Part 47
Bound by Desire
The dim light of Lena’s apartment cast long shadows across the walls, creating a somber atmosphere that mirrored the weight both she and Mina carried. More than two years had passed since they had been cursed with the Caps of Despair and Rings of Longing, cursed bindings that kept their desires in constant torment. The fires of lust burned as intense as on the first day. Their passion remained, yet the chastity piercings stripped them of the fulfillment they needed.
The Cap of Despair dulled their time together, a constant, nagging reminder of their failings, while the Rings of Longing only heightened their unfulfilled desires, ensuring they could never fully satisfy their carnal cravings. The chastity made their growing closeness agonizingly bittersweet. Every intimate moment was tainted by the impossibility of consummation, leaving them yearning for what they could never truly have.
Despite their suffering, they found solace in the one activity that brought them closest: playing the Cursed Clarinet. The strange dual dildo, black with silver knobs and dimples hiding dormant spikes, was their shared burden and salvation. With its dual shafts, it required perfect synchronization, punishing any discord with sharp, sudden pain. The clarinet had become their most intimate connection, a means of expression where words failed. They had mastered its function, learning that synchronization of their movements would trigger the waves of spikes, while the penetration would expand or shrink the studs.
For months, they practiced daily, pouring their hearts into the complex pieces of the Seven Circles of Hell. The clarinet’s punishment was relentless, but their desire to succeed pushed them forward. Yet, no matter how hard they tried, they could never make it through the final, grueling piece - the seventh circle, a torturous three-hour endurance trial. Each attempt left them exhausted, physically and emotionally drained. What they could not master was the endurance required for the final songs duration.
One evening, after yet another failed attempt, they sat together in the quiet of Lena’s living room. The clarinet lay between them, its still glistening surface reflecting the soft light. Lena reached for Mina’s hand, their fingers intertwining as they shared a moment of silent connection.
"We’ll get through it one day," Lena whispered, her voice filled with quiet determination. "I know we will, Cosmina."
Mina nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I believe in us," she replied softly. "Even if it takes forever, I’m glad I have you, Yelena."
"It’s my languished soul speaking directly. For being with you, as close as we have grown, I think I can accept my chastity, accept that I will not orgasm again. I’m okay to be chaste for you, not for Abyss, not for Evelyn, but for you."
Lena pulled her close and kissed her partner again. "My dear, I love you too. It burdens me to see your soul languished, instead of your soles," smiling sheepishly at the word play.
The weight of their curse seemed to lift in that moment, replaced by the warmth of their shared bond. Their lips hovered close, the ache of their chastity palpable, but the emotional closeness they felt was enough, if only for a while.
As the night wore on, they found themselves lost in conversation, reminiscing about their first encounters at Abyss, the thrill of the dance, and the unspoken feelings that had grown between them. The pain of their unfulfilled desire was still there, a constant undercurrent, but the comfort of each other’s presence made it bearable.
Lena gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Mina’s face, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "No matter how hard this gets, we have each other. That’s what matters most."
Mina smiled, leaning into Lena’s touch. "As long as we’re together, I can endure anything."
They sat in silence, the clarinet resting nearby, a symbol of their shared struggle and commitment. Though the path ahead remained uncertain, and the torment of their curses continued to loom over them, they drew strength from their bond. Together, they would face whatever challenges came their way, finding solace in the love that grew stronger with each passing day.
The next morning, on a weekend, renewed by their emotional closeness, they approached their practice session with a fresh sense of determination. The Seventh Circle of Hell still loomed large, but they were resolved to face it together, one note at a time.
"Ready?" Lena asked.
Mina nodded, a confident smile on her face. "Let’s do this."
They soon found their rhythm, their connection deepening with every synchronized breath. The journey was far from over, but together, they would continue to fight, driven by the hope that one day, they would finally break free from the chains that bound them.
They knew the music and its beat by heart now, anticipating with perfection. They pushed deep over the dormant studs. For two hours and some, the smooth dildo was ridden, their nether lips touching, sweat flowing freely. Mina slipped eventually, losing a bit of her vigor, riding only a part of her side of the shaft. The studs responded instantly, surprising Lena on her side as she took the full length up to the center piece. Raked too deeply after two hours of hovering just under the edge, the unthinkable happened as the the studded dildo went in and out a few more time, hitting her deepest apex. She shuddered, her walls clenching down hard on the studs with the hunger of years, her muscles locked, toes curling into the bedsheet. A long cry escaped her mouth as the started to orgasm right here and there on the clarinet. Mina froze in total disbelief. Her surprise, unfortunately for Lena, triggered the retraction of the studs and their immediate replacement by the spikes. Her moan turned into a shrill shriek and her eyes flew open in a panic, as the spiked dildo plunged deepest into her apex, kissing her cervix in the most painful way.
Realizing what was happening, Mina slowly dismounted from her end and carefully helped retracting the pulsing instrument from a Lena who was writhing in pain.
As they sat at their table, Lena broke the silence, "We have found the way. Now we know."
Evelyn paced the length of her private chamber in Abyss, her feet already aching with every step even before she started the song. The Stilettos of the Languished Arches gripped her feet like a vice, the dormant spikes pressing just enough to remind her of their presence. Every night she practiced, and every night the weight of the seventh circle bore down on her more heavily.
The earlier circles had been a breeze, mere exercises of endurance she could easily conquer. But the Seventh Circle of Hell was an entirely different beast - three hours of relentless music, each note demanding perfection, each step threatening the sting of the spikes.
Evelyn’s confidence had carried her through the first six circles, but now, as the seventh loomed, doubt crept into her mind. The spikes pressed ever so slightly deeper with each misstep during her private practices, a cruel reminder of the stakes should she fail. The thought of enduring three uninterrupted hours in these heels seemed insurmountable, even in normal heels, at her age, even with her years of experience and her resilience honed over decades.
The fear wasn’t merely of failing the seventh circle. Evelyn knew that if she did not conquer it, the owners of Abyss would seize control of the stakes. The thought of the Needle Coffin - a device of long-term confinement - haunted her. She had heard the whispers of its design, a place where countless needles would press against the skin, never breaking it but creating a sensation of constant, maddening discomfort, and a sensor-laden tiny vibrator at the occupant’s clitoris. A promise of unending and unrelenting pain and unfulfilled arousal alternating. Retirement.
"If you fail, the owners will set the stakes, and the loser of the duel will find themselves retired within its comforting embrace." The words still echoed in her mind, chilling her to the core. Evelyn had built her life around control and dominance, and the idea of losing that, of being confined in such a horrific device, was unthinkable.
Despite her fear, one comforting thought lingered: the absence of any response from Lena or Mina. Since issuing the challenge with the cursed clarinet, she had neither seen them nor heard whispers of their progress. It was unlike Lena to stay away from Abyss for so long, especially with a challenge hanging over her head.
Evelyn sat down, her thoughts swirling. What could be keeping them? Were they struggling as much as she was? Or had they simply given up? The latter seemed unlikely, knowing Lena’s resilience and determination. But the uncertainty gnawed at her, feeding her anxiety about the impending duel.
She had expected some sign, some indication that Lena and Mina were working through the circles of the cursed clarinet. The silence was unnerving, leaving Evelyn to wonder if they were waiting for the right moment to return, stronger and more prepared.
The thought of the duel itself weighed heavily on Evelyn. If she couldn’t conquer the seventh circle, she would be at the mercy of the owners. They would set the stakes, and the needle coffin loomed as a terrifying certainty. The idea of being trapped, unable to move, feeling the incessant pressure of the needles, filled her with dread.
Evelyn clenched her fists, trying to shake the fear. She had always been in control, always the one dictating the terms. The thought of losing that control, of being at the mercy of others, was intolerable. Yet, the heels on her feet reminded her of the precariousness of her situation. Every step she took was a reminder of the stakes she faced, the ever-present possibility of failure. Despite her doubts, Evelyn knew she couldn’t afford to falter. The owners were watching, their expectations clear. She had to endure, had to push through the pain and conquer the seventh circle. It was the only way to retain her control, her position, her very identity within Abyss.
The thought of Lena and Mina lingering in the shadows, waiting for their moment, spurred her on. Evelyn had to be ready, had to ensure that when the time came, she could face whatever challenge lay ahead. The stakes were too high, the consequences too dire.
With the year coming to its end, new events to be planned in Abyss, Evelyn took a deep breath, steeling herself. The path was uncertain, the challenges daunting, but she had no choice but to continue. She would fight, endure, and conquer - or risk losing everything. She pressed play and the music started.
As she stood, the heels pressing into her feet once more, Evelyn resolved to push through the pain, to face the seventh circle with all the strength she could muster. The future of Abyss, and her place within it, depended on it.
Three weeks later, the heels of Ana’s boots struck the pavement like war drums. She didn’t wear a cloak. She didn’t hide the belt’s outline beneath her catsuit. She wanted them to see it. To feel what it meant.
Her latex was jet black, impossibly tight. As she moved, it creaked softly, like leather whispering secrets. The seams dug into her skin, her gloves slicked over her fingers. Each step sent a hum through her thighs, her calves trembling. Her breath came shallow.
The bouncer didn’t speak. He simply stepped aside. Ana entered Abyss.
Inside, the scent of warm latex, spiced oils, and candle smoke wrapped around her like a lover. The music pulsed low and steady. Bodies moved in shadows. Chains whispered. Laughter echoed from hidden rooms.
But Ana moved with purpose. She made for Evelyn’s private lounge without pause, her boots loud on the marble.
Evelyn was waiting, of course. Draped in blood-red latex, corset laced tightly, gloves reaching past her elbows. Her eyes, ancient and knowing, flicked to Ana’s form with amusement.
"You’ve returned with yet another demand," Evelyn said, rising slowly. Her voice was silk and poison. "So soon."
Ana pulled back her hood. Her hair tumbled free, damp from sweat. "I want it again. I need it. The sanctum. The tongues. I’ll do another challenge."
Evelyn approached, circling her like a cat. "You ache. I can feel it from here."
Ana bristled. "You planned this."
"Of course."
Ana’s voice cracked. "Then name it. Let me earn it."
Evelyn stopped in front of her. "Last time, you danced with mercy. You were given a stage with no audience, a pedestal that welcomed you like an old friend. This time, you must entertain."
Ana felt her throat tighten.
"The Stilettos of the Languished Arches," Evelyn whispered.
Neither shock nor delight was Ana’s reaction. Abyss’ standard heels. Malicious shoes, but tame compared to other high heels. She had watched others - dancers writhing on the stage, trying to stay in rhythm, every misstep punished by rising spikes beneath their feet.
Ana swallowed. "If I win - "
"You get the night," Evelyn said, smiling. "The tongues. The edging. The worship."
"And if I lose?"
Evelyn turned toward her chaise and sat slowly. "The needle frame. With toe pads installed. For a whole night. For your extreme desire to be met, I want to see if you are ready to risk extreme pain, under a real challenge."
Ana’s stomach twisted. She remembered the tales and rumors too well. Everybody knew, but few had personally experienced the foot pads. The thin, needles of the articulated pads, sliding beneath the toenails, forcing absolute stillness and punishing every twitch with sadistic pain. Was she ready to find out what they really felt like?
Sensing her hesitation, Evelyn explained, "You want extreme pleasure and we are ready to give you that. But we want extreme pain, and we ask you, are you ready to give us that as well? The toe pad addition is intense, I can tell you from personal experience. No blood drawn, but it’s a pain beyond comprehension when the needles invade under your toe nails. Of course you may decline this offer, but the Inner Sanctum will stay as locked as your belt."
Ana looked away. Her breath grew shallow.
"There is an alternative offer," Evelyn said quietly, sensing her ongoing hesitation.
Ana looked up.
"Should you choose," Evelyn continued, "to raise the stakes… should you truly crave something deeply satisfying, I can offer you something rare. And no pain if you should lose."
Ana didn’t speak. She simply stared.
"Orgasm," Evelyn said.
The word was a gunshot. A fire. Ana gasped. Her thighs clenched.
"Orgasm. On their tongues. You’ve lasted long," Evelyn said. "Going eight months into your second year already. That kind of denial carves new channels in the mind. It makes climax into a religion. Imagine it. Under their tongues, this is nothing comparable to a normal orgasm. No teasing. No denial. Just the fall."
Ana shivered. Her voice cracked. "And the price?"
"You desire most that what money can not buy you here. And you know what I desire most from you. Failure means a third year," Evelyn said.
Ana froze.
A third year.
Her thoughts spiraled. Could she survive that long? Could her mind remain whole? Would she become one of the silent ones - those who never laughed, only obeyed, locked for life?
She couldn’t. Not yet.
"No," she whispered. "Not yet. I want the night of edges instead. Edges are enough. No orgasm."
Evelyn smiled gently. "Wise. Then the terms are simple. Win, and the sanctum is yours. Lose, and you will learn that the pain runs as deep as the edges ran high. Pain all over your body and deep beneath your toenails."
Ana shivered, but nodded. "I agree."
Evelyn leaned in and kissed her forehead. "We have an event plan next week. The stage is will be yours the weekend after, Ana. And every eye in Abyss will be watching."