Asstr Impaled

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Asstr Impaled








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Ol' cc has been writing underage M/g 'spanking and sex' stories and posting them at asstr.org for over 10 years. He specializes in surprisingly gentle and romantic fare, hard to find in the underage BDSM category. He loves communication, so by all means write! ;-) p.s.: Ol' cc uses the word 'rape' in a nonstandard way, basically meaning 'forceful' or 'masterful', not necessarily nonconsensual or violent.
A preteen girl is captured by a tyrannical government. The official torturer wants to help her, but is forced to punish her and finally impale her alive in order to save her life and defeat the tyrants.

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Beautiful story, imaginative and well worthwhile. Love the descriptions and feeling. Well done!

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"So, Tomas, what approach would you use in this case?"
"Well, Master, I think the posterior approach is clearly the correct one. Not only will it be much safer and technically less difficult, it will allow for the anterior...attack which is to follow."
"Very good. Of course, there should be no question in a case like this, where survival is paramount: the posterior approach is so much easier technically, that it would be irresponsible to go anterior. Fortunately the Tribunal has not specified the anterior approach as they sometimes do..."
I think that the proselytizers for the insurgency had laid the groundwork well. Freedom, compassion, justice: heady stuff, and beginning to influence even me, a high-level official in the Torturer's Guild. But it was when I first saw the little girl that the dam burst in my own heart. I had long known that I was attracted to preteen girls. It had been some time since one had been delivered into my hands in my official capacity, and I had never performed my specialty on one so young. It is true that I had performed many similar...procedures on older prisoners, and regretfully not all the subjects survived, all though this had never been because of any technical problems; it was the will of the Tribunal that some of the subjects die after I had done my work. But this little one was so sweet, and slender, and fetching. And as I said, I've always found preteen girls sexually attractive. My heart went out to her. It was at that moment that I determined to save her, if I could, and help to bring down the Tribunal.
She was an orphan, about ten years old. Her parents had been prominent in the Struggle, both executed by the Tribunal years before. Thankfully I had been involved in neither case. She had been cared for by other revolutionaries, and was held in high regard for her parents' sake. Now she had been captured, and the Tribunal had sentenced her to a dreaded torture. Like all their actions, they had weighed this to a nicety in the scales of their malice, in arrogant cruelty and lust, hoping that the rebels would be drawn out to try and save her, to their downfall. However, just as her capture was the pebble that started the avalanche in my own heart, so her torture would be in the citizenry. The Tribunal had miscalculated.
When I first saw her, she was lying on the cot in her cell, trembling. At that moment I knew I would have to save her, and I knew what I would have to do to succeed. But she was under constant surveillance, recordings made to be replayed at the Tribunal's pleasure, for their twisted amusement, and I had no time to make the preparations necessary to thwart the cameras so that I could communicate freely with the girl. Without talking to her, there was no way to sugarcoat what I had to do. If I had refused to proceed, I would have been replaced by someone with nothing but ill intentions for her, so I had to play my part.
As I entered the cell she shrank back against the wall, shivering. She was dressed in a simple shift which barely sufficed to cover her nakedness. She was gorgeous, a preteen angel in despair. I was torn; part of me lusted after her, wanting to tear her clothes off, whip and molest her, then rape her sternly and thoroughly. Part of me was entranced by her slim, elfin beauty. Part of me wanted desperately to protect her, nurture her, comfort her, cherish her. And part of me continued to coldly calculate: I could do nothing to ameliorate her distress today, not yet. The best thing to do was to get today's session over with, put it 'in the can' for the Tribunal's twisted pleasure.
"Stand up," I commanded. When she did not immediately comply, I swung the crop I carried across her bare thighs. She yelped, and hurried to obey. "You have been sentenced to be punished every day. Part of your punishment is to be naked all the time. Take off your clothes." She simply gaped at me, tears in her eyes. I repeated myself, once more swinging the crop across her thighs.
She cried out again, saying, "Oh, please, please let me go! Please!"
In reply I simply grabbed the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head and off. She was a stunner: long silken hair, slim hips, sweet little nipples atop breastbuds that barely broke the plane of her chest, gleaming unfledged cleft...I grabbed her, sat on the cot, and pulled her across my lap. She tried to struggle, but I had long experience in handling recalcitrant prisoners much bigger and stronger than her. She might as well have been fighting a tree. "Today you are to be spanked," I intoned. I gave her a level 2 spanking, as specified by the Tribunal. It was just a taste of her punishment to come, but I'm sure she found it uncomfortable enough. I smacked her naked bottom again and again, making sure to leave the telltale red handprints, so there could be no suspicion of leniency on my part. She wailed and sobbed. Once I had her bottom sufficiently reddened to meet level 2 specifications I let her up. She sobbed and danced from foot to foot, rubbing her bottom with both hands, her little unfledged cleft jiggling hypnotizingly before my eyes. I spun on my heels and left her sniffling in her cell.
"Hector, where should the exit into the abdominal cavity take place?"
"Where the rectum joins the sigmoid, at the point farthest from the anus, Master."
"Because we will have the best chance of avoiding the vascular supply there, Sir."
"Excellent. Tomas, what about insufflation?"
"It would make localization easier, Master, but we should avoid it because of the risk of peritonitis."
"Quite right. Despite meticulous preparation, insufflation poses too great a risk of introduction of colonic bacteria carried with the rush of gas from the viscera to the peritoneal cavity when it is entered. If this were a terminal application, it would make no difference. But in this case, safety is paramount. We shall have to limit ourselves to imaging guidance only. Hector, what are the considerations in negotiating the passage from the rectum to the peritoneum?"
"We will make an incision just large enough to allow passage of the instrument, Master, using the scalpel attachment at the tip. The cutting will cause no pain, as the viscera's afferent innervation do not respond to sharp pain, only to stretching. Without insufflation, this will be kept to a minimum. With luck, we will not have to apply any coagulant to the incision as the pressure of the instrument itself will compress the small vessels of the bowel wall."
"Very good. Now for the passage through the peritoneal cavity..."
She finally sobbed herself to sleep on her little cot. I wanted to work quickly, so I could get back to her as soon as possible. From conversations we had had lately, I suspected my assistants would be sympathetic, and I was correct. This was fortunate, as Tomas was an electronics whiz, and was able to quickly 'hack' into the monitoring system. Soon we had a loop of recording of the little girl after she fell asleep. Spliced in carefully, this gave me some time to talk with her unmonitored.
She was lying, curled up on the cot, facing the wall. Her little bottom was still red. I shook her awake. She gave a short scream and huddled back against the wall, vainly trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. I tried to calm her, mostly in vain. She remained deeply suspicious of me, but was willing to talk, a bit. I asked her if there was anything I could do to reassure her that I was trying to help her. Her face brightened a bit; "The code word!" she almost shouted. "If you're a friend, you'll know the code word! Do you know it?" She seemed earnestly hopeful by that point. Regrettably I had to tell her that I didn't know it, but I would try to learn it by contacting the Resistance and reassuring them as to my intentions. Saying this, followed by my quick retreat from her cell, seemed to mollify her. Before I left I reminded her that she was constantly monitored, so she should always act as if she had no idea I was trying to help her, unless I told her otherwise.
Providentially, Hector's brother was a Revolutionary. Although there was no way I could have gotten the girl out, as a senior member of the Torturer's Guild, having studied under the great Torvak, and the acknowledged master of my particular specialty, I was free to come and go myself with no one to question me. Within a few hours I was meeting with their Council, offering them my help. They had little choice. On the one hand, I could have been luring them somehow into a trap, but they already assumed the Tribunal was using the girl as bait. There was little additional risk in receiving assistance from me. I asked nothing in return except the code word.
I judged that I had just enough time to visit her once more before the loop would be noticed. She was awake when I entered her cell, watching me warily, her back against the wall. "*********," I simply said. Her face brightened, and she jumped off the cot, nearly dancing with excitement.
"Oh, you do know it! You are going to help me! Can we leave now, please??!" she begged. Regrettably I had to inform her that it was too risky. I might be able to come and go at will, but there was no way to sneak her out without detection. I told her that the Council and I had decided that the safest thing to do was to pretend to fall into the trap set by the Tribunal, hoping to rescue her during the battle.
"So, little princess, I will have to go through with the punishments the Tribunal has sentenced you to. Remember, if I don't, they'll get someone else. That would be...very bad. I'm not going to tell you all about how you are to be punished. It will be hard enough for you to act as if you don't know I'm a friend as it is. I will try to make your punishments a little less...uncomfortable. I will tell you, though: they will still be unpleasant at times, which is just as well; you'll need to react. The Tribunal will be watching." With that, I left her for the morrow.
In the morning, I strode briskly into her cell. "Get up," I commanded harshly. She came awake with a start, and tumbled off the cot, just ahead of a stroke from the crop. "Today you are to be bound, and thoroughly cropped." She fought some, as I seized her. I couldn't tell if she was faking or not; a good thing. Soon I had her naked and spreadeagled, wrists and ankles fastened with straps to the iron rings installed in the cell for just that purpose. She was already whimpering, obviously embarrassed to be only ten, yet so naked and exposed before a grown man. I swung the crop sternly against the backs of her thighs, leaving a red mark with each stroke. She cried out, tears springing to her eyes. I continued to whip her on the fronts of her thighs, then moved back around to her still-red bottom. Her cries increased in volume as the strap-end connected with her jiggling buttocks.
I hadn't told her, nor could it be told from observation, but I had replaced the strap of the crop with a different material, carefully cut and dyed to look like a typical crop, but designed to cause substantially less pain on contact.
I paused after I was done with her bottom. She sobbed, hanging in the straps. She was a fetching sight, her hair in disarray, her cheeks flushed, her little chest heaving; atop her tiny breastbuds, her nipples were erect. "Oh please, oh please, oh please," she moaned.
I tipped her chin up with the crop, looking her in the face. "We're not done yet," I intoned. Her little face screwed up in anticipation. Rightly so, for I then brought the crop down across her chest, whipping her little breast buds and nipples again and again as she wailed. Once I judged them sufficiently reddened, I shifted aim, now targeting her mons and puffy cleft lips as she shook and yelped with each stroke. I finished her punishment with one last stroke, bringing the crop up sharply between her legs to land full upon her cleftlips and clitoris. She was still wailing as I released her, and she stumbled onto the cot, shaking and rubbing her abused nakedness. I strode out without a word.
"Someone tell me how we will traverse the peritoneal cavity, hmm?" I inquired of my two assistants. They looked at each other, then Tomas said, "Well, Master, once we are in the peritoneal cavity, we could use insufflation. Any material forced by the air pressure will be traveling out of the peritoneum, into the bowel. There should be no risk of infection."
"Quite right, quite right, m'lad, but we must be careful. For comfort and...aesthetic reasons, if nothing else, I do not want the abdomen distended substantially. We will keep the insufflation to a minimum necessary to negotiate the passage. What are the structures we must navigate around, Hector?"
"The transverse colon, the loops of small bowel, the pancreas, the iliac arteries, the aorta, the mesenteric arteries, and the stomach, Master," he recited, eyes closed in concentration.
"Correct. Of course, there are smaller structures, nerves, arteries, and so forth, we must be careful of. But the instrument will be blunt at that point, and the risk of serious damage will be minimal, if we are careful..."
The next day I again entered her cell as she eyed me, seemingly warily. "Stand up," I commanded. She slowly clambered off her cot. "Today you are sentenced to be sexually molested and abused by a man, but not raped. You are also to be front-spanked," I announced. I'm not sure how much of that she understood. "I would prefer to administer this punishment without binding you, if you will submit. However, if you resist in the slightest, you will be bound. Will you submit?" I waited for her response. She seemed dazed, gaping at me, but then nodded, tears starting in her eyes.
"Keep your arms at your sides," I ordered. Then I seized her shoulders, and kissed her firmly, lasciviously, forcing my tongue between her lips, invading her mouth. After the prescribed interval I broke off, leaving her swaying on her feet, eyes half closed. Facing her, I ran my hands down her back and seized her buttocks, pulling her against me so that she could feel the hard rod in my pants against her chest. I squeezed, kneaded, and worked her bottom, pulling the cheeks apart to expose her anus to the air, pressing them together again, as she whimpered. I moved around to her belly, then up her chest, grasping her breastbuds and nipples, pinching and twisting, pulling them out and letting them snap back, as she gasped and moaned. Finally I ran my hands down, down, to the core of her being, spending some time caressing her mons, then diving between her legs to heft and molest her cleftlips and clitoris. I ran my fingers back and forth in her cleft, massaging her vulva, rubbing her clitoris against her pubic bone, pressing against her hymen as she cried out.
As I molested her, she began to noticeably respond, cleft moistening, breathing ragged, eyes closed. As she reached her peak I front-spanked her, level 2 as ordered. She nearly shrieked as she felt the sting on her girlhood. She didn't try to move away, though, and soon the motion of her body was becoming more rhythmic, her cries rising passionately, her little hips rocking back and forth as she noisily came even as I left red handprints on her mons and cleftlips.
A part of me wished I could stop there, but my orders were clear. I deposited her on the bed, ordering her to lie back with her knees apart. She hid her face in her hands, still sobbing. I fastened my lips on her unfledged cleft, sucking, nibbling, rasping my tongue over her underdeveloped sex as she arched, nearly screaming from the intensity of the sensation, the embarrassment, and the discomfort of having to submit to sexual stimulation so soon after orgasm. I thrust my tongue against her hymen, making her cry out, then concentrated on her clitoris, catching it in long bites between tongue and teeth, pulling it out and letting it snap back as she writhed. In a surprisingly short time for such a young girl so recently brought to orgasm, she was coming again, chest heaving, crying out hoarsely as her hips bucked on the cot. I stood up, and finished her off with one sharp smack to her vulva, making her shriek, curling up on the bed, rubbing her abused cleft.
I hated to do it, but I was required to complete her punishment. "So now it is revealed that you are truly a sex slave, since you have responded so sexually to your punishment. Perhaps you will be given to a Master for further...treatment." I spun on my heels and left her cell as she continued to sob out the last of her orgasms.
"Hector, tell me how we should handle the passage through the diaphragm."
"Master, I must admit I am uncertain. We have usually used the esophageal hiatus, but I am not sure..."
"Your caution is commendable. It is true that the hiatus is technically the simplest route. But it has a much higher risk of long-term complications of reflux at the least, if not outright incompetence. Naturally this would not be of concern in a terminal application. Even in nonterminal applications it perhaps does not cause much concern, especially in older subjects, whose comfort is not paramount. But this case is different. We will use a parahiatal approach, incising the diaphragm approximately 2 centimeters from the hiatus. We will need to be very careful not to damage the lungs, of course..."
It was the penultimate day of her punishment. "Today your anus is to be the focus of punishment." This was clearly outside her experience; she didn't know enough to be alarmed. "You will first receive a series of enemas. I would prefer you to receive these unbound. Will you submit?" I didn't have to add the customary threat; she nodded with some alacrity, desiring to avoid bondage. I wished that I could fully satisfy that hope, but deviating from the prescribed punishment would bring severe consequences to her, let alone me.
The toilet facilities in the cell were designed especially to facilitate the administration of enemas. The seat had a back rest, and both coul
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