Cracking Cassandra - 2

A female CEO of a tech company gets in the way of very
determined industrial spies.

***

I need to check my watch to really be sure how long I
have been watching her squirm under the mild electro
torture. The monitor shows me that the camera is
still recording everything, that Cassandra is suffering
- the infrared light is shining in the room, though
for her it is pitch black.

I have been daydreaming probably, because she's been
getting shocked by the TENS unit for about thirty
minutes now, a little longer than I intended, but I
guess that it's OK. For her there hasn't been a single
moment since I brought her here without pain. This is
part of my plan, to keep the pressure up until she
cracks, and then maybe add some more punishment, just
for laughs (mine and my employers, that is. I doubt
she'll be laughing at all in the next few days). It
seems that while I was considering the next series of
torture I'll be administering to Cassandra, I got
mesmerized by her struggles to free her arms, and
to keep her feet away from the electrodes. But, of
course, it's all futile, the pain is there for her,
trusty and sharp, the electrodes hold firm to her feet
with the aid of glue, and the bondage holding her
absolutely immobile in her chair.

A few more minutes have passed, and she seems even
more distressed, which is just what I wish for her.
I have a good plan, and I hope she'll respond as
I predict. I get up and head towards the torture room.
I stretch a little before opening it, knowing that it's
going to be a long night. I remind myself that she
doesn't know that yet, but that part of the fun of
torturing a victim is watching them as they have that
epiphany. With her, the pleasure of domination and
inflicting pain is so great, that I don't even care
when she finally is broken, because it WILL happen.
No matter how confident, smart, fit and resourceful
she is, she is going to loose this battle. What
always amazes me is that it's a battle my victims
fight against themselves. I am always there to prod
them to the foregone conclusion, that their suffering
achieves nothing except for deeply entertaining me.
It's them that strain to maintain pride in the face
of my ever persistent cruel tortures. It is their
choice to finally submit, shredding any sense of
self to fulfill my wishes, no matter how perverse
and unjust. Cassandra is a special project, and she
will suffer like no victim of mine has suffered before.

I open the door just a crack, and the light falls on
her body. Her eyes are struggling to adjust to the
light, but then I am upon her, pinching her nostrils
shut, as I enjoy watching the terror grip her - with
a ball gag in her mouth she has no way to breath,
and she is freaking out. Within seconds she looses
consciousness, and I begin by disconnecting the
electrodes from her feet, then I proceed to move her
into the next instrument of control - a gynecologists
table with many straps.

I quickly slice through the ropes which by now have
dug deeply into her ankles and arms.
Next, I lift her 120lb. trim body onto the table, and
begin securing her onto it. A leather strap, just
above her breasts, and one just below. A wide belt at
her waist. Smaller straps secure the immobility of her
wrists. Her thighs are bent upwards, almost ninety
degrees, and her legs are bent at the knees so that
her ankles are parallel to the floor. It is in this
position that I have full access to her face, breasts,
stomach. But these are already areas that have got
much attention during the last torture session. This
time I am glad to have full access to the sensitive
backs of her thighs, and her lovely pussy and ass.

I go over and light a few fat candles, in order to get
their wax reservoir ready, and grab the crop. I flex
it, feeling all the energy stored in it's hard but
elastic body. Then I begin striking the back of her
right thigh, hard. By the seventh blow, she is very
much awake and aware of what's going on. I keep a
slow steady pace, raising welts from her buttocks to
her knee, enjoying the beauty of the angry red welts
that my crop work is producing. At twenty blows I
switch to her left thigh, and begin delivering another
twenty blows. As each blow falls on her flesh a low
pain filled moan escapes from behind Cassandra's gag.
I am intrigued by the change in pitch from gagged
screams to muffled moans. Maybe it's time to remove
her gag.

After I had delivered the forty blows, I walk up to
stand aside her face. Tears have welled and fallen
from her blue eyes, and she dutifully looks at me,
pleading it seems for some mercy. I begin removing
the gag by loosening the head straps, and whisper a
warning. "Listen bitch, I think you've earned the
right to breath again. But don't fuck with me, or
this thing goes back on, and I'll keep going. Do
you understand? nod your head if you do." She
vigorously nods her head, and I take the gag out
from her mouth, watching her as she breathes deeply,
whimpering as she fills her lungs back again. Then
she looks me straight in the face, and actually asks
"Why?". I laugh for a few seconds, quite loudly,
which seems to terrify her. Then I turn around, grab
one of the fat candles, which by now is filled with
a large amount of liquid hot wax, and splash it at her
stomach. She screams, really loud now that the gag is
out of her mouth, and tries to sit up, only to find
that the straps are very tight indeed. "What did I
tell you huh?" I ask with real menace, and then pick
up the other fat candle, and this time slowly pour
the wax on her knees, so that the burning hot liquid
spills downwards onto her upper thighs. The red wax
makes her look like she is covered with blood.
"Please... don't do this...please", she mutters
between loud sobs which make me want to grab the crop
and beat her again , so of course I do.

I walk behind her, so that I am
standing just behind her head, and begin to hit her
on her muscular shoulders and biceps. "Shut the
fuck up, cunt", I explain to her, as I rain hard blows
on her arms, usually striking the same spot multiple
times for emphasis. By the count of fifteen she is
sobbing, but keeps her mouth shut.

I look at my watch, and to my estimate, Cassandra has
just passed two hours of continuous torture. It's time
to explain her situation to her. I think back to how
this whole thing began.