Bring Out the GIMP (Girls in Merciless Peril)


By Eda Chang

"How can you be sure?"

"Well, sir, we can't be 100% sure. But we are 99% sure."

"That means you're not sure."

"As sure as we can be."

"As sure as you were last time when you were sure and you were wrong?!"

Agent Fujiyama had no immediate response. His men had expressed the same certainty earlier that week when they had captured a woman they thought was the key Chinese intermediary operating in Harbin, the one who received coded orders from the Chinese resistance leaders on the outskirts of the city resisting the Japanese occupation of Manchuria, which had begun the previous year, 1932. Since then, the Japanese had crushed much of the resistance in the city, but pockets of Chinese resistance remained and the Japanese were determined to wipe those out as quickly as possible.

That woman, though valuable, had turned out to be less important than Fujiyama had told his boss she was. "The last one identified this one as her boss, one level above her," he finally stammered.

"Just tell me where she is," Director Kazawa was clearly growing tired of the conversation.

"In Room C below." Fujiyama's nerves had been on edge ever since he had been summoned to Kazawa's office. He hated meeting one-on-one with the head of Japan's security agency.

"She has been questioned?"

"Not yet. She was brought in just an hour ago and prepared per standard instructions. I immediately notified you when that was completed and you ordered me to come here to your office immediately." He certainly had. Forty minutes ago. During which time Fujiyama had waited and worried.

"I don't want to waste my time if this one is just another Chinese grunt. What beside the word of a woman under torture makes you believe that this time you are right?"

"When we broke into her apartment and captured her, we found a one-time pad. Who but a spy would be in possession of an OTP?"

That information intrigued Kazawa. The Russians had first started using OTPs in their spy operations just a few years earlier. Could they be supplying them – and instructions how to operate them -- to the Chinese resistance in an effort to get back at the Japanese for their war with Russia nearly 30 years earlier? "That doesn't make her the top spy in Harbin, though, does it? Grunts would also be using them. And if you have the OTP, what do you need her for?"

"We don't have the plain text on which the OTP was to operate."

"Because she didn't get the plain text message yet?"

"We're not sure. But if she did, we haven't found it yet. There were hundreds of pages of writings, maybe even thousands, in her apartment. Obviously, she was trying to hide the real message."

"Just use the OTP on all of them! None will make sense except the right one!"

"We have started that process. But it may take several days or even weeks to find it."

"You are all incompetent! You will know in a few minutes if the text is not the message. If the first few words translate to gibberish, move on to the next one!"

"Yes, sir. We know that. We are doing that. It still could take weeks. But if she is as high up as we think she is, she will know and have destroyed many prior messages and OTPs, so we will want to interrogate her about all of these even if we find and decipher the last message."

"Keep working on finding the message," Kazawa growled at Fujiyama. "I will be down shortly to question her!" While he didn't let on to Fujiyama, Kazawa thought, from what he told him, that this might actually be the spy they had been looking for.

* * * *

Fujiyama rose from his stool outside Room C when he heard Kazawa's approaching footsteps reverberate on the stone floor before seeing him approach carrying a small briefcase.

"She is prepared?"

"Yes, as I told you. But …" Fujiyama hesitated, knowing that he must add before Kazawa asked him, "we have still not found the message."

To Fujiyama's relief, Kazawa merely nodded. "In 30 minutes, if I am not back out, enter quietly."

Kazawa entered Room C and closed its heavy wooden door behind him. He put his briefcase on a small table. He knew every inch of this room, but his concentration was on its right side, where he saw the woman, her body naked, spread-eagled upright with wrists and ankles tied tightly to the four corners of a large, rectangular, metal frame.

She was on the small side. Not more than a few inches over 5 feet, he guessed. And probably less than 100 pounds. A triangle of dark hair between her spread legs matched the color of the hair on her head. She had small breasts with hardened nipples – from cold and fear, no doubt, certainly not from excitement. He saw her straining to keep her toes on the floor to relieve the pressure on her shoulders. Fully stretched. Just as standard interrogation procedures required.

Whether her face was as attractive as her body he could not determine, since her eyes were covered by a thick black cloth and her mouth gagged by a strip of the same material no doubt shoved deep into her throat, which covered much of her face. He could hear low groans escaping her throat. Could this waifish woman really be the biggest thorn in the side of the Japanese control of Harbin?

He approached her quietly to observe her more closely before she knew he was in the room. He also wanted to see her startled reaction when he touched her before she realized he was there, to help him judge how difficult she might be to break.

Not that any of these spies were particularly tough. He was familiar with many stories of captive spies who supposedly held out for hours, even days, despite the most brutal tortures. Pure fiction, he chuckled to himself. Not in his experience. Not with the types of physical pain he inflicted, and the way he inflicted it. No, his methods generally bought full confessions and information within the first 15 minutes. Which was why he had told Fujiyama to enter after 30 minutes. By that time he expected to have everything he wanted from this woman. A full confession. And everything of importance that she knew. And he would then have Fujiyama check it against what they already knew from their own sources, including their own spies, Chinese citizens supporting – or just fearing – the occupation, and the other mass of information they had accumulated on the Chinese occupation resistance. And, of course, after its verification, he would have his men round up the new spies that the captive had betrayed. And the information was always accurate. In the hope of avoiding more pain, most captives would have begged to turn in their own mothers, guilty or not. Severe pain, brutal pain, had a way of doing that to people. Their entire brains, and their entire worlds, became nothing more than a mass of horrible pain. Nothing else existed for them. Nothing but the pain. And they would do anything they thought might stop or reduce it. And if the only way to reduce – or end – the pain was death, they would beg for that. Being captured by Kazawa's men to face Kazawa's interrogation was just about the worst thing that could happen to a spy. In fact, it might just be the very worst thing.

Not that any captive could be sure that, even after a full confession of all information in her possession, her pain would end. Because once Kazawa had satisfied himself that his captive had nothing more of value to tell him, he no longer had any use for her, leaving her fate dependent entirely on his mood at the time. If he was feeling merciful, he would put a bullet in her brain, providing a quick and painless death. If he was not feeling merciful, then, even if he spy had told him everything, she was still a spy and needed to suffer appropriately severe punishment for her efforts against the state.

For how long and in what manner her torture might continue also depended on the whim of Kazawa's mood. Torture her slowly to death? If the spy showed arrogance or courage, why should she not be? He hated arrogance and courage! Who did she think she was not to beg for mercy from him? Not to acknowledge that her fate was totally in his hands? That was disrespectful to his position. What mercy did such a spy deserve? And he was certainly less likely to show mercy when his captive was an attractive woman. A brave, arrogant, attractive woman. How he loved those!

Sometimes, though, he would send his female captive to the pleasure camps, but only after he had let ten or twelve of his own agents enjoy her. After all, women could only last so long at the pleasure camps, so the camps needed to be re-stocked continuously. But for this option, he had to be careful. If his tortures went too far, his captive might no longer be attractive enough – or able -- to serve her purpose there, which would leave him no choice but to dispose of her.

He had sent to the camps the previous spy that Fujiyama had wrongfully believed was the key intermediary. What was her name? Oh, yes. Nomi. After all, it hadn't been her fault that she wasn't the right one. In fact, Fujiyama was probably the one he should have sent to the camps. But sometimes Fujiyama came through with valuable information. Maybe this would be one of those times.

Kazawa stroked the woman's right breast. He felt her entire body tense at the unexpected touch, and her moans grew louder.

"Good afternoon, my dear," he said calmly. "I know that you cannot speak to me because your mouth is occupied. So just either nod your head ‘yes' or shake it ‘no' in response to my questions. Do you understand?"

After a few seconds, she nodded.

"Good. Your name is Kalla Chao, is that correct?"

After a slight hesitation, the woman nodded. He could not tell if she was surprised that he knew her name.

"When we arrested you, our men found in your apartment an OTP. You know what an OTP is, don't you?"

Kazawa could see the trembling in the woman's body increase. Of course, what did he expect from a woman chained naked and spread-eagled in an underground Japanese dungeon caught red-handed spying for the Chinese resistance? Again, slowly, she nodded her head.

"So you admit that you are a Chinese spy?" Kazawa's voice remained calm.

This time the woman shook her head violently and her moans grew even further in intensity as she tried to protest through the gag.

"Oh, Kalla, you disappoint me. After such a fine start, you have told me your first lie, haven't you? I know you are a Chinese spy. One of your underlings confessed that to us. That's why we went to your apartment. She told us where to find you."

The woman continued to shake her head vigorously.

"You know that, when you lie to me, Kalla, I have to show you that I know you are lying and encourage you to stop and to tell me the truth. You know that don't you?" Kalla stopped shaking her head, but the shaking of her body grew even more noticeable. "I mean, don't you value your reputation for telling the truth? Once you lose that, it is so hard to get it back, isn't it? And that would not be at all good for you, would it?"

Kazawa paused to make sure the woman understood his meaning. "So here is what I am going to do. I am going to remove your blindfold so that you can see what is going to happen to you for lying to me. But I am not going to ask you any more questions until I have encouraged you to return to telling me the truth." Even Kazawa was amazed at how calm his voice remained as he threatened the woman with great bodily harm. He hadn't always been able to maintain that calm in his voice, which he thought was very effective in adding to his captive's terror. But by now, through a lot of practice and discipline, he had learned how to do it effectively.

Kazawa pulled off Kalla's blindfold. He could see that her face was as attractive as her body. She had a fair and unblemished complexion. Large dark eyes above her small nose. High cheek bones. She was in her late 27s, he guessed. Ears close to her head. He wondered why any woman this attractive would risk her looks, her body and her life for the cause of the resistance. She must be a true believer. And a true opponent of the Japanese occupiers.

Kazawa watched her eyes adjust to the light in the room and then look up and down her body, confirming that she was stretched naked and chained to a metal frame in what was obviously a dungeon. He watched as she pulled as hard as she could on the chains holding her wrists, her groans escaping through the gag. But she could not move her arms, which were fully extended at her elbows. Kazawa moved his hand down between her legs. He heard her grunt as he pushed his middle and index fingers into her. When he removed them, he held them up to her face to show her how wet they were, then wiped them on her stomach.

"I know this doesn't mean you are excited," he smiled at Kalla. "But it does mean that you are very scared. As you should be."

He walked to the wall toward which Kalla was facing to let her see everything he was doing. He lit a match and dropped it into a metal brazier from which protruded half a dozen metal irons. The brazier immediately shot flames into the air for several seconds. Then, grabbing one of the metal irons by its rubber handle, Kazawa thrust it deeper into the brazier until its end glowed red before pulling it out of the flames. He walked up to Kalla and held its blazing end at eye level.

"See the letters on the end? Can you read what they spell? I know it looks reverse to you, but there are only three letters, so I think you are smart enough to read them backwards. Although if you were really smart you wouldn't find yourself in your current situation."

Kazawa watched Kalla stare at the letters, her eyes wide. She blinked hard several times. When she shook her head, he could not tell if she was trying to tell him that she could not read the letters backwards or if she was expressing her objection to what he intended to do to her tender body with those heated letters.

"Well, in case you're having trouble, I will tell you. The letters spell S-P-Y because that is what you are. Everyone who sees you will now know the truth about you -- that you are never to be trusted." He saw her suck in her breath as her stomach muscles began to twitch. Again, she pulled helplessly on the chains holding her limbs in place.

"You should be grateful to me. My men wanted the letters to spell ‘Traitor' or ‘Guilty' and those words have more letters than three, don't they? But I insisted on S-P-Y, and you can see that I also made the letters small. So this will not be as painful or as disfiguring as it would have been had I let my men choose."

Small letters, he thought? Most things an inch square might be considered small. But a metal letter an inch square at the end of a glowing hot iron … particularly when there were three of them? He doubted that Kalla would feel the gratitude that he suggested she should feel toward him.

Kazawa walked behind Kalla. She tried to follow him with her eyes, but could not turn her head enough. She turned her head to stare straight ahead. Low moans escaped her gagged mouth. Kazawa assumed she was trying to prepare herself. He smiled, knowing that she could have no idea what was in store for her.

"Now I'm going to give you a choice. Would you prefer I brand you across the middle of your back or across your ass. Nod if you prefer the brand across your ass."

Kazawa watched. Kalla nodded.

"Good choice. There is more padding there." Kazawa jammed the hot iron directly into the middle of Kalla's back. Her body immediately arched as far as it could, trying to separate itself from the burning letters, but Kazawa simply pressed harder as her body's arch reached the limit that her chains allowed. He held the iron against her back for a full five seconds before pulling it away. He was surprised that Kalla's very hoarse and sore throat still had the power to scream through the gag as loud as she had. "Oh, yes," Kazawa confirmed what did not need confirmation, "I ignored your preference. Captive spies should not expect to get what they wish for, now, should they?."

Kazawa heard Kalla's screams turn to sobs as he walked in front of her. She pulled on the chains holding her wrists so hard that the entire metal frame began to shake. But he could see that her energy was waning, and, in a few seconds, her head fell to her chest as her eyes closed, her chest still heaving for breath.

"Of course, I need to make sure those who see you from the front also know that you are a S-P-Y." Kalla slowly raised her head and opened her eyes. She tried again to pull her limbs free, but this effort was even more feeble and hopeless than her last. "Would you prefer it across the top of your breasts, the underside of your breasts or above your pubic bone? Kazawa laughed, knowing that Kalla had certainly learned her lesson. She continued to sob.

"Now what kind of a brave spy cries?" Kazawa could Kalla's tears streaming down her face, her body shaking from head to toe. He was right, he was sure. By the time that Fujiyama joined him, he would have from her all the information she could provide. He jammed the hot iron just above her pubic bone and again held it there for a full five seconds. He could hear Kalla's raspy screams through the thick gag. "There. If I allow you to service our soldiers when I am through with you, they will all know the kind of woman they are fucking, whether they take you from the front or rear."

Kazawa walked back to the table and returned the hot iron to the brazier. "I hope you have learned your lesson about lying to me." He moved back to stand directly in front of her and stared at the broken figure spread-eagled naked on the metal frame, branded for life as a spy, front and back. He removed her gag. She gasped deeply for air, her chest heaving with each breath.

"Now, before you again lie to me, consider that I already know a lot more about you and your group of spies than you think. From our own intelligence – of course we have our own spies who have infiltrated your resistance groups – and from your comrades whose tongues we have already loosened, one quite literally." Kazawa laughed. "You might also want to remember how the hot iron feels on your back and stomach – and that I can also use it on your breasts. And inside your pussy. Imagine how that would feel. Worse than any pain you have felt so far." Kazawa paused as Kalla slowly lifted her head to stare at him. "So what would you like to tell me now that you can do more than just nod or shake your head?"

Kazawa watched Kalla continue to tremble, open her mouth and then close it again. He guessed that she was trying, but failing, to figure out a way to avoid more pain without betraying her comrades. He knew her betrayal of them was imminent.

Finally, faintly, she confirmed he was right. "Yes … I am …. I mean … I did …. I spied … for Manchuria." A wise choice, Kazawa thought. After all, four of his men had captured her in her apartment with an OTP on her desk.

"Were you the intermediary between the Chinese resistance leaders outside Harbin and their operatives in Harbin?"

He saw her again pause before she responded meekly, "Yes." The word was barely audible, but it rang in Kazawa's ears. She was the intermediary! Fujiyama was no longer in danger of being sent to the pleasure camps. No, Kazawa would reward him. Maybe even give him a chance to fuck this captured spy. He would like that, Kazawa was sure.

Kazawa opened his briefcase and pulled out several photos. "I am going to show you some photos, each with a name written above it. You are to tell me first if the person is part of your cell, second, if the name above the photo is correct, and third, where I can find them."

He saw Kalla take a deep breath and wondered if she could possibly summon her courage to face the consequences of further resistance. He would soon see. He held up the photo of a young man.

"Yes. Yes." She responded without hesitation. "He stays at the red brick house two doors north of the television station."

Broken! Just as he knew she would be. But since he never knew for certain at what point a spy would break, when they did, it was always exciting, even if inevitable. He made notes on the reverse side of the photo before showing Kalla the second photo, this time of a young woman.

"That is his girlfriend. My answers are all the same." Two of her comrades now confirmed, Kazawa thought, and soon likely to be captured to face their own interrogation. He knew that the Chinese tended to operate in cells of five persons. Kalla had now identified two others. Kazawa showed her the third photo, another young woman. Kalla looked puzzled.

"I don't know that woman," Kalla's voice quavered. Kazawa sensed that she feared that her torture would resume because of her failure to identify the woman, but Kazawa moved immediately to the fourth photo, invigorated by his knowledge that his captive's information was truthful -- the third photo had been of Agent Fujiyama's wife, inserted as a control to make sure his captive was not just answering "yes" to all photos to try to save herself from more punishment.

"Yes. Yes," Kalla responded to the fourth photo, this one of another young woman, " but I can't tell you where she is." The fear in her voice returned.

"You can't or you refuse?"

"I can't. She disappeared last week. We don't know if she was captured or killed or just deserted the cause."

Kazawa's smile broadened further – this was a photo of Nomi, the earlier captive who had given him the information that led to Kalla's capture. So far at least, Kalla was telling him the truth. He now either had captured or would soon capture four of the five members of Kalla's cell. The top cell. The one through whom the entire resistance operation passed. Only one unidentified cell member remained. He showed Kalla the final photo, another young woman, probably a few years younger than Kalla herself. Kazawa knew from Nomi that this was a photo of the fifth member, but for this one, she had not been able to provide a last name or a place to find her.

He heard Kalla gasp and could see that she was visible shaken. After she calmed herself, she responded, "No. I don't know this one, either."

"You are sure? Is her first name as we have it? June?"

"I don't … know this one, I said. Just like I didn't know the other one a few photos back."

"Except that we knew you didn't know that other woman. That was a control. This one we know that you know."

Kalla shook her head. "No, I don't."

"You had been doing so well until this very last photo, dear spy," Kazawa chided her. "All you had to do was tell me the truth about this one, and I was going to spare you from further torture and send you to the pleasure camps. But now I can't do that. A second lie. Even after I warned you. And you know what happened after the first." Kazawa walked back to the brazier and this time picked up a long, tapered iron. Unlike the iron that was only heated on its three letters at its end, this one glowed red for its full six-inch length.

"I'm sure you remember where I said this might go if you again lied to me?"

"Please. No! No! I have been telling you the truth, I have! You know that!" Kalla desperately tried to close her legs.

"Have been, yes. I agree. For the first four photos I showed you. But not for the fifth. I will give you one last chance. Is she your fifth cell member?"

Tears streaming down her face, Kalla shook her head. "I can't."

"You mean you won't. Very well."

"No! Please no!" Kalla closed her eyes tightly, sobbing hysterically. Kazawa did not hesitate. He believed that punishment for lying must be immediate and severe. He jammed the side of the iron lengthwise at the underside of her right breast and rolled it upward an inch, leaving a hideous six-inch burn along its base. Her face contorted in pain, her mouth open, her throat offering her raspy scream before her head slumped to her chest. Kazawa pulled the iron away and examined his work – a continuous burn twice as long as the other two, and without any spaces needed to form letters.

Kazawa was surprised when he saw Agent Fujiyama standing next to him. He didn't think it had been 30 minutes. He didn't think Kalla could last 30 minutes. Well, she really hadn't. Except for the final member of her spy cell, she had given them all up. The other man and his girlfriend were two. Nomi made three. And she herself made four. And he knew the fifth member of the cell, too, and her first name, June – the woman in the final photo whom Kalla claimed not to know. He just didn't know this fifth spy's last name or whereabouts.

"One third success with this one so far," he told Fujiyama.

"How do you figure?"

"We have captured or will soon capture four of the five members of the top resistance spy cell in Harbin. Its members take orders directly from the Chinese resistance leaders. The first woman we captured was one of its five members. She gave us the names of all five – well, four full names and the first name of the fifth -- and also identified this one, Kalla Chao, as its head, the one who acted as the intermediary between the resistance leaders and all of the spy cells operating in Harbin. The other four members of her team each headed their own cell one level down from the top. And each of those headed another layer down. So we have the chance to break the entire upper structure of the resistance's spy operation, which will destroy it completely. The first woman also gave up the four other members of the cell she led, and, upon their capture, they will give up their members until that entire branch is destroyed. That information destroyed 25% of their operation. But she could not tell us where to find the other three members of the top cell. Now, with this one's information, we will have the leaders of two of the remaining three branches of their operation, we will be able to destroy two more branches. That is three of four, which is 75%."

Kazawa could see that Fujiyama was staring intently at Kalla's naked hanging body. "Agent, are you listening?"

Reprimanded, Fujiyama forced his attention back towards Kazawa.

"So we needed from this one the location of the remaining three members of the top cell, and she gave us two of them."

"But, sir, by my math that is 2/3rds of what we needed from her, not 1/3." Fujiyama was reluctant to offer a correction to his superior.

Kazawa laughed. "You need to go back to school, my friend." Yes, even if his mind did wander to the naked figure of the woman hanging in front of him, Fujiyama was now again his friend, having brought him the intermediary. "This one," he lifted Kalla's head by her hair, confirming that she was still unconscious, "was the intermediary. Or did you forget? She controlled the highest cell, which controlled the lower cells and we will soon have destroyed 75% of them and 100% if we can get her to tell us the location of the fifth member. But she is also the one – and the only one – in contact with the Chinese resistance leaders. Which means that we have so far focused only on half of her role in the operation. That is, what she does with the information that she receives from the resistance leaders. We have not started to focus on how, where or from whom she gets that information. And one-half of 2/3ds is, dear Agent?"

Fujiyama nodded and hung his head.

* * * *

As soon as Kalla regained consciousness, and remembered her dire predicament, her muscles tightened and her arms pulled at the cuffs holding them to the metal frame. Still standing behind her, Kazawa spoke: "Welcome, back, my dear Chinese spy. I hope you got some good rest."

He saw her body tremble, then twist vainly to try to free herself. Kazawa walked in front of her. "So, are we ready to continue now?"

"I told you what I know! Everything!"

"Well, you told us some of the things you know. So now we have two of your comrades, a man and his girlfriend, whom we found at the red brick house that you identified. What do you call those? Safe houses? Not so safe when a captured Chinese spy knows about them, wouldn't you say?"

Kalla spit at Kazawa, but he was too far from her. She's regained some strength and feistiness, he thought. Well, he would make sure that didn't last long. "Are you really sure you want to do that? How much more do you want me to destroy your body? Your once very beautiful body, I might add. But that was a while ago." He walked back to the brazier and picked up the tapered iron he had used on the underside of her right breast, and held it up to her. "Remember this?"

Kalla shook her head furiously. "I told you. And you said you …. captured them both." Kazawa sensed a bit of shame in Kalla's response: because of her, two of her comrades would face her same horrific fate.

"Where is your fifth member? I know there were five in your cell. You denied knowing her, but we know that you do. And we haven't yet even begun to ask you about your contacts with the resistance leaders outside the city. The ones from whom you got your orders. So we still have a long way to go." He saw the desperation in her eyes as she realized that her interrogation and torture were far from over. "So I'll give you a choice. You can start by identifying either the fifth member of your cell or your contacts inside the resistance leadership."

"But I told you! I don't know! That's not how it works!" Kalla screamed at him through her now hoarse and raspy throat. Rather sexy, Kazawa thought. Sexy and desperate. What a great combination.

"Now, Kalla, whether that is how it works for you and your fellow spies, you know how things work here, and what happens when you don't tell the truth." He saw her eyes widen and her mouth open as he moved the tapered iron to the underside of her left breast. As he rolled it upward an inch, her screams – more like pained whispers – quickly followed before her head slumped to her chest, her breathing labored.

"A woman spends a lot of time trying to make her body look the same on both sides, doesn't she? Symmetry. Women like symmetry." Kazawa pulled the iron away and stepped back. "I have now given you that symmetry. Your breasts match. You can't see that yourself now, but after you do, you will want to thank me." He pulled her face by her hair to stare into her half-shut eyes. "Now is there something you want to tell me? Or should I give you to my men before I ruin you too much for them to want you?" Four men – two on each side – moved from behind her into her field of vision. Soldiers. With broad smiles. "I know what they hope your answer is."

"I told you. I don't know any more. Let me explain!" Kalla pleaded.

"Well, again, I would have thought by now you would have learned what the first thing is that happens when you don't give me an honest answer." He looked into her eyes, which continued to plead with him. "You forgot. Well, that's not good." He nodded to the two soldiers standing on his left. Both immediately unbuttoned the flies to their khaki pants. One moved behind her, his hands on her breasts and his penis pressed between her ass cheeks as it grew hard. The soldier in front of her grabbed the sides of her face and moved his face close to hers. "I'm going to give him a few minutes start," the second soldier whispered, "since he will have more work to do than I will." He moved his hand down between Kalla's spread legs and inserted his index and middle fingers into her pussy to confirm she was already soaked from fear. "Yes. My job will be quite easy, now, won't it? You aren't quite so wet where he is going."

The soldier behind her suddenly pushed himself into her anus, slowly, grunting every few seconds as he moved more deeply into her. The soldier in front of her stared at her grimacing eyes, closing tightly and then opening, over and over. "No, spy, you are not dreaming. We are still here. And now I'm going to see if my friend and I can meet in the middle of your body." He began to kiss the side of her neck as the soldier in back continued to wrap his hands around her body and squeeze her breasts. Her body lunged back and forth, or sometimes just in one direction, as the two soldiers pounded into her simultaneously. With her voice so hoarse, the loudest grunts came from the men.

Kazawa watched, as Kalla's body alternated between muscle tension and release, ultimately flopping about like a ragdoll as the two soldiers tried to coordinate their timing to spew into her together, even simultaneously shouting a countdown starting at 10. When they reached zero, they each shot their loads into her, the second soldier pulling himself out of her pussy to squirt the last of his liquid over her face and body. Kazawa watched, wondering how their hot juices on both sides of her body felt. Probably not an experience she had ever had before.

"I'm sorry," Kazawa looked at the two other soldiers waiting their turns, "I'm going to give her another chance now. But I doubt it will be long before she again fails. Isn't that right, Kalla?" Kazawa watched her slowly raise her head from the spread-eagled position on the frame. "So what shall it be? The fifth member of your cell, or your contacts with the resistance leaders?"

"The contacts," Kalla offered softly after a slight pause.

"Good. Now you told me that things didn't work the way I said. Just how do they work?"

"I visited the resistance leaders one time four months ago, and got my orders. Since then, I receive my orders, but in a way that does not let me know from whom they come."

"I am close to letting these other two soldiers have you after an answer like that." Kazawa turned to see the two soldiers unbutton their flies, but signaled them to stop.

"The orders are left for me in an agreed location. I pick them up hours after they are left there. So I know only my orders and nothing else. And at the end of each of my orders, it tells me where and when I will find my next orders."

Kazawa could see that Kalla's breathing remained labored, as the blood from the hot irons began to dry and clot, the burns and S-P-Y letters still red and ugly. "When did you receive your last set of orders? How many orders are in your apartment in all its clutter?"

"None. I only keep my most recent orders for a few minutes. I memorize and destroy them."

So Fujiyama's men are wasting their time, Kazawa thought. He would try to remember to tell them. "Tell me the last three orders that you received."

"The train bombing last month. The leaflet dropping two weeks ago. And two of us were to try to seduce two generals for information. That was the last message. But we didn't have a chance before …"

"You and the girlfriend we just captured?"

Kalla nodded. Kazawa wondered if she was telling the truth or continuing to shield the woman she refused to identify.

"And where and when are the next orders to be left for you?"

He saw Kalla again hesitate. It seemed to Kazawa that she did not know how soon before she picked up her orders they were left for her. The risk was not so much that Kazawa's men would find the orders -- Kalla was sure that someone watched to make sure she picked them up, so they would deliver no more orders after they saw that Kalla was not the one picking them up -- but that they would capture the person delivering them.

"In the Lost and Found at the train station. The one near the safe house." Kazawa saw Kalla cringe as she said the words without thinking. Thursday at 4 p.m. When it is busy. A yellow raincoat with a tag inside saying "For Mama." The orders are sewn into the right sleeve."

Kazawa nodded to the soldier who had sodomized Kalla. "Get the information to Fujiyama. Tell him to have two men watching from two hours before the pickup time. And arrest and bring here immediately the person asking for the lost raincoat." The soldier hurriedly left the room.

"Who provided your orders while you visited the resistance leaders outside Harbin?"

Kazawa saw Kalla hesitate yet again, but, as soon as he widened his eyes to indicate his displeasure, knowing that she knew by now what that meant, she blurted out, "General Ting Chao."

Kazawa gave her an incredulous look. "The same as your last name? It is a very common name so it hadn't occurred to me to ask. Are you two related? His daughter?"

Kalla nodded.

"Then we have a very special prisoner, don't we?"

Kalla stared straight ahead. "We both knew the dangers of my mission. He will do nothing to save me. I made him promise that before I left."

"So brave, my spy. So brave. But a special prisoner nonetheless. But you know what all this means, don't you?" He stared back at his captive, who finally glanced down. "It means that the last thing that we need from you – and that you shall give us – is the name and whereabouts of the fifth member of your cell."

"No. I told you. I don't know the woman whose photograph you showed to me."

"Oh, I know differently, dear Kalla. So it's time for your two other friends," Kazawa nodded at the two soldiers who again, and this time more hopefully, began to unbutton their flies, "to have their turns. And then we will see who might get seconds with you."

Kazawa walked to the door to get an update from Fujiyama on the status of the two new prisoners. When he turned back, he saw the two soldiers press their bodies into hers. The heavy steel door slammed behind him as he left the dungeon.

* * * *

When Kazawa returned to the dungeon an hour later, he was surprised to find all of the soldiers gone. He was not surprised to find Kalla slumped unconscious on the frame, her head hanging down on her chest, her arms stretched so tight, her knees buckled as much as her chains allowed. He saw that the second two soldiers had duplicated the efforts of the first two, but apparently with a bit more violence, as blood, urine and semen were all dripping from between Kalla's spread legs, pooling on the floor below her. Her face was covered with dried semen, and Kazawa noted the step stool in front of her body, indicating that the third soldier, on his second turn, had decided to use her mouth, in which he now saw a ring gag.

Kazawa grabbed Kalla's hair to pull her head off her chest. He gave her face a few short slaps until he heard her moan. "I hope your last hour was as good for you as mine was for me." He put his face close to hers. "You see, your two comrades, the ones you betrayed, we've been questioning them. Separately of course. The woman was tough at first. Almost as tough as you. But she was in love with her tits. A nice set, I might add. Much fuller than yours. So when I pushed the first two skewers through them and told her that I was going to hang her by the skewers and whip her until they were ripped out of her breasts, you know what? She talked. Told me where to find the four other members of her supporting cell. After which I hung her by her tits anyway and told the men they could have her for an hour while I came back to visit you. When I return, I'll let her keep as much of her tits as are still attached to her body. I'm just kind that way. As far as her boyfriend, he was easy. Men are much more susceptible to pain than women, aren't they? They say it's because women are given the strength to survive the pain of childbirth, but I don't think that's it. I think it's because men love their pricks even more than women love their tits. I told the boyfriend that I would feed him his dick if he didn't talk. Took less than 10 minutes. And then you know what I did to him?" Kazawa laughed. "No, I'm not that predictable. He still has it. At least for now. But I put a gradually tightening metal wire around it and let the men make a bet whether he would keep his prick longer than his girlfriend kept her tits. And I couldn't have made that bet without your assistance, could I? I'm sure your two friends appreciate that. I did make sure to tell them that you were the one who betrayed them. They seemed rather disappointed in you. But pleased when I assured them that your torture was as brutal as theirs."

Kalla spit at Kazawa again, this time hitting her target squarely on his cheek. He looked at her and smiled, not bothering to wipe off her saliva. "I am glad to see that you still have at least a bit of liquid in you. From what I see on the floor, I wasn't sure you did."

He moved away from her toward the still glowing brazier and picked up the S-P-Y iron, which still glowed red, and returned to face Kalla. Not bothering to remind her of the rules, he jammed it just above her breasts, with the letter P centered just below her neck. Her voice had not recovered in the hour he was gone, and she managed only a raspy cry of hideous pain. Kazawa returned the iron to the brazier, and picked up the tapered one he had used before on the undersides of her breasts. He saw her shake her head desperately as her eyes welled with tears. Even more liquid inside her, he thought. He held the hot iron in front of her.

"Now, just so you know, if you don't tell me where the fifth member of your cell is, I am going to jam all six inches of this up your pussy, and then I'm going to leave it there and get another iron to jam up your ass!" Kazawa realized that he was now screaming at Kalla, the former calmness of his voice totally gone. He had branded her three times with the word "S-P-Y." Three square inches of her flesh three times. And he had rolled the tapered iron over another 12 square inches of her ribs and the undersides of her breasts. She had offered up the two members of her cell, who had both told him everything they knew. But she had offered no useful information about her contacts with the resistance leaders. Her orders came directly from General Ting Chao, she said. Her father! Of what use was that? And she refused to give up the fifth member of her cell. So instead of being able to destroy the entire spy operation in Harbin, there still would be left uncaptured and unknown one of the four lines of resistance cells. A significant dent, yes, but not the total destruction he wanted and felt he deserved.

Kalla stared back at him, then down at her body. "You have … already … destroyed me." Her body was trembling constantly and she was struggling for air after the last branding on her chest. "I ... will never … tell you!"

"You will, you bitch!" Kazawa waved the iron across her body.

Kalla spit at him and again she hit her target. Kazawa angrily jammed the iron up her pussy in one thrust. Her hoarse grunts expressed more pain than any full-throated scream could have. Kazawa raced back to the brazier and pulled out two more tapered heated irons. As promised, he jammed one up her anus. By now, Kalla's mouth was wide open, but the tortured sounds escaping her throat were barely audible. Kazawa moved back in front of her shaking body and jammed the third iron into her mouth and down her throat. Her eyes widened a her lungs sucked in heated lead instead of air. A few seconds later, Kalla's body stopped shaking. Her head thrust backward, her open eyes gazing lifelessly at the ceiling.

Kazawa stared at his captive, the irons sticking out of her pussy, ass and mouth. He would not get from her the name of the fifth cell member. He could tell his superiors that he had broken three of the cell's four lines. But he knew, as would his superiors, that he had failed. From one surviving line the resistance could rebuild. From none, it could not.

* * * *

Nomi lay on her back on the box spring that served as her bed. Her wrists were cuffed to the sides of her head. Her ankles were spread high in the air, cuffed to chains hanging from the ceiling. Her mouth was held wide open by a ring gag behind her teeth. And she was naked.

She had lost track of the number of days she had been restrained like this. Three? Four? And the number of Japanese soldiers who had fucked her. Dozens, certainly. Eight a day? Ten? Her keeper had told her that the next day his men would change her position and bend her over a pole, so that they could sodomize her as well. And he had also made clear that, as soon as the men tired of her, he would make sure that she suffered a slow and agonizing death. After all, she was a convicted spy.

* * * *

The woman knew something was very wrong when, at the next scheduled meeting of the top cell, she was the only one there. Rumors around the city confirmed her worst fears – or at least confirmed them as best she would ever learn: After Nomi had been captured, she gave up the names of the other four spies in the top cell, three of whom had since been captured and a manhunt was on to find and capture the fifth and final member. To find and capture her.

Her own cell and all of its lines were still operative and she knew that must continue at all costs, as that was all that was left of the Chinese spy operation in Harbin. But she also knew that she could no longer be the one leading it. No, she must turn its control over to her second-in-command and flee the city, lest she endanger the only spy lines still operating in Harbin. The other four had to change their locations and everything else about their operations that they could so that, if captured, she would not know enough to betray them under torture.

Where would she flee? She knew the answer. To her father on the outskirts of the city. To General Ting Chao.

June Chao could only pray that the demise of her brave older sister, Kalla, had not been too painful or prolonged for her. But, June was all too familiar with the methods of the Japanese invaders, and she knew that this was one prayer that would not be answered.


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