White Room Torture Novels & Stories

Never would I ever think that Marcus was involved in Masochism. Every kind of torture materials were lined up neatly in sections at the side of the room. A four poster bed with pillars at each end stood in the middle of the room, followed by closets, wooden shelves filled with retraining cuffs, whips, masks, and so many other things I couldn’t even identify. Marcus stood behind me, and I could swear he was holding his breath. It felt like a nightmare and I really wanted to wake up and see that it was all over. “How long… have, uhmm, you been doing this?” I asked, trying to find my voice.

I had hoped my size would go in my favour, and once I got some of my strength back, I would be able to swing the bolt loose, but as my eyes trained in the best they could on the bolt, I realised there was no getting free of those fuckers. Scanning the room, I couldn't help but admire my surroundings. Clean white walls that stunk of blood and death, stripped of any signs of life, no obvious windows or doors, which I imagined made lesser men nervous, not knowing where the enemy was coming from. In the centre of the room stood a large glass cabinet holding what could only be described as my favourite kind of toy chest. Tools, I had no doubt, would be used to torture me soon enough.

(Warning: Slight Gory content ahead) SOMEWHERE A ROOM The room was pure white, not even a dent could be seen but unfortunately, this saintly picturesque couldn’t cover the tension in the air. A man could be seen, his limbs chained on the medium sized bed that was white just like the rest of the room. Beside the bed was a table filled with various tools meant solely for torturing a human body. The man that was chained shivered. He tried to wriggle his limbs out of the chain but to no avail. He wanted to scream for help but he couldn’t as his tongue had been cut off and his lips, sewn together.

inside her womb throb with a sickening, mechanical rhythm. Dante stood between her and the glass wall of the docking bay, his real-world body trembling with a mixture of withdrawal and a feral, protective instinct. The "White Room" was glitching. For a split second, the clinical walls would vanish, replaced by the damp, moss-covered stones of the Venetian cellar. The scent of disinfectant fought with the smell of rotting lilies.

Children like us who are raped and tortured in front of us when we don't follow what they want. Up to the red room, where the girls who don't follow are taken. After being tortured, whip the body several times until it weakens and your body gives up. Full of blood, blood of suffering. Amanda and I were ordered to clean it once, we were still crying and we couldn't stand the overwhelming smell. We are just thankful that we escaped there. But the nightmare always visits us in our sleep. It even got to the point where we were taken to a psychiatrist.

In the meantime of me struggling to open my eyes, I could hear irritating sound, continuously which was enough to rip my ears apart. At last, I opened my eyes and the strange surrounding of the room, in which I was sent creepy vibes inside my body. I was in the white room, with several white lights. No other furniture could be seen except my bed. I was covered with white sheet, had white pillow beneath my head and dressed in frock, whose color was also white. My left hand was strapped with the side of the bed, more like cuffed. Cannula was attached through which fluids could pass in my body through my veins. My whole right arm was plastered. I squeezed my eyes again, clasping it tightly in o

We have several cells here and two very different torture room. The one I am heading to now, the white room, is the equivalent of any surgical room. Neat white plastered walls and a white cast floor that is easy to clean. In the middle of the room stands a massive gynecology chair, and in the cabinets lining the far wall you can find a wide range of surgical instruments. I spot the white door easily, it's the only white one for that matter, and push it open. The smell of blood, fear and piss hangs in the air and my eyes fall on the man strapped in the gynecology chair. His bruised eye is completely swollen shut, but the other one is spread wide open in fear. His torso is bare, ready for me t

He had come here every single time that Daemon did. When her eyes adjusted, she watched in awe. This kind of torture… The room was wide enough to accommodate ten people, the walls were bright white and light covered every single corner of the room. There was nothing in sight except the patrons that were chained to the walls, all were clothed in white and there was nothing else in sight. Had they stayed in this room for five months? This was enough to make someone go mad. Being chained to the wall with nothing in sight apart from each other. But even at that, each of them were boxed in a transparent glass, separating one patron from the other to avoid communication.

I shuddered at the thought of the horrors that had transpired here, the stains of suffering that marred the cold, unforgiving stone. This room, a separate section within this chamber of nightmares, was a place of unparalleled dread. My senses were immediately assaulted by the sight of an array of torture devices, each one more menacing than the last. Iron maiden cages loomed like monstrous sentinels, their sharp, menacing edges promising agony. The rack, a cruel instrument of torment, stood as a grotesque reminder of past cruelties. Torture wheels, their rusted spokes gnashing together, whispered sinister tales of pain and suffering. My gaze darted to the array of whips that adorned the bric

“Take her to the torture room. I'll show you what is done to people of your kind.“ Meagan was speechless at his words. She had never heard of a torture room as she assumed the dungeon was the worst place anyone could be. How wrong she was. They arrived at a large room on the last floor in the palace. It was her first time on any of the floors. The room looked like a gym room, but with unusual gyming equipment. She was led to one that was shaped in form of a chair suspended on an elevated platform with layers. Above it was an outlet for a liquid. She looked in horror at the sight.