Theresa's Punishment Part 12

The slithering exit of the ma.s.sive douche wafted Theresa gently from her faint. The pa.s.sage of the fluids as her slack stomach let them dribble out was one that revolted her, especially with the recall that she was on public display.

Opening her eyes, her breathing was laborious to draw due to her exhaustion. Theresa swallowed with difficulty and saw that the amphitheatre was rapidly emptying. The crowds were filing out, chatting irreverently, talking of the lesson and other topics. This generated a muttering background tune of chaotic sounds.

Letting her leaden eyelids drop, she coughed lightly and s.h.i.+vered from the cold. The shower and enema had seemingly banished all warmth from her body.

"And how did we find our little session, slave?" whispered the High Theocrat while reaching under the chair and replacing the hose.

Theresa looked to the source of the sound and found the woman beset with a wide, merry smirk. Her eyes were sparkling with amus.e.m.e.nt at Theresa's plight.

"An amusing escape attempt," she muttered.

The woman stepped back, folded her arms across her chest, and peered down at Theresa's inverted features.

"I never realised how utterly stupid your pathetic backward breed were. Are you indicative of your people, or is your grossly meagre intellect something special? How could you think your pa.s.sage to the antechamber was an accident?" she mocked.

Wandering away, she chuckled to herself and exited the theatre with a final imprecation that she made while shaking her head dismissively.

"Imbecilic ape creatures."

The guards followed her out and the door sealed behind her.

Theresa was held on the ornate chair, her body still offering itself for abuse to an empty hall. Was this to be her fate from now on - the torture subject for the High Theocrat? A living manikin to be experimented on and used to display torment until she finally perished?

A whirring hiss of effort signalled the opening of the hidden door, and Theresa a.s.sumed it was time for her to be released and placed back into storage, removed and filed away to be drawn out for use again when the High Theocrat's lessons turned from theory to practical displays of her art.

Instead, she saw Pelakh lounging against the doorframe. The girl was regarding her with a lowered glare.

"Oh please, G.o.d, no, not this, anything but this," Theresa muttered.

Her soul grew as cold as her flesh at the sight of the adolescent responsible for almost all of her unbearable sorrow on this distant planet.

"Well, well, well," crooned the girl, sauntering towards Theresa in a meandering path and stopping at her head.

Grabbing Theresa's hair in a rigid fist, Pelakh hauled back and made the scalp flicker with p.r.i.c.kly trauma. Theresa scowled and then let her mouth drop open when a finger snagged a nipple ring and pulled. The youth lifted the teat upward and caused the morsel to reverberate with pain. The sculptured countenance of the alien girl settled lower and emerged into the corner of Theresa's vision. Her warm breath touched Theresa's cheek.

"If it isn't the little human s.l.u.t who betrayed me!" she uttered sibilantly. "I swore to make you pay for your perfidy, but I had no idea I would find you so soon. The G.o.ddess has been generous," she hissed.

"I didn't, I swear it!" Theresa whimpered.

"Don't lie to me, you worthless piece of excrement," derided Pelakh.

She released her holds and grabbed the hose. Stepping between Theresa's splayed legs, she flicked the settings and plunged it into Theresa's p.u.s.s.y. The rough intrusion made her croak in shock.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Miss, but it wasn't my fault!"

"What is that supposed to mean? Who else could have told my mother about Temgach?"

"She tortured it out of me, I had no choice, please believe me, Miss, I would never betray you, I swear it!"

"So now I have been enrolled in the Holy Order to keep me away from him. All because you could not keep your mouth shut!"

"It's not my fault, please, I beg of you, Miss, don't hurt me."

"Hurt you? Hurt you? You miserable cowering sc.u.m!" she growled, and squeezed the trigger.

Theresa wailed in horror as a wash of caustic fluid was thrust into her s.e.x and the waters were charged with voltage to sear her p.u.s.s.y. The voltage kiss and the grave poisons ate into her abdomen and made her squeal in utter horror. Filled to capacity in an instant by the ma.s.sive influx, her womb strained to accommodate the full quant.i.ty.

Excess poured out around the inserted nozzle as she howled into the empty hall. The sound echoed around many times upon perfected acoustics. The Dregakk who had designed this place had made sure that it would carry the soul torn wails of its slaves with a grace and majesty so as to soothe the eager ears of the alien torturers.

The intrusion broke off, and the girl slipped the device back into its holster. Pelakh lifted a leg over Theresa's body, straddled the torso of the slave, and settled down. Her naked rear proved a weighty burden to Theresa's pierced b.r.e.a.s.t.s because the girl's body was pus.h.i.+ng her a.s.sets into her ribs.

"Now..." Pelakh began, and leant over to examine the details of Theresa's brand.

"Three six nine, Q Q, Theresa. I have your code, and can call on you as I wish, and I shall. I will make your life a h.e.l.l of insufferable torment," she said.

The girl ripped a section of transparent film from the underside of the chair. Clearly, the underbelly of the oppressive furniture was a place holding a selection of torture devices.

Stretching the thin sheet between her fists, Pelakh held it over Theresa's face. Her p.u.s.s.y was still spitting out the burning measure and the acidic water was stinging her loins and inner thighs while her belly continued to sizzle from the forced influx. The sudden prayer that perhaps the shot of power had destroyed or at least crippled her implant was forgotten when the girl pressed the translucent sheet across Theresa's face, smothering her, cutting off all access to air and distorting her view through a tight film of plastic. Pelakh leaned in close. Her delicate countenance was a smudge of colours that further changed when gems of condensation began to form upon the slick inner surface.

"Oh I shall enjoy using you, slave. I will make you pay for your perfidy, and then I shall ensure you are the chosen subject at my final test. Shall I tell you what that means? Do you want to know your final fate, slave?" she hissed.

Pelakh was staring into Theresa's face while she strained to break through the smothering sheet. Her teeth were unable to find purchase and her mouth was unable to generate a suction to pop a hole. Her skin was slippery against the plastic from her own fevered sweat and tears of despair.

"When I have finished my studies, I must take a slave and torture it for seven days and seven nights," she said with a sultry hiss. Theresa could feel the girl rocking her loins against her, stroking herself against the bucking slave while she informed as to her future.

"Neither of us may sleep or rest. Both of us will be kept going by various drugs, and as I succ.u.mb to the delirium of my deprivation, the acts I perpetrate will grow more twisted and bizarre. My spiritual guidance under the G.o.ddess will be augmented by this trance like state. If you perish, I fail. If I succeed in keeping you in agony for the full time, I may skin you and wear your hide as a cloak to show my status as a full member of the Holy Order."

Tearing the sheet away, the removal let Theresa gasp and cough. Her mind was corrupted by a stern headache from the effects of her smothering, and her thoughts were in turmoil from Pelakh's revelation.

The girl's hindquarters twitched with wanton arousal and she leaned in closer to Theresa's face. Once more, the deranged l.u.s.t of the pair merged and entwined and as the girl's lips brushed her own, Theresa found herself pa.s.sionately kissing her most hated adversary, beloved tormentor, and final executioner. For a second, mistress and slave, human and Dregakk, against all odds and reason, became lovers.

"Oh you'll suffer for me, slave," she crooned and her tongue curled around Theresa's eager and extended organ while their breaths charged over each other's l.u.s.t crazed lips.

"Yes, Miss," she uttered.

"Now I want to feel the face I'll be wearing," she said as her kisses wandered around Theresa's neck and savoured her helpless situation.

Pelakh took one lick up to Theresa's chin and then leapt up, unfastened her suspenders, and drew down her thong. She swung a leg over Theresa's features and settled in. The warm skin clutched tightly to her cheeks and Theresa surged at the prospect of servicing her nemesis. Her tongue flashed into the warm succulent depths of the girl and she danced her tip against her c.l.i.t while her own s.e.x became livid with need. Pelakh moaned aloud and leaned back to claw between Theresa's legs. The attention was spiteful and abusive, but it was of the kind Theresa most relished and it made her oral devotion even more intense.

"Count your days, slave. You and I will be practising often to ensure you survive at my initiation, and when it comes, you will die by my hand, skinned alive and ... and ... oh yes, like that, right there," she gasped.

Theresa suckled on her roused c.l.i.toris and then poured the flat of her tongue against it several times before returning to a flitting touch. The girl's hands grew more frenzied and Theresa gave squeaks of pain and pleasure as her own p.u.s.s.y was stroked by scratching digits.

"Skinned and ... and worn as ... as ... my ... my ... trophy!" howled the girl and broke into libidinous spasms.

Theresa continued her manic attention until the girl cast herself aside and off the wors.h.i.+pping face.

Pelakh took a moment to gather her senses and Theresa licked her lips to savour the flavour of her enemy's p.u.s.s.y. As her the charm of their coupling pa.s.sed, Theresa again was subjected to the cold scrutiny of her own regret. When the m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic veil was lifted, her resentment was all that remained, that, and her shame at having surrendered so freely and devotedly to those she should revile.

Without further exchange between them, the girl stomped away, leaving Theresa in her despair. The foreknowledge of her dark fate was leaving her numb. What could she do to evade it? Pelakh had her number and identification and could summon her as she wished. The High Theocrat and the daughter of the general who had plundered Earth were going to use her as much as possible, with the girl eventually subjecting her to a ritual of the darkest evil, whose only outcome was her ugly, lonely death, a death to ensure standing for her oppressor.

The door hissed shut and locked, leaving her with her thoughts and unable to figure a path from her doom. The bleak destiny was laid plainly before her.

After a period of pointless reflection and planning, the warped chair beneath her broke into movement. The mechanism lowered and delivered her into the floor. Theresa's breathing quickened and her pulse raced with worry. The coffin closed over her, swallowing Theresa whole and bringing her into quiet blackness.

Waiting in the sombre night beneath the floor, she thought for a moment that it was some new means of depositing her back into her cage in expectation of the next lesson. Then, the sound of whirring machinery in the depths tickled the edges of her hearing and kindled significant concern.

With a whiplash snap, her legs were hauled straight and she was jerked to supine attention. A thick panel of latex dropped onto her front and was pulled down. The ferocity of the haul made the fabric squeak to the limits of its elasticity and it fixed her down as the restraints suddenly let go. A wide, brutal phallus rammed into her rear. The toy slammed in and wrenched open her orifice, causing her to her cry out from the ferocity of the violence. Another plunged into her s.e.x and the twin rods jabbed the very borders of her abdomen and were then deserted. Her sudden attempt at movement was stifled as the sheet of rubber was carried beneath her and fastened. The pane of impenetrable latex snapped her limbs together and kept her subdued. The inserted d.i.l.d.os were locked in place and any attempt to expel them was defeated by the rubber. The ferocious elasticity ensured they were shoved back in once her muscles flagged and failed to keep the tiny measure she successfully ejected.

The instant coc.o.o.n enfolded her with a tightness that rendered every breath a fight against the extreme hug of the sheath. Each inhale was a difficulty and the effects were further embellished when thick straps of the same were flicked around her. The automated mechanism had mummified her and held her into a compressed stem. The restrictive sh.e.l.l was then sealed along her spine by a rod that followed her entire length to keep reign on the latex and stop Theresa from bending her body against the unforgiving splint. The compression of her skull was only released at her nose to let her respire gently through the tiny vent. The diameter of the hole was insufficient to allow anything deeper or faster, leaving her no option other than asphyxiation should she attempt anything other than steady and careful respiration.

Breaking into a skimming flight, Theresa was borne through the tight network. Her head led her voyage and the pole along her back was the grip that served to tow her. The monorail responsible for her trip swung up to the ceiling and its path ascended up the wall. Theresa impotently dangled from it, her anatomy held in a sling that still refused to grant her motion.

Squeezing her tracts against the phalluses, she again tried to get them out, or at least give herself some relief from their relentless push to her boundaries. The efforts succeeded while she maintained a tight clench, but as her muscles grew weary, her hold faltered and they slid back in when the coc.o.o.n pushed them into slithering place.

A deep clunk emerged from ahead and the darkness was banished by a wash of extreme light that revealed that her nose holes were supplemented by two tiny pinp.r.i.c.k eyeslits. The thought that she was being carried into a new room vanished and Theresa screamed in terror when her eyes cleared the lip of the pa.s.sage. Suddenly she was peering down through hundreds of stories, her sight dropping along the black cliff face of the cathedral. A stout pole bore her out into the air where the buffeting gales of her radical alt.i.tude slapped her second skin.

Theresa's shrill cry of insane panic was m.u.f.fled by the latex and by the roar of the wind. Vertigo became her entire being and the horrendous plunge before her made her scream in jeopardy. Her body was stiff and unwilling to even twitch in case it dislodged her from this incredibly lofty perch.

Hanging from the uppermost reaches of the Temple, a bed of spires and turrets were arrayed about her sheer drop to the heart of the city, and Theresa wept and cried out, begging incoherently. Her fear was a full and terrible beast within her. The sight of these tears as they slipped from the sheath and vanished into obscurity with their drop added to her ordeal, proving without doubt that this was real, and no hologram conjured to terrify. Further alarm stemmed from her rash breathing. The inability of her nose to accommodate her pants made her strain against her bonds all the more fervently. The restricted breath was a frustrating bane.

Her fear was taken to a new peak when the bonds along her back suddenly let go. The departure left the rubber seam tightly sealed even when it dropped from the binding rod along her back. The wind rushed around her frame and the side of the Temple flashed past as a blur. Her body cavorted and wriggled within its prison before a wrenching snap brought her to a halt. The tether at her ankles had almost dislocating her joints with the severity of her stop.

Swaying on the line, squirming like a worm on a hook, Theresa watched the terrible cityscape was.h.i.+ng below her. The giddiness of suffocation gathered around her, her ability to control her breathing unable to defeat her panic. Wheezing vainly against the mask, her limbs strained to break free. The view faltered and faded, and she was once more delivered into the dark realms of oblivion. A pure terrified hysteria was now part of her entire being and even though her mind had retreated into a faint, she could feel it consuming her.

The mortified coma parted with an instant haste and Theresa burst into action. She instinctively fought to get free of the terrible bondage but again, there was no way for her to wriggle out of the oppressive sheath.

She gradually opened her eyes and as she recalled her fate; she made sure to keep tight reign on her quavering breath because she had no wish to go through the ordeal of slight suffocation until she was shoved into black out.

The pressure in her head was a dreadful companion, as were the d.i.l.d.os that had chafed and stretched her orifices. But the worst aspects were the inability to get the monstrous suit off, and the awful knowledge that she was merely being hung out in readiness for a return to abuse.

The boredom of her confinement maddened her. The inability to even act made imprisonment far worse than that of the cage. The only distraction was the leisurely observance of the world below.

The sun was starting to set. The weak beams from the eternally cloud obscured sun were stretching through the city and extending shadows through the winding twisted maze of tusked buildings. The lights slowly winked on in their windows as the darkness continued to grow. The steady pa.s.sages of the Dregakk vehicles began to employ headlights and the amber cones lanced through the air to lick the routes they followed. Many of the craft were freed of the burden that was gravity so they might carelessly meander through the skies at the will of their drivers.

Reviewing the fall of night, Theresa watched the loss of the sun as it slipped below the horizon. It surrounded its departure with wild shades of amber and crimson, but the sight was a flimsy distraction from her many hours of detention.

An unexpected tug at her ankles started the process of reeling her in. The ascent was conducted slowly and as her body rose across the levels of the cathedral she was shown fleeting glimpses of the interior when she pa.s.sed a window. Whenever she looked in, she saw torture. Slaves hung in agonised bondage. They were deserted and maintained by automated systems so that they became sentient displays of the Dregakk wors.h.i.+p of pain. Sometimes she caught glimpses of the Holy Order attending the wretched subjects they so eagerly brutalised. The women inflicted their abuses without any hint of conscience or regret, only a deep and rhapsodic glee.

Her ankles connected with the pole that emerged from the building, and for a moment, her reversed form was left swaying. Then, drawn inwards, her torso b.u.mped the side of the building and her feet were hauled further in to drag Theresa back into the tunnel. The pa.s.sage carried her slithering frame down through the network by her feet and the rubber squeaked and stuck against the floor, fighting the motorised towing device.

Theresa stretched herself against the sheath and tried to halt her progress, to snag a corner or otherwise defeat her pa.s.sage. Now that she had no fear of a lethal plunge, her fingernails clawed at the rubber and sought to pierce it and open a hole that her wriggle might expand until she could escape, but the latex was too thick and her scratching digits were unable to rip it.

Stopping abruptly, the pa.s.sage sealed on either end and created a small sarcophagus. A gentle glow became apparent as the coc.o.o.n was cut open by a single beam that sliced through the material but failed to deposit greater than a gentle warmth upon her flesh.

The d.i.l.d.os were finally set loose and with a glad squeeze, she manipulated her orifices and pushed them out. The chamber devoured them the moment they struck the floor.

There was little time to exploit her new found freedom because the very instant it came away, the hooked ankles of the attire were drawn out through a vent. The dark blanket slithered into the wall to leave her naked in her prison and a mere moment later, there was a sudden whipping sound of activity.

Nooses of thick cord were suddenly rolling around her limbs. The animated coils encircled her legs and arms. They squeezed tightly and wrung her flesh through a mordant grasp to make Theresa bellow and fight to drag them free. The confines of the cell effectively quelled her escape and delayed any real obstruction of their movement until finally they were in place.

There came a click and they were fastened at her wrists and ankles via a steel bracelet. The silvery bands had fastened them to her and prevented any hope of exploiting a knot to get them off.

With the flight of the sh.e.l.l, the ceiling gave some soft clicks and started to split at the centre. It parted as the floor arose like an elevator to present her to the room above. The ground of the coffin met the ground level of the floor and left her sealed in a barren box room.

The walls were heavy and thick, with a long rectangular window in one wall, and small portholes with riveted bands s.p.a.ced along the rest of the room. The audience awaiting her filled Theresa with dread, for the High Theocrat stood before the window in what appeared to be a command booth because there was a row of controls and monitoring equipment arrayed before this viewing area.

The students from the amphitheatre stood about her. The crowd was the same for she could see Pelakh watching amongst them, her intense stare as riddled with glee as that of the High Theocrat.

Painted faces leered in from the portholes. Their expressions were frozen in study so that they resembled grave family portraits that had been hung on the wall.

The High Theocrat leant in and addressed a raised microphone. A click of the b.u.t.ton on the base and the tiny room was filled with an echoing order.

"Whip yourself," she said.

A square in the ground parted to reveal a harsh cat o' nine tails. The heavy rubber truncheon of a handle was rounded at one end and armed with a tiny tripod of studs, while another studded rim ran around the top before spitting forth a cascade of intricately woven thongs. Each end was formed into a tight knot before fraying out.

Theresa reached over and her limbs seemed loose. They were responding as though her commands were faint and m.u.f.fled. The strangling cords were cutting off sensation and influence. There was no hope of removing them because the cords ran up her extremities and were connected by the bands to leave her no access to any form of freedom. Theresa flopped towards the weapon, closed her grasp about it, and lifted up into a seated position.

Through the thick pane of gla.s.s, Theresa could see the Theocrat talking to her pupils. She was commenting on her plight and this made Theresa's resentment seethe. Her grip on the whip tightened until the knuckles were whitening with strain. She clenched her jaw with choler and her lips snarled back.

The High Theocrat turned absently back to the microphone, and repeated her demand.

"Now, slave! Because if you do not punish yourself, I will do it," she promised, and returned to talking to her students. The woman was watching Theresa from the corner of her eye and expertly dividing her attention between her duties and her subject.

The shame of being displayed in such a way was more demeaning than she thought possible. To brazenly flog herself for the amus.e.m.e.nt of a cla.s.sroom full of students and a vindictive teacher was more than she could comfortably acquiesce too.

The whip hung in her grasp. Her flesh was quivering as it started to gather an aching pound from the effects of compression, but there was a far more stringent version about to be unleashed on her, and when a hiss started to pour into the room, she felt the air growing dense and the heavy weight of pressure enclose her.

At first, she failed to feel the burden, but as it increased, and continued to steadily mount, she began to feel the full effects. The forceful shove into her eardrums was disorientating, and breathing became difficult as each breath had to fight to stay steady. Any inhale brought a forceful influx that felt as though it would burst her lungs if she did not keep it under control. Her head felt as though it was in a vice and the increasing clench on her skull made her dizzy.

Theresa dropped forward and slapped her palms to the ground before putting a hand to her temple. She yawned wide to try and ease the affliction to her ears and with a soft pop they cleared.

Theresa started to curl up and wheezed in laboured breaths. The atmospheres continued to rise steadily and crush her from every direction.

"Whip yourself, slave," ordered the woman impa.s.sively, the ordeal seeming to be of no consequence.

Pawing at the floor and reaching up towards the window, Theresa implored for release, for an end to the ordeal. Her every cell was screaming that she would perish if any more pressure was applied. Her skin had flushed to a rosy hue, her eyelids flickered, and her breath came in random fits. The piercings that had been applied ached terribly because the punctured flesh was being churned by the unseen weight. The Theocrat glared on with venom, steadily turning the dial that was making Theresa suffer abominably.

"Do it," growled the female, her words severe and unforgiving.

With a desperate flick, she hurled herself up onto her knees and flung the leather tendrils over her shoulder to apply the thongs across her back. The mild sting was negligible compared to the gift of this chamber, but she continued with the priestess' will anyway and hurled it around her torso to lambaste her back.

"Harder!" growled the woman.

Theresa reluctantly applied greater strength but she found the act difficult with the constraining cords and the unbelievable pressure upon her anatomy.