This one I wrote yesterday. Like all my stories, it has a bad ending. Contains selfbondage and whipping
Of all the students that got the engineering degree in the class of 2019, all were male except one. The woman, named Isabella, has chosen this line of profession for more than the usual reasons. She had always been fascinated by the idea of bondage and torture. She spent hours reading books and researching online about different methods and devices used throughout history. She never dared to tell any of her occasional dates about her fantasies, too shy for that, and too scared that her reputation would be ruined. But she wanted to take it to the next level, to create something that would truly test the limits of pain and pleasure.
She landed a job that paid good enough to afford her own place, and bought an old house on the edge of town with a large cellar. Once she was settled in, she started converting her cellar into a workshop.
After months of planning and gathering materials, Isabella finally completed her bondage machine. It was a large metal standing frame with restraints for the arms, legs, and neck, as well as a whip attached to a motorized arm that could strike with various strength and at various levels. She had carefully programmed the machine to be able to follow various protocols. For the first real test, she planned to set it to start off slow and gradually increase in speed and intensity, ensuring that the person being whipped would experience a steadily increase level of pain. She set up cameras to record the test.
Despite her extensive preparations, Isabella trembled with anticipation on the day of the real live test, as she opened the door to her dingy basement. The inside had been transformed into a dimly lit chamber, with soft whispers and moans echoing through the cold, damp air. Excited to test out her creation, Isabella stripped down and placed her body onto the frame of the machine. She positioned her arms, legs and neck in line with the automatic cuffs, ready for the 20 minutes test run. A quick glance at the screen of the controller to confirm the correct settings. Then she eagerly pressed the start button, anticipating the intense mixture of pain and pleasure she was about to feel. Click click click and the cuffs sealed around her limbs. Five seconds later the electric hoist switched on and the entire frame, with her strapped on it, was lifted in the air. She held her breath and braced herself as the whipping arm moved backward for the first strike.
Isabella closed her eyes, steeling herself for the first slap of the leather against her skin. As the whip connected with her back, she yelped in pain, her body arching in response. With twenty second intervals, the motorized arm rhythmically swung back and forth, sometimes as high as just below her neck, sometimes as low as her upper legs. Isabella felt her pussy getting moist, as the whipping arm began to steadily increase speed as the intensity of the painful stings grew.
She could hardly breathe, her heart pounding in her chest. The pain was overwhelming, yet somehow it only heightened her arousal. Each stroke sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her, as though she were a creature of pure sensation.
The machine's programming grew increasingly brutal, and Isabella knew that soon she would be unable to withstand the agony. But still, she craved more. Her mind was a whirlwind of desire and pain, her body screaming for release. Then the long anticipated orgasm struck her. Exhausted, she looked at the timer. Only three minutes left before the whip would stop and the restraints would automatically open. About time, her back was really sore.
Then murphy's law entered the game. An undetected bug in the programmming played it's card. The machine malfunctioned, its circuits overloaded and causing it to go into overdrive. The timer stopped at 2.52 but the whip did not stop. Instead, it began to move at an alarming speed, whipping Isabella's back with a force she had never imagined. The pain was excruciating, and she screamed in agony as the whip tore through her skin and flesh.
In the midst of the chaos, Isabella's eyes widened in terror as the machine continued its relentless assault. Against all odds, she tried to yank herself free from the restraints, but her body was immobile and bound so tightly that she could barely move a finger. She screamed for help, her pleas only echoing through the cold, damp basement.
The machine's programming seemed to have reached its maximum setting, the whip striking her relentlessly. The pain was unimaginable, and Isabella's mind raced with fear and desperation. Despite the pain, orgasm after orgasm hit her. She could feel her skin being torn apart, the texture of her back becoming raw and bleeding. Her cries for mercy fell on deaf ears, replaced by the sound of the whip continuing its brutal dance.
Desperately, Isabella pulled to free herself from the restraints again and again, but they were too strong, designed to be inescapeable. She was trapped, at the mercy of her own creation. The whipping continued for hours, each strike more brutal than the last. Isabella's screams turned into gurgles as her back, ass and upper legs became a bloody mess, the skin and flesh ripped away by the relentless whipping.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, something burned through. The machine came to a stop. Isabella's body hung limply in the restraints, her back nothing but a raw, bloody mass exposing her ribs. The pain was unbearable, but she couldn't even scream anymore. She was dying.
Isabella's mind raced with the realization of her fate. She had created a monster, a machine that had malfunctioned and taken her life. Her last thoughts were of the pain mixed with the orgasms, the agony she had experienced and the nightmare she had unleashed upon herself.
In the basement, her soft whispers and moans had stopped. The cold, damp air was now still and silent. Isabella's body swung gently in the restraints as her life slipped away, her once vibrant eyes now lifeless, reflecting the dim lighting.
And so, the bondage machine stood there, its purpose fulfilled in the most horrifying way possible. Isabella's creation had pushed her beyond the limits of pain and pleasure, into a realm of unimaginable torture and death.
She had been tortured to death by her own creation.
Weeks later, her decaying body was discovered.
Detectives were assigned to inspect the scene, their faces etched with a mix of horror and disgust. They carefully documented every detail, documenting the grisly remains of Isabella's lifeless body and the remnants of the machine that had taken her life
As the police investigated Isabella's death, they found her journals and notes about the bondage machine. They also viewed the footage of her cameras, showing a gruesome event that resembled the plot of a snuff film. They were horrified by the level of detail and planning that had gone into it. It became clear that Isabella had intended to use it for only a short session, to get a moderate mild whipping without leaving scars.
They noted the signs of agony and pain that had consumed her, etched into her skin and etched into the machine that had been her final undoing.
Her own twisted creation had turned on her, and she had paid the ultimate price for her obsession with pain and pleasure.
Topic: isabella and the whipmachine (Read 194 times)