lay where the crying girl had kneeled. Grand Mistress Gillian twisted Her hand into the red hair of the bleeding slave and dragged her into a kneeling position again.
Most luckily for Lindsay, the display was still intact. “We have a winner! May the owner of the lot with the number ‘073’ please enter the stage to accept Her or His prize!” The spectators did what they had done the whole night long: They cheered and whistled. A Master in His late forties, dressed in casual black, found His way onto the stage, troubled not to step into the bloody trail Lindsay created as she was led away by a slavemaid. The winner gave Grand Mistress Gillian a kiss on Her hand, then let Master Nathan show Him His prize up close. For poor Amy, there were good news and bad news.
The good news were that her winner was a former surgeon. The bad news were that He was highly addicted to morphine. The good news were that He had just consumed the right dose to have a steady hand. The very bad news were that He was in the mood for slicing girl-meat with a scalpel. AFTERMATH Vanessa, who was at this time still tasting hell’s torments, but again owner of her senses, noticed Amy being taken away to her rendezvous with the Doctor. “That could have been me..
.” flashed through her shattered brain. She didn’t know how much time had passed since then as she heard the voice of Inferior Mistress Zo? “This could hurt…” She said and started to remove the Winder.
And it Did hurt… It took them over half an hour to pull Kate’s barely living body from the pole, not using the barbed wire any more. The Grand Mistress had supervised the de-impaling of both Kate and Vanessa, but seeing that She had trained Her team well, She had left after ten minutes to the operation theatre. As a member of the Inner Circle She owned the privilege to witness the good Doctor’s work. The operation theatre was a re-build of one of those old anatomical lecture halls, where in former times the students of medicine watched the professor from concentric terraces.
Now these places were being filled by the Mistresses and Masters of the Inner Circle and down in the middle a huskily screaming Amy lay on a surgical table. Two guests had volunteered to assist the Doctor. One of them was heating up the spit with a soldering lamp to cauterise the uncounted wounds inside the girl’s body. The slave rewarded him for this selfless effort with a cascade of cries. Then the Doctor Himself entered the theatre, holding His gloved, sterilised hands up shoulder high to avoid contact with any unclean objects. His moth, nose and hair were covered, just like in His old days as a surgeon. Not that sterility was necessary today; His sexy patient surely wasn’t going to die of an infection.
For the first twenty minutes Amy held out bravely, strapped to the cold steel table. A spider gag replacing the chrome ball allowed her hoarse voice to blossom as the spit was professionally and most carefully removed. But the following vivisection that she was also forced to endure without the mercy of anaesthesia…let’s say that neither the procedure nor the result would ever be found in a medical handbook..
. After receiving rudimentary medical attention from someone more caring than the good Doctor, Vanessa and Kate were more dragged than walked to the black van. Michelle was already lying inside the car, being unconscious or sleeping. She was still bridled and bit-gagged, her hands bound with hinged police handcuffs, palms facing outwards. The Novice headed towards the driver’s door. Inferior Mistress Zo?nd the Whip Mistress stuffed Kate’s and Vanessa’s bleeding arses with lubricated plugs and their sobbing mouths with standard two inch ball gags.