Basement and cellar | Tamara 4 | Amazon bdsm stories

One look at the contents of the basement room made Tamara’s stomach turn over in terror. The place was a veritable torture chamber; no other word for it. A room completely dedicated to the infliction of pain by one human being on another; more than reminiscent of the pictures she had seen in history books of the dungeons of the Spanish Inquisition.

Open-mouthed and trembling with fear, Tamara looked around her. There was a solid-looking pillory flanked by two peculiar leather-topped vaulting horses, to tops of which were covered with tiny little pin-sized spikes. There were also several tables with securing straps and two of what looked rather like the old electric chairs used in the United States for executions. In one corner there were half a dozen three-legged stools, similar to those used by milkmaids only larger, each one’s legs bearing leather cuffs and the seat of each sprouting a monstrously large solid rubber phallus.

A variety of leather hoods, collars, wrist-cuffs, dildos, handcuffs and other less obvious sexual contrivances, including several unassuming black plastic boxes festooned with electric wires, were laid out on one of the tables. Ropes strung from four small power winches led up to convenient rings set solidly in the otherwise featureless ceiling. Similar restraining rings were set all around the walls, floor and ceiling.

In one corner hung a steel cage in which a prisoner might just be able to stand upright, while on the opposite wall hung a veritable battery of instruments of correction, including straps, canes, a birch, several crops and switches and last but not least, a heavy plaited leather whip.

A low, keening, sobbing moan escaped Tamara’s trembling lips. She was shaking violently from fear. Pure unadulterated fear at what might be done to her here. A trickle of urine ran down her legs as she lost partial control of her bladder.

„See, there’s your friend Aimee, already enjoying our hospitality,“ chuckled the Amazon. „That Jason. He’s certainly inventive, isn’t he?“

„Nnnnnnnnnnnng! Nnnnnnnnnnnng! Nnnnnnnnnnnng!“ A series of muffled groans from the other end of the cellar drew Tamara’s attention. What she saw nearly stopped her heart. There, in the shadowy, semi-lit area at the far end of the cellar, Aimee hung naked and inverted. Wrists tightly handcuffed behind her back, the red headed girl’s legs were spread wide to a suspension bar from which a rope ran to one of the power winches via a ring in the ceiling. Tamara was unable to suppress a gasp of horror. From the slowly twisting body several wires led down to one of the innocuous-looking black boxes she had seen on the table.

A non-stop series of pitiful moans issued from the open mouth of the suspended girl. She couldn’t speak properly, of course. A large steel ring jammed behind her teeth and sealed there with a tightly buckled leather strap at the back of her neck saw to that. A viscous trickle of what could only be semen was running down from the corners of her mouth to her chin and, at her side, grinning, stood Jason, quirt in one hand, casually stroking his erect penis with the other.

„Nnnnnnnnnnnng! Nnnnnnnnnnnng! Nnnnnnnnnnnng!“ The moaning grew louder once the other girl saw she had Tamara’s attention. As Aimee slowly rotated on the suspending bar, Tamara could see two vicious red weals marring the once creamy slopes of her bottom, while another cruelly bisected the brown-tipped peaks of her small breasts. Tamara looked closer and gasped again. Those tortured twin peaks were gripped by vicious little saw-toothed electrical clamps, as was her monstrously swollen and distended clitoris, clearly visible between the parted lips of her vagina. Wires from the clamps led down to the black box, from which various coloured lights could be seen flickering in time to the girl’s spasmodic and involuntary jerking movements.

Tamara’s stomach lurched in sympathy, her own fear suddenly forgotten under a surge of uncontrollable anger at what was being done to the helpless girl. The black box was obviously some kind of electric shock machine! „Oh God!“ she almost screamed. „That’s horrible, vile. Oh God, you can’t. You can’t!“

Smaaaack! Smaaaack! Two full-blooded backhanded slaps, left and right across her cheeks, silenced the raging Tamara immediately. „Oh can’t I!“ growled the woman. „You’re going to learn that, in here, I can do anything I want. Anything. Understand?“

Tamara staggered and nearly fell, head ringing from the slaps, blood running from her nose and a cut lip. „Oh God, please, please!“ she whimpered. „Aimee hasn’t, I mean we haven’t done anything. It was Daddy, not us.“ Her courage began to return and her voice suddenly grew louder and bolder once more with a shrill ring of outrage. „Don’t you hit me again, you cow! I’ll see you go to prison for this. Let us both go, now! You have no right to ... !“

Smaaaack! Smaaaack! Smaaaack! Smaaaack! Four more full-blooded backhand slaps; left right, left right, landed across Tamara’s already bruised cheeks, sending her crashing full length to the stone floor of the cellar.

„By God, girl, haven’t you learned yet?“ said the Amazon grimly, dragging the semi-conscious girl to her feet. Blood from Tamara’s nose and mouth ran down in slow trickles to her chin and breasts. „Well, I’ll be very glad to teach you!“

Taking the dazed girl by the shoulders, she manoeuvred her until Tamara stood on shaking legs under a dangling metal suspension bar. „That’s just the start of your friend’s training. This is where you start yours!“

Swiftly and efficiently the woman released Tamara’s wrists from the handcuffs and strapped them wide to the metal bar hanging above her head. Still dazed from the heavy blows to her head, Tamara made no move to resist.

Coolly, Annaliese strode over to the nearest winch and took up the control box. The machine hummed into life, the retreating rope taking up the bar and, with it, a suddenly very apprehensive Tamara. The torturess stopped the motion when her captive’s toes were swinging six inches or so off the floor. Taking another bar from the table, she strapped it between Tamara’s ankles, forcing her legs wide apart.

„Please!“ croaked Tamara, her wrists and shoulders already feeling the pain of taking her own weight. „Please, no moooore!“

With a grim smile, the Amazon selected a particularly nasty looking black, highly polished cane from its place on the wall, then walked back so that she stood slightly behind the suspended Tamara.

„This, my dear, is called a rattan,“ said the older woman calmly. „It’s a most excellent instrument of training and, because you obviously can’t keep a hold on your temper, I’m going to lay it across your backside as a little foretaste of what it will be like in future punishments. You will not enjoy this, I promise you, but it is necessary.“

„Oh God, please. Don’t. Don’t!“ Tamara was terrified. „Don’t do it. Don’t do it, please. I’ll scream. I’ll scream.“

Annaliese grinned. „Scream all you want! This room is thirty feet underground and totally soundproofed. No-one except me will hear you.“

A heart rending scream of anguish was forced from the suspended girl’s gasping and distorted mouth as the rod was suddenly whiplashed across the thrusting mounds of her buttocks. Tamara jerked and twisted desperately as if the action might lessen the blinding pain sweeping through her body. The pain was almost indescribable. „Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Oh God! Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Please, oh, please! Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!“ she screamed again, head thrown back and tears running unchecked down her lovely cheeks; her mouth twisted in agony. „God, oh God, noooooooooo. Please, please, no moooooore!“

„Oh yes, lots more to come yet,“ grinned her tormentor fiercely.

„No, God! You can’t. You mustn’t. Oh God, you’ll kill me!“

Annaliese laughed grimly. „Oh no. I shan’t kill you; though you might wish I had by the time I’m finished,“ she said coolly.

Tamara closed her eyes in despair. Right at that moment her entire being centred on the blazing, uncontrollable, fiery agony in her bottom. „Please!“ she begged weakly. „I’ll do anything you say.

I promise. Anything, anything at all. Only please, please, no more!“

„A dozen,“ said the woman remorselessly, „right across that lovely peachy bum of yours. „A dozen to begin to teach you what it means to betray someone like you did.“

The realisation that her torturess truly meant what she said nearly stopped Tamara’s heart.

Surely she would never survive another eleven strokes of that terrible instrument of agony!

„Oh, and six extra for forgetting to address me properly,“ said Annaliese, almost as an afterthought.

„Oh God, no! I didn’t,“ began Tamara as the Amazon stepped back to measure the swaying bottom in front of her; then whip-lashed the long black cane across the twin mounds with all the force she could muster. Another bright pinky-red weal leapt up on the tender flesh and once more a shrieking, yelping howl came from Tamara’s distorted mouth. „Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!“ she screamed. „Please no more!“

„And another six for forgetting again,“ grinned the woman.

The next stroke whistled down, bringing another anguished howl which echoed from wall to wall in the underground chamber. „Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! No, no stop! Please, Mistress. Mistress, I beg you! No more!“

Grinning widely, the woman continued to whiplash the cane down across the writhing bottom flesh at measured intervals; each stroke seeming to provoke even more agonised shrieks from her dangling victim.

Steadily the weals marched down to the top of the blonde’s thighs.

Ten!

Eleven!

Twelve!

The final stroke bit agonisingly into the crease where the buttocks joined the thighs.

„Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!“ By now the unfortunate Tamara’s screams might well have been termed unearthly.

„Those twelve were for your betrayal,“ said the grim-faced torturess loudly above the cacophony of sound. „The next six are for forgetting to address me as Mistress the first time.“

„No, please. No more! Mistress, I beg you! Please, please! I beg you, please!“

The Amazon grinned. So the little bitch begged her, did she? How satisfying! Coming round to the front of her jerking, swaying victim, she stood for a moment as if deliberating something in her mind. „Open up!“ she ordered, placing the cane against Tamara’s distorted mouth. „Hold this in your teeth! Don’t let it fall!“

With a sob, Tamara opened her mouth and, shoulders heaving spasmodically, gripped the cane in her teeth. The Amazon gave a little smile of triumph and walked across to where the suspended figure of Aimee was still uttering high-pitched shrieks of distress while continuing to jerk spasmodically on the end of the rope. She stood as if enjoying the show for a few moments then turned and spoke quietly and conspiratorially to the young black. Jason nodded and, with a cruel grin, reached down to adjust a dial on the box, an action which immediately increased the force and speed of the electric shocks shaking Aimee’s helpless body.

„Ayyyyyyyyy ... iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ... yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ... nnnnnnnnnnng!“ came the muffled yet increasingly high-pitched cries of anguish as the red head’s tortured nipples and clitoris bore the brunt of the increased torment.

Satisfied, the Amazon walked back to the still sobbing Tamara and took the cane from her mouth.

Coolly, she moved back to stand slightly behind her victim and, taking her time, resumed the dreadful, measured strokes.

Once more, Tamara’s terrible shrieks rang round the chamber, blending perfectly with the cries and groans coming from the suspended Aimee.

By now the Amazon’s features had now degenerated into a mask of pure, cruel lust, Tamara’s shrieks absolute music to her ears. From where she stood she also had a full and uninterrupted view of Aimee’s jerking, agonised body even as she continued to cane Tamara’s madly juddering, squirming and increasingly wealed bottom.

Sixteen!

Seventeen!

Eighteen!

The torturess’s chest was heaving mightily as she finally stepped back and placed the cane back on its hook. She was not entirely surprised that the last three strokes had evoked no sound from the dangling Tamara. The blonde’s head was slumped down on to her chest and she hung quite limply from the stretcher bar. The shock and pain of those last strokes had been just too much for her and she had fainted clean away. Only her martyred bottom still jerked convulsively.

The Amazon surveyed the criss-crossing, bluish and rapidly blackening weals with relish. The nates still kept on quivering and contracting, even though Tamara was in a dead faint. She was not surprised. Even a hardened slave, accustomed to such harsh beatings in the course of her training, would have found it hard to stand up to such a thrashing.

The girl’s Master, of course, had ordered this particular punishment. It was to serve both as a harsh introduction and a firm warning that all orders were to be obeyed, instantly and without question.

Releasing the twitching, unconscious heiress from the suspension bar, the Amazon took the girl easily in her arms, feeling the hot, striped bottom with one hand. Where some of the welts had crossed, small trickles of blood were already seeping. She rubbed a hand callously across the wounded nates, smearing the blood across them. My God, how delicious those welts felt!

Deliberately, she dropped the unconscious girl to the floor.

„Take her out of here, Jason!“ she ordered calmly. „Put her in the cell!“

Tamara was moaning incoherently as she was carried out of the basement torture chamber and along a dark corridor to a small, unwindowed room where two plain iron bedsteads with hard mattresses were bolted to the floor in each corner. Heavy metal collars lay on each bed, long chains running from them to sturdy and deep set staples set firmly in the stone wall. Roughly, Jason dropped his limp burden down on to one of the mattresses and padlocked the metal collar around her neck.

From a first-aid box on the only shelf in the cell, he took some antiseptic wipes and a jar of ointment. He looked down at the supine girl and sighed. Her bottom was literally a bloody mess.

Gently, he wiped the blood away before smearing the ointment liberally over the quivering cheeks.

Turning Tamara over on to her back, he treated her breasts and stomach with the same ointment, then reached down to ease the long legs apart to attend to her inner thighs. The damp, down covered mound at her crotch tempted him, but he refrained from touching. Training protocol was quite clear. This little beauty was not to be touched in that way until Madame gave permission. He sighed as he handcuffed her hands behind her back, almost feeling a sorry for the little bitch.

Tomorrow, just as Madame had decreed, would begin with her receiving the remaining six strokes of the rattan.

Leaving the cell, he locked the door and walked unhurriedly back to the torture cellar and the cacophony of sound issuing from the plugged mouth of the tortured Aimee. Cane in hand, the Amazon was standing in front of the writhing and moaning girl, still hanging upside down with the wires clamped to her nipples and clitoris. The red head’s tear-filled eyes, enormous over the monstrous plug in her mouth, were pleading mutely for mercy. Across the flattened expanse of her stomach, six new reddening welts could be seen.

Jason grinned. There was precious little mercy to be found here. His grin broadened as the Amazon reached down to switch off the little black box and pick up the cane again. He knew the programme. The girl was not going to be allowed to cum just yet. First, Madame would warm her up with a half-a-dozen more strokes of the cane across those tight little buns; then, while she was still conscious, give her ten minutes or so of the pleasurable end of the electric shock treatment.

Then, just as she was about to climax, she would switch her off again and give her another half-dozen or so across those delicious little titties.

Pain and then sexual pleasure. Pain, then sexual pleasure; a process repeated over and over again as a form of conditioning until, in her mind, they were the two indivisible parts of the whole.

The black youngster walked across to stand with Madame Annaliese. Aimee’s hips were once more moving, writhing desperately in an almost farcical parody of the mating act. The little electric shock machine was definitely getting to her. Now that the caning had stopped, the current flowing through her clitoris and nipples was once more arousing her.

He chuckled to himself. Life was sweet. And things could only get better.

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