By slaveobjectx
Cattle
But there was still more to come, even worse and more humiliating were such a thing possible. At first, they apparently wanted to continue the fettering procedure. Already the blacksmith was searching for some chains to interconnect my fetters. But one of the guards intervened. ‘No. Leave it. We’re better to ring him and mark him first and do that afterwards. That’s easier.’
I didn’t understand what he meant by that, but I soon would, and I assure you, I was happier not knowing. Still lying on the ground with my new heavy collar and cuffs, I now was ordered to get up. It took a few seconds before I managed to stand up. Then both warders roughly took an arm of mine and marched me across the room, in the direction of the oven where the blacksmith already waited for me.
Not knowing what was going to come, I didn’t resist for the time being, so I was hauled before him again with little difficulty. There the blacksmith stood next to a strange chair and a small table, on which were lying a lot of round iron rings, all of the same size and form, half an inch thick and with a total diameter of some two-and-a-half inches. As I could see in the dim light all rings were not wholly circular, and so not wholly complete; just a very small fragment was missing, so the rings were, so to say, ‘open.’
As the taller guard saw me looking, he said to the blacksmith: ‘Apparently this slave is very interested in your collection, Brad. Show him his next ornament, because he’ll like to have a good view of it before we fix it.’
The blacksmith stuck his forefinger through one of the rings and held it very close to my eyes. ‘It’s made of very solid steel,’ he said, as he spun the thick ring round his finger, ‘and it will be welded very solidly together.’ He paused for a moment, relishing my bewilderment. ‘So it will be useless ever to try to remove your nose-ring.’
I recoiled from him in a reflex action. Nose-ring? Nose-ring? That ring would have to go through my nose? Did they intend to pierce my nose with that huge ring as if I was just a bull? What sort of cruel men had I fallen into the hands of? I choked with sheer panic and forgot the harsh lessons the guards had taught me when I resisted them collaring me. I started to shout. ‘No! You can’t do that! I’m not some piece of cattle! I…’
The taller guard slapped me in the face. ‘You apparently still haven’t learned your lesson, slave! Stop crying! All our slaves wear a decent nose-ring here, so that we may recognize them immediately as such. You’re nothing better than all the others, so we’ll treat you the same way.’
But this time I didn’t stop. ‘No!” I shouted again, and I started to struggle.
As the taller guard had loosened his grip on my arm, I managed to free myself partly, and now driven by horror at the idea of being nose-ringed by the blacksmith I tried to get rid of the other warder. But the taller guard seized my freed arm again, and shouted right into my face: ‘You still don’t understand, huh? You still don’t obey? We’ll learn you, slave, we’ll learn you! We’ll make a slave out of you as good as all the others, and so we’ll treat you like them. In this place all slaves are equal, and therefore all have to look alike. So this nice big ring will go through your fucking nose, if you like it or not — and I would rather advise you to like it — and it will go straight through your nose now.’
He turned to the blacksmith and continued: ‘Well, you can heat his nose-ring in the oven, while we fasten him to the chair.’
Up till than I had been totally fixated on the horrifying ring and had paid no attention to the chair. It was a restraint chair that had special fixtures in which my arms and head could be strapped rigid. I would be wholly incapable of movement and therefore totally helpless once all bonds were put in place. As the two guards forced me firmly in the chair, I saw no chance of escaping the ringing of my nose anymore. I was laid on my back, my neck fastened by a leather strap to the head-rest. My arms were placed beside my body and some other straps wrapped around my wrists and elbows, holding them in place. Then my legs were stretched high up on separate shelves with my knees near to my shoulders and fixed in place so that I couldn’t move my limbs anymore. I felt like a trapped animal.
In this position, with knees and shoulders pulled tight together by some extra leather restraints, I could feel my most intimate parts shamelessly put on full display to the warders. The bigger of them grabbed my penis and balls and played with them in his hands. ‘They’ll be fixed later,’ he muttered, ‘and that cock will never stretch itself for the next ten years without our permission again.’
I saw the blacksmith taking up the nose-ring with a pair of tongs and putting it in the fire, before they put a complete leather blindfold on me, which was fastened at the back of my head. ‘We’d better gag him too, for this piece of crap is bound to cry when the awl goes through his nose flesh,’ I heard the taller guard saying. Two seconds later a brutal leather gag of huge size was wormed through my teeth to smother any possible protest, which in any case would have been quite futile.
Then, after a pause, which seemed endless to me, the horrible procedure started. Before I knew what was happening, I suddenly felt a terrible pull on the bridge of my nose. It felt like someone was pinching and pulling my bridge forward with a flat pair of pincers, which is probably what was going on. My nostrils now were drawn open as far as possible, and it really hurt. I tried to get rid of the painful grip by trying to shake my head, but I was held securely and my efforts were useless.
‘Hold his head steady just in case he does manage to move,’ I heard the blacksmith saying, ‘for he’ll sprawl and squirm as he’s never done before.’
He was right. There was worse to come indeed. Desperately I waited for the awl which would pierce my nose. Then it came. I felt the pressure of something that suddenly burned intensely hot as it touched my nose flesh in the left nostril. I felt the burning, sharp awl searching its way relentlessly to the other nostril. It hissed as it was driven with much force by the blacksmith through the bone of my nasal septum. I felt an incredible pain, and only the gag muffled my howling as my nose was pierced so brutally without any anesthetic.
As the blacksmith had predicted, I indeed sprawled and squirmed as I never did before, in a mad attempt at escaping the burning awl, but the leather fetters gave me no room, and the guards held my head in an iron grip. There was no possibility of getting away from this cruel method of ringing my nose. Blindfolded, silenced and unable to move, I simply had to endure the agony. It was indescribably painful, but my mind was in such a spin that I passed through the pain and felt only exhausted. I recognized the warm blood coming out of my pierced nose and streaming over my face. And it wasn’t over mercifully in a few seconds because the piercing-process itself took some time, as the blacksmith had to widen the round hole in my septum further and further by rotating his sharp awl, till it had a diameter that would accommodate the big ring that was waiting. This meant the new hole had to be centimeter at least. There wouldn’t be much left of my septum when he had finished.
After a while the blacksmith had apparently completed the making of the hole for the ring, and the grip on the bridge of my nose slackened for a while. But now I really began to feel the burning pain as the temperature cooled and my pain nerves recovered more and more. It was so intense I could see red, black, and white waves and spots and all sorts of kaleidoscopic images under my blindfold. Then my nose bridge was stretched forward again.
This time I felt a small piece of cold iron put into my left nostril, and soon after a second piece in the other. As I would learn afterwards, these pieces of flat metal had a big hole in their centre and resembled some kind of elongated washers, which were placed in each nostril with the big hole exactly over the hole that had just been burned through my septum. They were fastened in this position to the septum by small rivets to provide a strong grommet for the heavy nose-ring which they would weld in place in an irremovable way shortly afterwards.
Of course, at that time, blindfolded and disorientated, I had no idea what exactly they were doing inside my nostrils. I only felt excruciating pain again when they started to rivet the washers in place. They used I imagine some machine to shoot minuscule, pointed bolts through the metal piece in my left nostril, then through my septum, and finally through the metal piece in the other nostril. Then which they were bent flat. I counted four drill sessions in total. The pain was intense and searing and my nose started to bleed again.
Lastly there came the finishing touch: the fitting of the nose-ring itself. Psychologically it was the worst stage of the whole ringing-procedure, as this heavy piece of iron would dehumanize me to the state of an animal-like chainslave more than anything else had done. I waited trembling till it was put in place. After the last small rivet of the grommet had been driven through my septum, there was a short pause. I was aware only of the sound of tools being laid down, and others taken up. Meanwhile the iron ring had become very hot, even more than the awl had been, because after entering my nose and going through my septum both its open ends had to be welded firmly together, and for that to be achieved the iron had to be rather soft.
I felt the hot ring entering my nose on one side and then coming out on the other. It was impossible not to touch my flesh because of its thickness compared to the limited space in my nostrils. It was yet another terrible pain, and the guard who had a grip of my head had to use some force to keep it fixed in position. Now the ring was through my septum, hot, burning, and with a light jerk the blacksmith was squeezing both glowing ends of the ring firmly together with some pincers and thus welding it closed forever.
After that somebody chucked a bowl of cold water over my face to cool the iron. It hissed in the same way as my cuffs and collar had done after being riveted to my limbs. It was over. At last I could unbend myself. But I was totally aware of the fact, and nearly panic-stricken by the idea, that I had received what was to be only the first of a number of piercings, marking me as a slave even more: a nose-ring!
The end
Metal would like to thank the author, slaveobjectx, for this story!
