This is part 8 of a 15-part series (click here to red the first blog in the series).
Behind her tormentors, Rose could see her reflection dangling in the dark glass. Trembling, white skin glowing in the shimmering dapple of candlelight, the curving slopes of her womanly silhouette writhing like a chained flame. A pair of inky tear-streaks slicing down the moon of her face.
‘Natalya’s going to do the honours.’ He announced as the named torturer pushed herself off his chest to circle the victim with a sly slink. ‘Have you decided how you’re going to do it yet?’ As his collaborator got halfway around, he began to follow in her footsteps. The encircling predators moving with pack-synchronicity. Floorboards clacking with the tick of her stilettoes… clocking with the tock of his hard-soled shoes.
Natalya winked at X flirtatiously. ‘You’ll see. It’ll be plenty of fun.’ She raked evil eyes over the naked flesh hanging before her. ‘I like her breasts. They are bigger than I was expecting… round and quite firm… for her age. And I like these delicious, purple nipples!’ Rose felt like a piece of meat, strung up from the butcher’s hook. ‘And this juicy, round ass. Plenty of meat… to beat.’ An approving slap on the buttock. A sinister tinkle in her happy laugh. ‘I always say she is quite pretty… in boring kind of way.’ Moving in to loom overhead, poking a clawed finger under Rose’s chin to lift her face. Smug mock-pity staring back down. ‘But she cry so much that all her pretty make-up is ruined.’
The torturer set her hands on Rose’s waist, sliding around to stand behind her. X was positioning a wicker chair, to give himself a good view of the action. Natalya scrunched up the victim’s hair, roughly jerking Rose’s head to face the mirror. Greyish-blue streams trickled down the cheeks, either side of the nose. The Russian reached around to clap her open hand over the wet face. Cooing with false sympathy as she pressed and smeared her palm around. The once-beautiful arrangement of eyeshadow, liner, blusher and lipstick smudging and splurging. Natalya masked her victim’s eyes with long fingers. Removing them, like an artist unveiling her latest piece, and presenting Rose with her own reflection. Her face a messy smorgasbord of grey, red and blue – as if her make-up had been applied using a clown’s cannon. Could feel the sadistic smile rounding against the top of her head.
‘Like a sad clown.’ Natalya bloomed with pride as her artwork exploded in a fresh blubbering of sorrow. ‘But you only just begin to cry.’ She turned and stalked off. The hiss of a lighter as X sparked a cigarette. Rose looked across to see him sipping champagne. He flashed her a cheeky wink and her face crumpled, head falling to drop tears directly onto the floor. How could he do this to her? What a bastard! Natalya returned brandishing a roll of thick, black gaffer-tape. ‘She is sad that, now, she don’t get to go on holiday, because she has to go to prison instead.’ The torturer squatted and began to bind tape around her victim’s ankles.
‘This is a holiday.’ He chipped in cheerily. ‘Well… a mini-break, at least.’
‘But she don’t get the beach holiday she wanted.’ Tape winding around and around, spiralling upwards to wrap the calves. ‘We go on beach holiday without her – for our honeymoon.’ Natalya’s smile beamed bright red. ‘This is very sad for her… because she don’t get to go.’ Chuckling as she continued binding – encasing the leg-straighteners in tape. ‘Which mean she don’t get to wear those little, pink hot-pants and tube-top, that she bought especially.’
Rose cringed in humiliation. Why would he tell the other woman about that? He was leaning forward – intrigued – focused expression analysing the clues. The torturer wound the tape just past top of the straightener-device, leaving the top half of Rose’s thighs showing… and her buttocks and pussy. Natalya posed in her elegant crouch, coiling around to hold him in her cat’s eyes as she bit the tape in half.
‘This is real pity. Poor, little Patsy.’ She stood and circled a belt of tape around her victim’s waist. A light wrapping, but constricting the podge of the belly as she encased the midriff. Stopping just below the breasts. ‘She looks so cute in little, pink hot-pants.’ The bosom was left bare, but Natalya looped a few layers of tape just above. Wrapping around the exposed armpits and below the chin, before biting off and chucking the tape away. ‘So I’m wondering: How can I help?’ She spun on her heels and strode off.
‘That’s very sweet of you.’ He sniggered.
Aside from her raised arms, Rose’s upper torso, groin and backside were the only parts of her body not mummified in tape. Her uncovered skin shaped a bit like hot-pants and tube-top – white hot-pants… Natalya took her handbag from the floor, by the door, and removed two pieces of dark material. Returning with a sultry saunter, staring over towards X. A dramatic air of burlesque as she paused to slip on the gloves. His eyes were congratulating. An icy chill crept up Rose’s body.
The gloves were black leather, but looked thicker than one would expect over the Russian’s slender fingers. Natalya turned to show off her extravagant accessories to the person most profoundly affected. Sandpaper was sewn into the leather: circular pads on the palms and the back of the hands; thin strips running up the fingers on both sides. Natalya gleamed into her victim’s terrified face as she rubbed her hands together theatrically. The friction of the gravelly surfaces grating inside Rose’s ears.
‘Use the normal safe-word whenever you’re ready.’ He said with a kindly tone. ‘And then we’ll let you make the recording.’
‘You… You… Oh, God!’
Rose cast her head back to shriek her horror to the heavens. The trembles in her body rippling down to her teetering toes. Cold sweat flushing over her exposed areas. Natalya sidled over, sadistically slow, letting the anticipation build. Raising her hands to fondle Rose’s breasts… following the flinch in. Her gritty touch was light: barely brushing the skin. A zip of electricity – a prickle of static.
‘Please, no.’ A pathetic, little plea.
‘Oh yes! Natalya’s voice was semi-orgasmic. ‘Keep saying that.’