White Room Torture Novels & Stories

My hard work had gone poof. They pulled me through the door of the basement into the very bright room. Glancing around, a shiver rolled through my spine at the thought that this was their torture chamber. The room was illuminated with the most blinding, evil white light that accentuated everything. The room smelt like antiseptic and bleach. It was obvious what they did here.

"But on occasion, I will sleep here. With you. Come with me." He turned his back, and I followed him out of pure survival instinct. Damian walked to the very end of the hallway and pushed open a heavy, solid wood door. The moment I took my first step into that room, the air left my lungs completely. It was a red room. The space oozed opulence and pain. It didn't look like a normal bedroom, but rather a high-end, profoundly luxurious torture chamber. The walls were upholstered in dark leather, polished steel chains hung from the ceiling, and high-end restraints, floggers, and designer paddles were displayed on suede mounts. Drawers were packed with high-tech toys and fetishes I didn't even kn

'New idiots. — Understood, miss. She's in room L. — The rooms are like those used to interrogate people when police capture them; you can see every person they're torturing. 'They don't see you, but you see them.' The hallway is white, not the same with the rooms, which stand out with a beautiful red color as decoration. In some of them there are corpses; in others, cleaning is going on. — Open the door. — I tell one of my employees as we arrive at the room whose name doesn't matter at all.

This woman was really something else. I held her hand while she looked around in the underground passage. We came to a stop in front of the door, and I turned her to look at me. “You don’t have to do this, I can still find someone else.” I asked her one last time to make sure she was truly fine with it. “I want to.” Althaia said, looking determined to help. “This is not a normal room. We call it The Chamber of Torture and you will see all sorts of weapons and tools present.” I observed her facial expression but she gave a small nod, not showing any sign of discomfort.

I walked down the narrow passageway, past the holding cells, and towards the torture chamber. The torture chamber was a dark, damp, and dingy room with stone walls and a low ceiling. The room was dimly lit, with torches flickering in the corners. Rusty chains and shackles hung from the walls, and a large wooden table sat in the center of the room. The table was stained with blood and had various instruments of torture scattered around it.

ARLETTE’S POV Holy shit! The Red Room is enormous, and it isn’t a room painted in red, it’s a fucking torture room. I’ve barely been here an hour and I’m going to be punished? “Oh God!” I murmur as I look around the room, the chairs positioned in a way that if you lie down with your stomach, you ass will be lifted in the air and the person punishing you will be able to see everything below your waist. I wrap my arms around my chest, twisting my head away from Charlie, obviously still mad at her.

A question I must've asked her close to a thousand times already, and just like every other time, she remained silent. "Do we need to revisit the fun house?" Jace snarked, referring to the off-site torture building. Being as high up as we were in the FBI meant that not everything showed on the books, including having an unspecified facility guarded around the clock. This allowed us to use more intense techniques to convince a convict to speak. The building was designed to break a person. There were numerous chambers set up with things from nightmares. There was a room designed to pull out even your darkest of nightmares. Many have gone crazy from being in there after only a few minutes. The

He stopped in front of her, lifting her average face with his fingers. “Do you know why this room is so empty?” he suddenly asked her. The maid could only shake her head. It did strike her as odd, but that was not something that really stuck in her mind as she was being chained to a wall and having her ankles thoroughly stabbed. In fact, the pain made it even harder to focus. “Our ways of torture are unique,” he explained. With two fingers, he poked her arms and sides. With a snap of his fingers, a wave of pain shooting through those specific points. It was as if there were thousands of poison needles shooting up those points, infecting her with toxic substances. Her vision went blurry, the

"But if I don't find any evidence now, surely my career will really be over. I cannot let that happen. I'll prove to them that I could also solve a case on my own." I looked around and there is nothing different here, perhaps aside from being a typical inpatient room. Although, I don't know who proposed the idea of using white rooms in most psychiatric asylums, I could clearly tell that white room torture are kind of outdated already… I could still see evidence of it in this room, however it is safe to say that there is no longer any visual and auditory deprivation. The senses are being given limited consideration, by using a glass door allowing sound to enter

He had no idea how he made it to the morgue, but eventually he snapped out of it. "You'll have to brace yourself, Mr. Terrason," said the forensic doctor, but he sounded so far away. The white sheet was pulled back. The body was burned beyond recognition, but the diamond ring on the finger struck Samuel like lightning. His chest tightened until he couldn't breathe. The room spun. He nearly collapsed, catching himself against the wall. "No… this isn't possible…" His hand hovered over the ring, trembling, then recoiled as if burned. Reality was worse than anything he'd imagined.