With a shuddering gasp, I come to my senses again. I am surrounded by the gray healing mist but my privates are still screaming, so it must have only been a few merciful moments I'd been able to escape my predicament. I'm still stretched taut in the grasp of the WASH-A-WOMAN, and it's now raped me and violated me a half dozen different painful and humiliating ways.

I'm still alive despite the brutal treatment, and I wonder fleetingly what's next on its agenda. Since I can't change my destiny a whit, I still those thoughts, because I'm only adding to my torment when I do so.

My prison begins to echo again with the rumble of machinery, and I steel myself against imagining what's next, for to do so would be to die a thousand needless deaths imagining even more tortures being applied to my body. The washer wand ports open once again, but this time the extending wands rinse me gently and thoroughly with a gentle bath of soothingly warm water. On and on they bathe me with their shower of gentle, relaxing water, and I feel like the machine is asking for my forgiveness as it flushes my tormented body parts tenderly over and over, washing away the pain sweat and pungent stink of my fear. Even my tortured privates receive a gentle flushing that soothes my tortured flesh. The bewitchingly soothing misting seems to go on and on, and then the wands shift to a relaxing, pulsing massage pattern.

I groan with a hidden meaning as the wands finally stop spurting their healing fluid over my body. It appears my primal nature has a very short memory, because I think it is actually looking forward to more of whatever the machine has in store for me! My husband Bill, my daughters, they're all gone from my thoughts as my world collapses to the important question: what is this machine going to do to me next?

It gives me my answer as the washing ports open again and the wands begin to puff little clouds of powdery waxy stuff onto my skin. It doesn't take long until I'm covered with the stuff, and the wands once again leave me alone in the chamber.

Once again, the floor ports open, but this time the arms extend with soft, firm-but-fluffy pads of blue felt strips that have an entirely different effect as they vigorously rub my legs. Instead of searing pain, I'm left with a warm fuzzy glow as the whirling pads buff my legs to a glow. My sides are next, then my back, and although the back buffing wheel pushes me forward to stretch me to my limit, it's ecstasy, not torture, and as the thick ridges in the center of the roller buff my crack, its warmth is arousing instead of torturing. Knowing what's next in the sequence, my pussy is flooding with woman juice as the pillion rises before me and I am once again pulled forward to present my ass to the sky. My butt is already reaching for them as the whirling cups take command of my ass, and my primal sex thrusts itself back against the buffing felts as they lift me towards the orgasm I know I'm yearning for. Again and again I thrust myself back against its burnishing touch, and the machine gives me the release I seek by staying in close and goading me again and again to climax.

Despite the waves of pleasure that wash over me again and again, I don't pass out this time, and so as the machine once again straightens me out I'm looking forward to its continuing attention. This time, it caresses my belly lovingly, and when it invades my bellybutton it seems like a teasing lover's tongue instead of a brutal rape as it was before.

In spite of myself, I'm looking forward eagerly to discovering what the machine's attentions to my breasts will entail. I'm still very randy from my recent waves of multiple orgasms, and my nipples are already half erect in anticipation of what I imagine is to come.

Instead of the vacuum nipple cups, the entire bottom half of the front wall opens, and a strange device advances towards me. It's a boxy thing about as high as my chin, with two deep dark holes in its front that advance towards my breasts, and I can't see much inside the shadowy darkness inside of them. Along its lower front is a set of clamshell doors, and I wonder if this is an obvious parallel to a zipper. It bulges forward quite a bit, and I decide I'm probably right. Finally, a slot in the ceiling opens, and a long lever drops down to stop just where it would be reachable if my hands were free.

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