The Rack

S.M. Wolf

DISCLAIMER: I am currently (September 2011) suffering from both an extended illness and a bad bout of depression. This story is, in large part, a product of my fever, relentless boredom, lack of sleep and depression. It is very dark with no redeeming value as it explores the severe abuse of a slave by her Master. You are warned! Read at your own risk!

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Master Brian, Susan and this story are copyrighted 2011 by S.M. Wolf. This work may not be reproduced or otherwise used without prior written permission of the author. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

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Susan looked out from between the bars of the small cage in which she was secured. Master Brian had put her there after she had displeased him by not eagerly accepting his cock in her ass. The pony stallion had left the vixen in the cage for well over an hour. Her body was starting to cramp, but she preferred the discomfort to the punishment that she knew was to come.

"You will be placed on the rack," Master Brian had informed her as he had locked the cage.

The door to the room opened, and Master Brian appeared. His dark brown pelt and black tail and mane glistened in the room's lights. He said nothing as he unlocked the cage and attached a lead to Susan's collar. She remained silent as well, knowing that to talk without permission would invite even more and worse punishments. When Master Brain gave an upward jerk on the leash, she rose stiffly. With some difficulty, she stepped out of the cage.

Master Brian turned and walked out the door and down the hallway. Susan followed silently with her head down and her arms limp by her side. She knew where they were going, and she was not surprised when Master Brian opened the door to the basement. They descended the stairs. Master Brian opened a second, thick door.

The room beyond was well insulated. It would not do to keep the neighbors awake with the cries of a slave being punished or used. No windows graced the heavy wood-paneled walls, but many other things did. Ropes, whips, crops paddles and other implements of bondage and punishment hung from hooks set into the wall. Shelves held dildos, butt plugs, various lubricants and creams, and other items of sexual pleasure. There were also several gags and muzzles.

In the center of the room was the rack.

It was not a rack like the medieval instrument of torture though it could be used similarly. Instead, this rack was meant for a variety of sexual acts and punishments. There were several ropes and D-rings to secure the slave in position. Various small doors in the top of the rack opened to allow easy access to the victim's body from the bottom as well as the top. The entire device gleaned in spotless stainless steel. Susan had spent many hours polishing and preparing the rack, and she knew it intimately from then and the many times that she had been secured to it.

Master Brian grabbed a slave muzzle from a shelf beside the door. He secured several thin straps around Susan's muzzle before securing a wider strap around the back of her head. The straps were almost painfully tight, but Susan did not complain or try to wriggle out of it. Her Master was quite capable of making them tight enough to cut into her skin, and she did not want that.

"Face down today," Master Brian said.

Inwardly, Susan groaned, but she immediately walked the few feet to the rack and lay face down on the hard steel surface. In a few moments, she felt the cold metal through her fur. She shivered, but it was not all form the cold.

Master Brian secured Susan's paws together and tied them to a ring set on the end of the metal slab. He spread her legs several feet before attaching cuffs to her ankles. The cuffs were secured to a small but powerful hand-winch underneath the rack's top. Susan's Master took the handle for the winch from the wall and inserted it into the winch. He gave several turns. The slack was quickly removed from the ropes and Susan's body was stretched taut. She was secured in place and could do little more than squirm.

After putting the handle back on the wall, Master Brian moved to Susan's left and turned a handle. The rack top tilted upwards until Susan was held upright at a sixty degree angle. He walked behind the rack and opened the small oval door in front of Susan's face and two round doors beneath her breasts. Her face and teats popped through the openings.

Mater Brian disappeared from Susan's view. A few seconds later she felt leather straps attached to the rack behind her head and chest. Her upper body was pressed hard against the cold steel.

When Master Brian reappeared in Susan's view, she shivered in fear. In his paws were a pair of clover clamps. Each had five short chains ending in one-inch diameter polished steel balls.

"I need some relaxation," Master Brian proclaimed. He repeatedly tugged on her left nipple until against Susan's will it hardened. The pony stallion grinned as he attached the clover clamp to her hard nub. For just a moment their eyes met, then Master Brian released the weights.

Susan's face contorted in pain at the sudden combination of painful pinch of her nipple and hard tug on her breast. She had to close her eyes to fight the torment. Master Brian ran his paw through the hanging balls and sent random pulls into Susan's left breast.

"Open your eyes!" Master Brian ordered Susan.

Reluctantly she did as ordered. She had to watch the process repeated with her right breast. This time Master Brian grabbed the chains and gave them a hard yank was well. Even with her muzzle holding in most of her scream of pain, Susan made a rather loud noise.

Master Brian just laughed.

"Now to use my 'executive tension reliever'," the stallion said. He reached out and pulled one of the balls hanging from her breasts out to the side. He paused for just a moment before releasing it. Each steel ball hit the group of balls with a loud crack. One of the other balls in each group recoiled and lifted away from the group before coming back down. The ricochets continued for several seconds. When they finished, Master Brian repeated the process several times.

Susan felt stabs of sharp pain going through her breasts with each strike of the balls Her large mammary glands were pulled back and forth with the motion. All she could do was grit her teeth and hope that her Master's play would end soon.

Eventually Master Brian grew tired of his fun. He went behind Susan for a bit. When he returned, Susan screamed at what was in his paws.

It was s simple box about two feet on each side. It was painted flat black on all surfaces. There was a piece of black felt with a slit down the middle on top.

Master Brian grinned at Susan's scream of horror and her attempts to plead with him with her eyes. He set the box down on a small podium beneath the rack. Without a word he released the rack top and pulled it down hard to the horizontal stop. The vixen desperately tried to pull her head back, but the straps prevented her from moving even a fraction of an inch. Susan's muzzle and face shot through the slit in the fabric, and the world disappeared from view.

Susan was not afraid of the dark, but she was afraid of the box. In the past it had held a myriad of things. There had been a myriad of foul smelling scents. Once it had held a cactus that had left many of its spines in her nose. A few times the box had been filled with water or other fluids that covered her nose. Her Master had raised and lowered her repeatedly to play at drowning her.

Other times there had been insects. The fleas that had burrowed into her fur and bit her face for hours had been the worst though the centipedes and cockroaches were a close second.

Susan held her breath as long as she could. Her lungs were burning, but still she tried hard to hold her breath. She did not want to learn what was awaiting her in the box.

With a rush, the air shot out of her nose. She tried hard not to breathe deeply as she took her next breath. There was no smell. She felt nothing at all. She opened her eyes, but she saw and felt nothing in the darkness. She gave a puzzled grunt.

Master Brian laughed and said, "Don't worry! You'll have company in there later tonight!"

Susan wondered what he had in mind, but her thoughts quickly turned elsewhere when Master Brian grabbed her tail and tied it off over her left shoulder. She was blind, but her ears still worked fine. She could hear him go to the wall and return.

"With all the times we have done this," Master Brian said gruffly, "I would think you would have learned your lesson by now. Pulling away from me when I try to enter your ass just gets you punished and butt fucked harder!"

Susan could say nothing in response, but, even with the punishments, she was still rebellious enough not to willingly give into her Master. She was not sure how much longer that would last with the many tortures he used upon her to break her will and spirit when she refused to obey him.

There was a whistling sound followed immediately by leather hitting soft vulpine flesh. Susan screamed into her muzzle as fire erupted in her ass. Her Master had used a heavy braided-leather quirt on her behind. From the pain, she could tell that it had raised a welt. The pain in her ass was joined by more pain in her breasts as the balls hanging beneath her danced from the force of the blow.

Master Brian laid down five parallel lines of pain on Susan's exposed ass. Each stroke of the quirt left a welt that quickly rose beneath her pelt. All the vixen could do was scream and pray for the beating to stop. Tears fell like rain from her eyes and splattered the bottom of the dark box.

After the fifth stroke, the barely conscious vixen heard the quirt hit the floor. Her Master clambered onto the rack behind her. She felt his fingers quickly grease her anus inside as well as outside. She knew that he only used the lubricant to ease his entry, not to ease her pain.

Master Brian grabbed Susan's hips and pulled them up into the air as far as he could. She felt the mushroom-shaped head of his penis pressed against her ass cheeks and anus. He thrust hard and forced open Susan's sphincter.

Susan screamed in a mixture of pain, fear and disgust. Master Brian might be a pony, but he still had a fine equine cock. The head of his shaft was three inches in diameter, and the shaft was a good two inches across. The black rod was a solid ten inches long as well. All of it was quickly shoved into Susan's rectum. Master Brian began to thrust in and out almost uncontrollably. Each slap of his hips against her ass cheeks brought fresh pain from her welts. As Susan lay beneath him crying, he filled her bottom with a copious amount of his hot horse seed to the gentle clank of steel balls hitting each other.

Even when he was done, Susan's ordeal was not over. He rammed a butt plug every bit as large as his own tool into her ass.

As he climbed off the rack, Master Brian told Susan, "I'll just leave you there for a bit to think about the consequences of disobeying me before I continue with your punishment."

Susan heard the door open and close. She was still crying hard. If she had not been restrained and muzzled, she would have been writhing on the floor and wailing. As it was, she had to lay face down on the rack and endure her suffering in near silence. It was some time before her crying even slowed.

The vixen was not sure how long it was before her Master returned. She heard the door open and close again and knew that he was back. The rack rotated to a full upright position. Susan blinked in the sudden light.

"That," Master Brian said, "was the first part of your punishment.

"Now for the rest!"

Master Brian took the box behind Susan. She could feel it pressed against her inner thighs. There was a tug on the butt plug. She heard it drop into the box. She felt her Master's seed pouring out of her still open anus. She could not see what was happening, but she was sure the fluid was being collected in the box. It was well over a minute before Susan felt the flow of cum end as her anal rose finally closed tight again.

Susan felt more straps applied. One went across her waist, and two secured her upper thighs. The vixen was uncomfortably aware of her inability to move her hips.

Master Brian did not have the box with him when he re-appeared in front of Susan, but he did have two more clover clamps. Each had a single two-inch diameter steel ball at the end of a short chain attached to it. Susan strained to watch as Master Brian opened the rectangular door beneath her crotch. He reached through and grabbed her left outer labia. The first clamp went onto it. Susan screamed again in pain as Master Brian released the steel ball and allowed it to drop. The second clamp went onto her right outer labia. He juggled the ball up and down a couple of times while watching Susan's terrified face before finally allowing it to drop. The pain was incredible as her outer pussy lip was pulled downward hard.

"Now to continue," Master Brian said.

The box was repositioned beneath the rack, and the rack was slowly rotated downward. The cloth had been removed from the top, so Susan was able to see the butt plug and the white jism covering much of the interior surface. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the smells coming from the box, but it did no good. Her Master did not stop until her face was once again buried in the box. Her world was largely reduced to the stench permeating the enclosed space.

That did not last long. Susan did not hear Master Brian get the cane, but she certainly felt it when the first stroke crossed all five of the welts on her ass. The pain in her ass that had been banked by the passage of time reignited with an explosion. It was joined by the pull of the clamps on her labia and breasts as she tried to writhe in her bonds. The straps and ropes kept her nearly motionless, but the steel balls beneath her began to swing. They started swinging like small pendulums beneath her body.

Master Brian delivered ten strokes with the cane. Each was aimed to strike the existing welts on Susan's bottom. As a result, they hurt tenfold worse than a normal caning.

After the tenth stroke, Susan felt the rack rotated upwards. Her face was held about a foot above the top of the box. Master Brian's rampant cock appeared in her view. He ran his paw up and down the black rod a few times, and it erupted. With great deliberateness, Master Brian proceeded to cover Susan's face with warm, sticky ropes of sperm. He repeatedly jacked off over nearly half an hour before his cock wilted and would not harden again.

The rack was rotated downwards, and Susan's face was again submerged in darkness. This time she not only had the smell of her Master's spunk with which to contend, but her face fur was soaked with it as well. She could hear it slowly dripping from her fur.

"I'll be back in the morning. When I come in and release you, I expect you to take care of my morning wood with your sweet, tight tail hole. Bend over the rack, reach back and spread your ass cheeks wide. Beg for me to take you in the ass.

"Fail to do so or not beg well enough, and this will just be a warm-up for your punishment tomorrow!"

Susan heard the lights turned off and the door slam shut. She was left alone on the rack for the night. She grew somewhat used to the smell in the box, but the pain from the clamps attached to her nipples and pussy lips slowly increased throughout the night. Her ass still ached, but at least the passage of time dulled the pain some. She did not feel blood, but she suspected she would need a trip to the slave clinic tomorrow to tend her wounds even if she was not punished further.

Many hours later, Susan finally heard the door open. The clamps were removed from her labia and nipples. The sudden rush of blood into the abused flesh created so much pain that she nearly passed out. The straps and ropes were removed, and the vixen lay unencumbered on the rack.

"Well?!" the voice of Susan's Master demanded.

With great difficulty, Susan pushed her upper body off the rack. She more slid than crawled to the edge of the rack. Her legs and lower body fell over the side. It hurt after so many hours in tight bondage, but somehow she managed to spread her legs a bit and lift her tail weakly. She reached behind her and grabbed her ass cheeks. Crying a bit, she pulled open her ass crack to reveal her pink tail hole.

Susan looked over her left shoulder. Master Brian reached down and removed her muzzle. It took a couple of tries before Susan found her voice.

"Master," the vixen said in a whisper, "please take me."

"Not nearly good enough!" Master Brian yelled.

Susan's eyes widened. She said in a somewhat stronger voice, "Master, please rape me!"

"Still not good enough," Master Brian said contemptuously.

Desperately, Susan began to implore her Master, "Master! Please rape me in the ass! Force your hard tool into my butt! Fuck me until I pass out from pain and exhaustion! Take me and use me as your play toy! Shove-"

Whatever else Susan was going to say ended in a squeal as Master Brian grabbed her hips and rammed his unlubricated cock into her bottom. Only the remnants of last night's petroleum grease gave her any respite.

Susan lay beneath the stallion as he humped her ass hard and fast. She cried out repeatedly in pain, but Master Brian ignored her cries. He was only interested in his pleasure. Several minutes of abuse brought a sudden gush of hot jism into Susan's rectum. Her Master completely coated her interior before withdrawing.

Master Brian stood and looked down at his slave.

"Get cleaned up. You're a mess," was all he said before leaving the room.

Susan had to crawl to the bathroom. The hot water of the bath helped ease some of the pain and cramps in her body, but it did nothing about her abusive Master.