Bring Out the GIMP (Girls in Merciless Peril)
Stories


PRIVATE SESSIONS

By Eda Chang


She was surprised that she was the only one who got off the bus. True, this was not a well-known castle in Transylvania, and most of those on the bus were headed to the castle of the notorious Vlad the Impaler, the original Dracula. But she was not interested in that castle. No, she was interested in this one based on a single line on its website. She hoped that she hadn’t misinterpreted it. If she did, her long bus trip beginning in the wee hours of the morning in the middle of the week in June would be a complete waste of time. But if she was right, it would be quite an adventure.

She walked the quarter mile of the castle grounds up to its entrance. It was already getting warm. She was glad she had worn only her shorts and t-shirt. Once inside, she found herself in a large room, filled with exhibits. It was not crowded. She had timed the trip to reach the castle right when it opened at 11 a.m. She walked up to a man standing alone who appeared to work there.

“Welcome to Varick’s Castle.” His voice was warm. “You will be pleased you chose to visit. It is not as famous as Vlad’s down the road, but I think that you will find it far more interesting.”

"I hope so,” she responded. “I am interested in something that I read on your website.” She held out the page she had copied from it. “It says that you hold private sessions. I’m interested in learning more about those.”

The man could not hide his startled reaction. “Miss, I don’t think that those are for you. Really. You want the tour.”

“I’d like you to tell me more about the private sessions, please,” she responded firmly.

“Let’s go into my office,” the man quickly led her to a small room along the wall of the main entrance. He closed the door behind her, sat down at a desk and motioned her to sit in one of the two chairs in front of it.

“Miss, the private sessions are really designed for men. We haven’t had a woman request a private session for many years.”

"So women do request them. But I haven’t requested one yet,” she responded. “I’ve just asked about them. Please. Tell me more.”

“Miss, they are very expensive and very ...” he paused to find the right word, “... harsh. They are designed to allow the men who request them to play out their fantasies.”

“So a woman could also play out her fantasies?”

“Miss, since you are persistent and of adult age, I will show you the form to request a private session and I will help you fill it out. I think that you will soon realize that these are not for you.” The man opened a draw in his desk, pulled out several sheets of paper and handed them to her.

Scanning the pages, she could see that she was right!! The private sessions involved role play scenes set in the castle’s dungeon. She began to read more carefully down the list of explanations and questions and choices.

“The first question, I see, asks whether I am interested in participating in a dungeon scene,” she turned the page to the man and pointed to the question. “The answer to that is yes.”

“Very well,” the man replied, realizing that he could not dissuade her. He took the pages from her and read the second question. “Would you like to play the role of an inquisitor or a captive?"

"Captive,” she answered immediately.

Again, the man could not hide his startled look. “Miss, we have not had a woman request to play a captive in a private session since ... well, not since I've worked here. A scene like that is very brutal.”

"What's the next question,” she asked.

“Would you like the scene to be set in medieval or more modern times?”

"What’s the difference?” she asked.

“The basic differences are the type of clothing that the players wear. And, of course, in medieval times, there was no electricity or motors or the like.”

“Medieval times,” she answered.

“Why would you be a captive in a medieval dungeon?” the man read the next question filling in the blanks appropriately.

She thought for a moment. “I am a peasant girl who lives in the town outside the castle. Many townspeople have rebelled against the duke of the castle. I have been secretly helping the rebels. Now I am brought to the dungeon for questioning about my role in helping the rebels.”

“How many others do you wish to participate in the scene?”

“At least one man and one woman.”

“And how severe do you wish the scene?” The man broke off. “You see, I’ve warned you about this.”

“What are the choices?”

“We have six levels. The first two levels last about 30 minutes and level one is milder than level two. Levels three and four last one to two hours, with level three being milder than level four. Level five lasts at least three hours and is quite brutal. Level six lasts at least six hours and is the most brutal of all.”

“How brutal?”

“Regardless of the level, the interrogation will leave no permanent marks. Nor will it leave any marks on parts of your body visible when you wear normal clothes. But make no mistake. There will be marks. And they may not completely heal for a week or even two or more depending on the level that you choose.”

“I choose level five.”

“Miss, really. You are getting in way over your head. You should start slower.”

“I’m not starting at six, so I am starting slower.”

“Do you have any idea how long those three hours will seem to you?”

“Very long, I hope. That’s what I’m paying for.”

The man sighed. “All right. Believe me, they will. What are your limitations? What will you not consent to being done to you?”

“No scat or toilet. And I trust that you will not break any bones or cut off my fingers or other parts of my body.”

“We do not do that. What other limitations?”

“That’s all, I think.”

The man shook his head. “Really? That means, for example, that you consent to sexual violation.”

This is serious, she thought. Wow. This is the real thing. They allow that here. But it would be considered consensual. Basically no different than some middle-aged woman paying for sex. Not how she thought of it. “If I didn’t list it, it’s not off-limits.”

“Very well, miss. The cost of a private session is much greater when the customer is the inquisitor, because then we need to pay those who play his victims much more than when the customer is himself … or herself … the victim and those playing the other roles are the interrogators. So the cost to you of a level five session with at least two other performers is 600 American dollars.”

Her heart raced. She had thought it might be several thousand dollars. But it was not. It was something that she could afford.

“Do you take American Express?”

“Of course. But payment is made at the end of the session. After you have received what you paid for. Here is our consent form. You must sign it if you wish a private session.”

She looked down the consent form. Basically, she realized, she could never file legal action against in Romania. She signed.

“All right. The scene will be as you described to me. Follow me to the costume room where you can select your clothes. It should be appropriate for the poor country girl that you will be playing to make it as realistic as possible for you. And read this after you are in costume.” The man scribbled for a minute on a sheet of paper, folded it and handed it to her.

“One more thing, though. If the thought of moving out of your comfort zone appeals to you, you may consent to allow the other players leeway to test or surpass your limits. Do you wish to agree to rthat? If you do, you cannot be sure what will or won’t happen next, which may add to the excitement of your situation. I am not pushing you to agree to this. I am just offering you the chance. If you are interested, sign this.” He pushed another piece of paper in front of her.

“Yes, I agree,” she answered before she even read it. I’ve come this far for this, she thought. Why not go all the way? She signed the second piece of paper.

“All right.” The man led her out of his office. She noticed that there were already more visitors than before. He led her along the wall and down a small corridor, then opened a door and directed her to enter. He did not follow her inside. “Once you are dressed and ready, go out the back door of the room. Walk outside. The path will cross another about 200 yards from the castle. When it does, turn around and start to walk back to the castle. Once you turn around, the play will have officially begun and will continue for its duration. And once the play begins, there is no safe word and the play will be carried through to its conclusion. Do you understand?” No safe word, she thought. What was she getting herself into? But this is why she had come. She wanted the entire experience.

Inside the costume room, she could see costumes for all types of scenes. Modern clothes, including elegant dresses, no doubt for a high-class spy -- probably last worn by one of the castle’s actresses when a male customer wanted to play the captor. Military uniforms. Peasant outfits. She saw a white blouse with laces in the front. She knew that she would look great in it without a bra when the laces were tied tight. She saw some white formless panties. Certainly peasants of the middle ages did not wear sexy underwear, if they wore underwear at all. She decided that she was not brave enough to go commando, and selected a pair of the white panties and one white full length slip to wear under a loose red skirt that came down to her ankles. And a pair of flat sandals. A simple inexpensive outfit.

She slipped off her running shoes and socks, shorts and panties, and put on the sandals, panties, slip and skirt of the peasant girl that she would be for the next several hours. Then she pulled off her t-shirt and slipped the white blouse over her head. Finally, she tied the laces in front tight, until her breasts stretched the material. She let down her brown hair to her shoulders. She saw several props and picked up a basket with flowers. She could pretend that she was coming to the castle to sell them in order to hide her true mission – discovering any weaknesses in the castle’s defense and bringing that information back to the rebels.

She opened the folded sheet of paper. It read, “There are 200 rebels. Their camp is located two miles east of the town. They are not well-armed and there are desertions every week. Their strength is diminishing.”

She memorized the information and took a deep breath. She opened the back door, leaving the paper behind, and walked out, holding the basket of flowers. She saw the path leading away from the castle and followed it until she saw it cross another path. This was the spot the man had indicated. Once she turned around and started back toward the castle, there was literally no turning back.

She wondered how, at this hour of the morning, the castle could have located the other necessary players on such short notice. But maybe, she thought, since the castle’s staff was not used to an attractive woman requesting a private session as a captive – and she knew that she was an attractive woman with an incredible well-toned body and larger than average sized breasts – there had been more than enough volunteers.

Here goes,” she thought, and turned around and started to march toward the castle.

She was halfway back to the castle when she saw two men walking toward her. As they drew near, she nodded politely at them. “Good day, sirs.”

“Good day, miss,” the one on the right replied. “What brings you to the castle this morning?” M

“I’m here to sell my flowers and buy bread,” she replied, pleased at how natural she sounded.

“And what is your name, miss?” the one on the left inquired.

“It is Rebecca.”

"Yes, miss,” now the one on the right spoke again, “we were told that a Miss Rebecca would be coming to the castle today. We were instructed to bring her with us to the duke.”

"No, you must be mistaken. I am just a peasant girl. The duke would have no reason to want to see me.”

The man on the left grabbed Rebecca’s arm above the elbow. “We are not mistaken, miss. You will come with us.”

“But you must be mistaken,” Rebecca began to protest.

The man on the right quickly punched Rebecca hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She dropped the flowers, doubled over and fell to her knees, coughing. “Shit,” she thought,” they don’t pull any punches, do they? That hurt like hell.”

In a matter of seconds, the two men forced Rebecca’s wrists behind her back and cuffed them to a short chain that held them securely. They also cuffed her ankles, then connect these cuffs to a short chain that would allow her only to take short shuffling steps. They pulled her to her feet. “No mistake, miss,” the one on the right told her. “No mistaks.” The one on the left pulled a black hood over her head and the two men marched her toward the front of the castle, where all of the other visitors were gathered. “Nothing to see here,” she heard one of the men shout. “Just a prisoner being taken to the dungeon. Coming through. Move aside. Let us pass.”

It was difficult for Rebecca to keep up with the men as they pushed her past the crowd and through the large front room. Soon the only sounds were of the men’s booted steps on the stone pavement and the clanking of the chains holding her wrists and ankles.

They walked down a winding flight of steps and into a cold room at the far end of the castle. There, screams could not be heard by those on the other side of the castle. Or, if they could, they would be ignored.

One of the men pulled the hood off Rebecca’s head. She blinked hard. It was exactly what she had expected: a fully-equipped medieval dungeon. She felt a tingle between her legs. Her eyes darted around the room. Flickering torches against two sides of the wall. A wooden horse. A rack. An X-frame. A table on which lay whips of various types. A burning brazier filled with hot coals and hot irons. And standing several feet in front of her was an inquisitor right out of central casting. Naked from the waist up with a stomach bigger than his chest. Wearing black pants and a red hood. Nothing else. And standing next to him, also naked from the waist up, was a second inquisitor dressed identically. But this one was female. With a stomach much smaller than her chest. Her very large chest. Only a few women had breasts that matched Rebecca's in size. This woman was one of them.

The two men behind Rebecca pushed her to the center of the room.

“Victor, Sonia, this is Rebecca,” the man on the left introduced them. “The duke wants some answers from her.”

“Luca, Petre, unchain her,” Victor ordered. Luca and Petre quickly obeyed, removed the chains from Rebecca and then pushed her down on her knees in front of Victor and Sonia.

“The duke wants to know how long you have been working for the rebels,” Victor began.

“No. I do not work for the rebels. I have never worked for the rebels,” Rebecca protested.

Victor nodded to Sonia, who quickly approached Rebecca and punched her hard in the stomach. Rebecca had not yet fully recovered from the previous blow. “This is getting old quickly,” she thought as she doubled over again. This time, though, she was held up by Luca and Petre. Sonia immediately grabbed both of Rebecca’s breasts through her blouse and squeezed hard. “Keep up the lies,” Sonia sneered into Rebecca’s face, “and I’ll hang you by these.” She released her grip and stepped back.

“Remove your skirt,” Victor ordered.

Rebecca’s eyes darted around the room at the others, trying to decide whether to obey. Finally, she realized that she had no choice. She pulled down the skirt and stepped out of it. Sonia retrieved it and tossed it to the corner of the room.

“And now that undergarment,” Victor pointed at the white slip, “and your shoes.” Again Rebecca obeyed and her slip and shoes joined her skirt in the corner of the room.

Wearing now only her blouse and panties, Rebecca knew that she would soon be naked. She began to tremble.

“When did you start working for the rebels?” Victor asked again.

“Noooooo. No. I do not,” Rebecca repeated her protest.

Victor and Sonia turned and began to walk to the far end of the room. Luca and Petre grabbed Rebecca's arms and dragged her behind them. Rebecca could see that they were walking to a large wooden frame at least eight feet high and eight feet wide, made of thick wooden beams. Dangling from the top beam were two metal cuffs hanging by short chains. And attached to the sides of the frame were sets of ankle cuffs. As Luca and Petre raised Rebecca off the ground, Victor secured her wrists to the top cuffs, fully stretching them shoulder width apart and leaving her legs dangling at least a foot off the floor. Sonia attached Rebecca’s ankles to the ankle cuffs on the sides of the frame, leaving Rebecca stretched taut and spread-eagled.

Sonia moved close to Rebecca, reached up and unlaced the front of Rebecca’s blouse. She pulled the laces off, grabbed the blouse by its sides and tore it fully open, leaving it hanging in shreds on Rebecca’s shoulders. Her stunning chest was now totally unprotected.

Sonia reached down and under Rebecca’s formless panties, and inserted her middle and index finger between Rebecca’s legs. She removed them and held them up for all to see that they were wet. “This means she is afraid. It means she will talk soon.”

Sonia pulled out a small knife and cut off Rebecca’s panties, revealing the dark triangular patch of hair between her legs. Rebecca normally was completely shaved, but she had stopped shaving when she decided she would seek a private session, as she wanted it to be as realistic as possible and knew that women in the Middle Ages certainly did not trim their pubic hair. Now, though, this offered her little comfort.

Sonia pulled Rebecca’s blouse off, leaving her totally naked, spread-eagled and stretched. Rebecca could feel her body begin to sweat as her shoulders grew painful and exhausted from bearing all of the weight of her body.

“Let me tell you why we like to start our questioning this way,” Victor stroked Rebo’s hair. “You see, in this position, your entire body is completely helpless and accessible to us. If we want, we can whip it all over. If we want, we can use hot irons against all parts of it. If we want, we can rape every part of it.”

Rebecca was breathing hard, her body totally soaked after just a few minutes. She had wished for a private session and dreamed what it might be like. But she had not thought it would really like this. With her body totally naked, stretched and helpless. And they hadn’t even started on her yet. How long was the session she had ordered? Level five? Three hours. My God. How could she survive three hours? Why hadn't she listened to the man? And no safe word. What was the last thing she had agreed to? She couldn’t remember exactly, but she knew it let them go beyond her limits. What did that mean? What did that all that mean?

"We can refine the punishments later. We can put you on the rack and stretch you even further,” Victor continued to explain to Rebecca what they could do to her. “And that sweet pussy of yours.” He began to stroke it. “I’ll bet it has never felt the jagged edges of a wooden horse. Certainly not with 50-pound weights hanging from your ankles.”

Rebecca could hear the involuntary grunts now escaping her lips. She looked down and saw her stomach muscles twitching and convulsing uncontrollably.

“Third time, Miss Rebecca,” Sonia held her chin in her hands, “how long have you been working for the rebels?”

Rebecca started crying and shaking her head. “No. Please. Believe me. No.”

“Again the wrong answer,” Sonia nodded at Luca. Rebecca watched as Luca moved to a table and picked up a bullwhip. He moved to Rebecca as the others moved away to give him more room.

“Start her with six,” Victor directed.

Luca’s first lashed twice quickly across Rebecca's back. She howled in pain and shook her head rapidly from side to side. Her cries rose when she saw Victor move to stand in front of her. His third lash crossed the middle of her breasts, his fourth an inch lower. Rebecca’s screams became louder and rawer. Without hesitation, Luca lashed again just below her breasts and then across her stomach. He looked at Victor.

“One more.”

Luca’s seventh lash came up between her legs. Rebecca’s scream was hideous, as she pulled at her bonds as hard as she could, trying vainly to close her legs.

“How long have you worked for the rebels?” Victor asked again.

“How… how do I know you won’t continue torturing me no matter what I tell you?” Rebecca asked shakily.

“Hmm,” Victor replied. “That’s the first time you haven’t denied your treason. But to answer your question: You don’t know that I won't continue. You are at our mercy. And we do not look kindly on traitors.”

Stretched naked in her bonds, Rebecca was now sobbing. How had she gotten herself into this situation? How much time had passed and how much time was left? She had been outside the castle, led to the dungeon and was now chained inside it. It couldn’t be more than 20 minutes, she realized. And she was already breaking. Why hadn't she started slower? And these stripes across her breasts and stomach. How long would it take them to heal? What about the lash between her legs. She couldn’t even imagine. The pain in her shoulders. And what about all of the other things they had yet to do to her? It had never been like this when she had played these types of scenes in her bedroom with the few of her lovers who agreed to play them with her. Her lovers and her bedroom were not terrifying.

This time she had put herself into the hands of total strangers, something she had never done before. Something she absolutely refused to do and thought she would never do. Swore to herself she would never do. But had done because of an ad in a newspaper. How very foolish. An ad in the paper placed by unknown persons. And the price was not just $600 or whatever the man had told her. The price was not in dollars. It was in terror. Sheer terror.

“So what now, Miss Rebecca?” Petre joined the fray. “Would you like some hot iron?” He rolled the brazier with the irons closer to her. “Or would you prefer some cock in your ass?”

God no, she thought. Why hadn’t she said that penises were one of her limits? She didn’t want any penises anywhere near her. But she hadn’t said it. So now … it was something to which she had consented.

Petre walked up to Rebecca. “I’m thinking,” he reached to squeeze her nipples, “that I might like a piece of you before the irons and rack make you too unappetizing. I mean, right now, while those nice big breasts of yours still have their nipples and that pussy of yours still has its clit …”

Rebecca’s mind was fogging. What was she hearing? She couldn’t be hearing that. She had said that one limit was no part of her body would be cut off. She remembered that. But what about that other thing she’d agreed to? About going past her limits. Did that mean that her other limits were off? That there really were no limits? No, it couldn’t mean that. Could it?

Rebecca screamed at the top of her lungs. “NNNNOOOOoooo. You can’t do that!!”

“Actually, Miss Rebecca, we can do whatever we like,” Victor responded. “Traitors have no rights. But, Petre, I’m sorry. I want the hot irons next, before anyone takes any sexual pleasure with Miss Rebecca.”

Looking disappointed, Petre walked over to the wall and took a burning torch out of its holder. “Or maybe this, Victor.”

“That will also do,” Victor granted.

“No. You are crazy. You can’t. Not that. No way. No. Noooo,”Rebecca screamed.

Petre moved the torch flame close enough to Rebecca's body that she could feel the heat and feel her skin start to blister. Petre moved the flame up and down her body, not keeping it long in one place, until Rebecca’s skin, from her upper thighs to below her shoulders, was reddened. When he moved the torch across her breasts, Rebecca could only offer loud gurgles of pain. And when he moved it to where the edge of the flame crackled just below the split between Rebecca’s legs, she became nearly hysterical in fear. Finally, Petre returned the torch to its holder on the wall. “I could have done much worse to you, you know. But Victor has promised me your ass later and I still want your body intact.”

"Now once again, Miss Rebecca,” the voice was Sonia’s and Rebecca already knew the question. “How long have you been working for the rebels?”

“Six months. Six months. I am guilty. Please stop. I am guilty.”

“Well, Miss Rebecca, we finally have some progress,” Sonia responded. “Now on to the next question. How many rebels are there?”

Rebecca’s head sank to her chest. “I don’t know that.” Somewhere in her mind she thought that she did know or should know. But she couldn’t focus.

“Too bad. I guess since we’re on to question two, we’ll also move to phase 2 of your punishment.” Sonia uncuffed Rebecca’s ankles from the wooden frame. When Victor uncuffed her wrists, Luca and Petre caught her as she began to crumble to the floor and dragged her to the wooden horse.

Rebecca blinked hard at it. She could see the serrated notches that would dig into her. She knew that she would not have to imagine long how much they would hurt. Luca and Petre lifted her, while Sonia swung Rebecca’s left leg over to the other side and Victor pulled her arms behind her and cuffed them. Rebecca had hoped that her arms might be chained overhead so that she could use them to pull herself up from the horse at least temporarily. But these inquisitors knew enough to deny her even this.

They lowered her slowly onto the horse. Rebecca opened her mouth wide, trying not to scream. Her face twisted in pain.

“Oh, come on, dear,” Victor chided her. “We haven’t even started yet. Wait until the weights are put on your ankles. And cruel interrogators like me,” he moved directly behind her, “lean down on your shoulders to add even more pressure until you are sure that you will split in two.” As he did so, digging the edge of the horse deeper into Rebecca, she could offer in protest only a raspy scream, which grew louder as Sonia attached heavy weights to chains around her ankles and Rebecca knew exactly what he meant.

“Now, Miss Rebecca,” Victor began, “I will again ask the second question and each time you don’t answer, we will add more weight to your ankles. Have you ever before made love with a sharp piece of wood? It stays hard. I think you'll like that.”

Rebecca’s screams turned to grunts as she tried to catch her breath. “How many rebels were there?” she asked herself. “What did that piece of paper say?”

“A hundred rebels,” she finally screamed. “There are a hundred. Please stop. Please!!”

“Wrong answer, I’m afraid,” Victor grinned. He nodded to Sonia, who attached another weight to each of Rebecca’s ankles.

“A hundred. Yes. I’m sure that’s how many,” Rebecca looked at Sonia, her eyes pleading. Sonia shook her head and began to stroke Rebecca’s sweating chest and stomach.

“We’ll give you time to think about it,” Victor told her, as he added another weight to each ankle, then turned and led the others up the stairs, out of the dungeon, leaving Rebecca alone. As the group walked down the corridor back toward the tour area, they still could hear Rebecca’s tortured screams. It added a nice effect for those on the tours in the main room.

In the dungeon, Rebecca again tried to calculate how long it had been since she had started to walk to the castle. An hour at most, she thought. Which meant that her torture was no more than a third complete. Unless her captors did not intend to stop after three hours. She looked down at the wooden edge that dug so deeply into her. She could see that the wood below her had turned a deep red color. How long would they be gone? Strange as it seemed, she wanted them to come back soon. She wanted her torturers back. Not to leave her like this.

Rebecca raised her head when she heard many footsteps approaching. She realized that she had passed out. Many footsteps. Soon at least a dozen people surrounded her. Male and female tour guides and staffers, she reasoned, taking part of their lunch break to watch the naked woman who was so foolish to think that she wanted a level five interrogation. No one asked for a level five interrogation. Certainly not the first time.

Victor and Sonia approached. “How many rebels?” Victor asked again.

“Two hundred. Two hundred.” Rebecca had finally remembered and could not answer fast enough.

"And where is the rebel camp?” Victor continued.

Rebecca hung her head. She knew she was broken. “Two miles east,” she answered.

“Well, I see that our little traitor has decided to tell us what she knows,” Victor nodded at Sonia. “I think that we can end her love affair with a horse. You know that the stories about Catherine the Great and a horse are not true. But we can attest that the story about Rebecca and the horse is.”

Sonia removed the weights chained to her ankles. Victor nodded at the circle of onlookers and two joined Victor and Sonia to remove Rebecca’s body from the horse. “Too bad Luca couldn’t stay,” Victor looked at Sonia. “It would have been his time now.”

Sonia and Victor and their two helpers dragged Rebecca through the crowd to the rack in the center of the room. They laid her on it on her back. The onlookers formed a new circle around her. Victor chained her wrists to the cuffs at the top of the rack, but, instead of chaining her ankles to the roller at the bottom of it, they cuffed her ankles and attached the cuffs to chains that looped through metal rings fixed to the ceiling. They pulled her ankles up, so that her legs were lifted off the rack in the form of a V. Then they looped and secured a metal ring around her neck to hold her head down on the rack.

“You see, Rebecca, we put you first on the horse and then here, so that when I fuck you, you will not enjoy it as you would had I fucked you first. No, after your session on the horse, I think that you will find what might have been pleasurable to you very painful instead." Victor smiled.

“But I’ve told you what you want to know. Everything that you asked,” Rebecca protested.

“And so you have,” Victor answered, “So far. We will have more questions for you. But for now,” Victor glanced at the spectators, “I think that I have earned a … bonus. Would you agree, Sonia?”

”Most definitely, Victor. Most definitely,” Sonia quickly agreed.

“Or do you want more whipping or irons instead?” Victor looked at Rebecca. "Tell me. Do you want me or the irons?" Rebecca looked up helplessly at him. "Me or the irons?" Victor asked again. "Unless you scream that you want me, you will get the irons."

"I want you," Rebecca whispered. "Oh, much louder if you don't want the irons."

"I want you," Rebecca repeated.

"So everyone in the castle can here," Victor ordered.

"I WANT YOU," Rebecca screamed as loudly as her throat allowed. "And so you shall, my dear." He stroked her breast. "So you shall. We grant each captive one request. And this one shall be yours."

Victor walked to the corner of the room and returned holding Rebecca’s panties, which he tore in half,stuffed one half into her mouth and tied the other half around her head to hold the gag in place.

“We won’t be asking you any questions for a while, so there is no need for you to talk. You can give your throat a rest. Later we may wish to use it for another purpose. But for now, it can rest.” Victor pulled his pants down to his ankles and stepped out of them, leaving him wearing nothing but his red hood. Rebecca could see that his stomach was not the only large part of him. She pulled at her spread ankles hanging in the air, but could do nothing to protect herself from the intrusion that was soon to come. The rawness between her legs still ached.

Victor pulled himself onto the rack, his mouth moving to Rebecca’s firm stomach, his hands to her large breasts. He began to knead them, then squeeze them hard. Rebecca grunted involuntarily. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself somewhere else. With someone else. Perhaps Sonia. Rebecca prayed that Victor would not take long with her, but she had noticed that his penis was not yet erect. Apparently, to him, his violation of her was just part of his job, not something that he got excited about. So much for all her work to make her body so firm and shapely. It apparently had no effect on Victor.

As he moved up to put his face next to hers and kiss her neck, she felt him move inside her. He was definitely erect now as he entered her easily. Of course he did, she thought. She was soaked from the fear of her situation. She suddenly let out a loud groan as he pushed deeply into her. Whoever said that size doesn’t matter obviously had a small penis. Her mind was confused. Was she supposed to be enjoying this? Was she being raped? Had she really consented to Victor pumping into her naked and spread body, ankles high above her head. And now she felt him grab her shoulders and push her down. Damn. She had imagined her interrogator would be as attractive a male as she was a female. Not being pounded by this big-gutted Victor.

As he climaxed, he moved his hands back to her breasts and squeezed them hard, holding himself in as deeply and for as long as he could, as those observing cheered. Rebecca had forgotten they were present.

She had not had time to catch her breath as Sonia wiped away the semen that oozed out of Rebecca's vagina and then climbed onto the rack and stood over her, one leg on each side of her waist. “My turn now, sweetheart.”

Rebecca stared up as Sonia now slid her pants down and then pulled them off. She pulled off her hood as well and tossed it to the side of the rack. A pretty face to go with those large breasts. Long dark hair that matched the triangle between her legs. Sonia knelt down until she was sitting on Rebecca’s chest. She removed the gag. “Remember your position, love, and don’t try anything foolish.” Sonia grabbed Rebecca’s chained wrists and leaned over her, moving her open mouth over Rebecca’s. Rebecca opened her own mouth and felt Sonia’s tongue thrust inside it. Rebecca felt her body shudder as Sonia moved her left hand down to squeeze Rebecca’s left breast. Sonia shifted her body down to move her mouth over Rebecca’s right breast. She inhaled as much of Rebecca’s breast as she could, her tongue flicking at its nipple. She turned her face to see that Rebecca’s eyes were closed. Slowly, Sonia lowered herself down Rebecca’s body to her stomach and then further down. Sonia felt Rebecca’s stomach muscles and her thighs tense in anticipation. Sonia began using her tongue on the inside of Rebecca’s thighs, then moved up until she heard Rebecca gasp and felt her body shake. Sonia raised her head to look at Rebecca’s still closed eyes and saw her tongue licking her lips. Obviously Rebecca was enjoying Sonia's attentions much more than she had Victor's.

Sonia watched for a few seconds, building up Rebecca’s anticipation, then moved her tongue up between Rebecca’s legs, her hands massaging Rebecca’s breasts, her face in her pubic hair. Sonia flicked her tongue back and forth before focusing on Rebecca’s clit. Rebecca arched her hips the little that she could toward Sonia and then began to rotate them to force Sonia’s tongue deeper into her. Sonia moved her hands off Rebecca’s breasts, down and behind her ass to push Rebecca farther toward her. She could feel Rebecca’s entire body shake. Sonia sucked in her breath, drawing Rebecca even more into her mouth, feeling Rebmecca explode in orgasm, her screams of pleasure not unlike her previous screams of pain.

“We’re not here to pleasure her, Sonia. That’s enough.” Victor’s words were stern. “Unless you would like to take her place.”

Sonia quickly obeyed, moving herself off Rebecca and looking at Victor. “Before we continue, it’s her turn to pleasure me. We can wait a few minutes before we question her further.”

“You should have thought of that when you chose which way to go first,” Victor answered. “We’re not here for your pleasure or her pleasure. We’re here to get information from her.”

“Now, Miss Rebecca,” Victor moved to the bottom of the rack and lowered her ankles back down. He released them from the hoist and attached them to the roller bar at the foot of the rack. He turned the bar a few notches to make sure that Rebecca’s body was taut. Rebecca immediately felt pain in her knees and elbows and shoulders. Victor moved to the front of the rack and removed the metal bar from around her neck. Rebecca raised her head to look down her stretched and naked body, then moved her head back down, still breathing hard from her recent encounter with Sonia.

“Miss Rebecca,” Victor grabbed her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, “how heavily are the rebels armed?”

“I don’t know what you mean by heavily,” Rebecca protested.

“What I mean by heavily,” Victor nodded to Sonia, who was now standing at the bottom of the rack, her hands on the handle of the roller bar, “is what weapons do they have?” Sonia turned the roller bar one notch. Rebecca felt her body stretch further and screamed.

“They have … they have only crossbows and axes.”

“No cannons?”

“No, nothing like that. Only crossbows and axes.”

“How can I be sure you’re telling me the truth?” Victor sneered at her.

“I am. I am. Look at me. Do you think that I would lie to you when a few more turns will pull off my limbs!?!? Do you think that I want any more stripes across my breasts? Or pricks between my legs?”

Rebecca saw Victor nod toward Sonia and immediately screamed, knowing what the nod meant. Sonia turned the roller bar another notch. Lifting Rebecca’s back off the board of the rack. Her body was fully bathed in sweat and her breathing was rapid and shallow as she fought to get air into her lungs.

“I’m telling you the truth!!” She screamed.

“Maybe you are and maybe you aren’t.” Victor’s voice showed no emotion. “How many new recruits did the rebels raise this last month?”

“I don’t know!! I’m not a rebel soldier. I didn’t attend meetings. I didn’t attend training. I just passed information to them.”

“So I’m supposed to believe you have no idea.” Victor nodded again to Sonia, who turned the roller another notch, lifting Rebecca off the rack's surface from her shoulder to her ankles.

"No. No. Please. Fewer, I think. I’m not sure. But I think that the number of rebels is decreasing. I think that more are leaving than are joining. But I’m not sure.”

Victor smiled. Rebecca screamed as she saw him once again nod to Sonia, but this time Sonia released the roller bar, sending Rebecca’s body crashing down on the rack. She remained chained and spread-eagled and stretched, but her limbs were no longer in danger of dislocating.

“Yes, Miss Rebecca, thank you. Your information matches that of two other rebels that we recently captured.”

“So … I told you the truth … everything … Please now, let me go. Please.”

“Well, Miss Rebecca, I’m sorry to tell you that is not how things work here. You see, while you have no more information for us, you are a confessed traitor. We don’t just let confessed traitors go free. They must be punished.”

“I’ll do what you want. Anything.”

“You’ll do that anyway, I think.” Sonia quickly turned the roller bar four notches, again stretching it near the breaking limit. Sonia left her screaming in that position for ten seconds before releasing the bar and sending her body back to the board. Rebecca’s chest heaved as she struggled for air.

“But I’m afraid that we don’t have more time for you,” Victor again took charge. "We have rebels to capture.” Victor and Sonia removed the bonds holding Rebecca’s ankles and wrists and dragged her off the rack to the far wall, where they again chained her, arms overhead with both her wrists and ankles shoulder-width apart.

“Sonia, what is the sentence for this woman's treason?"

"It is death."

"No. This can't be happening," Rebecca screamed, her eyes darting back and forth between Victor and Sonia, finding only cold eyes staring back at her.

"And by what method?" Victor ignored Rebecca's screams.

"Impalement," Sonia answered. Sonia walked over to the side of a nearby table and picked up a small piece of wood about two inches square and two feet high, attached to a rectangular wooden base. The top was deep red. She put it six feet in front of Rebecca, returned to the table and came back with the same flaming torch that Luka had previously used on her. She slid its handle vertically into the top of the wood. Rebecca's eyes were transfixed on the device. Sonia stood at its side and grabbed a wooden bar sticking out of the bottom of the base. She yanked it up two feet. The flaming torch instantly rose by the same two feet until it was level with the middle of her stomach. Rebecca started to shriek uncontrollably as Sonia pushed the bar back down, lowering the torch, and then slid the wood holding the torch between Rebecca’s spread legs.

"Miss Rebecca,” Victor’s eyes darted from Rebecca’s eyes down to the torch and then back up. “You should consider yourself lucky. The punishment for confessed traitors is death. Painful death. Disfiguring death. Normally we would cut off your breasts first and feed them to you. But we haven’t time for that. We must leave now to find and capture the rebels. So we will dispense with you quickly and your magnificent breasts will remain attached to your body. And I won't even require that you thank me.”

Rebecca looked frantically around the room. All of the spectators had remained. All were smiling at her, some shaking their heads.

“Wait. Wait,” Rebecca screamed.

“No, Miss Rebecca,” Victor answered, “it is time for us to say farewell to a traitor in the proper way. Sonia, the honor is yours.”

"Yes, Victor,” Sonia responded. Once again Sonia grabbed the wooden bar controlling the level of the torch. She looked at Rebecca, whose eyes and mouth were opened wide in disbelief. Sonia yanked the bar two feet upward.

Rebecca screamed at the top of her lungs as she felt the base of the wood holding the torch slam into her. Her head dropped, unconscious. The crowd roared its approval.

Sonia walked up to Rebecca and held smelling salts under her nose. Rebecca quickly revived. She shook her head. Her eyes opened and she glanced around. Then she looked below. The wood had indeed slammed into her, but the torch had not moved and remained sufficiently below her that it did not burn her.

“I just need to flick a lever to hold the torch in place when the wood rises. Pretty clever, wouldn’t you say?” Sonia tried to sound consoling.

“So how did we do?” Victor asked Rebecca. “Did you get your monies' worth?”

Rebecca screamed a stream of obscenities at Victor, then Sonia, then the others in the room ... until Victor's words registered ...

Sonia released Rebecca's ankles and wrists from their chains and helped her over to a chair. Rebecca examined the whip marks on her chest and stomach, as well as the blisters from the first time that Luka had used the torch on her. She could feel the rawness and pain between her legs from the horse and from Victor’s penetration of her. And there was also the pain in her shoulders and elbows and knees and hips from the rack.

Victor handed her clothes to her – her t-shirt, shorts, panties, socks and sandals. She put them on slowly and realized that, even wearing such a skimpy outfit, none of the whip or burn marks on her body was visible. There were no marks above her shoulders or on her legs below her shorts. And all of the marks would fully heal in time.

“We keep our promises, Miss Rebecca,” Victor assured her. “We’ve done this many times before. Though not often with a captive as beautiful as you. As beautiful or as naïve. But we know what we can and can’t do, even if we hope we convinced you otherwise.”

Rebecca stared at him, just beginning to catch her breath. So they had. And, for much of the time, she wasn’t sure that they were actually playing a game with her.

“Are you ready to come back to the office?” Sonia asked, pulling a shirt over her naked breasts. “We still have the matter of payment for our services.”

Without a word, Rebecca rose and, still with Sonia’s help, walked toward the steps as the others watched. It took her several minutes to climb the stairs and return to the main floor. The crowd now was larger. Rebecca wondered how many of the visitors had heard her screams, how many had thought it was just part of setting the castle’s atmosphere.

When they reached the office, Rebecca sat down opposite Sonia. She pulled her credit card from the pocket of her shorts and handed it to Sonia.

“You know, Sonia, I don’t think I’m up for a six-hour bus ride back to the city just yet. Is there somewhere around here I can stay tonight?”

Sonia looked at her. “I get off work in 30 minutes. You could stay with me tonight. I mean, I don’t think we were really finished with each other, do you?”

Rebecca smiled at her, then leaned over the desk and kissed her mouth.

“So you agree,” Sonia continued. “Good. In fact, we might have some time tonight to switch roles, if you're up for it so soon after your ordeal. And I have the keys to the castle. What would you say to that?”

“I would say my revenge will be sweet, dear Miss Sonia. Oh, and one more thing,” Rebeca remembered, “I want to reserve a level six session for next month. But this time with you in charge.”

END




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