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Story: "Diane", by SD


This story may be freely distributed, so long as the following
warning remains attached.


WARNING:  This story is not to some tastes.  Actually, it's
not to most tastes.  It involves bondage, golden showers,
humiliation, kidnapping, murder, rape, scat, slavery, terror,
and torture, all of them nonconsensual.  There's also doubtless
some grammatical errors; for those, my apologies.

This is not by any means a normal bondage story, it does not
represent the practices of the BDSM community, where consent is
required and the safety of all players a key concern.  People
into B&D will find bondage here, but not the safe and loving
sort they crave; people into D&S will find no power exchanges,
nor any loving submission or concern; people into S&M are the
ones most likely to enjoy this story, but it is not an S&M story,
in which people with complementary needs, to give and to receive
pain, come together to consensually satisfy their needs.  This is
a story about sadism w/o masochism, and as such is an evil story,
as much a horror story as it is an erotic story. Please do not read
it unless the most extreme examples of human evil interest you.

                                                SD





DIANE, Part 1
by SD

1.  THE CAPTURE

The pain in Diane's shoulders and arms was becoming intense,
almost enough to distract her from the terror she felt.  How long
had it been - a couple hours at least - since she walked through
the door of her mother's house to pick up her kids on her way
home from work.  She was scarcely in the door when she was
knocked down, quickly struck in the kidney and in the solar
plexus, and had a rubber ball with a belt through it forced into
her mouth by one man while another pinned her arms.  She was
quickly handcuffed and shackled.  Her elbows were then tied
together and a rope stretched from her elbows to her ankles,
leaving her in a very tight hogtie.  Diane was a helpless captive
before she knew what was happening.

Shortly after she was taken, she observed her mother and her
three sons, each gagged, blindfolded, and securely bound, taken
out of the house.  After that she just lay on the floor, observed
by her two captors, who said nothing to her as they rolled her
about to study her.  At 37, Diane retained an admirable body.
She was 5'6" and 128 pounds, small-boned and slender.  Her
breasts were not large, but on her small frame seemed quite
ample. Her ass was small if a little flat. Her tapered legs
were lovely, and by raising her modest skirt above her hips her
captors confirmed that they did indeed go all the way up.
The blue-grey eyes under the short blonde hair were usually cool
and her gaze direct, but today both were frantic.  After
completing their visual and tactile examination of the captive,
the two men settled in and waited silently, ignoring the
repeated frantic grunts that escaped from the helpless woman.
As she waited Diane's legs were getting sore, her shoulders
screamed, and she would have felt the bruises and lacerations of
her wrists caused by her futile testing of the handcuffs had she
not lost feeling below her tightly bound elbows.  As the time
passed, slowly, interminably, her fear grew. Where had they taken
the boys, she thought.  Why did they take them ?  What were they
going to do to her ?  Why were they waiting ?  Her husband Tom
had to have come home by now, but he hadn't called or come for
the children yet.  Where was he, had they captured him too, or
worse ?

The phone rang, astonishingly loud in the silence of the room.
One of the men picked it up, placed the receiver to his ear, and
said nothing.  After a few seconds he dropped the receiver to the
floor and said "They arrived.  Let's go".  The other left the
house while the man who had taken the call removed the rope that
connected Diane's elbows to her ankles.  This rope was then tied
around Diane's neck.  Her black high heels, which had come off as
she was rolled about, were replaced, and her arms were yanked
upwards pulling her painfully to her feet.  She wobbled for a
moment and her escort raised her leash above her head and pulled
it taut, preventing her from falling, or breathing.  As she
steadied herself some slack was added to the rope and she
desperately sucked as much air as should could through her nose.
"Go out the back", she was ordered.  The legirons were joined by
a six inch chain and allowed only small, awkward steps, which
slowed the passage considerably and barely allowed her to
tenuously step down the back steps.  The house was isolated, and
from the back there was little chance of anyone seeing Diane as
she was lead, hobbling, towards a blue van, forced into the back,
and driven away.

It was a long ride.  One of the men held Diane on his lap.  She
could feel his erection stiffening as he casually explored her
body, but as her protests were met with a tightening of her leash
she learned to be still.  There was no effort made to stop her
from looking out the smoked window of the van to see where she
was being taken.  At last it turned off the main road on to a
road prominently marked "PRIVATE, NO TRESPASSING", which curved
through a thick stand of trees before emerging in a clearing
invisible from the public road.  About one hundred yards into the
clearing was an sturdy wire fence with a high steel gate across
the road.  Another such gate stood up thirty feet of fenced-in
road beyond the first gate.  The van stopped in front of a camera
by the first gate, which opened to admit the van and closed
behind it before the second gate opened, allowing the van to
travel four hundred yards to a walled enclosure.  When it stopped
before this gate an eyeless leather hood was placed an Diane's
head and tightly laced before the van proceeded.  Shortly
thereafter it stopped, and Diane was shoved from the van and
pulled forwards by the leash while a cane behind her alternately
prodded her between the shoulders and swatted her across the ass,
neither of which helped Diane maintain her balance as she tried
vainly to baby step fast enough to satisfy her escorts, her only
breaks coming as she was stopped so doors could be opened then
locked behind her, and when she precariously felt her way down a
series of stairways, until at last she arrived at her dungeon.


2.  THE DUNGEON

Diane was deeply tired, but almost too frightened to notice.  It
was nearly four AM, more than nine hours since her abduction and
six hours since she was delivered to this cage.  The cage was
tall and narrow, with just room enough for her to stand.  The
short, sharp spikes on the bars discouraged leaning against them,
so all her weight had been on her feet the whole time.  The leash
fastened to the roof of the cage so that it was taut about her
neck made it unadvisable to remove her shoes, and her feet hurt,
as had her hands since the release of the elbow cinch had sent
blood back into her lower arms.  She was still handcuffed and
shackled, but the hood and gag had been removed before she was
locked in the cage. Her pleas to know what was happening to her
and what had happened to her loved ones were ignored, and after
locking her in her captors left without acknowledging her
existence.

She could just barely turn around in her cage, and all that she
saw made it seem that she was in a nightmare from which she
couldn't awake. The cage stood near the center of a large room,
positioned so it's occupant had a clear view of all the
instruments, an array of devices for restraint, torture, rape,
plus some whose functions Diane couldn't imagine and didn't want
to know.   All the metal and leather in the room was clean and
shining, but there were abundant blood stains on the wooden
tables and crosses, the stone floors and wall, and the lengths of
rope placed on hooks for easy access.  Not that she needed the
stains to know what manner of events happened here, for the most
fearful object in the room, in a corner that she hadn't seen when
she first looked around but now found herself unable to look away
from, lay on a low bench.  What had once been a woman lay on her
back on the bench, her wrists cuffed behind her so they pushed
into her kidneys. Below the neck, there was no part of her body
that was not bruised, burned, or cut, but her untouched face was
the most dreadful sight, with it's bulging eyes and tongue and
purple color.  Leather cords had been tied around the bench at
the point of her neck, and had constricted until they buried
themselves in her throat.

The shearing sound of metal on metal alerted her to the opening
of a door.  Though there were several closed doors leading out of
the room, the one she had come in was, she suspected, the only
way out, as like most of the doors she had passed through it was
doubled.  The door leading out was a solid door, and ten feet
into the room were bars and a locked cell door.  Between the two
doors stood three men and a woman.  Two of the men were muscular
brutes like the ones who had abducted her.  The woman was about
5'4" but stood much taller in her spike heeled boots, thirtyish,
with wavy red hair halfway down her back and an athletic physique
well displayed by a snug leather bodysuit.  The man they followed
was a short, thin, balding man of middle years.  As the outer
door clanged shut, he pressed a sequence of keys on a remote
control device he carried and the inner door slid open to admit
the group, then slid shut and locked behind them. The group
approached Diane with the older man in the lead, the woman just
behind him to his right, and the thugs trailing them both.

"Where are my children ?", Diane implored as they reached her.
The leader silently glanced at the redhead, who slipped a tubular
object from a special pocket on her right pants leg, stepped up
to the cage, and shoved it through the bars, pressing it against
Diane's side, then looked into her eyes and quietly said "Never
speak unless ordered to, or in answer to a direct question", and
pressed a button.

"AAHHHH" screamed Diane as electric current surged into her and
threw her against the bars of the cage.  As she was still wearing
her jacket from work, the spikes rent her clothes but didn't
pierce her skin.  While Diane stood gasping and trembling, she
smiled and said, "That was on low, dear", and stepped back.

"I trust that faux pas won't be repeated again, Mrs. Scott.
Protocol is observed carefully here, and breaches are punished
severely.  A slave can never plead ignorance as an excuse - or
anything else, as no excuses are ever permitted.  However, I will
now let you know some of the rules - only some, as we like to
leave room for the occasional surprise.  I will do so not in an
effort to save you pain, but only to keep you from getting too
badly damaged before we get a chance to devise an appropriate
program for you".

"You do not need to know who we are, beyond that I am 'Master';
several women, easily identified by their mode of dress, are
'Mistress', and everyone else is 'Sir', 'Madam', or 'Slave'.
Beyond that, no names are used, and you will never hear yours
again after I finish speaking.  You are not to speak unless you
are ordered to speak, or are asked a direct question which cannot
be answered with head movements.  We do allow some latitude for
you to audibilize while under torture.  The standing rule - which
anyone but a slave can change for any particular session at their
discretion - is that inarticulate ejaculations are permitted at
lower levels of pain and coherent speech allowed when in extreme
pain. The degree of pain you are suffering is a judgement for the
inflictor of the pain and there is no appeal. All judgements here
are final, and no excuse, including the impossibility of
complying with an order, is ever accepted. Failure is always
punished, severely.  Do not expect any justice or fairness, there
is none here, and do not hope for any compassion or mercy, for a
slave will receive none.  You are here for my pleasure and that
of my guests, and when we are not using you, access to you is a
fringe benefit of my employees. The uses to which you will be put
will vary but they will often involve pain and degradation, more
than you can imagine now. There is no interest in your pleasure -
well, that's not really true. Sometimes you will be required to
fake orgasms, but if we should ever observe you experiencing any
pleasure we will put a stop to it.  Should you survive the
training phase and we decide to keep you, your clitoris will be
removed to minimize the chance that you will ever feel any sexual
pleasure again.  The key rule is that you will immediately and
completely obey every order you receive, no matter what. You may
wonder why you should obey orders that will cause you
unimaginable agony.  The reason is twofold: first, because you
will eventually do whatever we want you to, and the punishments
for hesitation, refusal or resistance will be added to the
original program; second, because no matter how terrible
something seems there will always be something worse.  We
deliberately seek to make your existence confusing, to deprive
you of any ability to predict our treatment of you, and therefore
to deprive you of any shred of control over your life, but there
is this one unwavering absolute in your existence: obedience will
always be preferable to resistance.

You will die in this place.  When you do, your corpse will be
abused and then destroyed, so no one outside our group will ever
know what became of you.  Though it may interest you to know that
we have priests among our number, you will receive no sacraments
in the balance of your life, and dying with unconfessed sins your
soul will, of course, go to Hell, which may be the only place
harder to leave than our establishment.  However, you will not
need to abandon all hope when you enter Hell, as you will by then
have realized that your situation is completely hopeless.  There
have been many men and women brought here over a period of many
years and no one has ever left, except as part of bricks made
partly from a mixture of acidic solutions and an alkali powder.
Escape is quite impossible, as the fragment of our security that
you were permitted to see should show you; there is much more you
did not see, and for you there is no way out of this secular
hell.  We maintain a low profile, keep - by whatever means
necessary - great secrecy, and have acquired the protection of
local law enforcement authorities, so the chance of rescue is
infinitesimal; should there ever be a chance of a search all the
captives will be killed and their bodies destroyed before anyone
can reach the dungeons.  Release is of course quite unthinkable,
as it could not be risked even if we wished to, and we have never
wished to.  Some have sought to obtain their freedom or reduce
their suffering by seducing us, or by inducing compassion for
themselves. This has never succeeded. You will not be able to
move anyone to help you. In all of our eyes you ceased to be a
human being when you were captured, and therefore you have no
rights or dignity, and no worth beyond the pleasure you give us.
In essence, Diane Scott died a few hours ago, and what stands
before me now is no more than an organic toy. For what's it's
worth, we do not blame you or hate you, and your presence here is
merely your misfortune, not the penalty of some judgement upon
you. The only judgement made was that a very pretty, intelligent,
healthy, and wholesome woman, sexually compliant but with
virtually no sex drive - yes, we do know a lot about you - with a
good Catholic upbringing, high morals, a solid fifteen year
marriage, and three children that she adores, would be well
suited to the varieties of pleasure featured here."

"What about my -AAARRGHH !"

"That was medium."

"Your children and your mother have been secured at another
location.  She will be permitted to care for them, and they will
all be quite comfortable so long as you perform.  Unlike you they
have no idea where they are and have not seen and will never see
any faces.  They can be released with no danger to us, and they
will be when you finish your training, if you have not, by your
failures, killed them by then.  Some women can never be turned
into good slaves.  We have uses for such women, as you can see",
said the Master, gesturing towards the bench.  "She was quite
entertaining while she lasted, which was only a few weeks.  A
slave may survive for several years - or may die for our
amusement at any time - but victims never last long. The great
majority of the people brought here prove useful only as victims
and must be replaced in a short time.  During training we will
establish whether you will make a good slave. We would prefer not
to have to haphazardly damage by punishment a body on which we
wish to conduct controlled programs of torture. This is where you
children will be useful.  Each act of resistance will bring death
to one of them.  Any time you do not perform up to expectations
one of them will be severely punished ".

"Please, no", Diane sobbed. "I'll do AARRGHHH ! - IEEEE - OOOO -
PLEASE STOP - OOHHHH !"

"I think, Mistress, that her sides aren't responsive enough any
longer.  Please apply some current to her right breast".

"AAAAAAAAAOOOOOOO-"

"She's passed out".

"Gentlemen, take her out of there before she strangles" .

"Her pain tolerance isn't much".

"Or it may be that her breasts are very sensitive.  In any event,
I'm sure you can improve that, Mistress.  Men, prop her up
against that post and tie her to it.  Mistress, wake her".

As the mistress pressed a tube of smelling salts to Diane's nose,
Diane came gasping and coughing to consciousness. The mistress
shook Diane's head and asked "Do you know where you are ?"  Diane
started to speak but the mistress placed a finger across Diane's
lips. "Just move your head", she commanded.  "You know where you
are ?" Diane nodded.  "Will you speak again without orders ?"
Diane shook her head.  "She's ready, Master".

" 'You'll do' WHAT, Diane ?  It should have been obvious that you
can't bargain with us.  You'll do whatever we want when we want,
and you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say about it.  We
control you completely, and you can control nothing, therefore
you can offer nothing.  That should be obvious.  For a woman
reported to be quite bright, you aren't learning very well", the
master said. "Presumably that reflects concern for your mother
and children overwhelming your sense.  If you continue to feel
such concern for them, they should come through their captivity
unharmed. When we have completed an assessment of you, any of
them that survive will be dumped alive at a safe location and
help summoned.  This will be true regardless of what the decision
about you might be.  Even if we decide to execute you at that
time, the surviving hostages will be freed.  However, should you
commit a violation sufficient to provoke your execution - which,
I should mention, doesn't need be a very significant violation -
before the assessment is finished, then all the hostages will be
killed.  You also should also know that should you commit suicide
or suffer a self-inflicted injury that mars your looks or
diminishes your ability to perform your duties to such a degree
that we feel it's not worthwhile to keep you alive, the hostages
will be killed.  The assessment usually takes between two and six
weeks.  During it your obedience, your responsiveness to and
capacity for withstanding pain, and your ability to give
pleasure, will be trained and tested.  You will also be degraded
and humiliated, partly to break your spirit but primarily so that
when we are done with you there will be very few things that
anyone can imagine to do to, or ask of, you that you will find
too revolting to handle.  But we have some imaginative people
coming through here, and there will always be someone coming up
with something to sicken even the most hardened slaves.

"You may now be wondering if you can trust me.  Since you're a
smart woman, the answer is obvious: you can make no other choice.
If I am lying, your loved ones will be killed no matter what.  If
I'm telling the truth, then they have a chance at life.  We all
must choose what it is we believe.  You must choose to believe
me, and behave accordingly."

"Sir," the master said to one of the men, "call the hostage
location and get her mother.  Do be sure to use a scrambled
signal and to alter voices on this end".  A few moments later he
had the connection.  "You will not speak, Diane, not a sound",
the master ordered.

"Mrs. Ridenour, please say hello to your daughter".

"DIANE!  ARE YOU THERE, DIANE ?  WHAT'S HAPPENING ? THEY TOOK THE
BOYS AND ME AND -"

"That should be sufficient to convince you they are alive and we
have them.  From now on, you will simply have to have faith that
they continue to survive."

What happened to Tom ?, Diane wondered.  She longed to ask if he
were alright, but was too afraid of the electric prod to dare.

"You've had a rather trying day, Mrs. Scott, so we'll put you to
bed after we finish the last element of your orientation.
Gentlemen, take off all the restraints.  I believe we can trust
her to restrain herself".  The ropes around Diane's legs and
chest pinning her to the post were removed, then her wrists and
ankles were unchained.  "Please walk to those doors to your left,
Mrs. Scott.  Sir, please open them and turn on the equipment."
Diane stepped into a room filled with audiovisual equipment.
"Your first duty as a slave will be to remove, yourself, and
before the video camera, the items that you wore as a free
person.  I offer you the option of immediate execution - we'll
find some exquisitely painful death for you - under the terms
previously discussed.  No ?  I didn't think so.  There's a mark
on the floor where you should stand.  The camera is on.  Go to
your mark, and remove everything, now".

Diane gingerly stepped into a brightly lit spot between several
video cameras. The bright lights trained on her cut off the rest
of the room to her, and for a moment she stood, trembling despite
the heat, trying to rub some feeling back into her numb hands.
Then she heard a voice say "get the hostage location back on the
line".  "NO!", Diane screamed, and whipped off her badly torn
jacket and threw it to the floor.  She immediately unbuckled the
wide black leather belt and let it drop, and then, slowly, as
she tried to repress a sob, she pulled her snug yellow top over
her head and dropped it.  As she unzipped her black skirt, the
sob began to break through her defenses and her high cheekbones
gleamed from the bright lights reflecting off her flowing tears.
As her skirt slid to the floor the tears began sliding off her
face and her upper lip trembled, and when Diane pushed her slip
down the sob was rising in her throat. "Step out of your clothes
and push them away" came from somewhere beyond the lights, and as
she did so the sob came full throated and she turned from the
camera and brought her hands towards her face.  "YOU WILL STAND
UP STRAIGHT, KEEP YOUR HANDS AT YOUR SIDES, AND FACE THE CAMERA,
NOW", came as a roar from the darkness, and Diane faced the
camera as the cumulative terror and frustration and sudden sense
of shame and despair overwhelmed her, causing seismic sobs to
surge from her diaphragm and through her throat while a sea of
tears poured from her eyes and the impassive camera recorded it
all. For several minutes she struggled to suppress the racking
sobs, but made no further attempt to hide them from the camera or
those people beyond the light who watched in silent rapture,
drinking in the intoxicant of Diane Scott's despair.

When at last she had regained control, a woman's voice, it's
practiced tone of boredom belying its owner's excitement, said
"No one told you to stop".  Diane reached behind her back and
undid her bra and slipped it off; her creamy white breasts, which
had fed three children through her prominent nipples, sagged
somewhat but were still a rousing sight. A somewhat raspy
"Continue" was heard, and Diane stepped out of her high heels and
pulled her pantyhose down her slim hips and firm buns and off her
slender legs and stood naked and lovely in the cruel bright light
which silently confirmed that she was a natural blonde.  "You
aren't done yet" the master said.  Diane looked quizzically in
the direction of the sound and he prompted "your jewelry".  She
calmly removed the blue plastic ornaments from her pierced ears
and dropped her watch to the ground but her face began to twist
as she saw her last pieces.  "Get the rings, Mistress", she
heard, and a basket on a pole appeared before Diane, allowing the
mistress to stay out of camera range.  "Give them up, now", she
ordered, and Diane began to cry softly as she twisted her wedding
and engagement rings off her finger and dropped them in the
basket and watched them withdrawn from her sight.

The master allowed the camera to record a little longer,
capturing the sad, soft tears that would complement her earlier
violent sobbing, the said "Video off.  Mistress, give her a
cloth.  Slave, clean up your face.  OK, sir, let's get some
photos.  You, sir, gather up her clothes and burn them, all but
the shoes.  Slave, put your shoes back on.  OK, now let's get the
standard shots: eyes forward, eyes down, hands clasped behind her
head, both profiles, looking back over her shoulder, sitting,
kneeling, on all fours from all angles, and laying down with
widely spread legs.  You see, slave, we'll keep these photos and
your quite moving videotape here in our archives, which is in a
room near the tanks which store the acid we use to destroy
bodies.  If a search is ever imminent, we'll put you slaves in
the archive and flood it with acid - spread your legs wider,
you've got no dignity to preserve - which will obliterate all the
evidence of any individual persons having been here.  What a
tragic loss that will be - the pictures, of course, not you
organic pleasure devices.  In addition to the archives, the shots
we're taking now will be copied on 48 hour film - the picture
disappears in 48 hours, just in case someone is so careless as to
not burn it - and delivered by overnight courier to some special
friends so they'll know we have a fresh new toy to play with; I
expect you'll be meeting some of them soon.  Finished ?  Good.
OK, slave - you've probably noticed that you lost your name when
you lost your clothes; don't you ever dare utter it, even when
you think you're alone - give your shoes to the gentleman for
destruction - we have lots of pretty footwear for you - and
follow me."

Diane meekly followed the Master and one guard to another room
off the main dungeon.  As she did, she tried to cover as much of
her nudity as she could with her hands, prompting an order that
she clasp her hands behind her head and not move them again until
she was ordered to do so. In the room she found the mistress
waiting with white-hot torch.  Her rings were in a metal tray.
"We could hardly fail to notice how much they meant to you. Now
watch carefully.  Go ahead, Mistress".  With that, the mistress
looked gleefully at Diane, then applied the torch to Diane's
wedding and engagement rings, completely melting then boiling
the gold very quickly, and then slowly heating the diamond until
at last it crumbled to dust.

END Part 1

As of 2/8/96, there are eight parts of the story "Diane".


