{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"3a3a91bb-bcf6-4f3b-8013-6a4458cb77d6","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2024-03-30T11:57:15.35Z","title":"The South American Dungeon","slug":"the-south-american-dungeon","shortId":"KiQJR4TD","authorNote":"This story has supernatural elements.","disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Featuring the same busty ultra-masochist as The Ancient Dungeon, this is a tale of extreme lesbian sadism at a secret location somewhere in South America.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"3cda5218-3948-46d3-a504-45c49854a12c","title":null,"summary":"\nThe South American Dungeon\n\n\nForeword\n\n\n\nThis is a sequel, of sorts, to\nThe Ancient Dungeon.\nAlthou","wordCount":3241,"readTime":16,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

\nThe South American Dungeon

\n\n

\nForeword

\n
\n\n

\nThis is a sequel, of sorts, to\nThe Ancient Dungeon.\nAlthough it is not essential to read that vignette, it is suggested.\nIt features the same busty masochist as in that tale. It also\nfeatures a character created by the writer electrosadist. I hope that\nhe does not mind me borrowing his creation for this little tale.

\n
\n\n

\nThe South American Dungeon

\n
\n\n

\nIt was not that I had become\nbored of the ancient dungeon which I had recovered, where I had found\nthat I could be tortured to the point of death, in brutal ways, by\nthe ghostly torturer of ages part, and be fully restored once I\ngained consciousness with the coming of the dawn, with not a single\nmark marring my body. No, for how could one become bored of being\ntortured? Each time that I went it was a transformational experience,\ntaking me far beyond my normal limits, breaking my soul if not my\nbody. I could suffer the tortures of the damned, and suffer no\nlong-term effects. Well, no long-term physical\neffects. I had become addicted to the pain, and the endorphins\nreleased. I had become addicted to surviving the whole terrible\nexperience. But I found that I needed more. There was only so much\nwhich could be done with a mediaeval dungeon and its instruments of\nagony. I sought something more.

\n\tSo I began researching\nlegends to see if there might be any other such places, ideally some\nNazi cellar where people had been tortured during the Second World\nWar. I did not believe that the place which I had found was the only\nsuch place on the planet, where some ghostly torturer of the past\nbecame solid, once more, to carry on their terrible occupation. For\nmonths I searched. Then I read an account – widely disbelieved –\nof exactly what I was searching for. \n

\n\tThe tale was of some woman\nwho had found a site hidden in the South American jungle, in an area\ndisputed by a couple of the nations. The internet report did not go\ninto details, only that the woman had been tortured “in a\ngynaecological manner” before she had managed to escape, and get\nback to civilisation. But her report was not investigated, as she had\nnot had any marks on her body. It was thought that she had been\nmaking it all up. But it sounded to me like another dungeon where the\nghosts of the past carried on their terrible work. Just the thoughts\nof being subjected to the sort of tortures which had taken place in\nthose cruel South American regimes made my cunt get wet. \n

\n\tThe woman, in her disbelieved\nreport, claimed that the torturer had been a woman, a blonde by the\nname of Natasha. I had read of a Natasha who had been a torturer,\nback in the day, and who, along with a General Garcia, had been\nresponsible for the torture of dozens of young women. But they were\nboth dead. General Garcia had been killed in a regime change, and\nNatasha had died at the same time. But I bet that those two\nmiscreants had had some black site, out in the jungle. I bet that it\nwas the Natasha who had loved to cruelly torture vulnerable young\nwomen.

\n
\n\n

\nCome my next annual leave, I\nwas trekking through the Amazon jungle, to that disputed area of land\nwhere few people ever went. I had had all my shots, and I had done\nall that I could to protect myself from the insects of the rain\nforest. While I was hoping for some agonising electrical torture, I\nhad no desire to be bitten to death by mosquitoes.

\n \tI entered an area where the\njungle was quiet. There were no insects in the air. I could not hear\nthe cries of birds or any other creatures. I had reached an area\nwhere the animals stayed away. It was then that I knew that I was\ngetting close. The living tended to avoid the dead.

\n \tThen I entered a clearing,\nwhere the trees did not grow, despite the fact that nobody hacked\nthem back. I saw a plain, unmarked concrete bunker, sitting out here\nin the jungle, miles away from the nearest habitation. It was the\nplace.

\n\tI felt nervous. I had read up\non this Natasha. She had been a former KGB interrogator, recruited by\nGeneral Garcia in the late 1970s. According to the few survivors of\nher less-than-gentle ministrations she had been inventively sadistic,\nusing electricity and heated needles, among other things, and\nconcentrating on the breasts and genitalia of her victims. She had\nnot known the meaning of mercy.

\n\tI stripped off my\nsweat-stained clothes. There was no danger of being bitten by some\ninsect now. I took off all of my clothes. I put them in my backpack.\nMy double D breasts were free once more. I could not resist holding\nthem, and teasing the nipples into erection, as I anticipated that\nthey would soon suffer terribly.

\n \tThere were concrete steps\nleading down to an old, rusting metal door. I hoped that it would\nopen. I would feel very silly if I had come thousands of miles only\nnot to be able to get into the place. I walked down the concrete\nsteps to the door. In the South American sunshine the concrete steps\nwere hot on my bare feet, almost burning them. I raised my right hand\nto try the door. But the door swung open before I could touch it. It\nappeared that I was expected. I went in.

\n
\n\n

\nBeyond the door there was a\nconcrete passage leading into the depths of this former black site.\nIt was cold inside, and I shivered. Flickering bare bulbs hung from\nthe ceiling, illuminating the dank corridor. But at least it meant\nthat the place had electricity. The place smelled damp. Here and\nthere were dark stains on the concrete. This was not a welcoming\nplace. I could imagine that many people must have died here, as the\ntorture grew too severe for them to survive. I was scared. I was\nturned on.

\n I could see an open metal\ndoor down the corridor. The other doors were closed. Somehow I knew\nthat the torture chamber was beyond that door, and that, once I\npassed through the threshold, that I would suffer such pains as few\npeople had ever endured. But I need it. I walked down the corridor\nand into the room beyond.

\n
\n\n

\nAs soon as I went into the\nroom the metal door clanged shut behind me, trapping me in the room.\nThere was no turning back.

\n\tThe room was large, larger\nthan I had expected. The floor and walls were bare concrete. There\nwas a table with straps on it, so that a person could be strapped\ndown, unable to escape. There was a metal bar contraption which I\nrecognised as being the torture device called the parrot’s perch.\nThere was a gynaecological chair, with leather straps. There were\nchains hanging from the ceiling. There was a large wooden table with\nan assortment of torture implements. But, standing in the middle of\nthe room, waiting for me, was Natasha. \n

\n\tThis blonde was wearing some\nsort of military uniform. Her blonde hair was drawn back into a tight\npony tail. Her fingernails had been painted red, and she had bright\nred lipstick on her lips. Her face was stern and unsmiling. But it\nwas more lined than I had been expecting. I had thought that Natasha\nhad been killed when she had been in her forties. But I was faced by\na woman who looked like she was in her sixties.

\n\t“Get in the chair.”\nNatasha said. Her voice still had a faint Russian accent. I was very\nnervous, wondering whether I would be able to deal with the pain. But\nI was going to be strapped down. I would not have a choice in the\nmatter. If I had had any sense I would have tried to get out of here,\ndespite the metal door which had clanged shut. But if I had any sense\nI would never have sought out such extreme torture in the first\nplace. I climbed into the gynaecological chair, put my feet in the\nstirrups, and my arms in the armrests. \n

\n\tNatasha buckled me into\nplace, using a welter of leather straps. The straps creaked as they\nwere tightened as tight as they would go. I suspected that I would\nsoon lose the feeling in my hands. But that did not matter. I knew\nthat my body would be restored when I returned to consciousness, once\nthe terrible torture was over. That was the magic of such dungeons,\nand their ghostly torturers. \n

\n \tI could not move, apart\nfrom my head. \n

\n\t“First, let's make it a\nlittle more sensitive, shall we?” Natasha said. She went over to\nthe wooden table and picked up a small brown glass bottle. She took\nup a syringe and drew a blue liquid up into the syringe. She tapped\nthe side of the syringe. She pressed down a fraction, so that a tiny\nbead of blue liquid appeared out of the end of the metal needle.

\n\t“This will stop you from\nfainting, no matter what I do to you.” Natasha said. “It will\nalso enhance the pain. Do not worry, I have an inexhaustible supply\nof this elixir.”

\n\tI began to get a little\nworried. If I could not faint then how could this scenario end? But\nNatasha had already found a vein, and had injected the blue liquid\ninto me. Within seconds I felt a lot more alert, as though I had\noverdosed on coffee. I could sense everything, from the hammering\nover my over-excited heart to each separate bead of sweat slowly\nsliding down my naked body.

\n\tNatasha moved back to the\ntable. She picked up a long needle with a wooden handle. The metal of\nthe needle was around three inches long. Natasha pulled up a stool\nand sat down next to my chest. My nipples had hardened with fear.

\n\t“So rarely do I get to\ntorture such a voluptuous woman.” Natasha said. “I am looking\nforward to destroying your breasts, a little bit at a time.”

\n\tShe began pricking the skin\nof my breasts, not fully inserting the needle, just using the tip to\nbring me pain. I liked pain, and I began to get turned on. Fear and\npain, for me, were great aphrodisiacs.

\n\t“You are enjoying this too\nmuch.” Natasha said. She took the needle away, and went back to the\nwooden table. I turned my head to watch. I saw her light a Bunsen\nburner. She turned up the flame until it was a bright blue colour.\nThen she held the needle in the flame until the metal was orange. \n

\n\tI had suffered heated needles\nin the ancient dungeon. It was always torture. I could never stand\nthe pain. But that was the point: to suffer pain beyond what a normal\nperson could stand. \n

\n\tNatasha grabbed my left\nbreast. She squeezed, so that the flesh of the breast bulged out. I\nwatched as the glowing point of the needle approached my erect\nnipple. I could feel its heat before it touched me. I was turned on\nand fearful. But there was no turning back, and I knew that this\nNatasha would show absolutely no mercy.

\n\tI screamed and banged my head\nagainst the headrest as the needle touched the very centre of my\nnipple, the little dimple from where a pregnant woman’s milk would\nissue forth. But Natasha was not happy to merely prick the nipple\nwith the glowing needle. She forced it down, its full length, down\ninto the heart of my breast. If not for that blue liquid I might have\nfainted then. But I was going to have the pleasure of feeling every\niota of tortuous pain. \n

\n\tNatasha left the needle\ninside my breast, cooking my flesh, as she heated up a second needle.\nAgain she waited until it was glowing. Then she grabbed my right\nbreast. I hyperventilated as the glowing metal approached my right\nnipple. Then that, too, was forced down into my milk duct, destroying\nflesh and causing incredible pain. The liquid really had enhanced my\npain. This was worse than anything I had suffered there. It was worse\nthan having my nipples removed with red hot pincers.

\n \tThere were a lot more\nneedles. Natasha laughed as she heated up another needle. There were\na lot of needles. I knew that they would all be lodged inside me. And\nthey were, needle after painful glowing needle, slowly pushed into\nthe flesh of my bountiful breasts until I resembled a human\npincushion. \n

\n\tNatasha waited for the\nneedles to cool before she removed them, letting me feel every bit of\nheat. She had plenty of time. I wasn’t going anywhere. When she\nremoved the now-cold needles she wiggled them on the way out, to\ncause me every little bit of pain as she could. \n

\n\tShe left the two needles that\npierced my nipples and went deep into my breast, though. She pulled\nthem out only the tiniest amount, so that a little bit of metal could\nbe seen. Then Natasha attached an alligator clamp to each needle. One\nhad a red light attached, the other had a black wire. The wires\ntrailed away behind me, out of my field of vision. But I had glimpsed\nsome generator as I had entered the room. \n

\n\tI saw that Natasha had some\ncontrol in her hands, with wires leading off. There was a dial going\nup to ten, and a big red button.

\n\t“This will not kill you.”\nNatasha said. “But you will wish that it did.”

\n\tThis was what I had come for,\na more modern form of pain than leather whips and glowing branding\nirons. I saw her turn the dial to three. Then she pressed the big red\nbutton and held it down.

\n\tLightning went through my\nchest, from one needle to the other. I arced in the chair as much as\nthe restraints allowed. I couldn’t breath. All that I could do was\nscream. It felt like an eternity before she released the button. I\nthink that I begged to be released when I could finally talk. But\nrelease was not an option. This was a torture which I could not\nescape, but only endure. \n

\n\tTime and time Natasha pressed\nthe button, causing electricity to shock the insides of my breasts. I\nfeared that my heart would give out, as Natasha slowly turned up the\ndial, and held the button down for longer and longer. I could not\nbreathe during the shocks. I entered a plane of agony lower than the\nlowest Hell. But I did not die. All that I did was suffer.

\n\tFinally I noticed that the\nshocks had stopped, and I could breathe again. My heart was beating\nvery fast. But Natasha was very good. She had taken me to the verge\nof death, but not beyond. There was still so much to do. \n

\n\tNatasha surprised me, then,\nby kneeling down between my crotch. She began to lick around my\nlabia. The sensation was incredible. The blue liquid had not only\nheightened my sensation of pain, but also pleasure. Not that Natasha\nreally needed the blue liquid, she was such a skilled cunnilinguist.\nShe brought me such pleasure as I had never felt before. All around\nmy labia she licked, before dipping within to lick up my flowing\njuices. \n

\n\tI came when she began sucking\nmy clit.

\n\t“The clit gets a lot more\nsensitive after orgasm.” Natasha said. “But let us see how many I\ncan bring you.”

\n\tThe licking continued. It\nwent on for hour after hour, and I came more times than I could\ncount. Natasha only paused to inject me with more of the blue liquid.\nBut, as the orgasms carried on, and on, they became painful, as they\nwere forced out of me, and I begged Natasha to stop. Eventually she\ndid. \n

\n\t“Your clit is now as\nsensitive as ever. It is sensitive to a superhuman level, due to that\nwonderful injection.” \n

\n\tI was too exhausted to\ncomment. My eyes were closed. Thus I didn’t see here release an\nalligator clamp on my sore and very swollen clit. I screamed to high\nheaven as it went crunch on my very sensitive nub of flesh. \n

\n\tI opened my eyes to see\nNatasha approach my crotch with a bulbous metal dildo. It had a\ncollar at one end so that it could not disappear up into the body. I\nsighed in exhaustion as Natasha greased up the metal dildo and forced\nit into my anus. Just entering my anus was painful, as the flesh was\nforced to expand. She pushed it in until the anus settled down around\nthe collar. I could not expel it. It was in my arse until Natasha\ntook it out.

\n\tMore electrical shocks came,\nfrom the metal dildo too the clamp on my clit. The shocks seemed to\nlast for hours. I screamed until my voice was hoarse. All I could\nhear was Natasha laughing. She was a real sadist, taking pleasure in\nmy torture.

\n\tI noticed that she was now\nnaked. I had not seen her remove her uniform. I noticed that her\ncrotch was fully shaved. There was not a single strand of blonde hair\non it. She was rubbing her crotch. Her body did not look all that bad\nfor an older woman. But I noticed that her face did not look as lined\nas when I had entered her torture chamber. She now looked no older\nthan a woman in her forties. Perhaps I had been mistaken. Or perhaps\nsomething else was going on here. \n

\n\tNatasha, in between rubbing\nher pussy, removed the dildo from my anus, and the clamp from my\nclit. But she had only taken them off to replace them with worse\nitems. She held up a long needle, at the end of a red wire. The\nneedle was forced down into my clitoris, and down into my body. I\nfelt every inch of it, as it went down all of the way through my clit\nto prick my Graphenberg spot.

\n\tThen Natasha held up a metal\nsound, attached to a black wire. The sound had vicious looking barbs\non it. I was very afraid, but could do nothing as Natasha forced it\nup my urethra. It scratched and pierced my pisshole as I screamed in\nagony, still unable to achieve the solace of fainting. But the pain\nonly got worse, as Natasha sent shocks down the wires, between my\nclit and urethra. She held the control in one hand, and frigged her\npussy with the fingers of her other hand. I could see Natasha’s now\nyouthful face was red, as she neared orgasm. Every shock was on level\nten. The electricity was so powerful it was beginning to fry me\ninside.

\n\tWhen Natasha came she held\ndown the red button for the length of her orgasm, as she collapsed to\nher knees in pleasure.

\n
\n\n

\nThe pain had gone, at least\nfor the moment – until the naked Natasha pulled the sound out of my\nurethra, eliciting a scream which I could barely recognise as my own.\nI could feel a little blood trickle out of my ruined pisshole. \n

\n\tOn and on through the long\nnight the torture went. My labia and clit were cut off with a red hot\nscalpel. My breasts had the skin removed. Red hot needles were\nintroduced to the inside of my cunt. The flame of the Bunsen burner\nwas played over the soles of my feet and on my flayed breasts.\nEverything that could be done to me was done, until even the\ninjections were not enough, and I finally reached the oblivion that\ncame at the end of all of these occult sessions of torment. \n

\n
\n\n

\nI awoke. My body was fully\nrestored, all of my wounds gone as though they had never been. I felt\nincredible for having survived the ordeal, one which I had decided\nthat I would never repeat. With the blue liquid it had been just too\nmuch – a lot too much.

\n\tI couldn’t move. I opened\nmy eyes to see that I was still tied up in the gynaecological chair.\nI had not awoken outside of the dungeon, as I had when using the\nancient dungeon. \n

\n\tStanding before me was\nNatasha, now looking no older than thirty.

\n\t“Your pain has restored me,\nand will keep me alive forever.” she said. I realised that she fed\non pain. She was some sort of vampire, but of pain, not blood. “You\nwill never leave here, as I see there is something mystical about\nyou, the way that your body has been restored with the coming of\ndawn. You are an incredible find. With you as my victim I can live\nforever…”

\n\tIt was then that I really did\nscream, as I realised that I would be tortured forever and ever and\never, with no mercy, and no chance of escape. All that I could do was\nsuffer at the hands of one of the greatest sadists of all time. I was\nin Hell.

\n
\n\n

\nI was in Heaven.

\n
\n\n

\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\nThe End.

","authorName":"Crowley","authorUserId":"24246195-559a-461c-a6d3-e12d9a6af0eb","rating":5,"ratingCount":1,"reviewCount":1,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Extreme","Heavy","Fantasy","Real Life","Masochism","Pain","Sadism","CNC"],"language":"English","readTime":16,"recommendations":[{"id":"53c6c159-166a-43c6-8fe3-fcc71ab5c4a9","title":"More Tea On Thursday","slug":"more-tea-on-thursday","shortId":"8z7QBiZ4","synopsis":"Heavy torture of a female slave in an alternate world where BDSM is a way of life.","rating":5},{"id":"544bcc7d-05e1-4eb3-ba4e-135c08421516","title":"A New Life for Isabelle Part 3","slug":"a-new-life-for-isabelle-part-3","shortId":"WO499gkp","synopsis":"Isabelle's adventure into becoming the ultimate living sex toy continues with a Thanksgiving celebration and possibly some new competition.","rating":5},{"id":"9fae5ac1-5d83-4ba9-9422-16c0dccfb237","title":"Breast Torture with spiked clamp","slug":"breast-torture-with-spiked-clamp","shortId":"aSBGUQgH","synopsis":"Another visit to the Breast Dom, she never knows what he is going to do to her but knows it will be painful torture. A long torture session culminating in her breasts being pieced by loads of sharp spikes.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}