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| Her 30th birthday | Back to K | Back to main page | ||
Collected by Djian
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
Her 30th birthday
By unknown
Her 30th birthday had come and gone much like the others, with little
event. Just like the 12 before, she spent her day in this little room. Well,
there was that time early on when she was taken out, but she had been
hooded, without sight or sound, and didn't really get to see any part of the
world she was beginning to doubt existed any longer. Now, like most of the
other years, she could only stare at the shrine her god had put up for her
across the small six by six room. Despite the years of staring at her own
shiny face in the photographs stuck to the wall, she still found tears
rolling down her eyes. At only 18, she had been so eager, so excited about
jumping into the world. Her birthday was in February and, once she became an
adult, she ran away,heading for New York and the future she knew was so
bright.
Her god seemed so friendly, so nice. Even looking at the pictures now,
taken by him before the day, she could see love growing in her own eyes. She
had been so beautiful then. Her long, curly brown hair had fallen across her
shoulders so gently, surrounding her large eyes and warm smile. She had
never thought of herself as a looker, but she knew she was cute. Her self
consciousness about her body didn't help. Despite encouragement from high
school boyfriends, she always felt her body wasn't good enough for display.
Her wide shoulders made her 34C breasts seems small and her long legs stayed
hidden behind baggy pants. She felt disproportioned. But her god didn't
think so. Her eyes dropped from the ancient pictures to the mirror
strategically placed for her review. New tears welled up just as they always
did when she was forced to compare what she used to be, to what she had
become. She couldn't help but examine her kneeling form, as she had done the
thousand of times before. Gone was the wavy hair, replaced by the harsh
ugliness of her own bald skull. She remembered trying to fight her god off
when he had begun to cut, then shave her hair. It only took moments as he
removed every trace of hair on her head, even shaving her eyebrows and
plucking her eylashes from her eyes. She could still feel the dull moan that
escaped her throat as he applied what would be many coats of hair depilitory
to her head. She knew she would never be allowed to grow hair again. Her
crotch received similar treatment, though her god had chosen the more
painful route. The hot wax yanked the hairs out by the roots and the
depilitory stinged horribly as it was applied. Now, as she looked over her
body, like a baby she could see no hair.
She tried to look down herself, but the wide steel collar prevented her.
Glancing back into the mirror, she could remember when he had applied it.
When she was younger, she couldn't even imagine something permanent on her
body. She had shied away from tattoos and even avoided the concept of
piercing. But shortly after her immersion, she learned what permenent truly
meant. The collar, a full three inches wide, had been custom molded for her
neck from thin yet strong stainless steel. She still could feel the cool
ring touching her skin for the first time, and the finality of each rivet
locking into place in back. Her god had told her it would never come off
without cutting off her head, and she knew he was right. Barely a file's
width seperated her skin from the steel; the grip around her neck a constant
reminder of her fate. She found herself sobbing again, a common reaction
to this frequent personal analysis, and her own focus was shifted by the
weights on her chest. No longer 34C, her breasts had been painfully enlarged
to a 38D. From the beginning, her god had injected each breast with a series
of saline injections. The burning pain had often caused her to lose
consciousness, and when she awoke again, her breasts seemed no larger. But
after a few months, she could notice the change, and after five years, she
knew she would be permanently deformed by this horrible torture. Two years
ago, her god had decided to add a unique adjustment to her breasts. Bands of
steel with small spikes around the inside ring, had been forced around the
base of her breasts. The sharp steel set deep into her flesh, holding the
bands in place and, with equivalent finality to her collar, her god had
rivetted them into place. Immediately, her large breasts began to discolor
slightly, and increase in sensitivity. She knew the bands had been carefully
calculated to provide enough circulation to keep her intact, but decrease it
enough to make torture more reactive. One of the first canings to her
enlarged breasts still showed scars, as did the numerous puncture wounds
from knitting needles and other sharp impliments forced through her breasts.
As she continued to sob, she could hear the light jingle of her bells. Like
a cow, her god had affixed small cow bells to her nipple and clit rings,
reminding her of them constantly. Despite the distance from the mirror to
her body, she could clearly see each ring permanently embedded in her body.
Like the collar, they had been added in the beginning and would never be
removed. Each nipple carried four piercings, three rings and a rod. Her
clit, pierced now 12 years ago, no longer provided any feeling when she was
used. She knew that since the ring actually punctured the clit, and not just
the hood, she had lost all feeling, and all pleasure, derived from her clit.
She could also feel the ring pierced through her sphincter and out through
the space between her pussy and ass. And finally, her face would always bear
the large silver ring through her nose. Dangling from her septum, she could
feel it bounce against the steel grommet holding the hole wide. This, of all
things, made her feel most degraded, most humiliated, though her mouth
restriction proved a close second. Since her first day her mouth had been
held open at it's widest, using a variety of devices. For six years a wide
ring gag forced her jaw wide, followed by metal spreaders between her teeth
and now, with the rubber wedges between her back teeth. The hard substance
prevented her from closing her mouth even the slightest. She stared at
herself in the mirror, almost overlooking the wide mouthed stare she got in
return. This final adjustment proved most popular and was made permanent
with a set of holes drilled through her back teeth and tiny brackets that
held the rubber wedges into place.
She had tried, over the years, to find ways to end her own life, knowing
she would never escape otherwise. She had no use of her arms, her hands
having been taped into small balls, then covered in tight rubber sheaths
early on, then cuffed behind her back with permanent cuffs. Many years ago,
her arms could not stand to have her elbows touching for too long, and they
would be released to provide circulation. But after time, her circulation
adjusted and her god found that she could hold that position permanently.
She no longer had use of her arms. At first, a single, heavy chain had held
her on her knees in her home, and she had tried to knock her head against
the floor. But the padded rubber flooring provided no sharp edges and her
god had soon discovered her attempts. Now, a chain held her to the floor and
another locked to the wall behind her, holding her immobile. During use, she
had tried to inhale the cum or urine she was required to drink, hoping to
choke. But she was inexperienced and only created a coughing jag that
disappointed clients and brought down harsh punishment on her. She vowed to
try it again one day, waiting for the right moment. Unfortunately, she had
waited to long. Six months after her attempt, her god visited her with a new
apparatus. A long tube was fed down her throat, into her stomach, affixing
itself at the back of her teeth. At the same time, breathing tubes were fed
up her nose and into her lungs. She found she no longer had control over
what went down her throat. Her god tested this with a long stream of urine
that found itself easily past her tongue.
She stared again at the hairless, ringed animal that kneeled before her.
She knew this had become her fate and she would be a servant to her god
until he chose to dispose of her. The familiar clicking of the lock to her
small dungeon broke her thoughts and she dropped her eyes to the floor as
she had learned long ago.
"And this is my living sex doll," the familiar voice said. She could
hear gasps from the other members of the group as they were led into the
room. "Have your way with her." With that her god disappeared and left her
to her life.
The End