Zoe peered out of the tiny window, as the plane banked then began its descent. The city and its airport that she glimpsed below seemed surrounded by sea. On one side a sea of crystal blue water and on the other three sides by a sea of sand dunes that stretched away seemingly to infinity. One road, a thin thread of sand blown tarmac, stretched along the coast and into the distance. Her tourist leaflet told her that the Middle-East State of El-Saram was a small, oil-rich monarchy that had a warm, friendly culture that welcomed tourists. It offered miles of unspoilt sandy beaches, five star hotels, beautiful weather and an unspoilt hinterland that called out to be explored.
As the jet touched down, then rumbled along the tarmac towards the airport terminal, Zoe glanced out of the window again. Sunlight glared from the giant steel cylinders of an oil refinery that stood alongside the airport and the horizon shimmered in the fierce heat.
The airport terminal was not air-conditioned and by the time Zoe reached the customs desk her white cotton blouse clung damply to her, accentuating her generous breasts. She flicked her long, dark hair impatiently clear of her face as she waited her turn in the small queue. She rehearsed her story again in her mind: she was a free-lance journalist, writing a piece on the country's pearl divers. She glanced again at her passport. Zara Chambers, twenty-four years old, born West Sussex, journalist. The photo was her but the rest was a lie. She was Zoe Farquerson, twenty-six and her employer was the British Secret Service. Relax, she told herself as she moved another place closer to the customs desk, she'd done this plenty of times before.
When she showed her passport to the customs official she was asked to stand to one side and was soon forced to watch the backs of the last passengers passing through the doors that led into the arrivals lounge whilst she was kept waiting by the customs desk. She glanced at the security personnel who stood behind the plain table and in front of a large mirror that faced the customs desk.
'Your bag please Miss Chambers.'
'What? Oh yes, I suppose... of course.'
Alone now with the two uniformed customs officials the arrivals lounge on the other side of the barrier seemed suddenly a long way off. The concrete corridor stood empty and silent. Why me, thought Zoe, lifting her bag onto the inspection table. Was it possible they knew who she really was? She glanced past the security guard at the large mirror that she guessed to be a mirrored window. Was someone watching her? Her training and intuition began to tell her that something was already seriously amiss with her mission.
Behind the mirror window two men watched her silently. Ahmed Mosafa was a senior officer in the El-Saram internal security service. Rodney Stonefield, now the personal private secretary of the King of El-Saram, had until a year ago been a senior British government civil servant. Caught out selling secrets abroad he had been disgraced and once granted bail he'd fled rather than face trial.
'So she is one of your spies?' Ahmed Mosafa raised an eyebrow as he regarded the staggeringly beautiful young girl who stood impatiently before the customs counter as her bag was searched.
'Five years in the business, dear chap. Three as a desk girl at Head Quarters and the last two years as a field operative,' answered Stonefield.
'As agreed then we shall pay you your fee for this valuable piece of information directly into your Swiss Bank account. There will then just remain your wish to1/4'the Arab left his sentence hanging unfinished. The Englishman smiled maliciously as he watched the girl through the concealed mirror.
'To watch her suffer at your hands. That will be the most satisfying part of our gentleman's agreement.'
'This girl has angered you in some way? You wish to even a score with her, yes?'
'Absolutely. You see my dear Ahmed, she was one of the team the secret service used to spy on me once they suspected what I was up to.'
'I see.'
'Of course she'll tell you lots of useful things, though she may take some persuading. I dare say she knows the other agents that Britain has in your country and our links with your pathetic little pro-democracy movement and its plans to unseat his Excellency. It will be amusing to watch you coaxing the information from her. We must just make sure though that she never recognises me. Or if she does, that she never returns to Britain.'
'Once her interrogation is complete I shall have her moved to my little country retreat. You must come and visit me and we can take our time with her there.'
'Major Mosafa, you are too kind.'
Zoe glanced around her. Her heart was hammering and in her mind she was urgently running over what might happen next and how she could best deal with it. On the pretext of wanting to carry out a routine body search for drugs she had been led into a small, windowless room by two female security guards. In one corner there was a tiled shower but with no screen or curtain around it. There was a rough wooden table and chair, an old metal filing cabinet and an old tea chest up-ended to make a crude table which was scattered with little metal cups, a battered silver coffee pot and an earthenware bowl full of fruit. There was a large mirror on one wall which Zoe guessed again to be a concealed window and more disconcerting still was a broad, stout bench with leather straps fastened to each of its four corners. At the sight of the bench those alarm bells in Zoe's mind that hadn't yet gone off were now ringing out loudly. She was in deep trouble!
'Take your clothes off please,' ordered one of the women.
Zoe knew she couldn't really object; a strip search for drugs was almost routine in many countries. Reluctantly she began to unbutton her jeans.
'Can you tell me how long... only...'
'Search now, no problems then you go.'
The reply was peremptory but a little reassuring. Perhaps she was just worrying unnecessarily. She quickly pulled off her boots then removed her jeans. The sooner she could get out of here the better, she thought, handing her jeans to one of the woman who checked the pockets before tossing them onto a chair. Anyway, even if she was held for any length of time her contact would be trying to find out what had happened to her and the Embassy would swiftly become involved. Relax, she told herself, unbuttoning her blouse
'And your bra, take it off,' ordered the woman.
Zoe had just handed her blouse to the woman.
'But why? This is ridiculous!' she protested.
'We have to search you for drugs. We have to make a proper search... now remove the rest of your clothing.'
'Please can I...'
'Do it!'
The woman who was speaking stepped closer, one hand on the handle of her long truncheon. Zoe glanced from one of the uniformed women to the other. Both were in their late twenties or thirties. One was tall and powerfully built, the other slim and petite, though her short sleeved shirt showed well-muscled arms. Zoe herself was a petite 5'4". Her mother was Spanish and Zoe had inherited her olive skinned complexion and her slim build as well as her large, dark eyes and dark hair. Having been trained in unarmed combat she felt confident that she could look after herself in a tight situation. There was no point though in annoying these women. Get the search over and done with, she told herself, then get the hell out of here!
Having removed her bra and then her pants she glanced nervously at the women as they appraised her. Being naked made her feel acutely vulnerable and she anxiously eyed the women's long truncheons slung from their belts. She looked worriedly around the room, glimpsing her reflection in the large mirror. Her long, sable hair tumbled over her smooth shoulders, the ends falling far enough to partly cover her breasts, which were high and generous. Her taut stomach showed her fast, nervous breathing. She felt her cheeks crimson as the younger guard who'd taken her bra and pants, looked admiringly at the expensive silk and lace.
Both of the women facing her wore stout black leather boots with dark blue trousers tucked into puttees. They had on crisply starched, dark green, short sleeve shirts. Their dark hair was cut short and both wore dark green peaked caps with badges proclaiming the National Guard.
'Now, lie face down on that couch.'
'Why?' Zoe objected.
'Lie face down on the couch,' the woman ordered.
'I want to speak with a representative of the British Embassy,' Zoe demanded, glancing anxiously at the door and quickly assessing her chances of escape. The two young women made no answer but closed upon her, glancing as they did so at the large wall mirror, that Zoe was now certain must be a another mirror window.
'Lie down on the bench so that we can conclude our search of you, then you will be allowed to go.'
Like hell I will, thought Zoe, certain now that this was no routine search. Somehow they must know who she was? How on earth had that happened? Her thoughts were turning to what to do next when the door opened and a man in similar uniform to the women entered the room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. Distracted by the man, before she had time to respond, the two women seized her wrists, jerking her arms in opposite directions.
Immediately Zoe's training took over. She swiftly jerked her right arm free from the younger girl and aimed a karate blow against the other woman. The young girl though grabbed her arm again, spoiling her blow. A sharp punch to her stomach momentarily winded her and a hand chopping down on the back of her neck stunned her and she crumpled to her knees.
Before she could recover her senses properly the man briskly stepped forwards and pressed a thick pad of cotton wool firmly against her face. His hand clasped her hair at her nape and held her head forward into the cotton wool and an overpowering chemical smell assailed her. The two female guards pinned her arms and held her down, for a few seconds she struggled ineffectually, then her body went slack as she was forced to breathe in the chloroform.
When she regained consciousness she found herself lying on her back on the bench. There was the cool feel of leather tight around her wrists and ankles. Her arms were stretched out above her head and her legs were widely spread. Trying to move she realised, with dismay, that her arms and legs were held in place by taut straps clipped to the leather cuffs around her ankles and wrists.
'Are the British not looking for her yet, Major?'
'There was no-one waiting to meet her in the airport and she had a room booked at a hotel. The official story is that she was last seen leaving the airport by taxi. The British can hardly accuse us of lying can they? They're far too polite for that.'
Zoe felt her heart sink as she listened to the voices. Another man was in the room talking with the first.
'She's awake, look.'
'So Miss Farquerson, you are with us again. I trust you enjoyed your little sleep?'
'My name is Zara Chambers... I don't know who you think I am, but I'm just...'
'Please, spare us your fanciful story,' the man she'd not seen before laughed mildly. He was an Arab, short and rotund and wearing a western suit.
'Really, you have to believe me, I'm a journalist, my name's Chambers, haven't you seen my passport?' Zoe lifted her head from the bench so that she could get a clearer view of the man.
'We know the bitch is lying,' growled the other man, who wore the uniform of a Captain in the National Guard, 'let's see how long she takes to change her story.'
'Please... listen, you've got to believe me, my name is Zara Chambers.'
'I think it's time we help you remember your true name,' said the Arab in the western suit, 'tell your women to start on her.'
'Certainly Major. It will be a pleasure,' said the Guards Captain, 'the bitch will soon be begging to tell us everything she knows.'
As if in a nightmare from which she couldn't wake Zoe listened to the sound of the women's boots cross the stone floor.
'Please... I don't know anything...'
'Why are you looking so anxious, little English girl?' the small Arab asked.
The older of the two female guards reached out and stroked Zoe's hair clear of her face.
'You have to believe me... my name's Chambers...'
'There is still time for you to be spared suffering.'
As the man spoke, the woman stroked her hand down Zoe's chest, circling her breasts with her fingers. Zoe's breathing was coming in short urgent gasps as she glanced anxiously about her.
'Get your hands off me! You can't do this! You won't get away with this. I'm a British citizen, if you...'
'Spare us please your protestations,' the Arab in the suit smiled down at her with scarcely contained amusement, 'Firstly, let us say that you have been stopped as a suspect for drugs trafficking. Now, we are going to conduct a body search. Hardly something your government can object to, especially when carried out by two women. I assure you that the Captain and myself would not dream of touching your body. So Miss Chambers that is all that is happening. Of course, if you wish to admit to us that Chambers is not your name and that you are a British spy, then I should look favourably upon such a voluntary admission.'
'My name's Chambers and I haven't done anything wrong!'
'So you say, but I am afraid we are still obliged and entitled to search you. Do you know where some people hide drugs? I am afraid that in case you have swallowed some we will have to give you, umm, what is the English word... it escapes me for the moment. Let me put it this way, we will put a mixture into your bowels to make them empty.'
'No, you can't do this...' Zoe blurted.
'I am so sorry for you, I have been told that it can be a little uncomfortable,' the man smiled with blatant insincerity.
'Please... let me go...' Zoe looked around frantically from one face to another. The short balding Arab in the creased suit looked down at her, his sham smile of apology turning to a malicious grin.
'Of course, occasionally the mixture that is fed into the bowels through the anus is not correctly measured. It has to be hot to encourage the body to expel what it is holding. Sometimes, the girls mixing the spices for the paste we use put too much of something in and the effects can be quite distressing. Really quite distressing...'
'You bastard! If you torture me, then...'
'Good heavens! Who suggested such a thing? No, no, my dear girl. This is a civilised country which welcomes English tourists. All I said was we will have to search your body for drugs.'
'Damn you, I know what you're telling me!' Zoe jerked her arms against the leather wristcuffs and pulled angrily with her legs against the restraints.
'Dear girl, whatever we do to you, your body won't show any marks. And of course it would be your word against ours. Now, spare yourself what is about to happen, admit to us you are a British spy. I am Major Mosafa of the El-Saram Internal Security Service. I know who you are. Enough of this game, the time has come for you to co-operate.'
'No...' Zoe shook her head in denial.
The Guards Captain nodded to the two female guards.
'Go ahead, it's time to persuade the bitch to talk.'
There was an agonising pause, then fingers felt between her buttocks, making Zoe try to jerk away but the leather, closely fastened around her ankles, restrained her.
'What are you doing? Please... don't... I don't know anything1/4believe me, please... no...' Zoe craned her head back as she felt hands drawing apart the globes of her buttocks. The older woman saw her watching her work and she smiled with satisfaction.
'Come now, lie still... there's nothing you can do to stop us,' said the Major.
The younger female guard meshed her fingers into Zoe's long hair and pushed her head firmly back down.
'Uhh... no... please...'
Fingers were smearing something greasy against her anus. Instinctively Zoe tried pulling her legs together but the leather straps around her ankles kept them spread. She gave a whimper of protest as one fingertip began working the greasy substance into her rectum. Squirming and pulling against the leather cuffs that kept her arms held above her head, she gave an anguished groan as her sphincter muscle was coaxed with grease to admit the passage first of one finger then of several fingers together.
'Are you sure you don't want to co-operate?' the Major asked.
The fingers meshed in her hair dragged Zoe's head up, forcing her to see two short lengths of hose now held by the other woman.
'Go to hell!' hissed Zoe through clenched teeth.
The Major gave a nod for the women to continue. Zoe grunted as her head was pulled back down.
'Do you know what's going to happen to you English girl?' asked the older woman, 'This tube will be put deep inside you; then I shall force a paste through the tube into your delicate young body. It will give you much discomfort at first; then after a short time you'll be begging me to stop the torture. The heat inside you will get worse until you can't stand it and then you will answer our questions to save yourself.'
'She is right,' said Mosafa. 'Spare yourself this, co-operate with us now.'
'Like I just said,' Zoe hissed. 'Go to hell!'
'You will not be feeling so brave in a few moments' time,' the woman laughed softly.
Zoe screwed her eyes shut, whimpering as fingertips were exchanged for the cold hard plastic of the tube. She lay, her cheeks burning with shame, unable to believe what was happening to her as the tube was slowly forced up inside her.
'Listen to me, admit who you are and I can still stop this happening to you,' Mosafa offered.
'My name's Chambers...' Zoe gasped, twisting her head against the fingers that meshed into her hair and held her still.
'We're going to put a mixture through the tube, a paste that is mixed with hot spices it will make your bowels urgently want to empty... it is not a pleasurable sensation. After a few minutes you will feel as if you are burning up... you will be howling with discomfort. You only need to admit to me who you are...'
'Go to hell...'
Mosafa gave a reproving tut-tut then nodded to the woman to continue. For a few moments Zoe felt nothing as the woman fed the mixture into the tube, then satisfied that there was plenty of the mixture in the tube, she inserted a slightly smaller tube with a sealed end into the first and began pushing it after the mixture. She exchanged a knowing glance with her Captain who smiled with satisfaction.
The mixture was potently hot and as it emptied into her bowels Zoe threw back her head, crying out for them to stop. The woman drew out both tubes.
'Uhh... no... can't... bear... it...'
The woman, ignoring her pleading, took a rubber butt plug and smiling sadistically, pushed it firmly into Zoe's anus, ramming it home until the flared base was pressed firmly against her struggling body.
'Please, stop...' Zoe gasped. She could feel the sweat already pouring off her tethered body and the burning sensation inside her was already unbearable.
Pulling on black leather gloves the older woman moved to the head of the bench alongside the younger woman. Zoe looked up imploringly at the two women, shaking her head and sighing as the terrible sensation in her body got worse and worse. The older woman smiled down apologetically and stroked Zoe's perspiration soaked face.
'Hurts... please make it stop!' she begged, unable stand anymore, 'Please! No more!' she howled, begging then screaming for them to stop. The fingers meshed in her tousled hair tightened their grip, holding her head still and the older woman placed a gloved hand over her mouth and held it there silencing her. The burning sensation inside her wasn't getting any worse now and Zoe wondered what else they would do to her to try to make her talk. As she writhed and twisted against the restraints that held her down on the bench she stared up at her interrogators.
The two women were plainly enjoying watching her distress and the younger of the two was looking lasciviously at her naked body as she struggled helplessly, her skin now shiny with perspiration. She gazed at the two men, her stomach churning and her heart hammering as she thought about what they might do to her next to make her talk. She could save herself if she agreed to co-operate1/4but then if she refused what might she be made to experience1/4
'Would you like to tell us who you really are now?' asked the Captain as the woman abruptly removed her hand from Zoe's mouth.
She looked anxiously about her. There was no way she could hold out against them if things turned really nasty, but if they were afraid to actually harm her because of the possible political repercussions, then what was the worst thing that they could do to her? She had seen plenty of men being forcibly interrogated become sexually aroused and now she could understand why. There was a heady thrill at the thought of what these people might do to her next that made her reluctant to cave in just yet to their demands.
'Will you talk?'
'No.' Zoe shook her head in denial, reassuring herself that the moment they started to torture her in earnest she'd capitulate and answer their questions. Meantime, she'd see if their interrogation methods were anywhere as imaginative or effective as those the SES had taught her to use.
'She's very stubborn. She deserves to suffer. Gag her,' Mosafa ordered.
The words sounded alarm bells in Zoe's head and she was about to speak when the young female guard clapped her leather gloved hand down over her mouth. Zoe shook her head to pull free but the hand came down tighter.
'Looks like she's got something to say already.'
'No matter. Gag her then we'll soften her up. She shouldn't have been so stubborn in the first place.'
Zoe struggled frantically as the two women prepared to fit the gag. She tried twisting her wrists and thrashing her legs but the leather belts were snugly fastened around her ankles and wrists. One of the women held her thrashing head still, then the other taunted her with the gag, dangling its leather straps so they brushed over the her cheeks. All the time Zoe tried to tell them she'd co-operate but the gloved hand remained firmly across her mouth.
'Once you are wearing this, no-one will hear you, no matter what we do to you.'
Zoe stared in dismay at the ball gag and she tried ineffectually to shake her head free as one gloved hand prised open her jaws. The leather covered rubber ball was forced into her mouth before she could explain that she was ready to answer their questions. Tears rolling down her cheeks, Zoe shook her head as the leather strap, to which the ball was stitched, was buckled at her nape.
'Take her to the shower and clean her. Remove the plug from her arse and give her a water enema. Chloroform her first. I think it's time we give her some more persuasive treatment.'
Zoe watched, wide eyed with alarm, as one of the female guards prepared a cotton wool pad with chloroform then stood over her where she lay strapped down and helpless.
'Sweet dreams English girl...'
She grunted through the ball gag as the cotton wool was placed over her nostrils. Immediately her head swam and giddiness overtook her. Her eyelids closed, she felt herself sliding into darkness and the last thing that she was aware of, were voices matter-of-factly discussing her fate.
'Blindfold her while she is unconscious and not a word about the Englishman, understood?'
Zoe came to as she was being lifted from the shower and dragged across the floor. Her naked body was soaking wet, the butt plug had been removed from her and she felt strangely empty inside. With a jolt of shame she realised that they had given her an enema and she had voided herself in the shower. She groaned in protest but the ball gag made her cry all but inaudible. Her vision was completely obscured by a large blindfold of silk covered leather that was drawn tightly across her cheeks.
She felt too weak to offer any resistance as, once again, broad leather cuffs were fastened around her wrists. Blindfolded she was unaware of the leather straps being attached to each wristcuff then fed through the hooks secured to the ceiling until the straps were pulled taut and her arms were drawn up above her head. The sensation of being blindfolded and treated like this had her heart hammering but as well as that she found now that she was acutely aware of how vulnerable she was sexually. These people could do anything to me, Zoe thought, twisting her body against the pressure that kept her arms above her head and feeling the humid air against her naked skin.
The straps were then pulled down and fastened back to her wrists and by means of belt holes the straps were adjusted until they were taut and Zoe's arms were held at full stretch.
She hung, her arms drawn in opposite directions above her head, gasping what breath she could through her nose. The ball gag completely stopped her breathing through her mouth and combined with the blindfold she felt more exposed that she'd ever felt in her life. She had no way of knowing what would happen next to her and now she'd got the idea in her head that these men and women could do anything to her, she felt herself strangely aroused by the prospect.
She was just getting used to the discomfort of having her arms outstretched when hands grasped her ankles and jerked her legs apart. Leather cuffs were wrapped around each of her ankles and buckled securely. She could sense that it was women doing this to her. She imagined them, kneeling before her, binding her ankles, the men standing watching. She grunted in mild discomfort as her ankles were drawn apart and she heard the sounds of metal clips catching fast. Her guess that they'd fastened her ankles to something was confirmed when she tried ineffectually to draw her legs back together. The effect of having her legs forcibly held spread was to increase the pressure on her outstretched arms above her head and she groaned through the gag in dismay as she realised that she could get no relief from the pain her stretched limbs were suffering.
A hand touched between her legs from behind, fleetingly touching her vulva and making her squirm. To her shame she realised that her pussy was already slick with juice and that her body was responding sexually to the physical treatment she was being subjected to. Blindfolded, her awareness was focused on the sensation of touch and she was acutely aware of the leather restraints that were tight around her wrists and ankles. She could imagine how she must look, naked and struggling. The way her arms and legs were stretched would emphasise how slender and vulnerable her body was. When the hand stroked her again she tried jerking herself away but it was hopeless. She began imagining what they might do to her next, groaning through the gag in fevered anticipation as an arm circled her slim waist holding her still whilst the hand resumed stroking her. She was unable to contain a sigh of pleasure which even through the gag she was sure would have been heard.
'Are you ready yet to co-operate with us?' the Major's voice came out of the darkness, making Zoe shamefully realise that they had guessed how she was feeling. Zoe shook her head, part of her not thinking now about holding back secrets from them but aware that if she continued to refuse to co-operate, they would continue... she was already too aroused to be able to be able to resist...
There was a moment's silence, then the man's voice. What he said made her heart sink.
'Bind her breasts with cord.'
Soon Zoe was twisting and writhing as one of the female guards restrained her and she felt the other slip a noose of fine cord around her right breast. Zoe pleaded for them to stop but the only sound to emerge from the ball gag was as muffled sigh. A soft girl's hand held her breast, drawing it away from her chest while a noose of fine cord was slipped snugly over it and drawn tight.
'The cords are silk so they won't burn or mark your delicate skin. There will be no evidence of this.'
Zoe felt the cord tightening, tears pricking her eyes, she twisted her body frantically in an attempt to escape. She felt the cord biting tightly around her breast and she hung her head back, crying through the gag. Her protest though was all but inaudible and the cord was bound repeatedly around the soft orb.
When the two women had finished, Zoe could only imagine how her firm and shapely 34C breast must now look. She could feel the soft flesh, trapped and swollen as it hung gathered and bound. The sensation was too much... how tight had they bound the cord? Her fevered imagination pictured her generous breast now as a cone of swollen purple, bulging out from the mercilessly tightly bound cord. But, how could she tell, she was blindfolded. All she could do was to experience the sensation and to her shame that brought with it an arousal in her body, an ache between her legs, which the more she thought about, the more she felt. They had her trapped by more than ropes around her limbs, she realised with dismay: the more she imagined her torturers watching her body, seeing how aroused she was becoming the more aroused she felt.
Zoe shook her head frantically as the two women now set to work on her other breast. By the time they had finished she was choking back the tears and this time when the man asked her if she was ready to co-operate she nearly nodded her agreement. She thought of all she had been taught and all the expectations that had been placed upon her. She couldn't tell them. She had to hold out until they grew tired of questioning her. Wondering what they might do to her next, she again shook her head. The man laughed softly and she felt him touch one of her trapped breasts, squeezing it until she shook herself free.
'Clamp her nipples. The bitch just needs a little more persuading.'
Zoe shook her head in objection as she felt a clasp being slid over her right nipple then tightened until it trapped her tender nub. A few more turns on the screw and Zoe was writhing in pain as she felt the trapped flesh throb and burn. A moment later her other nipple had been dealt with in a similar fashion. Zoe hung, groaning through the gag in agony. She shook her blindfolded head in despair. Suspended from her outstretched arms, her shoulders now ached desperately. She could feel her feet just dragging on the stone floor. A thumb brushed over one of her trapped nipples making her gasp. She bit harder on the ball that gagged her mouth, squirming frantically as the thumb flicked across her nipple repeatedly until the delicate flesh was aroused so much her tiny erection pressed painfully into the metal that clamped it.
'So, would you like to answer our questions now?'
Zoe shook her head in denial, but the tears were pouring down her cheeks and she knew that she was on the brink of surrender.
'So delicate... just imagine what it would feel like if a weight was now hung from your poor little tit? Could you stand that English girl?'
Her heart hammering, her cheeks flushed, she fantasised how it might feel and her nipples ached in sympathy with her fevered imagination. The man asked her again if she was ready to co-operate and again she shook her head in refusal.
'Weight her nipples,' the man ordered.
There was an agonising moment's wait then she felt one of the women clasp hold of her breast. Zoe shook her head in protest, whimpering through the gag. When the woman removed her hand from her bound breast Zoe felt the clamp pull sharply at her nipple as it was dragged down by the unseen weight.
'Uhhh... UUHH!'
Her cry of protest was audible, despite the ball gag.
'And her other.'
'NNNHHH!'
'Look how she struggles now.'
'She is desperate to escape,' commented Mosafa, 'How long will you leave her like this?'
'Until she talks.'
'Often they faint,' observed the older woman, 'but we bring them round again.'
'If it looks like she is resisting the pain there is a simple way to enhance her suffering.'
'Which is?' asked Mosafa.
'Bring the whip and show Major Mosafa,' ordered the Captain.
'I hope you enjoy this, English girl,' the woman whispered, teasing Zoe's slender back with the cool, long coil of the leather whip.
'The whip will jolt her body and then the weights will swing and give her maximum discomfort,' the Captain commented.
Zoe shook her head vigorously, groaning through the gag, to try to make them realise that she would talk now. If only they'd give her the chance!
'I think the bitch wants to talk,' laughed the Captain.
'Are you ready to co-operate then?' asked Mosafa.
Zoe nodded her head in agreement; she couldn't take any more of their punishment. She'd tried to hold out, but she couldn't bear the thought of worse than she was already going through.
'Excellent,' said Mosafa.
'Shall we ungag her?' asked the Captain.
'Yes.'
A moment later and the ball gag had been removed and Zoe was gulping air again through her mouth and flexing her aching jaws.
'Tell me who you are?' demanded Mosafa.
'I'm Zoe Farquerson... now please, let me go...' Zoe begged, breathlessly.
'Very good. Remove the weights and clips from her nipples as a reward for her honesty. Now tell me, who do you really work for?'
'The British Government,' Zoe admitted shamefully.
'And how would describe your work?'
'I gather information from overseas.'
'Excellent. Remove the cords from her breasts. She is becoming most co-operative and must be rewarded. So, you spy. This is what you are saying?'
'Yes, if you have to call it that,' sighed Zoe.
'So what are you doing in our country?'
'Collecting information about your dissident pre-democracy movement.'
'And I imagine you already know quite a bit about them? Names? Addresses? Plans?'
'No.'
'You lie.'
'No. I'm here to find all that out. As yet, I know practically nothing,' objected Zoe.
'She has plenty more she can tell us. This is just a start. I will want more time with her. I shall return this evening and have her moved,' announced Mosafa.
'What do you want done with her in the meantime?' asked the Captain.
'Keep her here until tonight when I return. You may in the meantime enjoy her as a reward for your good work. Encourage her to talk if you can. Make a note of anything she says. If she co-operates, reward her with leniency.'
'Understood, Major. I shall see if I can loosen her tongue a little more.'
'Enjoy your work, Captain.'
Zoe listened to the sounds of receding footsteps and the door closing. It had sounded as if two people had left the room. Mosafa and who else? She supposed one of the female guards must have left as well, except that they were wearing heavy boots and the neither of those footsteps that had left sounded like that, both were too quiet.
'Please let me down... my arms hurt so much...' Zoe begged.
The Guard Captain gave a short, contemptuous laugh.
'Gag her,' he ordered. 'Gag her, then whip her. I want to watch her being whipped until she's half-senseless.'
'You can't whip me... if you mark my body, I'll be able...'
The man cut her short with a harsh laugh.
'You don't understand do you? Now that you've admitted you're a spy, you've sealed your fate! The Major will be taking you this evening to a place where no one will find you! So, it's time for you to taste the whip!'
'No! You can't! Please!'
'Perhaps you'd care to give me answers to some of the Major's questions then?'
'All right,' sighed Zoe, 'I'll tell you what I know, but I'm afraid it's not that much.'
Zoe proceeded to divulge some of the secrets that she'd been told, but those she considered least important. She hoped that if she fed them some facts they might be content and she might be spared more torture. At least for a while.
'Is that all you know?' demanded the Captain.
'Yes, honestly.' Zoe replied, praying that he might now at least let her down from where she hung. Her arms were aching so much!
'Good. Very good.' The captain nodded with satisfaction then spoke to one of the female guards. 'Now gag her.'
'But I've told you all I can,' protested Zoe.
'So there's no need now to leave you ungagged!'
'This isn't fair!' Zoe shook her head as hands caught hold of her face and stilled her. Fingers dug into her cheeks encouraging her jaws to open.
'No, let me go! Let... me... guhh...'
Zoe tried twisting her head as the leather ball was forced back into her mouth. It was hopeless though and a second later the gag was in place and she could feel the leather strap tightening at her nape.
'Nnnnhh!'
'Cry all you want... struggle all you can... you can't escape what's coming to you now.'
Zoe closed her eyes, bracing herself for her first taste of the whip. Both the women had applied the gag to her, which meant that someone else must have left with the Major. So that's why they've blindfolded me, Zoe thought. Someone has been watching who I'd recognise. That could surely only be one person... Sir Rodney Stonefield!
She heard the woman take up her position behind her, heard the whip whistle once or twice through the air, then with a crack she felt searing white-hot pain against her legs. The whip hit her as it was almost fully extended and cutting through the air at its fastest. It lashed high across her thighs just below the swell of her rump making her jerk under the impact.
There was an agonising pause giving Zoe time to take in the sensation from the whip and time for her fear of the next stroke to gather itself. The impact from the second blow forced Zoe forward against her restraints. She grunted through the gag, her arms dragging down desperately against the leather that was tight around her wrists. Blindfolded, she had no way of knowing when the next blow would come, all she could do was hang by her arms, waiting nervously. She could feel the sweat trickling down from her armpits and throat around her breasts and down her sides. She was panting hard, the gag was forcing her to breathe just through her nose and her struggling had left her exhausted.
The woman brought the whip down again, this time harder still, making Zoe tug with her arms frantically. She tried closing her legs to protect herself but she couldn't. She could guess that the leather cuffs around her ankles had been clipped to either end of a leg spreader. Her own organisation used such devices. Two or three foot long metal poles with clasps at each end. She had helped strap a man's ankles to such a bar once. A spy they had been ordered to interrogate. She remembered how they'd drugged him then bound him for interrogation. The satisfaction she'd drawn from tightening the leather around his ankles then clipping each to either end of the steel pole so his legs were held wide for them. Naked and helpless he'd looked up imploringly at her and the other girl she was working with. After ten minutes he was begging them to stop, but for their own pleasure they had continued1/4 and now she was suffering just like he had. Zoe sighed through the gag then she was jolted from her memory by another stinging blow from the whip.
She implored the woman to stop but the rubber ball filling her mouth stopped any communication. Another blow sent a jolt like an electric shock through her. She heard the woman walk up behind her. Trembling uncontrollably, weakly, Zoe turned her head in the direction of the ominous boot-steps.
Zoe had always prided herself on her appearance and how in control of every situation she was. She felt confident she could charm or manipulate most people she came into contact with. Men especially were easy to control. But now she was helpless. She could imagine how she must look, panting through flared nostrils like some wild creature at bay. Her long hair tousled about her face, her naked body slick with sweat. She pleaded through the gag for the woman to stop but her begging sounded like nothing more than faint groaning. The woman laughed softly, then Zoe felt her delicately wipe the tears from her face, first one cheek and then the other.
Through the haze of pain Zoe listened to the woman's boots as she resumed her position some yards behind her. Zoe pulled down with her outstretched arms, the leather cuffs digging into the skin of her wrists, the dull pain needling through her shoulders as she pulled backwards against her bonds.
The woman aimed the next stroke lower than the previous, striking lightly but flicking her wrist in a way that made the very tip of the whip strike between Zoe's legs. Zoe grunted in pain as the whip tip cut against where her flesh was most tender and vulnerable. She pulled her arms against the restraints but all she could achieve was to twist her wrists within the leather cuffs. Another stroke struck across her back, the tip snaking around her ribs to lick, cruelly sharp at her breast.
Zoe felt herself fainting, resting her head on one shoulder she gave herself up to the escape, her arms hanging loosely from where her wrists were held. She couldn't take anymore; this was her body's way of freeing itself she thought to herself dazedly. Then suddenly she was mercilessly jolted back into awareness of what she was being made to suffer. The smell from the little bottle that had been waved under her nose was fiercer than smelling salts. A moment later and she was struck again with the whip. Again she fainted and once again the little bottle was held under her nostrils and she was jolted cruelly into awareness again.
Zoe lifted her head weakly, they'd stopped whipping her but now the man was passing his hand down her ribs then caressing one of her buttocks. She flinched as his finger traced the red lines that had been cut across her tender rump. His hands reaching between her buttocks, his fingertips drew apart the globes of lacerated flesh. When he touched her sex she could feel her own slickness as his fingers stroked her. She sighed through the gag as the touch intensified the ache her body felt there and through the haze of pain she realised that she was actually aching for sexual satisfaction.
'Looking forward to this, bitch?'
Zoe listened to the faint metal rasp of his trouser zip being pulled down.
'You know what's going to happen next don't you? I bet you're aching for it aren't you?'
Zoe shook her head, struggling to deny even to herself the truth that she was desperate for sexual gratification now. All the torment, all the pain, had left her body achingly aroused.
'You want this don't you?' growled the unseen voice.
Pulling weakly with what was left of her strength, the leather chafing her skin, she twisted her arms as she dangled helplessly. She tried again to draw her thighs together but her legs were kept spread and she could feel the man's hand stroking her bare skin, then his fingers were rubbing her pussy, probing her.
'So I was right, you're desperate for it aren't you!' the man laughed, as his fingers slid easily into her sex. Zoe hung her head and sighed through the gag. To her shame it was true; she was wet with arousal from the treatment they'd meted out to her.
She felt the tip of his shaft slide down into the canyon of soft flesh her buttocks formed and then along until it nudged her sex lips apart. Using his hand to guide it, he pushed his shaft up into her young body right to the hilt and she felt his pelvis grind against her scored buttocks. Then he drew back, her slender body convulsed; he pushed in again, harder. Zoe sighed through the gag as her orgasm suddenly overtook her; the exquisite feeling washing through her whole pain racked body. She felt the man forcing himself into her again and again and as a fresh wave of pleasure washed over her, as she abandoned herself to the gratification her body had been crying out for.
The man began driving his cock into her with increased urgency and she became momentarily oblivious to her surroundings, her mind focusing on the extreme pleasure of being used so forcefully. Her body felt awash with the sensation of being controlled and subdued by the ropes and leather restraints. She grunted through the gag each time his cock rammed into her and her stifled cries seem to incense him more and more. Another orgasm shook her tethered body and then she felt the cock ram into her one more time before jerking and throbbing madly as he came deep inside her. His hands gripped her exhausted body and she felt his breath hot against her neck. Dazed, her whole body aching deliciously, she sighed through the gag as waves of exquisite pleasure washed over her.