#trortur

Groggy, dazed, you wince as a dull, throbbing pain pounded in one of your temples and deep within your core. Pulling on your wrists, you find yourself unable to move.

Unable to move…? 

You force your eyes open, hissing and choking on your pain as a single harsh, flickering light burns your eyes and causes your pupils to constrict harshly. The rest of the chamber was entombed in darkness so thick you couldn't make out any opposing walls. Again you tug on your wrists, and again you are unable to so much as pull your elbows down past your ears. Your hands were bound tightly above your head, just as your feet were pulled tightly south of you, until your joints ached in protest. There was a crusty, drying slickness in between your thighs that simply made you sick. A paradoxically hot yet cold stinging sensation rose to the roots of your leg hair, sweat pouring from your body as the pain swiftly morphed from dull and drowsy to fever hot and agonizing. Panicked breaths escaped your lips, the creak of wood and moist rope echoing as you tremble and strain against your bindings. 

“Aha… Wake, are you?” 

Fear seized in your chest. The voice was slurred, not at all soft spoken but also not stated clearly, as though measures were taken to remain quiet. A small, misshapen man was hunched over near the table where the lone candle flickered, the realization that he was already standing to his full height only dawning on you as he turned to face you, face obscured by shadows though it did nothing to mute his horrifically malformed features that forced a twisted look of disgusted terror to flash across your face. 

“W-What did you d-do to me…?” Your memory was hazy, a blur of darkness and shifting stone and a burn that made you want to vomit. The ugly little man stepped close enough to you that you could make out some of his features, and you gasp in horror when you see how bloated his head looked, even in the poor light. 

“M-Me? Nothing… N-Nothing yet.” He patted you on the stomach, his clammy, calloused palm sticking to your numb skin. You realize in horror that you were completely in the nude. 

“W-What are you doing?! Don’t touch me, you bastard! LET ME GO-!” Tensing your body leads to a horrible ache pulsating in between your legs, traveling all the way up to the back of your throat in waves. You hear the slurping of saliva and a soft giggle, almost childlike in how pure and terrible it was. 

“‘L-Let you go’...? Now, why would I do that?” The miscreant stroked your belly, your skin crawling and that pounding pain in your gut suddenly becoming agonizing as your heart rate skyrocketed. 

“I-It was difficult dragging you all the way h-here… The g-guards always take them scho deep inshide…” His giggle turns into gurgling laughter, like he was privy to information that was being withheld from you. 

“W-Why…? H-HMM-! What have you done to me… Why…? …what are you doing-?” Your voice was weak as the little man hobbled away from you. His hand lingered on your abdomen for a moment longer, his fingers tickling your skin as he pulled away. 

“S-Shuch a perky little shubject… Most aren’t so l-lucky after fasching the affections of the g-guards…” He purred as he approached the candle-lit table. The clattering of metal on wood, metal against metal has you reeling and squirming, along with his flippantly spoken words spoken in a teasing tone. 

‘The affection of the guards’...? W-What was he-? 

Panic caused your vision to narrow and your throat to squeeze shut. The small man hummed to himself as he picked something up, turning to face you as he held it behind his back. Your eyes were wild with terror, pain thumping inside of you in rhythm with some kind of phantom assaulter.  Your legs were spread eagle, a wet, airy puff escaping from your bowels as the man placed a hand on your knee. 

“Y-You don’t realize it, h-how lucky you are to be on thiss shide of things…” He looked at you almost lovingly, eyes hungry with jealousy as he picked at your skin with a long, broken nail. 

“To be on the r-receiving end again, to t-transhition from ‘the White’ to ‘the Tortured’ to ‘the Torturer’...” Even in your current state, you recognized that title. “The White’... Trortur the White! This cretin was once a valiant knight?! No… No, that’s not-

“D-Don’t huuurt me anymore… P-Please… help me, gods…” You whine, tears and snot streaming down your face as the underside of your rear and legs become slick with bodily fluids. Your eyes widened with terror as Trortur’s hand slipped in between your thighs, touching a part of you that felt foreign, unrecognizable. 

“Sweet child… Upon entering thish terrible d-dungeon, you enshured that pain is your new God.” Trortur held up his fingers, revealing a mixture of blood, semen and fecal matter rubbing in between his digits and dripping down from them in thick, gooey clumps. Your face wore a mask of confusion, revulsion twisting in your core as all remaining strength evaporated from your limbs. 

“N-Now… Pain might be your God, but I am the extension of her will…” Trortur brought the object hiding behind his back in front of him, a bulbous, heinous looking thing that made your bladder and bowels loosen with fear. He slid it between your thighs, eliciting a panicked groan from deep within your chest as you began to hyperventilate. 

“W-What are you- S-Stop… STOP-!” Your voice cracked with terror as you felt cold, unyielding metal touch your nethers. Something was terribly wrong. You were… You are-! 

“S-Sssshh… Now, I would h-have preferred to h-have you unshpoiled, but gifts so rarely come to us in the d-dungeon…” Fiery pain shoots up from your perineum. Your anus was slick and soft, providing no resistance against the device that the torturer pressed into you. A broad, blunt head spreads you open, and you whimper from the contrast in temperature and the stinging sensation that washed over the area. 

“D-DON’T-! DON’T-!!! FUCKING STOP IT!!!” You screamed as an audible, wet POP filled the air. Your body shifts, bile surging up your esophagus and exploding from your nostrils and from between your clenched teeth. Trortur doesn’t stop, instead giggling gleefully as he fully inserts the device into your ruined anus. 

“H-How shweet, the schreams of an uninitiated…” Trortur purred as he grinned wickedly down at your convulsing form. He grasps the contraptions handle, covered in various bodily fluids as he finds a protruding knob and begins to twist it.

CRRRUNNNCH!!!

“URK-! N-NO! NOOOO!!!” 

It was now apparent that the walls of your anus were stretched and saggy, as though you had been previously penetrated by something with a great girth. The device was small enough to enter you unimpeded, though with a pressure that made your toes curl in disgust. The loud cranking was followed by the widening of the bell-shaped head that was inserted inside of you. It was subtle and slow, but more than enough to elicit a response of terror in you as pain exploded in your pulverized walls. 

CRRRUNNNCH!!! 

“STOP-!!! STOOOOP IT!!! STOOOOOP-!!!” 

CRRRUNNNCH!!!

CRRRUNNNCH!!! 

The space inside of your anus was quickly overtaken by the ballooning device. It was widening, stretching your already destroyed orifice further past its ruined limits. More blood and feces leaks out of you, intermingling with the evidence of the guards’ fun time with you. Trortur hummed as he took in the stench of filth and violation, feeling a phantom twitch of pleasure in his missing loins as the implement became slippery from your refuse. 

“How f-far will it go…?~ Which will s-sstop firsst? B-Break f-firsst? You are s-sho well broken in, little s-shweeting~” Trortur purred as your arms and legs tried to flail. Your joints popped and strained in place, gags and chokes spewing from your mouth and nose… The shape of your body was breaking, tearing at the seams and pouring out from within you. Not just the shape of you was changing, but your contents. Your soul was leaking out from your dirtiest orifice, with Trortur as its only witness. 

He was like a child again, a name day present splayed out in front of him in all their naked, defiled glory. Trortur was unable to crank the device any further, its sails fully unfurrowed and your anus and perineum torn and stretched until the cavity within had grown. One could look within you if he cocked his head to the side and craned his neck in between your dirtied thighs. Dark, vacant… Trortur wondered if your hole would try to shrink back to its previously mutilated size, or if it would remain stretched, wide and waiting for something to fill its vacancy… 

“A p-perfect little toy… J-Just for m-meee…~” He cooed as he pulled the implement away, its maw still open wide and tearing you open further. To his utter glee, you remained broken, an open, weeping mess that quivered and leaked as it sought something to replace what was lost. A trembling gasp left your lips, your teeth chattering as your eyes had long since rolled into the back of your head and your mind fleeing your torment. 

“A n-new kindred spirit, perhapsh… One just like me…~” Trortur hummed as he stroked your stomach with his filth covered fingers, dipping them low towards your pubic region. You don’t respond, but you don’t have to. Your body tells him all he needs to know, and that you were experiencing things that were beyond your comprehension.

xxx

Author’s note: There is no historical evidence to suggest the ‘pear of anguish’, or otherwise known ‘choke pear’ or ‘mouth pear’ were ever used as torture implements at all, let alone in the 1500s. This is not historically accurate, merely an interesting exploration of such an implement and a character that would not only use it liberally but also conceptualize it if otherwise not created by said character within the confines of his in-game universe.