Torture Novels & Stories

The contents made Alfonso's pupils contract sharply. There were no knives or firearms in the toolbox, only several wires of varying thickness, a small transformer, and a few clips with metal contacts. Combined, these were the electric shock devices commonly used in torture during interrogations. The so-called Memory Restoration Spell was nothing more than using high-voltage electricity to break a person's will and force a confession. "Do you know what this is?" Josiah picked up a wire, one end connected to the transformer, the other a sharp metal clip. "Once this is powered on and clipped to your body, I guarantee you'll remember everything you've forgotten."

Xenois asked carefully. "I want to have a conversation," I corrected. "Torture is ineffective and morally questionable. But a well-structured interrogation with the right psychological pressure? That actually works." "How is that different from torture?" Lumina asked. "Torture is about causing pain to break someone's will," I explained. "Interrogation is about understanding someone's motivations and offering them better alternatives than silence. One destroys people. The other just exploits existing cracks in their loyalty." "That's still morally questionable," Lyn pointed out.

I lost control there," he said. How the hell would I get it again? That was a big point, so, to my complete surprise, I told her something she had to rationalize herself. "You have to understand something clear that, even I, who am ignorant, know about the subject: in the real DS, what matters above all and every one of things is consent," I said. There is a lot of literature, information and I bet even centers where you can go to inquire ... What they did has nothing to do with the DS, it is a practice of torture based on the bad system, on the depraved, on the fact that they are not men, but they are sadists who do not know how they really handle themselves.

Raze laughed and bit his lips, totally pleased at the savage word. It's funny she thinks of him as an animal when he's already one. “He's a Lycan Vas, the more torture the more healing but with the acid, it destroys the inner flesh and weakens the healing buds. For Lycans, torturing isn't a common method because they feel nothing hurts them but to me, torturing works because I pluck out their soul from thier body using hard equipments.” He explained, shaking his head to move the strands blocking his hands but she did that instead, tucking his hair at the back.

It only brought more cases to him to solve and he was familiar with only one solution. Torture. Torture of different kinds, for the ten years of his painful journey he had learned different ways to reduce his enemies to the extent of them either asking to be killed or trying to kill themselves. And he loved every bit of being the reason of others pain, screams and begging, even though the pleasure never stayed there for long but still it was the only way for him to satiate the impatient fire of hatred which was burning in him for the past ten years.

My stomach twisted when I saw them laid out. A pair of leather gloves. A thin metal rod. Restraints. And a small waterproof bag filled with ice. I knew exactly how each one was used. The ice was the worst. People feared fire, knives, guns. Ice broke people faster than all of them. It was used to shock the nerves, slow the blood, numb the pain just enough that torture lasted longer. You could hold it against ribs, under the jaw, between fingers—keep a person conscious while their body screamed.

Then, a heavy velvet curtain in the corner was ripped away. Kan. He was naked, his arms stretched wide and chained to a vertical rack. His back was a map of fresh, oozing welts. A man stood behind him holding a flogger tipped with wormwood splinters. With a casual flick, the torturer laid another stripe across Kan’s kidneys. Kan’s body jerked, a muffled groan escaping his throat as his head lolled forward. Seeing Kan’s blood on the floor made something inside Timothy snap. The "ghost" didn't just wake up; it roared.

I was hot, flushed and aching at the groin, I couldn’t be tortured! “No. Jack, please.” I breathed, shaking my head to him. Oh no, he was going to torture me! He licked his fingers painfully slow, and ran his tongue over his bottom lips seductively. He got his rocks off seeing me suffer, I was sure. “Will you defy me again?” he purred, introducing his fingers between my thighs and I whimpered, I couldn’t deal with his torturing tactics today. He slowly entered me with two fingers, jerking them repeatedly along my G-spot.

Time moves rather fast when I am heavily asleep on the drugs they gave me, and desperately slow when they are torturing me. The torturing never stopped, it continued, the midnight beatings,the cigarette burns became worse. They tried allot of things on me. But the pain never became normal to me. Each time he tried his tortures, it was a new kind of pain. The only thing that changed was the crying. I did stop crying, when pain becomes a routine, it takes up your being and you kinda get attached to it. So it becomes hard for me to cry. My strength for not crying became a threat and irk in his sides. So he turned the torture to ano

I smiled bitterly, not offering any explanation. After all, stuff like this had happened far too often. Nadine's first lover had once accused me of splashing boiling water on him. The truth was, the water was cold. Nadine didn't care about anything else and immediately started beating me up, forcing me to apologize to him. Nadine's second lover claimed I had deliberately stepped on his shoes, so she made me lick them as punishment. She even forced me to eat an entire packet of salt because her third lover accused me of putting too much salt in his food, which landed me in the hospital.