Author's Note: Marisa's adventure in self-bondage goes terribly wrong.
"OH MY GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MYSELF?"
The groans and exclamations and questions all went unheard, even by the beautiful woman bound to the bench inside the underground bunker.
The sounds were her first in more than 5 hours, except for the ragged breathing and steady slurping sounds brought on by the huge artificial cock that had been thrusting deep in and out of throat. Her pussy and ass felt strangely empty as equally large mechanical cocks withdrew for her rest period, however long or short that might be.
And after she caught her breath a little and sucked down some fluids and liquid nourishment from the hose provided to her, she began to wonder if things weren't spinning more than a little out of control.
Her worries had little to do with the giant cocks that had been pummeling her three holes for hours. They had nothing to do with the 100 or more deep, painful strokes that the ever-so-thin but firm crop had lashed across her ass during this last session. Her worries had nothing to do with the tight steel bands that circled the base of her firm tits in an endless game of squeeze and release. And her worries didn't include the razor-sharp teeth in the nipple clamps that had only been removed as the cocks withdrew from her slippery holes.
No, Marisa Cooper's worries had to do with her situation, her self-imposed situation, and her impression that she'd been bound and used much longer than she'd anticipated. She knew the hours of self-imposed sexual use had muddled her sense of time. She couldn't be sure of just how long she'd been here, ruthlessly used and tortured, and that left her unsure whether she should be truly worried or not.
In any event, it didn't matter what she thought. The solid steel bands that held her body in place weren't going to be removed until the time locks allowed them to open. No one would come looking for her, and no one would ever find her here even if they did.
Her thoughts were quickly ended though as seemingly in one smooth motion her head was twisted to face forward and almost as one the three giant cocks attached to the infernal fucking machine she'd built herself thrust forward and entered her mouth, her ass and her pussy. They pushed deep inside each orifice, never pausing until they hit bottom.. The cock in her throat held its place, forcing Marisa to hold her breath as the other two cocks pulled out. She wondered how long this session would be...her last coherent thought before a thin, stiff cane thrashed sharply across her left tit.
Marisa almost gagged on the giant phallus buried in her throat, but just as the cane struck, the phallus began to withdraw, allowing her to breathe deeply through her nose. Then came the powerful electric pulse across her clit, causing her pussy to ooze even more juice just as the cock assigned to that hole drove all the way home in one lightning fast, powerful thrust. Marisa grunted as it hit bottom, just as the cane thrashed her right tit, this time right across the nipple. Before that pain had really registered on her brain, her ass was filled in one relentless thrust with the huge mechanical cock assigned to that hole.
The two cocks buried inside her began to vibrate -- deep, rhythmic vibrations -- and to pulse in time with one another, pushing deeper inside her and growing thicker with each pulse. Her clit was assaulted by a series of tiny electrical shocks that aroused her pain-loving nerve endings, then two flat nipple clamps closed tightly on her nipples, bringing a grunt of pain from her throat. Just as the artificial cock still inside her mouth pushed quickly forward, burying its' tip at the base of her windpipe and shooting the gooey concoction she'd made down straight into her stomach, powerful electric shocks pulsed into her nipples. And, not surprisingly, and not the for the first time since this ordeal had started, Marisa came.
Her orgasm, like so many others she'd experienced in the hours she'd been bound to the bench, was made even more intense by the sheer perversity of what was happening to her, and by the fact that she could not move her arms, her legs, her head, or any part of her body in any way. Her muscles could only contract and expand as her orgasm raced through her, her immobility returning the orgasmic pulses in her nerves back to the core of her being, just as a new orgasm began. One wave outgoing, one wave incoming, and as they overlapped across her nerve endings, Marisa slipped into her "zone."
Her "zone," bound tightly, locked away from a world that didn't expect to see or hear from her for days, sealed inside in a perfectly hidden underground bunker, relentlessly assaulted by huge mechanical cocks, tortured and teased by canes, by prods, by clamps, by electrical and every device that could be applied to her body by a machine. She was the living center of a relentless mechanical Master, a Master that never tired, knew no limits, and could not be stopped for any reason.
She'd searched for her zone for years, and now that she'd found it she knew she'd never be the same, never be fully satisfied by any man or woman, and that she'd keep coming back here for more, expanding her limits, adding to the machines capabilities, until she finally found that place where she could truly take no more, yet would because she would have no choice.
Marisa Cooper was beautiful. She stood 5-9, weighed 138 pounds, with olive skin, rich, black hair and deep brown, fuck-me eyes. Her full, lush mouth was centered between high cheekbones, framed by thick, soft lips. Her body was kept fit by hours of exercise, leaving her with wonderful tone and shape in her arms and long, long legs. Her firm 38C tits sat above a 26-inch waist and 36-inch hips. Her body clothed caused men to dream and women to want, and she carried herself and moved in a way that said I can fuck you silly, but what I really want is for you tie me down and ravage me until I become your slave for life.
Marisa was also brilliant. She held two engineering degrees - one electrical and one mechanical -- and had worked on several massive projects in Europe and Asia. Her skill was such that she quickly became very wealthy. Her brains and beauty were often intimidating to men and women alike, and that made it hard at times for a beautiful, sexy, and very horny woman like Marisa to get laid.
Marisa's sex drive was off the chart. She loved sex, any kind of sex, and had tried everything should could think of long before she was 20. Then she began to discover that lovers who took control, who commanded rather than asked, who didn't fear her but rather used her, were the only lovers to satisfy her.
She began to explore every aspect of the submissive lover's world, digging deeper and deeper into the role. But even as she went deeper into the submissive role, she understood that she needed more, a need that led her into sexual slavery. Eventually she agreed to a five-year term as one man's slave, a man who shared her with many, who controlled every aspect of her world, a man who literally made her disappear for almost a year as he kept her caged and isolated and taught her that her greatest pleasures came through pain.
But even as Marisa's journey into slavery deepened, she felt a stirring for more. Even though her lover used her in so many purely decadent and evil ways, Marisa longed for a form of sexual surrender that was absolute. For what she found was that every Master or Mistress, no matter how skilled and perverse, had their own limits and that sooner or later, they would tire physically and release her. .
Marisa wanted to be bound and used without recourse, with a chance to recover, to know that her imprisonment was absolute and unyielding, that no man or woman could bring the tortures being applied to Marisa's body to an end. She wanted to be placed in a position where abuse was the only reason for her being, where there were in fact no limits, and where endless and pain and pleasure were possible. Eventually, Marisa came to the conclusion that no human being was capable of providing her with such an experience. And so, when her time as slave ended, Marisa accepted her freedom and went in search of the absolute she sought, an absolute she believed she could bring upon herself..
She'd come to the conclusion that only something mechanical could provide a no-limits experience. Something mechanical would only do what it was designed to do, no matter how much a bound woman might plead and beg, or wish it to stop. And she understood herself and human nature enough to know that she'd have to design such a machine in a way that only the machine itself would ever know exactly what it was to do and for how long.
Marisa understood that the machine she would build, the machine that would become her owner and tormentor, must have the ability to inflict pain and punishment in a variety of ways, and that it must be able to apply forces of intensity and duration longer than the strongest human males. She understood that science.
To build her dream, Marisa bought a large beachfront house in Italy. She loved house and the view and the water, but the chief selling point was the secret bunker she'd discovered when researching the property. The owner during World War II, a high-ranking government official, had built the bunker deep underground as a bomb shelter and as a place to hide from his enemies. The entrance was well hidden and once inside the world ceased to exist.
This bunker would be Marisa's pleasure chamber. Over a year she quietly and secretly repaired the bunker, installing power and lights and water and preparing it for her purposes. She also designed and began to build her Master, her machine - really machines - that would force every possible sensation from her body.
Building machines that could thrust a cock in and out was easy for an engineer. What took effort was designing a cock that could range in length from 7 to 16 inches, in width from 1 to 4 inches, that could be stationary yet have internal workings that would move inside the cock, that felt human like to touch, that could secrete moisture to keep an overused orifice loose, and that could have its size, its thrust depth, its thrust speed, its movement inside an orifice, controlled by a computer that would randomly select the behavior of the cock.
Marisa built such cocks, one for each hole. She figured that any one man, if lucky enough to be built as large as the maximum size, entered her life, he would place that massive phallus in any hole he wanted. Thus, her machine would have the same opportunity, in every hole, all the time.
It wasn't hard to build machines that could swing a cane across an ass or a tit, or operate a clamp, or drive sharp probes into soft skin, or to send electrical pulses across clits and nipples and up and legs and arms, but it was a trick to design them to change angles, to change speed, and to swing canes and tighten clamps harder than humans can.
It took some research to understand how the body worked in order to design the bench that Marisa would be bound to, and to design a restraint system that rendered her completely immobile when clamped down yet allowed complete access to almost all of her body. Eventually she built a narrow bench at a 30 degree angle upward. The bench supported her across her belly and her collarbone, leaving the rest of her body exposed. Metal plates, lined with leather, locked across the small of her back and across the back of her shoulder. To lock her down the shoulder section slid upward about 2 inches, stretching her body flat and making movement impossible.
Her legs she would render immobile by placing her feet in 8-inch ballerina heels. The shoes slipped in a sleeve on the floor beneath the table and locked in place. A band above her knees would be pulled into place alongside the table, lifting up to stretch her lower leg immobile, and forward to lock her upper leg in place.
Her arms would be banded at the wrists and elbows. A cable would run through D-rings that would pull her arms behind her until her wrists and elbows touched, then a winch would bull her arms toward the ceiling until they bent almost 90 degrees. The shoulder bindings would provide leverage to bend her arms back. The angle of her arms would provide room for her back to be beaten while thrusting her tits forward, where they would be abused in so many ways.
All of Marisa's machines were computer controlled, and she designed all them to operate across a range of motions and severity, with the actual actions controlled through a random numbers program in the software. The program would randomly generate a number at random times for every device and function on Marisa's torture machine. That number would correspond to a spot on the range. Every action for every device on the machine, - severity, motion, size, power, intensity, duration - was controlled separately. In total, there were literally millions of different combinations of events that the machine could create. Once the program was started, Marisa would have no idea what would happen to or, or when, or how intensely, or for how long.
Marisa also understood human nature. She knew that no human, herself included, could or would set a machine to a level that could arguably kill her and not build in a safety valve of some kind. And so as she programmed the computer that controlled the device, she did so in a way that allowed the pressures applied to her body to exceed the strongest human capacities by 125%. And she programmed the machine so that it could, but not necessarily would, reach that level of intensity. What she didn't do was place any limits on how long or how often the machine could reach that level. It could run at that level once, for only a moment or two, or for hours on end. And it could reach that level multiple times, for as short or long a period as the math that drove the machine allowed.
She also designed a nourishment and fluid system - a simple tube that provide fluids laced with nourishment, sort of sport drink for deviants, Marisa chuckled to herself.
Marisa also wanted her senses controlled - or more accurately deprived. She wanted to limit her senses as much as possible to the sensations that would wrack her body, so she created a helmet of sorts that placed white-noise earphones over her ears, that sealed all light from her eyes, and that effectively eliminated smell from passing through to her nostrils. This headset also had bars attached to it that would force Marisa's head into position to accept cock down her throat, but would release it enough during rest periods for her to take fluids and nourishment. Even the fluid was designed to be as tasteless as possible, and it would be served to her at her body temperature, denying her even the refreshing sensation of something cool entering her body through her ravaged throat.
All the computer controls were locked away in a small room in the bunker. Marisa wanted no light, no sound, no taste, no smell. She wanted only the physical sensations of touch to reach her brain.
Marisa wanted to survive - at least she thought she did - so she built a couple of limits into her computer program. She knew she needed fluid, some rest, and to relax her severely bent and restricted body to allow blood to flow, so she programmed her use for at least 16 but no more than 20 hours out of each 24. Her rest periods had to be at least 15 minutes long, and the longest could be 8 hours. She wouldn't know how long any session or rest period would be.
The other limit was how long she would be held in place once the locks on her bonds engaged. She wasn't interested in hours, and she didn't want to know how long she'd be held. Her solution was to set an outside limit at what she thought would be very extreme, and to let the random numbers program actually set the duration. For her test of the machine, she set the maximum at 50 hours - a little over two days. She actually cheated a bit - setting the program to create a 75% chance that she'd be held in place at least 50% of the maximum. In simple terms, it was 75% likely Marisa would be tortured by her own device between 25 and 50 hours.
Marisa planned carefully for her test.. She told her friends she was off to a 2-week spa retreat in Africa - no phone, no Internet, no communication. The no contact part was true.
She sealed the bunker, checked her machines and her computers, stepped into her 8-inch ballet shoes, placed her leg, elbow and wrist bands on her body, her headset in place, laid her body across the table, placed the shoulder and waist bands across her body, took a deep breath and pushed the start button. The lights went out and with a sudden jolt every band tightened about her body, her eyes were blinded in the darkness, her hearing muffled by white noise.
She was motionless and, despite her deep longing to be exactly where she was, she instinctively tried to escape. Her body was held motionless by the steel bands encircling it. Her arms hurt like hell, her breathing was ragged, and a small moment of panic crept into the pit of her stomach.
That ended quickly when three giant cocks came calling all at exactly the same time.
It happened so fast that she struggled to get her mouth open and around her oral friend. It pulled tight across her lips, rammed through her teeth and shoved 8 inches of 2 inch thick cock straight down her throat in one motion, then stopped. Caught by surprise, she hadn't taken a breath and knew that if the cock stayed in place she'd have a hard time getting her breathing right when it pulled out. That thought passed right out of her head as her ass filled with an even more massive cock, pummeling through her passageway and into her intestines without pausing. At exactly the same time a monster cock was slamming deep into her cunt.
It seemed that all three cocks bottomed out at exactly the same time, and then held their places. Marisa had the fleeting thought that she was suspended on a massive cock spit, when the point of electric prods jammed against both nipples and her clit at the same time. Unable to move, the muscles in Marisa's body began to shake and twitch violently as the lower cocks withdrew. The cock in her throat stayed put for a few seconds, preventing Marisa from breathing or screaming, until at last it withdrew just as the lower cocks thrust back inside her.
Just as the cock at her lips began its journey back down her throat, Marisa felt steel bands encircle and crush the base of her tits while a metal spanker covered by ¼ inch needles slammed into her ass.
Marisa's first session ran almost 6 hours and included more than 75 strokes of the cane on both tits, 40 slaps from the spanker, electrical nipple clamps, 100 cane strokes on the ass, and relentless pounding from three cocks. Marisa didn't know it, but 12 inches 2 ½ inches wide was ramming her ass and 13 inches 3 inches wide was filling her cunt. It wouldn't shock her, because she'd also set the program up to provide a 75% probability that each cock would be at least 10 inches long and 2 inches wide. She was a bit of a size freak. The wanton fuck toy, trapped in her own torture machine, came from both pain and pleasure over and over, until, blissfully, it all stopped for her first rest session.
The rest session lasted only 27 minutes, before another 5 hour, 12 minute session kicked in. Lost in her erotic haze, Marisa somehow understood that the machine had reached its 125% level of intensity. What she didn't know or comprehend as the intensity took her to new places of delirious pain and pleasure, was that it reached that four times, once for 5 minutes, once for 3, then for 12, and that the final 42 minutes of the second session was at full out, no holds barred intensity on every device touching her body.
Marisa's second rest session lasted 6 hours and, not surprisingly, she slept part of it. By the time she was well into the third session, Marisa's sight and sound deprived mind was completely unable to track time, and she settled into an endless cycle of pain, pleasure, orgasm, rest, nourishment and recovery. Marisa became one with her machine.
But after some period of time, even through her sex-addled, pain-ridden body, Marisa began to sense that she'd been on the device for a very long time. At first, she got a thrill from the feeling, thinking that the random number program was pushing her closer to the 50 hour limit, and that she was taking all her invention had to dish out and surviving. At one point, she even thought that she'd have to adjust some of the settings to push herself even further.
As the cycles of use and rest continued, though, Marisa, even through her exhausted, lust-addled mind, began to realize that a very long time had passed. And with each cycle, she became more and more convinced that she'd spent well over 50 hours in her self-imposed sex world.
Slowly, she became convinced that something had gone wrong. In brief moments, she was afraid, and in others she found a perverse excitement in truly being bound in a position where she could be literally fucked into oblivion. She knew, with absolute certainty, that no one expected to hear from her for at least a month, and she knew with equal certainty that no one knew about this bunker. So she wasn't going anywhere until the machine released her....if it ever did.
Marisa's instincts were right. By the time she'd become convinced that she'd been imprisoned beyond her programmed limit, she'd already spent more than 200 hours in the machine.
For all Marisa's brilliance and talent, for all her work on designing the machine, she'd made two mistakes. The first was buried deep inside the programming code that ran the control computer. There, with a simple keystroke, a simple typo, Marisa had inadvertently added a zero to the maximum number of hours that the machine could imprison her. Instead of her intended 50 hours, a little over two days, the maximum was set for 500 hours, just over 20 days. That meant it was 75% likely she'd be tortured and imprisoned for at least 10 days.
She'd also made a second mistake. Included in her design was a branding function, a device that would systematically place a planned or random brand on one or more places on the body. She'd programmed in several possible phrases and designs, with an eye toward a future time when she'd imprison herself knowing she'd be branded for life, but not what the brand would be...
Marisa's world remained unchanged, day after day, hour after hour, of torture and abuse at her own hands and her own design. At some point, her mind accepted what was happening and she surrendered more fully to the physical sensations than she thought possible. Ironically, this time, because she really didn't know if she'd ever be free again, she was truly enslaved, truly able to emotionally release everything and simply be a fuck toy, feeling every thrust and pinch and jolt that her body received.
Marisa came and came and came, knowing because she'd learn to recognize the intensity that she'd spent several hours at the 125% level, and just as suddenly every device pulled away from her, leaving her feeling strangely bereft, looking for more.
The feeding tube, or at least the water tube as it now was, came to her lips and she gulped it down greedily, preparing to accept a rest period. She relaxed - amazing how quickly she could do that now - and began to sleep when suddenly a new and fiercely different pain shot across the top of her left tit.
Confused, scared, suddenly alert, the relentless pain and pressured continued for several seconds, then ceased, Left in place, a deep, hot, burning sensation that lingered, and that Marisa wanted to sooth by her touch. She, of course, could not move her bound hands. Slowly the pain subsided into a throbbing, warm sensation.
Until, after a few moments, another jolt of burning sensation, right next to the first. Again the intense pain, and deep, endless burning sensation, the throbbing. And with a burst of clarity, Marisa understood that she was being branded, that somehow the branding function she'd designed was on and emblazoning something across the top of her left tit.
Marisa's final 12 hours in her machine were spent being branded, slowly, one letter and symbol at a time, deeply scarring her skin so that she would never be able to remove them. She wondered what was being done to her body as brand after brand was applied. Even this process, so relentless, so unfeeling, so uncontrollable, brought a level of arousal to the incorrigible slut.
Finally, at long last, she could feel her bonds being released. It took nearly 50 minutes for every thing to unlock, another 10 or so for her to get enough circulation into her arms that she could lift her head piece off and open her eyes, It took more than an hour before she could open her eyes long enough to focus them,
She slowly stood, still in her ballet shoes, and staggered toward the mirror mounted on the wall behind her machine. Her heart was racing as she approached the mirror, stood in front of it and forced her eyes open enough to see her body.
She didn't see the bruises, the slash marks, the burn marks from electricity. What she saw was the work of the branding iron.
Across the top of her left tit, curving into her cleavage, now forever a part of her body and her being, was carved "7 DAYS," And carved across the top of her right tit was carved "16 HOURS."
At first, Marisa was too exhausted and too shocked to truly process what her brands meant...but as she gained her composure and the reality of what had occurred set in, she found herself aroused to an entirely new level. She grabbed her clit and brought her ravaged body to one final, massive climax as she collapsed to the floor, spent and barely conscious, finally falling into a deep, heavy sleep.