Update: Before you read, don't say I didn't warn you because I did twice. Oh, and sry if you got confused of me uploading this chapter again. I had to fix something.

Flaying her wrist to the side, Ashta listened as her final blow resonated though the countless rooms and corridors. Then in a rather satisfied way she stayed her hand, exchanging the hard rod for the soft touch of Kyle's skin. She hadn't been very gentle in the last ten minutes and by now she knew he was probably numb all over. Which in turn was hardly a motivator to continue.

Leaving him to gasp for air she withdrew to the doorpost, leaning against the stone while she waited for him to recover.

On the mirror side of Ashta's emotions, Kyle's mind was storming. Torn between the confusion, the shock, the pain, and the denial, he was having a hard time finding himself. He knew he had to calm down but that in itself seemed like an impossibility. After all, how could he?

However it might have been by some divine miracle that he did and over the minutes he slowly began to relax, partially comforted by the unhindered breathing that he was now privileged to. Shortly thereafter when his brain had enough oxygen, his curiosity began to perk and soon every part of him was asking the same universal question. One he could only whisper as she approached him.

"Why?"

She must have heard him, because at that moment her hand once again snaked its way around his jaw, creating a shiver as she pulled him up. Devoid of sympathy, she scanned him, thinking. Hardly at the question, but rather at the look in his eyes.

"Amazing…" she mused cynically. He still had enough self-control to fight his fear; well, in his face at least. Still, it was bizarre, and it wasn't a common thing either since nearly all hope was lost when this kind of bondage was enforced. Perhaps he thought he was being punished unfairly? Or that he didn't deserve it?

"How stupid, what a stupid fuck."

Switching her grip to the back of his neck, Ashta pulled forward making sure she had his full attention.

"You know I hate you, that is enough."

"Hate" as she put it was an understatement though. Her enmity with him was so strong it transcended nearly all forms of definition. No one ever told her what to do, no one…

Roughly, Ashta pushed Kyle back having taken his question as a challenge. Not wanting to crush this "fight" so quickly she decided to skip her final round with the beating rod. To break his spirit with the other devices would be much more fun.

Casting the rod to the side Ashta pushed her hands into Kyle's body, paying special attention to the bruises that now marked it. Her fingernails dug in and his head reared, hiding his gritted teeth. Roaming here and there, she increased the pressure becoming more aggressive. And when finally Kyle couldn't take it any longer she melded her hands into his skin allowing his words to trail off in a string of blended vowels and consonants. She wasn't in the mood to hear the words "no", "please", and "stop" anyway, all of which were biblical to a torturer.

--

When her twisted mind told her it was enough she left him, digging under the cloth for the next item. Grasping a snake-like handle she soon found it; letting the end of its flexible attribute touch the floor. A simple bullwhip in its own sense it was among Ashta's favorites and had a black iron-forged handle with a hellish snake mouth fixed open on the end. The whip's color was jet black and the fabricated material had been uniquely tempered and specially conditioned not to rip skin. It was too early in the game for him to bleed yet and it would be an excellent weapon for causing intense pain with minimal to no blood.

Angling her arm Ashta brought the first strike without warning and slashed down the entire left side of her victim's back.

By the time Kyle screamed the whip had already retreated and all that was left was the same raping shower of needles and the well known spikes in his lungs. After his chest flogging it had been so hard to breath; and none of them were in full. His brain begged air but his body writhed with each try. But perhaps the worst thing was the ceaseless nature of it. Not even on their first meeting did Kyle think that she was this vile. It hardly seemed to be Ashta at all. More like a doppelganger from hell.

Searing, another hit lashed his skin forcing him to the support of the chains. Unable to think, the next two hours were soon to build into a blurry mixture of pain, begging, and raspy screaming. The last part had been easier though as his brain had finally pumped out enough endorphins to push him beyond delirious.

--

Composure unchanged, Ashta wore the same facial mask she had on two hours ago. The whipping had been easy and every blow had counted. She had been biding her time and never landed a hit that would exceed what she had planned next. Unfortunately to her Kyle was now incapable of receiving pain in its fullest and there was no point in damaging his body further. Losing the whip she found herself at the table. With Kyle off in his own world he wouldn't notice what she had for him next. But by the time he did it would be quite a 'jolt.'

Pulling out the advanced taser Ashta clinched her left hand, walking behind as she took aim. Then settling on the spinal column as the target, let the cackling darts rip away as the 75,000 volt machine yanked Kyle into a semi-conscious mind state. Needless to say the result was predictable but the reaction from her captive was less then satisfying…

Fine, she could play it that way…

Retrieving a small needle from under the blanket she quickly cocked the plunger wasting no time to inject the specialized chemical into Kyle's leg. He hardly felt the pain but it was beside the point as she knew he would soon find out its true purpose. The reduced time that it would take to flow to the brain due to blood flow was optional but now inevitable. But in the meantime, it meant nothing and Ashta squeezed the trigger again, electrocuting Kyle a further eight times before he finally passed out.

Never having passed out in his life Kyle was grateful that his first time was here. Any break from this misery was appreciated and he welcomed the thought that he could finally rest.

It was short lived though because at that moment a fiery drill spiked him, raping every path in his mind as it cleared all of his neurotransmitters. In the blink of an eye all the chronic pain he had experienced thus far came rushing back, married with the additional agony his brain had blocked. Nearly vomiting at its touch, his mind exploded. What the fuck!? He had passed out, he was sure of it. What did she do? Why was he awake again?

His teeth grinded and his eyes squinted at what felt like an orgasm of pain.

Why did it hurt even more?

It plagued him to know but it hurt too much to talk and he could tell by the taste of blood that sprinkled his throat that she must have damaged his lungs. Without the strength to lift his head, Kyle groaned as it happened anyway. Ashta was leveling his chin on her taser and it only took seconds before his eyes caught her face; and the eternity of its expression. An expression that promised him nearly everything he wished against.

The hopelessness Kyle felt grew stronger at that point, fueled by her cold eyes and the unrelenting spirit he saw behind them. He knew that he might never get out of here and was already saturated in defeat. So far Ashta had not relented one bit and was showing no signs of even considering the notion. She had become a monster…

Releasing his head, beside him his torturer put down the electric gun to unsheathe the dagger she wore around her thigh. Finding cloth, its first task was worse then any kind of skin damage it could incur as his last piece of clothing was stripped from him. Hammered emotionally, a new wave passed though him as the glands in his eyes suddenly tensed. He felt like crying; what had he done that was so evil to deserve this? He watched her with added shame while her hand found her second identical taser; turning away as she pointed it at him. This time his mind was fully alert as the electrocuting darts found his genitals.

Holding both guns Ashta alternated the two with increasing frequency before finishing with several dual bursts that would have surely ko'ed any normal human. Kyle's shrieks were unearthly but her composition had not changed and it was just as easy a task as any to remove the darts from burnt skin. The chemical she had used was malefic. A combination of several synthetics, notably the one similar to naloxone would all work together to create hell in a victim. Broken down, it had three major agents that would block any kind of pain defense opioid in the brain. Also it had a nervous system stimulate to increase sensitivity as well as an element to reduce fatigue. And while active would prevent unconsciousness or passing out for an extended period of time. Some sub agents included chemicals akin to pep pills and additional ones that kept the brain alert. Utterly, and ultimately it was a torturer's dream come true.

From her dominate position Ashta surveyed the situation, grinning deviously at Kyle's anguish; now it truly was impossible for him to escape from her.

Walking to the door Ashta reached outside, finding the electric controls and released the ankle chains from deep within the rock. She also raised the arm chains so that Kyle was now off the ground. She would need him to be anyway as this next part would be the end of her 'merciful' side. Collecting the portable drill from under the blanket Ashta matched it with a small metal box; setting them on the ground as she knelt.

Despite the chemical Kyle's thoughts were hazy and unfocused even though the pain was sharp and well known. The dragging question of "why me?" was still burning his subliminal and his conscious was curling in exhaustion. The shame of nudity and the denial of sleep had nearly deprived the will to live and the worst trait of it all was that it wouldn't stop. No mercy, no sleep, no escape…it was fucking worse then anything possible. Even the simple task of looking down took a lot of effort and when he finally did he wished he hadn't.

Ashta had just finished placing the mounting bracket in the drill upon which the first corkscrew bit rested tightly. Now, aligning the bit against his heel she spooled the machine, forcing the steel deep into his foot. Some blood appeared as it caught and the bone slowed the progress. But that didn't stop her. Ravaging the drill into angles quickly solved the problem; turning the stainless steel red. She pushed further ignoring the sound of bone chipping until the base of the twist was finally imbedded below the skin.

Kyle vomited, narrowly missing Ashta. He couldn't even begin to explain what that felt like and only had a second before she braced the next piece against the centre arch. The drill whined and Kyle's eyes rolled back; his throat dry from the lack of moisture.

Like a sadistic, Ashta continued to drill the ball of the foot and the adjacent area until it had four metal appendages sticking out. She then went on to the next one creating a mirror image to the havoc she caused the other. In the end small pools of blood had collected and the wounds dripped, but to her it was marginal. He wouldn't bleed to death from that alone.

Satisfied, she threw the drill to the side hitting the release outside the door. When Kyle's feet reached the floor his eyes widened as his weight was set on the needle thin metal rods that protruded one inch from his skin. His legs shook and he tasted blood but the rods didn't budge and given his weakness it was impossible to take the weight off them.

Allowing the ankle chains some slack for the shifting, Ashta came back into the room ripping the tablecloth and wiping the blood from his lips. She wasn't about to forget her self promise. Not even for all the pleasure he gave her.

She wanted more, weather it was the pleasure from his face or suffering she didn't care. She wanted more. And at the table she contemplated it, feeding the obsession that would slowly pull her into madness. Down here the real rules did not apply even though she had little reason to follow them at all. Volatile as can be, Ashta suddenly moved casting the tablecloth aside to reveal her final weapon.

A Whip.

Not just any whip though. To Ashta this whip was the king of whips and she griped the artistic handle slowly, savoring the feeling it gave her. Like her other whip this one was also jet black. However the handle had a much greater attention to detail and was bent like a shallow S. She had it inscribed with silver intertwining serpents which at the end came out in separating patterns with open jaws and looks of rage. The eyes of the serpents, whose craft might have resembled ying and yang, were highly detailed and their cores held no less then blue diamonds and blood rubies respectfully. But in comparison to the grip, the real fear lay with the whip's attack side. Nearly embarrassing her old one, this whip was a lot stronger, and in many areas held very small implanted wires. The tip was hardened to keep its power while striking and the metal fibers could lacerate and rip flesh quite easily. It was so diabolical she even invented a name for it and often called it the CAT whip on which the clever abbreviation "Callous Assisted Torture" held sway.

--

Kyle moaned a dry raspy sound. His head was drifting again and he hoped it was on its way to passing out. Ashta had been showing her back to him for some time and he had managed to control the supply of foot pain by not moving them. But now she again faced him and he felt his heart leap into his throat. Up until now even he knew that she had used weapons that did little damage to their victim. But the monster in her right hand looked as if it was certain to take every last drop out of him.

Apart from will his remaining strength again tried to withdraw from her and the thought that she really was going to kill him re-ignited.

Instead of rushing ahead, Ashta approached slowly and carefully. Then grasping the whip with both hands, she hooked it around his neck pulling him forward. His feet skidded and Kyle's eyes widened half and half from the pain and the impartial terror that occurred whenever she was close to him.

Now her face turned bitter, and she brought him closer telling him everything in wordless conversation. The hell wasn't going to end here.

Turning, Ashta let the whip trail letting Kyle feel the metal prongs as the weapon slithered off his neck; sipping blood as it went. Then, drawing back she flung her attack, causing the whip to cascade and dance in slow time before snapping her wrist like an Egyptian pharaoh.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Kyle was now certain that hell itself was beyond comparison as the shredding sound of his own flesh played the walls. Without thinking he squirmed violently, creating red streams from his shackles; forgetting all about his feet as he tried to evade. Controlled by instinct and overrun by fear he struggled to no avail whilst the whip bit and clawed at him; hungry for blood as it tore his skin like old clothing. He writhed, he screamed but it continued its cruel dance with him raking the ribs on several passes. Apathetic to mercy it ravaged his arms and legs as well, leaving its mark with sick maroon gouges. And, like a predator it soon moved to the back showing equal care in all angles as both skin and muscle were carved together.

In a mere matter of minutes its work had been both fast and agile leaving fresh red puddles to taint the ground.

--

In the centre of the room Kyle hung, coughing gravelly. This time he tasted a lot more blood and knew that the same liquid was probably coating his lungs. He was getting really dizzy, unaware that the brain chemical was weakening. However it was obvious, even to him, that she had deliberately missed any critical arteries or veins. "Why?" didn't make sense but so did "Why not?" and he tried not to even think about it. He still had a sliver of hope and wanted to believe that something would save him. Grim as it was he didn't want to die…

Again Ashta approached him unsheathing her small but evil dagger, unperturbed by the rancid smell of blood. On the backside of her dagger's incredibly thin blade were three shark spikes angled backwards which would perfectly suit what she had in mind. More suited to the work of a sadistic, they were dull from use and had found other purpose in their owner's hands.

Finding a bare spot on Kyle's right shoulder Ashta dug into the soft tissue with the sharp blade, ignoring the blood-curdling scream that followed. Slitting the muscle as easily as the skin she reversed the blade, twisting the three spines deeply into the gap. Making sure she hooked enough tissues she then jerked it, pulling upward toward the elbow; maintaining perfect control over the shaking arm.

Kyle shrieked as his vision grew dark on open eyelids. The sudden inability to see made the agony that much worse and the nightmarish sounds of tearing muscle were nauseating. At four inches from the start the blade was jammed and so Ashta gripped it hard, twisting and dragging until it was free; creating splashes as large drops of blood fell. Stained dark red, the dagger's backside still held muscle fibers when it entered her sheath. At the moment she didn't have time to clean the blade as the next part of the sequence was critical. Exiting the room quickly she moved across the hall leaving the gaping wound to pool with vital fluids.

End of chapter 3