First Torture
There was no concept of time.
There were no clocks to begin with, and the prison itself had been designed so that the passage of hours could never be felt.
The only light came from fixtures buried inside the walls, and even those were dim. If there was any way to sense time at all, it was only through the exhaustion settling into my body and the drowsiness that followed—proof, of a sort, that time was still moving.
— Clomp. Clomp.
In a slightly fogged state of mind I walked behind Leviathan, the bundle of rope still in my hands. The alien feel of bare feet on asphalt no longer registered. We passed inmates and guards from other cell blocks as we went, but conversation was forbidden; to us they were nothing more than scenery.
“All right. Everyone stand in front of your own torture chamber.”
“….”
After a long walk we reached a stretch where the lighting was especially weak. Leviathan gave the order. I lifted my head from the floor. Before us stood iron doors, each stamped with an inmate number.
From the left: [A522], [A691], [A711]. And at the very end, my own number. [A713].
We took our places in front of our doors.
“A713 has the longest torture time today, so we’ll start with you. Hand me the rope and put both hands behind your back.”
“…Yes.”
I didn’t know why, but the news that my allotted time was the longest sent a small spike of worry through me. Even so, reality would not change. All I could do was obediently clasp my hands behind my back.
“If the circulation cuts off, say so.”
“Yes.”
The first consideration I had heard from him. Leviathan unwound the rope and began binding me. He fixed both wrists together behind my back, then ran the remaining length past my forearms, looping it above and below my breasts. The rope that crossed my shoulders caught on the horizontal bands and pressed my chest inward until a classic reverse box-tie—sometimes called a box-tie—was complete.
“All right?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
Leviathan’s bondage was perfect. The slightest attempt to drop my hands pulled the chest ropes tight and stopped me; trying to spread my arms only made the horizontal bands dig harder. My upper body was completely immobilized. The pressure and the strange comfort of it surpassed even the professional rigger’s work I had once experienced at an SM bar.
“I’ll go set things up. A691 and A711, wait here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes.”
Leviathan left the other two waiting and opened the iron door in front of me. Unlike the cell doors, this one was old-fashioned and heavily corroded.
— Creeeak.
“….”
The moment I stepped inside I knew exactly what today’s torture would be.
In the center of a room no larger than two or three pyeong stood a triangular wooden horse—the kind I had only ever seen in filthy videos.
“Today’s torture is the triangular wooden horse. Feel your genitals being crushed and reflect on how thoroughly you have surrendered to lust.”
“…Yes.”
Leviathan led me to a small portable step beside the horse. Climbing it while bound, I realized how high the thing actually was.
“…Ugh.”
The top ridge was sharp. The edges had been lightly rounded, but only to the degree of a desk corner. How much would it hurt once I was on it? Just recalling the images from those videos told me it would be no ordinary pain. A sudden, chest-tightening fear rose in me.
“Mount it.”
I had no freedom to flee from that fear. Under Leviathan’s merciless command I spread my legs and carefully settled onto the triangular wooden horse. The cold tip of the ridge pressed between my thighs.
“Haaahk!”
The moment the pointed edge touched the secret places that led from my pussy to my urethra and anus, the principle of the torture became instantly clear. Pain sharp enough to make my hamstrings seize. Between my dangling legs I felt crushing pressure and an agony beyond words.
— Clank.
“Ah… ahh… ah.”
Once I was fully astride, Leviathan kicked the temporary step aside and locked shackles around both ankles. The shackles were joined by a chain roughly fifty centimeters long that ran beneath the horse, making it impossible to spread my legs and climb down.
“Those tits were already big, but tied up like this they look even better.”
“Haaahk…! Ah… nnngh…!”
“I’m putting clamps on. Shut your mouth. Let even a single moan slip and I’ll make you regret it.”
“Mmph…!”
The triangular wooden horse alone was torment enough, yet that was not the only pain prepared for me. Leviathan produced a pair of clamps and fastened them to my nipples. He yanked the prison uniform aside, forced the flesh free, and bit the clamps down. Extreme pain flared. The more they were pulled, the harder they bit. A thin chain linked the two clamps; from its midpoint another chain branched away, forming a Y. Leviathan fixed the free end of that chain to a ring at the front of the triangular wooden horse.
I was forced into a forward-leaning posture. The fixed chain and the clamps chewing my nipples stretched my breasts until the veins stood out; the shift of my center of gravity drove the ridge of the horse even deeper.
“Ah… haaa… uggy… nnngh!”
He had ordered me not to make a sound, yet the pain was so fierce I could not keep my mouth closed by will alone. A sensation I had never known in my life. The feeling of my body being split open gnawed at its most fragile places.
“Oh? Making noise, are we? Hmm… I was going to keep it to five kilos if you held still, but that won’t do. Twenty kilos.”
“…What? Wh-what do you—ah… kyaaaaah!! Aaaaah!!”
“You’ll be enduring this a long while, so save your screams. You won’t be getting any water until tomorrow. After this, follow the torture-room alarm.”
“Aaaaah! Leviathan-nim! Please take it off!! It hurts so much!! Aaaaah!! Aaaaah!!”
“Ah. My ears. It’s torture—of course it hurts. Reflect well.”
“Forgive me! Please! Aaaaaaah!!”
Twenty kilos. At first I could not understand why he had spoken a weight nearly half my own body mass. The instant something hooked onto the chain between my shackles, I understood.
“Kkuuugh!! Ah… haaahk!! It hurts. It hurts…!”
What hung from the chain was a weight plate. Looking down I saw a gym-style disc dangling between my legs. Cruelly fixed at a height that could never touch the floor no matter how I shifted, the plate dragged my legs downward with its full force. The deeper the weight pulled, the more savagely the ridge of the horse split me.
— Clank.
The moment Leviathan shut the door and left, a mechanical voice filled the chamber—the “alarm” he had mentioned.
A713’s torture time begins.
Today’s torture is the Triangular Wooden Horse. This is a punishment delivered to the genitals of an inmate who is always in heat. Approach the torture with a grateful heart.
The humiliating mechanical voice continued. I had already heard similar words from a guard’s mouth, yet being condemned by a machine brought a fresh wave of degradation.
A713. Your torture time for today is as follows:
Base 30 minutes + 123 Demeanor Penalty Points for the day + 60 minutes added by the assigned guard = total 213 minutes.
“Kyaahk!… Wh-what?”
— Clank. Thud.
From this moment until the torture time ends, the torture chamber is sealed. No one, including the assigned guard, may enter. The torture will be halted only if A713’s life is endangered or if the body is at risk of being torn to the point of permanent disability.
“N-no! No!! No!! No!!!”
A despairing alarm… no, a notification. My crotch already felt ready to kill me, and now I was expected to endure more than three hours. I screamed before a terror so vast my teeth ground together. This couldn’t be. I couldn’t last this long!
“Aaaaah!! It hurts!! Let me go!! This isn’t right!! It hurts, damn it!! Aaaaah!!”
I raised my voice and shrieked until the sound bounced off the walls and returned to my own ears. No one came. The alarm fell silent; even the interior lights of the torture chamber went out, leaving absolute darkness.
“Kkhh…! Ah. Ahhk…!”
After several minutes of screaming my throat burned. Unwilling to add more pain, I had no choice but to shut my mouth and endure.
“Haaah! Uuugh…! It hurts. It hurts….”
The agony of the triangular wooden horse was far worse than I had imagined. Watching videos, I had thought the friction of rocking back and forth might hurt, and that was all. Sometimes I had even decided the actresses were overacting simply for sitting on something pointed. Experiencing it myself proved otherwise. What I felt between my legs was identical to the pain of torn skin. Someone might ask whether that was merely the pain of a wound, but the object that had torn me continued to dig into the wound without pause; the suffering only grew worse with every passing second.
“Huuugh…! Uuugh!”
Tears spilled from my eyes. The tears that ran down my cheeks were pure, born of nothing but pain. It hurt. It hurt so much. Once, in a metaverse facility, I had briefly sampled the pain of childbirth; the few seconds of that agony had been less than what I felt now. Back then I had screamed and thrashed; now I had to endure something worse for hours, and the thought made my mind reel.
“Kkuuugh! Haaahk…! Ahhk.”
Even when consciousness tried to blur, the pain that had already taken root forced it back. My downward-dragged legs hurt as well. The shackles around my ankles and the twenty-kilo weight hanging from the chain between them made my ankles feel ready to snap; my pelvis felt as though someone were striking it with a hammer. And with the sharp spine of the triangular wooden horse still thrusting between my legs, my body truly seemed about to split in two.
“Ah… aaa. Uuuugh!”
Would there be aftereffects? No—would I even leave this chamber with my mind intact? Pain that severe settled over my entire body.
“Uuu… uuu…! Ugh.”
At some point even screams stopped coming. Heat rose from a body that could no longer master the pain; my bound hands went limp and simply hung against the rope. It was torment. It hurt. It hurt too much. I thought I would die.
“Kkuugh!”
On top of everything, the clamps on my nipples added a special cruelty. At first I had thought they were merely extra pain, but I soon realized they were a device that, by shifting my center of gravity forward, forced the ridge of the horse to concentrate its pressure exclusively on my pussy. If I could have leaned even a little backward and let the weight rest between my buttocks or against my anus, I might have lasted a fraction longer—yet the clamps and their chain denied even that thought. I could not move at all. The slightest attempt only made the pain command me to stay still.
“Heh… heh… uuu….”
I could no longer cry enough tears; saliva began to drip from the corner of my mouth. My trembling lips simply could not swallow. It was too hard…. I only wanted this moment to end. I truly could not take any more. Even while thinking that, I had no choice but to endure. I prayed that some scrap of relief would reach me, that the pain would ease even a little, and that time would simply hurry past.
And then—
“Kyaah! Ah… aaa.”
While I was killing time with those thoughts, a new stimulus arrived. Movement blossomed at the tips of the nipples crushed by the clamps. Startled, I stared at the flattened flesh and sobbed.
“Ah… ahhk… ah…! Uuu… uuuuu…!”
I sobbed like a beast. Today’s quota had not yet ended. The Stimulation Spores ran wild inside my nipples. Mercifully, the sensation they delivered was not the stab of needles but a pleasure-tinged caress, as though someone were gently touching me.
“Kyaaang… uu… uwaah! Aaa.”
It felt as if a single spoonful of pleasure had been stirred into a time otherwise filled only with pain. Yet that was enough. With the added excitement, fantasies rose. Yes—this situation. Memories of something I had once dreamed of came back to life. Not identical, but close enough. As a child, reading about witch hunts, I had thought I might like to experience something like that once. Of course reality and fantasy were different. I was paying the full price right now.
“Kkrrk… ah. Uuugh…! Kyaaeeuu….”
If only I could escape this pain, how wonderful it would be. Suddenly I remembered the dildo-sucking. If they had only set me down a little sooner I could have sucked harder, until my throat burst, and lowered my penalty points. If I had simply forced down breakfast no matter how hard it was, I could have shaved ten minutes off this suffering. Regret and longing flooded me.
“Uuu… uuuuu.”
Of course every such train of thought always ended at the same place. The first time I had seen the Waltz Production link. If only I had never applied… if only I had never pressed it, none of this would have happened. I repeated those now-useless moments while thrashing inside the pain.
“Ah… uuu.”
Time passed. By the point when screams no longer came and every thought had been exhausted, the iron door before me still showed no sign of opening. Had A711 and A691 already been released by now? They had received lower Demeanor Penalty Points than I today; they should have been taken down from their horses long ago. If not… that only meant a great deal of time still remained for me. All I could do was hope they had finished first and that still more time had passed after that.
…It hurts.
Please just end.
End, damn it.
But you know what? I’m regretting this so much right now, and yet—
Even if I went back to the moment I first saw that link…
I would probably make the exact same choice.
Why?
Only after a great deal more time had passed, when every last scrap of strength had left my body and even holding my head up was difficult, did I finally understand.
“…Hehe♡”
Even though every single minute and second was hell, I could still feel it.
Feel what?
…Do I really have to say it out loud?
…Haa. I really am a genuine masochist, aren’t I?