Part 18
Lena and Mina’s Reckoning
The date of the invitation had finally arrived. The oppressive glow of Club Abyss loomed once more as Lena and Mina prepared for what they knew would be their final confrontation. Their journey had been fraught with torment and near-escapes, but tonight, the endgame was clear. They would face Evelyn - the once untouchable hostess of the club - and settle the score for good. The crimson glow of the unmarked entrance flickered ominously as Lena and Mina descended the familiar staircase. The air was thick with anticipation, the music a distant hum that grew louder with each step.
Inside, the club was packed. Word of the final showdown had spread, and the latex-clad crowd thrummed with excitement and dread. The music cut off abruptly, the lights dimming to cast the room in eerie shadows.
In the dim light of Mina’s loft, the two women plotted meticulously. They knew Evelyn would be expecting them, prepared for any move they might make. Lena’s face was hardened by the trials they had endured, while Mina’s eyes flickered with a mix of determination and trepidation. Soon it would be time to be called onto the stage.
The message had been simple, yet chilling - a formal invitation to a final showdown at Abyss. Lena and Mina had been expecting it, their hearts steeled for the confrontation. But as the night approached, a sense of unease settled over them. This was no ordinary challenge; they could feel it in the air.
"She’ll try to outmaneuver us, to use the club’s dark atmosphere and its sadistic tools against us," Mina said, pacing the small room. "We need to be ready for anything. Sometimes I think she really is a vampire."
The electric hum of bass-heavy music washing over them like a wave. The club was alive with its usual decadence: patrons in dazzling latex outfits glittered under the kaleidoscope of lights, heels clicked against the polished floor, and laughter mingled with the music’s relentless pulse. But amidst the sea of avant-garde fashion, one figure stood out - a woman encased head to toe in dull, constricting rubber. Her suit gleamed faintly under the strobe lights, but unlike the sleek, provocative attire of others, her outfit was shapeless and oppressive. The hood covered her entire head, leaving only her eyes visible through the openings. Her movements were stiff, almost mechanical, as if each step was a conscious struggle.
Curious whispers followed the woman wherever she went, and it wasn’t long before Lena overheard fragments of her story. "That’s her last night in it," someone said. "She’s been doing her 100 hours… poor thing." Mina leaned closer, catching more of the murmurs. "She lost a fashion duel, they say, with rebreather masks. Had to spend a whole week trapped in that ugly, heavy thing. The rubber, the heat, the sweat - imagine that." Another voice added, "And she still had to return here to Abyss, fully suited, on her last night. Midnight, and she’s free." Lena’s eyes lingered on the woman, noting the way her hands occasionally flexed as if trying to escape the slick confines of her gloves. Both she and Mina exchanged a look of quiet understanding - Abyss’s punishments always lingered far beyond the stage.
Lena nodded, her jaw set. "And we will have our own duel soon. I could live with rubberization as forfeit, but I bet we dance against painful stakes instead, unlike that her. And I want pain, but for Evelyn this time. This isn’t just about revenge anymore. We need to ensure she can never haunt us - or anyone else - again."
Despite their confidence, a nagging doubt lingered. The stakes had always been high at Club Abyss, but this time, they knew there was some plan hiding in the shadows.
The time came and Evelyn raised a hand, as the music quieted. The crowd hushed, their attention riveted on the stage. Beside Evelyn, an attendant held a small, sealed envelope. Evelyn took it, her smile faltering as she held it up for all to see. She wore a cold smile, but there was a glint of something darker in her eyes - an edge of desperation. She knew this was as much her reckoning as it was theirs.
"Let us welcome Lena and Mina," Evelyn’s voice rang out, smooth and calculated. "You’ve been invited to return for one last dance. How fitting."
The crowd hushed as the attendant handed over the sealed envelope. her expression was unreadable, her movements deliberate as she handed the envelope to Evelyn. She had intended to set the stakes herself but the owners of Club Abyss intervened and had taken an interest themselves and insisted on adding their own ideas and twists. This was out of even her control.
She had suggested chastity for the owners to be included in the possible forfeits, of course. She was well aware of Lena lingering at the chastity plagues in the lounge, often gazing at Alina’s counter. Nothing too severe, as she herself could not afford to be drained by the effects of long-term denial while running Abyss. A year would be great; three still acceptable. But she had the feeling that the owners would escalate the stakes beyond anything reasonable. She needed to win, and she had set her plan in motion. Lena and Mina had walked into her trap, they would not be allowed to walk away from a rematch challenge without triggering their financial and social ruin due to their membership contracts. But she also knew that the owners played their own game and she was only a figure on their chessboard as well. She was risk, at a real risk. Tonight she needed to trust her own fate to the trap she had prepared.
"This will be a three-way dance duel. We will dance until we have two losers and only one winner. The stakes will be higher than before. Unknown, secret, set by the Owners. We will open their instructions now and prepare ourselves to dance."
"The stakes," Evelyn said simply, her voice echoing through the room. "This," she announced, her voice steady but with an edge of uncertainty, "contains the stakes for tonight’s duel. It was prepared by the owners of Abyss, without my own interference, who have been very intrigued by this developing feud and insisted this challenge worthy of only the highest consequences. They defined the stakes on my behalf as I work for them. Even I don’t know yet what will await the losers."
Evelyn opened the envelope with a flourish, her fingers steady despite the tension crackling in the air. Evelyn broke the seal and unfolded the paper inside. As she scanned the contents, her expression shifted from smug confidence to something darker - shock, even fear. A flicker of fear indeed crossed her face, her being unable for a second to hold up her strong facade. She swallowed hard before reading aloud.
"The stakes for tonight’s duel are as follows," Evelyn began, her voice faltering slightly. "The losers will face the Needle Frame, for 24, yes, that’s for 24 hours, three times as long as our normal duration, and modified with new enhancements, needles for the finger and toe nails. The frame will now include a sensor array to pulse the needles up and down in the rhythm of our beloved music. Staying still will not pause the pain this time. These needle arrays adjust to the body’s movement, ensuring maximum contact and pain."
The crowd gasped, the murmurs of excitement turning to uneasy whispers. But Evelyn continued, her voice growing shakier.
"In addition," she read, "the Needle Chamber in our basement will be filled with a dense, aphrodisiacal mist infused with an agent designed to heighten sensitivity, making every prick and jab more unbearable."
Lena and Mina exchanged tense glances, their resolve hardening. Evelyn’s hands visibly trembled as she unfolded the next part of the letter.
"Furthermore," she read, her voice barely a whisper now, "the losers will be given the Cap of Despair." She paused and regained her composure. Her eyes darted in panic from left to right, to the audience and then back to the letter. That meant the Count, the head of owners, for sure was willing to actively put his hostess’ sanity at risk.
"This cursed object consists of a small cap, mere two inches in diameter which is covered in sharp needles on its inside and smooth metal on the outside."
She paused again. Steeling herself she read the next part, hoping her voice was not brittle.
"The Cap of Despair is fixed via a clitoris piercing and 4 labia piercings into place, capping the clitoris under a shield of needles. An erect clitoris will be greeted by the needles and the unfortunate wearers will want to avoid any pressure on it, sealing their souls in perpetual longing, unable to fulfill a very basic desire. The Cap of Despair is held in place by rods with a spring loaded mechanism, making removal impossible."
The room fell into a stunned silence, the gravity of the stakes sinking in. Evelyn seemed momentarily shaken, her usual composure slipping. Mina gasped and with a panicky expression looked to Lena, her mouth wording a silent "No."
"It seems chastity is becoming a virtue again these days. Tonight, we will silence two clits." Evelyn concluded. She herself was truly shocked at the owner’s stakes. She wanted chastity in this duel for her two rivals, yes, but nothing permanent. There still was a risk that she might lose the duel.
"And lastly," she continued, "we will perform our dance in The Wraith’s Ensemble, a full-body spike suit made from thick latex, and our beloved Translucent Torment Heels equipped with dormant needles that activate with every misstep. The music," she added with a sly smile returning to her lips, "will be a long, intricate classical piece."
Lena’s stomach dropped. Classical music? They had trained for the relentless beats of the club, not the nuanced, slow and very precise rhythms of a symphony. They could not run, nor refuse, as it was a rematch to their earlier challenge. Refusal in a rematch would trigger their complete social and financial ruin according to their membership contracts. The stakes had been set. They had to take it or could be ruined by Abyss for breach of contract. The nature of Evelyn’s trap was clear now, now they understood fully why Evelyn let them win the previous time; there was no running from a re-match.
They were between a rock and a hard place.
The assistants brought out the latex spike suits, semi-loose black catsuits with plenty of nodules covering them. It was clear to everyone that under these knobs the sensor-active spikes lay dormant. The inside of the suit was slick in dressing aid, silicone oil. The Translucent Torment Heels were laid out as well, their black nodules gleaming under the club’s harsh lights. Behind the curtains, Lena and Mina stripped their own catsuits and with the help of the attendants, donned the outfits in silence, the knobs pressing lightly against their skin, a cruel promise of the pain to come, the almost familiar click when the heels locked around their vulnerable bare feet.
After stepping out on stage, the music soon began - soft, haunting strings that built into a complex orchestration. Evelyn’s smile widened as she started to move with practiced grace, her steps perfectly in sync with the ebb and flow of the melody.
Lena and Mina soon struggled to keep up, their bodies unfamiliar with the shifting rhythms. The sensors embedded in their suits detected every misstep, every falter, and the sharp spikes pulsed outwards in response, digging into their flesh. Soon, sweat was running profusely under the latex suits, which were sliding with ease over their sensitive skin.
Evelyn danced effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise, while Lena and Mina twisted and stumbled, the pain intensifying with each mistake. The sharp spikes dragging and scratching as well as prodding as they slid easily through the mixture of oil and sweat, biting into the sensitive skin. The classical music was unforgiving, its unpredictable tempo changes catching them off guard at every turn.
Sweat poured down their faces as they fought to stay in sync, but the spikes were relentless. Each misstep sent a wave of agony through their bodies, inside the heels, needles instead of spikes biting deeper with every beat they missed.
The crowd watched in a mix of awe and horror as Lena and Mina’s screams echoed through the club. Evelyn’s face was a mask of calm triumph, her plan unfolding perfectly. The classical piece dragged on, its complex layers twisting and turning, offering no reprieve. Evelyn was visibly bathed in sweat herself, her face twitching in agony when her spikes and needles activated occasionally.
As the symphony reached its crescendo, Lena’s legs buckled, the spikes driving into her with brutal precision. She collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain, her body unable to endure any longer. Mina danced on, she still had the chance to win over Evelyn. They danced, Lena between them, crumbled on the floor, trying to get the Heels off her feet.
Evelyn smiled at Mina, intimidating her, she tried to make her dance look effortless, but micro spasms betrayed her, revealing her pain. Mina was thrown off-guard as she looked down at Lena, who was now on all fours, trying in vain to find a position where the spikes in her suit were more bearable. She was gasping in pain, and Mina missed a note in the symphony, followed soon after another, and as the needles dug into the delicate part of her arches, her screams of agony filled the chamber, as she too succumbed to the relentless assault. They both lay on the floor, unable to find any acceptable movement as all spikes in the suits were fully extended, as well as the needles under their soles.
As the music came to a slow end a minute later, spikes retracting, Evelyn stepped forward, her victory all but assured. She gazed down at Lena and Mina, her smile cold and victorious.
"The dance is over," she declared, her voice cutting triumphantly through the air. "And you have lost. After serving your time in the needle frames, you are banned from returning to Abyss for a year. A deserved time-out. Enough of your impudent challenges. And even after, if you dare to show your faces here again, I will make you suffer beyond comprehension."
The weight of their defeat was crushing.
Evelyn stood victorious, but her victory was hollow. The stakes had shaken even her, the fear of what could have been lingering in her mind. For now, she had won, but the cost of power in Club Abyss was always steep. She had been close, too close, to falling down to the stage floor herself. Mina was too good at accepting pain. There had been significant risk for her. She felt betrayed by the owners of Abyss.
Lena and Mina, their spirits broken, were led once again into the basement, their fates sealed. And as the crimson glow of Club Abyss flickered in the night, the rhythm of the club continued, an eternal reminder that in this place, the dance never truly ends. The club’s patrons danced with new found vigor, celebrating the event and enjoying the thought that under the dance floor two women were suffering in their needles.
The dim, oppressive chamber beneath Club Abyss was filled with a heavy bass from above, broken only by the faint hum of machinery. In the center of the room stood two needle frames, ominous and meticulously designed to deliver the most excruciating pain imaginable without drawing a single drop of blood. Lena and Mina, stripped of their triumphs and latex suits, hung suspended within these cruel devices, their bodies subjected to an agony that defied comprehension.
The frames themselves were marvels of sadistic ingenuity. Metal arms extended from the base, holding Lena and Mina aloft, their limbs spread-eagled wide, leaving every inch of their naked bodies exposed. The dull, silver sheen of the countless needles glinted under the harsh light, each one positioned with precision to press into the most sensitive areas of the body.
Above and below, the arrays of needles hovered ominously, their movements controlled by a complex system of sensors and gears. These arrays adjusted constantly, ensuring that no part of their bodies was spared from the relentless pressure of the needles, just dull enough not to puncture the skin.
As the first wave of needles pressed into their skin, a gasp escaped from Lena’s lips, followed by a strangled cry from Mina. The sensation on their return into the frame was unlike anything they had ever experienced - a relentless, maddening pressure that didn’t break the skin but seemed to burrow into their very nerves.
The frame’s sensors detected every twitch, every shudder, and adjusted accordingly. The needles moved in concert with their bodies, pressing harder with each involuntary movement, ensuring that there was no escape from the torment.
The soles of their feet bore the brunt of the torment. The frames were equipped with the add-on of specialized arrays designed to focus on this particularly sensitive area. As the needles pressed into the delicate skin of their soles, Lena and Mina writhed in agony, the pain radiating up their legs in unbearable waves. The soles were targeted not only because of their sensitivity but also because they had already been weakened by the brutal dance. The needles pushed into the soft flesh with cruel precision, stimulating every nerve ending without breaking the skin. The sensation was a mixture of searing pain and maddening discomfort, as if the very fabric of their being was being unraveled with each passing second.
The torment extended to their fingers and toes, where the needles found new avenues of pain. Upon careful placement of these needles under the finger nails by the attendants, a symphony of twenty sharp cry echoed through the basement, ten from Lena and ten even louder screams from Mina. Each nail was subjected to relentless, pulsating pressure from the needles. The frames’ sensors ensured that the needles pressed directly between nail and the nail beds, creating a sensation akin to having their nails pried away slowly, without any actual damage being done.
The twentyfold symphony played out once again, in an even more ferocious intensity as the procedure was repeated at their toe nails.
The pain from the needles under their nails was sharp and unrelenting, sending jolts of agony through their hands and feet with every pulse. Lena’s fingers and toes twitched uncontrollably, each movement met with a fresh wave of torment as the needles adjusted to maintain their cruel contact. Mina’s toes curled instinctively, but the frames were designed to counter such movements, forcing her toes to remain spread and exposed to the full brunt of the needles’ assault.
The attendants went underneath the frames and inspected their occupants clits, somewhat disappointed to find Lena already pierced. After one of them vanished under Mina’s frame, she heard her friend starting to moan. Gentle at first, then more intensely. Lena recognized her deep moan as the was soon teetering on the edge. The moaning turned into a shrill shriek of panic, as they let their piercing needle wander through Mina’s clitoris, drawing out a deep and long scream. Quickly, the labia were also pierced, with barbells added, to stabilize the fresh piercing canals. The pain from this almost neglectable under the needle frames activity.
With their duties done for now, the attendants left them to their tortures in the frames, only to return after twenty-four hours. As if the needles weren’t enough, the chamber was filled with a dense mist laced with an aphrodisiacal agent. This mist heightened their sensitivity, amplifying every prick and jab to an unbearable degree. The air was thick and cloying, each inhalation drawing more of the mist into their lungs.
The agent acted quickly, enhancing their nervous system’s response to the pain. What might have been a dull ache became a searing, electrifying torment. The mist clung to their skin, seeping into their pores, making every inch of their bodies hyper-sensitive to the touch of the needles.
Time lost all meaning in the chamber. The needle frames were relentless, their automated systems ensuring that the torment was continuous and varied. The arrays send waveforms over the needles, moving them to the rhythm of the bass still heard down in the basement, pressing into different parts of their bodies, never allowing their nerves a moment of respite. The soles of their feet, the tips of their fingers, the delicate skin beneath their nails - no area was spared.
Lena’s mind swam in a sea of pain, her thoughts fractured and disjointed. She could feel every needle, every pulse, as if her very essence was being unraveled by the torment. Mina fared no better, her body convulsing with each new wave of pain, her cries muffled by the thick mist that filled the chamber.
The psychological aspect of their torment was equally devastating. The knowledge that the needles would never draw blood, never cause permanent damage, made the pain all the more maddening. There was no release, no hope of passing out. Their bodies were kept in a state of heightened awareness, forced to endure every second of the agony. Lena could feel her sanity slipping, each pulse of the needles driving her closer to the edge. Mina’s screams had turned to sobs, her spirit broken by the relentless assault.
As the 24-hour punishment drew to a close, Lena and Mina’s bodies were wracked with exhaustion, their nerves frayed to the breaking point. The needles continued their merciless assault, pressing into their soles, their fingers, their toes, each pulse a reminder of their defeat.
The frames showed no mercy, their automated systems ensuring that the torment continued until the very last second
Finally, the frames fell dormant, the needles slowly pulling away from their bodies. The aphrodisiacal mist dissipated, leaving Lena and Mina gasping for air, their lungs burning with the remnants of the agent.
The silent attendants returned, standing menacingly before them, on two velvet cushions, two small circular silvery objects presented themselves in the dim light. The Caps of Despair. With nimble fingers, the clitoral hoods were pushed back, the barbells were removed and the metal shields put over their clits. Spring loaded small rods slid into the three canals of the Caps of Despair, two through the labia, and the central one securely through the clitoris itself, holding it ever so slightly under tension. Small balls were securely screwed onto each end, until a definite click secured them into place with the sound signaling finality. The attendants continued to turn the balls until they just came off, with no apparent mechanism of removal remaining.
Both were lowered from the frames, their bodies limp and trembling, sinking to the floor. The torment was over, but the pain lingered, a phantom reminder of the 24 hours of unimaginable agony they had endured.
Lena and Mina were left alone in the chamber, their bodies battered but intact. The piercings would heal, but the psychological scars would remain. They had faced the full wrath of Club Abyss’s sadistic machinery, but at a cost that neither could fully comprehend yet.