He crossed his legs so as not to
announce his arousal to the woman sitting beside him.
On set, the Punishers
looped their prisoner’s wrists over the hook and got to work tying
her ankles together then to a bracket on the floor. A handle was
cranked, the woman lifted until her feet were off the floor and
again, Brian felt a strong and powerful sexual thrill the likes of
which he’d not felt since his teenaged years. Was it the content or
was it Veraceo?
The Punishers began
spraying the woman with water whilst she screamed and twisted her
head to avoid the hosing. One of the men took a cat-o-nine-tails
and lightly whipped her lower legs.
The action on the floor
stopped again as the three players took direction, then one of the
men checked the woman’s bindings and spoke with her, checking that
she was comfortable. At this, Brian felt another whoosh of sexual
energy, but beside him, Deborah made a slight gasp and a moan.
Brian saw that she was caressing her neck but suddenly pulled her
hand away to cover her mouth.
It was the Veraceo. It
had to be.
Veraceo-Two with sexual
content was a ferocious aphrodisiac.
Back in the studio the
Punishers went back to work, lashing their victim’s legs whilst
spraying the water in her face. This time they got the angle of the
hose right and the water blew up her nostrils causing genuine
discomfort. The moment he recognised the woman as being in distress
the volume of the eroticism dialled back. It was a clue as to what
was happening. The sex was almost overpowering, the Veraceo-Two
signal amplifying the intensity; but when there was some genuine
pain felt on the studio floor the pain balanced the pleasure. This
was a balancing act. Brian surmised that if he were to watch only
torture without the sexualised content it would be horrendous,
almost physically painful.
The sackcloth was
pulled away from the woman to reveal a tiny waistline and dark
little nipples. A Punisher struck the woman’s buttocks with the
cat-o-nine-tails when she wasn’t expecting and it made her shriek
with laughter, her wide open mouth showing white teeth and
enjoyment as her breasts were sprayed with water.
Deborah leaned forward
in her chair and gasped, “Oh Jesus…” she looked to Brian. Sultry.
Eyes dark and smouldering. Out of the league of a bald, middle-aged
professor like himself… perhaps… but with Veraceo helping, who
knew?
There was a moment
between them. Eye contact held for too long.
Deborah moved back into
her chair as did Brian. He felt too afraid to look at her else he
start entertaining ideas of rape and savagery. Good God, this was
not like him and likewise he didn’t believe it of her.
Then a shriek of pain.
On the studio floor, the female masochist had been stung with a
cattle prod. The shriek was genuine and her efforts to pull her
body away from the prong were sincere. The prod stung her again
with a blue flash and a pop of current. She cried now, shaking
herself away from the implement as rivulets of water ran down her
body. The second Punisher took the hose again and sprayed it with
more force right in her face. As she gasped for breath, trying to
avoid the jet of water the second Punisher stung her… and again…
and again.
For Brian, the sexual
tension in the room dissipated quickly. They were back to watching
the sadomasochism with level heads, the panic in their loins
seemingly a distant memory despite it being barely more than thirty
seconds since he was sure he wanted to fuck the woman beside him
six ways from Sunday.
“It’s the tone, isn’t
it,” Deborah said. “This can’t be faked. It’s like my brain knows
when it's being faked. When it’s playful and consensual I’m feeling
as though I want to join in. When it's painful it's addictive. I
could watch this woman get electrocuted all night long… God, I want
him to touch that cattle prod on her asshole. Just once, just to
see her scream.”
Brian didn’t speak for
a long while, then he said, “What
announce his arousal to the woman sitting beside him.
On set, the Punishers
looped their prisoner’s wrists over the hook and got to work tying
her ankles together then to a bracket on the floor. A handle was
cranked, the woman lifted until her feet were off the floor and
again, Brian felt a strong and powerful sexual thrill the likes of
which he’d not felt since his teenaged years. Was it the content or
was it Veraceo?
The Punishers began
spraying the woman with water whilst she screamed and twisted her
head to avoid the hosing. One of the men took a cat-o-nine-tails
and lightly whipped her lower legs.
The action on the floor
stopped again as the three players took direction, then one of the
men checked the woman’s bindings and spoke with her, checking that
she was comfortable. At this, Brian felt another whoosh of sexual
energy, but beside him, Deborah made a slight gasp and a moan.
Brian saw that she was caressing her neck but suddenly pulled her
hand away to cover her mouth.
It was the Veraceo. It
had to be.
Veraceo-Two with sexual
content was a ferocious aphrodisiac.
Back in the studio the
Punishers went back to work, lashing their victim’s legs whilst
spraying the water in her face. This time they got the angle of the
hose right and the water blew up her nostrils causing genuine
discomfort. The moment he recognised the woman as being in distress
the volume of the eroticism dialled back. It was a clue as to what
was happening. The sex was almost overpowering, the Veraceo-Two
signal amplifying the intensity; but when there was some genuine
pain felt on the studio floor the pain balanced the pleasure. This
was a balancing act. Brian surmised that if he were to watch only
torture without the sexualised content it would be horrendous,
almost physically painful.
The sackcloth was
pulled away from the woman to reveal a tiny waistline and dark
little nipples. A Punisher struck the woman’s buttocks with the
cat-o-nine-tails when she wasn’t expecting and it made her shriek
with laughter, her wide open mouth showing white teeth and
enjoyment as her breasts were sprayed with water.
Deborah leaned forward
in her chair and gasped, “Oh Jesus…” she looked to Brian. Sultry.
Eyes dark and smouldering. Out of the league of a bald, middle-aged
professor like himself… perhaps… but with Veraceo helping, who
knew?
There was a moment
between them. Eye contact held for too long.
Deborah moved back into
her chair as did Brian. He felt too afraid to look at her else he
start entertaining ideas of rape and savagery. Good God, this was
not like him and likewise he didn’t believe it of her.
Then a shriek of pain.
On the studio floor, the female masochist had been stung with a
cattle prod. The shriek was genuine and her efforts to pull her
body away from the prong were sincere. The prod stung her again
with a blue flash and a pop of current. She cried now, shaking
herself away from the implement as rivulets of water ran down her
body. The second Punisher took the hose again and sprayed it with
more force right in her face. As she gasped for breath, trying to
avoid the jet of water the second Punisher stung her… and again…
and again.
For Brian, the sexual
tension in the room dissipated quickly. They were back to watching
the sadomasochism with level heads, the panic in their loins
seemingly a distant memory despite it being barely more than thirty
seconds since he was sure he wanted to fuck the woman beside him
six ways from Sunday.
“It’s the tone, isn’t
it,” Deborah said. “This can’t be faked. It’s like my brain knows
when it's being faked. When it’s playful and consensual I’m feeling
as though I want to join in. When it's painful it's addictive. I
could watch this woman get electrocuted all night long… God, I want
him to touch that cattle prod on her asshole. Just once, just to
see her scream.”
Brian didn’t speak for
a long while, then he said, “What
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