The Siren's Noose*

Maria lay strapped to the interrogation couch, her naked body tense and trembling. Her olive skin glistened under the harsh lights of the Orb’s interrogation cell, her curves displayed against the cold, white surface of the machine. The couch was tilted back at a 45-degree angle, and though her head was supported, the rest of her body was painfully exposed. Her arms were tightly secured at her sides, but her legs were held wide apart by metal clamps. She was creating a Y shape, her groin exposed. Every instinct told her to close her thighs, to shield her sex organs. She tested the bonds again, her muscles straining as she tugged with her arms, her thighs trembling as she tried to pull her legs together. But the restraints only dug deeper into her skin, reminding her of how helpless she was. She looked magnificent, her figure perfect, but it didn’t matter. This vulnerability terrified her.

The soft, maddening elevator music droned on, heightening the sense of isolation. She clenched her fists as the music blurred into the background, overshadowed by her overwhelming need to close her legs.

Nina and Veronica strolled into the sterile interrogation cell, breakfast done and ready to work. They looked frightening in matching white latex body suits - those were beautiful and revealing, but also easy to wipe free of blood and cum. The women ignored the 'musak' playing on it’s loop. They both glanced at their data pads, quickly scanning the details, though they hardly needed to. One of them knew exactly who lay strapped to the couch. Veronica’s face brightened with recognition.

“Maria Kalogeris! The great, Maria Kalogeris. I saw her sing Tosca in Milan once,” Veronica said, her voice almost wistful. “She was... incredible. That voice, those high notes—flawless. Gave me chills.”

Nina smirked slightly but didn’t look up, already busy with the equipment. “You always had a thing for divas, didn’t you?”

Veronica shrugged, her eyes still on Maria. “There’s something about them. Power in their voices, you know? But I wonder...” Her gaze travelled down Maria’s exposed body, her legs still strapped painfully wide. “Can she keep that power now?”

They didn’t speak directly to the prisoner, as if she were nothing more than a specimen to be dissected. Maria’s breaths were shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought against panic. The humiliation of being discussed like this -her voice, her body, her artistry - without even being acknowledged! – it all gnawed at her.

“She’s in great shape,” Nina commented, finally glancing at Maria as she prepared a strange looking mechanical necklace. “Better than most.”

Veronica chuckled. “Better than the last one, for sure. But let’s see how well she handles this.”

Nina stepped forward, holding the metallic collar. With practiced precision, she began fitting the device around Maria’s throat. It was cold and locked into place with a soft click. Maria tensed, her pulse throbbing against the metal.

Veronica’s smile was cold as she watched. “Let’s see if she’s still got that fabulous breath control.”

Veronica walked closer to the interrogation couch. Her eyes fixed on the metallic collar wrapped around Maria’s slender throat.

"This device is called ‘the sirens noose." she began, her voice smooth but cold, "it requires two things from you - breath control and silence. If you try to speak without permission, it will cut off your airflow entirely, until I turn it back on. When it glows blue, you must breathe out. When it turns red, you have only seconds to breathe in. Fail, and you’ll be going into the next exhalation period with empty lungs."

The first pulse of blue illuminated the collar, and Maria’s panic spiked. Veronica watched intently as her victim pursed her lips, forcing herself to exhale as instructed. For fifteen seconds, she breathed out. Then the collar flashed red. Maria gasped, her chest heaving as she instinctively drew in air. Her full, round breasts strained upward, the sudden rush of breath making them rise sharply, her nipples taut against the cold. Veronica looked at her chest with detached curiosity, noting how the muscles under her skin tensed and her body arched, desperately seeking oxygen.

Without warning, the device switched to its next cycle. The blue glow returned, this time for a punishing twenty seconds. Maria’s lips quivered as she struggled to maintain control, pushing the last of the air from her lungs as her body fought not to inhale. The muscles in her diaphragm strained painfully, and just when she thought she couldn’t hold out any longer, the collar flashed red again. She had only two seconds to gasp for air. Her chest shot upward, breasts bouncing as her lungs greedily pulled in oxygen before the collar constricted once more.

The cycles became more torturous. When the blue light stretched to a brutal thirty five seconds, Maria’s entire body trembled. Her lungs burned as she exhaled, trying to keep pace with the cruel rhythm of the device. When the red flashed, she had just three seconds to pant for as much air as she could, her chest rising and falling in jerky, desperate motions. Each breath made her breasts swell with effort, the skin pulling tight against the restraints, trembling as the device continued its assault on her body.

The final cycle was the worst: one full minute of exhalation. Maria's face twisted in agony as her lungs emptied, her lips parted in a slow, controlled release. Her entire body quivered, the line of her ribs tightly visible beneath her skin. Then the collar flashed red. She had only four seconds this time. Her chest shot upward again, breasts quaking violently as her diaphragm spasmed, frantically trying to suck in air before the light changed again.

At the end of the cycle, Maria’s body glistened with sweat, her breasts flushed and rising unevenly as her lungs struggled to recover. Veronica and Nina examined her closely, their eyes tracing the curve of her chest, noting the way her skin glowed with sweat from the strain of this torture. It puddled on the latex of the couch.

“She’s strong,” Veronica murmured, fingers brushing lightly over their victims shoulders, feeling the slight quiver beneath her touch. "But let’s see how long that lasts."

The Sirens Noose began to work again, shifting between the harsh blue glow and the sharp flash of red, dictating Maria's every breath. Her powerful lungs were now fighting for her life against the indifferent machine. Each time the light turned blue, she pursed her beautiful lips and exhaled slowly, every breath leaving her body in a shuddering stream. When the red light flashed, her chest heaved, and she snatched desperate gulps of air, her breasts straining with the frantic effort. The pattern repeated—gasp, exhale, struggle, and gasp again—until her mind swirled with the need to survive.

Nina stood beside her, watching intently. As Maria's body quivered with the machine's demands, Nina’s hand moved almost thoughtfully, over her exposed skin. Her fingers traced the taut muscles of the opera star’s abdomen, admiring the strange contrast. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” she mused aloud. “She’s beautiful—pampered, perfect muscles—but not athletic. Look at her core, though. Incredible.”

Veronica chuckled from the other side of the couch, leaning casually against it. “All that breath control. It takes more than just looking good to be a Diva.”

Nina’s touch drifted over Maria’s form, her fingers gently inspecting her hair, nails, and eyelashes. Each was flawlessly maintained, every detail of her body painstakingly cared for. The victim, though consumed by the struggle to breathe, could feel every humiliating brush of their fingers, every demeaning comment. Her lashes fluttered in frustration, her eyes sharp with defiance.

“She’s like a doll,” Nina said softly, her fingers tracing along the elegant line of Maria’s collarbone. “So perfect. But it’s almost… too much.”

Maria’s mind was spinning from the oxygen deprivation and the indignity of being discussed as though she were a thing, a specimen. Her eyes flashed in anger, the only rebellion she could manage.

Veronica noticed, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, look at that. Fire in her eyes. Let’s not forget, Nina, her ability to ‘perform’ isn’t just about perfect lungs. It’s about passion. Too bad we’re about to drain every last bit of it from her.”

Nina laughed softly, her hand still trailing lightly over Maria’s quivering form, sliding towards her exposed labia. "Opera, huh? Can’t say it’s my thing. I’m more of a heavy rock girl. Guitars, drums... you know, something with a little more edge." She cast a glance at Veronica, who was still leaning back, watching Maria struggle to breathe with a certain detached amusement.

Veronica tilted her head, smirking. "You would be. But you’re missing out, Nina. Opera isn’t just about high notes and fancy performances. It’s about raw, emotional power. Rock is fun—sure—but opera? That’s the music of passion, desire, heartbreak… and all of it wrapped up in the most intense performances.”

Nina raised an eyebrow, sceptical. "I don’t see it. How do you get from someone singing in Italian to it being... sexy?"

Veronica stepped forward, her eyes gleaming as she drew closer to the struggling opera singer, who continued to gasp and tremble beneath the machine’s control. “Think about it,” she said, her voice lower now, almost conspiratorial. “Opera is all about the build-up, the tension. It’s not rushed like rock, where everything’s in your face. In opera, the music teases you, pulls you in slowly, with those long, swelling notes. You feel the power of the voice, the sheer control... and then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, it crescendos.”

She cast a glance at Maria, who was still panting for air between cycles, her body tense, every muscle trembling. “Like her,” Veronica continued, “every breath she takes, every second she struggles - it’s all about control. A push and pull. Opera is exactly like that. It’s powerful, emotional, and it leaves you breathless.”

Nina chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re serious about this.”

“Dead serious,” Veronica said, eyes glinting. “Opera makes everything feel... heightened. The drama, the intensity. It’s seductive in a way that rock can never be. With rock, you get the adrenaline, sure. But with opera? You get the depth. The passion. It’s not just sex. It’s an experience.”

Maria’s chest rose in another desperate gasp, her body arching beneath the straps. Veronica smiled down at her, as if proving her point. “See what I mean?” she whispered. “It’s all in the performance.”

Then she thought of something else.

“You know, neither of us would have a chance against this. But her…” She nodded toward the fearful, exposed form of their victim. “An opera singer? She’s built for this kind of punishment. But it’s still going intense.”

She leaned down, close to Maria’s ear. “This is going to hurt. Just breathe when I tell you, and maybe you’ll get through it. Or maybe not.”

With a flick of her fingers, she put the sirens noose into a more intense cycle: it began with a full sixty seconds of blue light*.

Maria’s eyes widened in fear, diaphragm pulling in tight as she slowly as she exhaled, the Siren’s Noose holding her in cruel control. Sweat began to bead on her olive skin, glistening along the lines of her taut muscles. She tried to pace herself, her body trembling with the effort of expelling every breath in her body. Her breasts heaved slightly, the muscles in her abdomen clenching as she fought against her instinct to inhale.

Then the light turned red— she had only six seconds to breathe in. Desperately, Maria made a wheezing noise and she struggled to take in take in the precious air. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gulps, her nipples taut against the cold air as her body strained for oxygen. Tears began to pool in her eyes, clinging to her long, dark eyelashes.

The next cycle was worse—sixty-five seconds of blue. Maria’s lips quivered, her entire body slick with sweat now, muscles tense and trembling as she forced every last bit of air from her lungs. Her throat ached from the strain, her face flushed as beads of sweat slid down her forehead, mingling with the tears now running down her cheeks. Her long lashes, damp and clumped together, blinked desperately as she tried to keep focus, tried to control herself.

When the light flashed red again, only two* seconds to breathe, she gasped violently. Her chest heaved, breasts rising and falling rapidly, skin glistening under the lights as her body seized the brief moment of relief before the Siren’s Noose commanded her to exhale once more.

Then came the final cycle: eighty seconds of blue. Maria’s body convulsed slightly as she tried to keep up with the impossible demand. Sweat poured down her neck, her chest, her abdomen, pooling on the cold surface beneath her. Every muscle in her body was tight, straining to stay controlled, though she could feel her strength waning. Her arms, though secured at her sides, twitched reflexively, her thighs trembling as her legs remained painfully spread. Her entire body was slick and flushed, every breath drawn out to the breaking point.

As the blue light continued, her tears fell faster, staining her beautiful lashes, now heavy and wet. Her lips parted in a grimace of desperation, her chest trembling violently as she fought the rising panic.

Finally, the red light. One second. A final, frantic gasp. Her entire body arched, her breasts rising in one last effort to fill her lungs before the cycle resumed.

Maria's lungs burned as the machine tightened its grip, pushing her beyond her limits. Her eyes bulged, panic seizing her body as her lips parted in a desperate attempt to suck in air, but nothing came. Her throat convulsed, her chest collapsing inward as she choked silently, her muscles quivering beneath the sheen of sweat that now covered her.

Then, with a sharp click, Veronica switched the machine off.

The cruel tension released instantly, and Maria gave a weird, gasping sob. Veronica stood back, watching with a satisfied smile. “See? It proves my point.”

She turned her back on the exhausted opera singer, casually reaching into her suit purse and taking out a silver cigarette case. She selected one and lit it. Then she took a long, slow drag, exhaling the smoke into the sterile air as if the moment had barely fazed her. Nina, standing beside her, raised an eyebrow.

“I wonder,” Veronica mused aloud, “do singers ever smoke? Surely they don’t - it would destroy their vocal cords, wouldn’t it?”

Nina shrugged, her eyes lingering on Maria’s trembling, sweat-slicked body. “I don’t know. You’d think it wouldn’t be good for them, but you never know. People are full of contradictions.”

Veronica smirked, then, with a slow and deliberate movement, lowered the cigarette to Maria’s lips. “Let’s find out.”

The opera singer, her body still shuddering from the ordeal, stared up at the cigarette, her lips parting hesitantly. She inhaled, the smoke entering her lungs in a grateful, controlled drag. For a brief second, the raw terror was replaced by something else—an instinctive relief.

Veronica leaned in closer, her voice smooth and sharp. “Do you smoke in real life?” Her gaze narrowed. “Just nod.”

With a trembling breath, Maria nodded.

Veronica’s expression darkened with disappointment. She stood up, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. “How... predictable,” she muttered. “I expected more from someone like you.”

She took another drag, eyeing Maria with a cold, calculating stare. “I think it’s time we see what you can really do, young lady.”

-Veronica approached the drawer with a casual grace, her fingers skimming over a collection of sleek, polished implements, each one more intricate than the last. With a small smile, she selected a delicate silver chain—intricately designed to wrap around the curves of the body, with slender links meant to hug the thighs and buttocks. At its center, a small, pearl-like device dangled, positioned to rest precisely over a woman's clitoris and labia.

She handed the chain to Nina. "Fit this on our singer," Veronica said smoothly, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Let’s see how she handles it.”

Nina took the chain with a nod, leaning over Maria, who was still panting softly from the recent ordeal. Her body trembled, slick with sweat, skin flushed and glistening in the cold, sterile light of the room. She couldn’t lift her head, but she could feel the weight of their eyes on her—judging, watching, controlling.

Nina worked methodically, her fingers gentle but precise as she slid the cool metal around Maria’s thighs, fastening the chain in place. The links hugged tightly to the contours of her body, sliding around the buttocks and thighs, pearl-like device resting against her labia, nestled snugly between her trembling legs.

Maria tensed, her muscles instinctively resisting the intrusion, though her body was too weak to protest. She clenched her thighs in a vain attempt to close them, but the clamps kept her legs open. Nina adjusted the labial decoration slightly, making sure everything was positioned just right, her touch clinical yet oddly intimate.

“There,” Nina murmured, stepping back to admire her work. "Fitted perfectly."

Veronica smiled, her eyes glinting. “Good. Now we’ll see how much control she really has.”

Veronica held the cigarette just a fraction from Maria’s trembling lips, watching with an almost lazy interest as the opera singer inhaled again, her breath shaky but grateful. The smoke curled up between them, swirling in the sterile air before Veronica pulled the cigarette away, a hint of a smirk forming on her lips.

"You’ve had your reprieve," She said, her voice mocking as she tossed the cigarette onto the floor, grinding it beneath the toe of her white latex boot with slow deliberation. "Now, let me explain what’s next. We’re going to turn the Siren’s Noose back on—but this time, you’ll have something else to keep you… entertained."

She gestured to the delicate chain now fitted snugly around Maria’s hips, the pearl-like device resting against her most sensitive flesh. “This is going to glow in pretty colours too - blue for pleasure, Red for pain. You’re going to have to keep control… but I don’t think you’ll manage.”

Maria’s eyes widened in horror. She could barely handle the Noose on its own, but the thought of enduring both devices simultaneously made her shudder, her body visibly trembling against the restraints.

Nina chuckled, stepping back with an eager gleam in her eyes as she activated both devices.

Veronica watched closely as the Siren’s Noose glowed blue. "Time for a taste, I think," she murmured.

For twenty seconds, Maria was commanded to exhale. Her lips pursed, a soft, shaky stream of breath leaving her lungs, but then—suddenly—the chain sprang to life. A rush of pleasure surged through her body, a gentle but maddening stimulation directly against her labia. Her thighs quivered, muscles tensing as she fought to maintain control, the pleasure too much, too fast. She found herself on the edge of climax. Maria nearly choked as the sensations made it nearly impossible to focus.

The light turned red—inhalation. Five seconds to fight for air. But as she desperately tried to suck in a breath, the pearl device responded with two brutal flashes of red-hot pain. The shock ripped through her, and Maria screamed, the sound muffled by the sheer need to breathe, her chest convulsing as she failed to draw air.

The cycle ended abruptly, the devices falling silent for a moment. Maria collapsed against the couch, her body drenched in sweat, tears running freely down her flushed cheeks, staining her dark lashes. She sobbed, her whole form wriggling as her body sought relief from the brutal dual assault.

Nina grinned wickedly. "Oh, she’s writhing beautifully now," she said, clearly delighted.

"Of course she is. But we’re just getting started."

Veronica picked up the control panel of the Siren’s Noose, and with a click, she switched it off. Or rather – paused it.

"You may speak," Veronica said coolly. "But only to answer my question. What’s your favourite overture, in any opera?”

Maria fought back tears, her body still trembling from the torment, but her voice—shaken and hoarse—came through with the hint of the rich tone she was known for. "T-the… overture to La Traviata," she whispered, her voice catching on the words.

Veronica tilted her head, amused. “And how long does it last? Give me a time.”

Maria blinked, trying to gather her wits. “A-about three… three and a half minutes.”

Veronica’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Good. Then I’m going to set these machines to match that exact time. The full length of your favorite overture. And when it’s completed…” She leaned down, her eyes locking onto Maria’s which were wide and terrified. “The afternoon’s main performance will begin.”

Without another word, she turned back to the control panel and programmed the devices. Three and a half minutes of cycling between pleasure and pain between the thighs. The Siren’s Noose forcing her to almost superhuman control regardless.

Veronica took a step back, folding her arms as she observed the trembling woman. “Let’s see if you can keep up with your favourite overture, darling. I doubt you’ll enjoy it quite the same after this.”

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