{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"c338a51b-ac43-426f-a24f-ca2461b461b0","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2022-02-15T14:20:56.954Z","title":"Fallen Angels","slug":"fallen-angels","shortId":"6nf3D92n","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Sample","paidUrl":"https://subscribestar.adult/posts/425424","synopsis":"Through elaborate torture and degrading games that turn them against each other, Charlie's Angels become their femme fatale captor's most obedient, shameless slaves.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"daf736f0-80f7-4702-8685-56223da2ed27","title":null,"summary":"GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING There was no room for misinterpretation or mystery surrounding ","wordCount":1381,"readTime":7,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING

There was no room for misinterpretation or mystery surrounding what the “punishment room” entailed for the four captive agents. Different “disciplinary” stations were located, spread across the large room, which was otherwise empty to a sterilized level. The cream-white tiled floors and similarly light and blank walls completed the room’s cold vibe. The visual vacancy of the room made it look like the combination of a medical facility and a divine shrine. In a way, both these terms were accurate, as this place would in large, “cure” its guests of their troublesome human traits, like pride and self-respect, though a mentally transforming process that a lot of cultures would deem ritualistic in nature.

Though Jane, Sabina, Elena and Rebekah might object to that notion. Each woman was hitched onto a different apparatus, designed for her prolonged torment.

Jane, the heart and pride of the group, found herself in a rather undignified position. She was kneeling bound inside a clear, Plexiglas box, not much larger than her body. Ankles and knees were tethered to the box’s floors through metal cuffs. Her arms were restrained behind her back, onto a vertical metal bar that her back was leaning against. But Jane’s bondage was not her biggest worry, but rather where she was bound.

A beautiful glistening porcelain toilet was at the front of Jane’s Plexiglas cell, elevated by the small, three-steps-high platform it was on. A clear, rubber tube, around 2 inches wide, started from the back of the toilet and ended up in a black, PVC panel gag/mask, which was tightly affixed over Jane’s face. The mask reached over the girl’s nose, able to smother it with two retractable nostril plugs on the inside of the nose-cover.

Currently, Jane could breathe just fine through her nostrils, but only through those, since the trap-door component on her mask/gag was currently sealed fully shut. And that was the point, since the last thing the black spy wanted to do was smell her surroundings. Already risen more than 5 inches in height and covering most of Jane’s floor-touching, naked legs, was putrid, brownish sewer water. The entire sewer plumping of the Countess’ vast mansion ended up here, through a round hole in the back of the wall-adjacent box. The Countess had dozens upon dozens of staff, working at her property at any given moment. Any flush of a toilet, brought the toilet wastes to splash inside Jane’s box, adding to this filthy compartment.

The nail in the coffin of the girl’s ego and self-esteem was her completely missing hair, her pretty dark-brown long locks shaven clean off her head. The Countess had a good feeling that losing her hair would hurt Jane more than any other Angel. She was right. Miss Kano wanted to die from sheer misery.

The bald woman was swaying her gorgeous naked body back and forth (as far as her bonds allowed), taking continuous constitutional “damage” from the fecal scent that was invading her nose, appearing as if she had been dozed with a terrible drug. She had already vomited a couple of times from the stench, but with her gag blocking any “exit”, she had swallowed everything back up. Besides her neon-lit steel slave collar, which (like her spy-mates) had been welded around their necks, rendered irremovable, the black Angel was devoid of her slave-suit, only clad in a semitransparent, rubber bib around her neck, which ended in frills on its round edge. It was so small it didn’t even cover the young woman’s luscious jugs.

“MMMMMMMMmmmmmm!” Jane furiously struggled in her enclosure and bondage, causing the disgusting puddle surrounding and half-covering her body to splash around. She could NOT take the small anymore, and she was only locked in there for about an hour. A distant flushing sound was heard and a few seconds later another gallon or so of toilet water (along with a few “solid” ingredients) washed through the hole, adding to Jane’s misery.

About 20 feet away from her, in a different contraption of the punishment room, Sabina was not having a better time. Only different. The bratty Angel, also stripped of her fetishy slave-clothing (except her flashing collar), was bound onto a mechanical contraption, the frame on which she was lying on making a 45o angle with the floor. Sabina was much more restrained than her previous spy partner. Leather straps, springing from slit on the frame’s surface, tightly wrapped around her ankles and above the knees, forcing her legs half-spread and her genitals exposed. More wraps went over her waist, under bust and neck. Her arms were also restrained taut above her head at the wrists, so that they touched. The tautness of the position left no room for any motion.

But that was not even all for Sabina’s bondage. Special attention had been given to the woman’s size 7.5, exposed feet, which were prevented from moving in any direction. Trapped around the base of each toe was a brass-knuckle like toe-trap, only specifically molded to Sabina’s feet and toe-size. The trap was rendered immobile due to two metal bars, springing from the frame and attaching on its sides. Thus, Sabina’s feet were also frozen in space, nothing but the faintest of toe wiggles allowed.

And Sabina would have LOOOOOVED to be able to move her soles, given the assault they were under. Her feet, along with various spots all across her naked body, where being mercilessly tickled by an automated tickling machine. Seemingly hundreds of mechanical arm-nobs, each with a little feather at it tip, was making soft, oscillating movements of various speeds and range, all upon the young woman’s defenseless form. Besides the concentrated “attention” on the surface of her soles and her trapped toes, rows of feathered “ticklers” were spamming all along the length of Sabina’s legs, with large density of tickles focused on the inside of the girl’s thighs. Moving up along the “coast” of the girl’s sides, many more “work” was being done, especially on the woman’s rib-sides were being given an intense treatment. The woman’s belly was also being treated to a continuous tickling. Finally, Sabina’s lifted and exposed armpits were given considerable “affection” by the machine, as was the entire length of her taut arms.

Sabina was never the effeminate, stereotypically charming gal that would enable her date’s stupid jokes with fake-giggles and submissive energy. She was usually the one cracking jokes, especially on her spy team. You’d never see more than a naughty smirk on the smartass girl’s face. Now, she would give back all those laughs hundredfold.

“MMMMm...MMMM mmm mmm mmm!!!!……MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM mmm mmm mmm!!!” the bratty agent let out unwilling moans of inflicted laughter, sounding more like wailing like any expression of joy, through a white panel gag/mask similar to Jane’s. As if to add insult to injury, the mask had a cheeky artwork of a cartoony laughter over the girl’s actual mouth. Over the girl’s white, leather blindfold, a couple of laughing cartoon eyes came to complete the taunting appearance that was hiding the true torment of the girl.

What was more intriguing (at least to a computer-geek bystander, since for Sabina it was horrible) about these tickling appendages was that their operating patterns were not set, but slightly alternated and changed with time. This was due to the data-feed that the microphone attached on Sabina’s gag was sending the machine. Measuring the volume or laughter (or more accurately, moaning) and coordinating it with the tickling pattern, the machine calibrated its “arms” to double-down on the areas of “high response” i.e. lots of laughter. With each progressive “appointment”, the machine would learn Sabina’s weak points, her most sensitive spots and exploit them for maximum torture. The short-haired punk was already suffering “pretty successfully”, sweating buckets after only an hour. Her breathing was coming out labored, from the instinctive spasming strain that the continuous tickling brought to her whole body.

The gas-mask’s use appeared mysterious for now, simply an opaque plastic tube disappearing inside the machine. The, a red light flashed momentarily on the machine and a slow hissing sound erupted, as a gas travelled through the tube and into the helpless woman’s system. “MMm…MMMMMMMMMMMMMMGGGG!” Sabina screamed, realizing the laughing gas being “pumped” into her. She had no way to avoid breathing it in.

Read the full, 25000-word story at https://subscribestar.adult/denkira7

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