Bring Out the GIMP (Girls in Merciless Peril)


By Esso

S.S. General Redeiss has come to a tavern in Norway where he confronts a beautiful young waitress, Marta Laerdal, who has had a drink knocked from her hand onto a German soldier.

A faint flicker of a smile played over his thin bloodless lips. He nodded to a Sturmbannfuhrer. "Place the woman under arrest," he ordered through his clenched teeth.

Marta's knees trembled at the sight of the blue-black Mauser pointed in her direction. Her thoughts weren't of her own peril, but the danger that her capture represented to Sven.

"Raus Fraulein!" the Sturmbannfuhrer barked as he spun the barrel of the gun into the soft flesh under Marta's breast. His lips quivered and his staring eyes were lust filled as he studied his prisoner. Marta felt herself being prodded from behind. "Schnell, Fraulein!" her captor ordered.

In a matter of moments Marta was in the back seat of a Mercedes, her manacled hands twisting nervously in her lap. A Gestapo man sat on either side of her. Their thighs rubbed against hers, their hot breath bathed her face. They sat rigid and no word passed between them.

The big limousine sped swiftly over the hard packed snow, pointing its long snout toward the Konsvinger Gestapo Headquarters which nestled at the side of huge cliff.

Marta shut her eyes and prayed. She knew the tactics of the Gestapo. She knew she would be tortured horribly. She only asked for the courage to die before her lips might betray those of the movement who were still free. She asked for nothing more, neither escape, rescue or life itself.

The fortress-like house smelled of cheap antiseptic. Marta was hustled through the main office where a heavy set woman in a bulging uniform decorated with Swastikas sat at a desk. The woman looked up from her writing, malignant hatred glaring from her eyes at the sight of Marta's young beauty.

"Another one?" she asked in guttural German. "This one will enjoy herself no end, won't she, Fritz? I would like to see how she will take to the life we have to offer her downstairs, how much she can take before she breaks."

"Later, perhaps," the Gestapo man answered. We cannot allow it at this moment.

"Records," the woman grumbled. "Why can't I be relieved of this boring detail work? I have many ideas which would make the prisoners more cooperative; especially the pretty young women."

"We'll think about it," the Gestapo man replied.

If Marta had held out any hope it was gone now - she was going to be tortured. The thought of the fat German sow being turned loose on her restrained body was almost more than she could bear.

Marta felt a knee being shoved into the small of her back. Viciously she was propelled across the bare floor toward a flight of stairs which led to the basement. She found it difficult to maintain her balance against the pressure from behind. Her left shoulder was caught in the bone crunching grip of her jailer.

Mute horror swirled around Marta's head as she was led into the large basement. The cellar had been divided into two areas. One was a pen-like structure which was surrounded by steel bars to form a cage. The larger section of the basement was hideous enough to defy imagination. A long rope dangled from the ceiling. Cruel manacles had attached to chains which were imbedded in the stone walls. A huge pit in the center of the floor glowed with the burning coals it held. The contraption was as large as a bed and was covered by an iron grill.

No one had to tell Marta she was in a Gestapo torture chamber.

In mounting terror, Marta was led to the cage. As her eyes became accustomed to the light, she saw another young girl staring through the bars at her. The Nazis had stripped away most of her clothing and her lovely young body was covered only by the merest wisp of silk panties and bra. The girl had been crying and tear stains marred her otherwise perfect cheeks. Her breasts rose and fell wildly against the restraining bra as she saw the Gestapo men moving towards her.

Marta wondered what horrors the pretty young thing had witnessed in her brief time as a Gestapo captive. Then for a moment her eyes locked with the girl's. She seemed to take courage from the sight of another prisoner.

Suddenly Marta felt herself being hurled to the floor. She landed with a bruising force that knocked the wind from her. Her eyes clouded with pain, but cleared immediately with fear and revulsion.

One of the Gestapo men squatted beside her. His hairy arm had moved up the length of her body, a gleaming knife dangling from her hand.

The blade dug into the hollow of Marta's throat causing a burning sensation. Slowly it moved down the front of her sweater. The cutting edge was as sharp as a scalpel.

Marta tried desperately to hide her breasts, now covered by only a flimsy black bra, as her sweater fell away. The Nazi slapped her viciously on the side of the head, stunning her.

Like a person detached she felt the preparations for her torture. She felt the men unlocking the manacles and rolling her over on her stomach. She felt her wrists being twisted behind her back and bound with coarse rope. She squirmed wildly on the floor but one of the Gestapo men placed his knee in the small of her back and pressed down with all his weight. Intense pain shot down the length of her legs.

"Save your strength Fraulein," he whispered in her ear. "You will need all of it to answer our questions."

"What questions? I have done nothing wrong!" Martha cried.

"All of you Norwegians are traitors. All of you know something which will prove of value to us. We will find out what information it is that you're hiding. Rest assured of that."

Marta bit her lip to keep from screaming. Her mind warned her that this was nothing compared to the pain that was to come. She would save her strength, she told herself, but only to remain silent no matter what.

Another man had walked into the room. His shiny black boots were only inches from Marta's face which was pressed against the cold stone floor. He watched with great interest as his mates tore at Marta's skirt. He regarded the dimples in the small of her back as her black silk panties came into view.

Marta could no longer help herself and began to desperately struggle against her captors. I am being stripped, she thought. When they have me naked they will start my torture. They want me naked so they can torture my breasts and between my legs. Oh God. Oh God help me.

"Very lovely," the officer murmured in approval, watching the Gestapo men ripping her skirt down over her hips and flailing legs. Strong hands captured her calves and then a rough rope was knotted around her ankles. "Very lovely. It is really a shame that the Reichsfuhrer has been delayed in Oslo. He would have enjoyed watching this one suffer."

Marta fought to control the expression on her face. A faint glimmer of hope beat in her breast - not hope for herself, but for Sven. If Himmler would not arrive tonight, perhaps the garrison guard would not be strengthened. Perhaps there was still a chance for the patriots to carry out their attack and escape with their lives. With a new resolve, Marta determined that action or word of hers would betray Sven Treungen or his men, no matter how horribly the Nazis tortured her.

Yet, clad only in her panties and bra, with her arms hitched behind her back and her ankles tightly fettered together, Marta was completely helpless. There was nothing she could do to defend herself against the torment to come.

Her mind whirled. She would have to do something to avoid cracking under the pressure. She had read of the Christian martyrs who had hypnotized themselves against Nero's depravities. She would do the same. She remembered her defilement in the café. "They abused my body," she told herself, "But they never reached my mind." But even as she thought this she realized how little had been her suffering up until this point.

The booted one dug his toe into Marta's side and flipped her over on her back as if she were a dead fish. The ease with which he did it and the sight of him towering over her bound prostrate body brought home her helplessness with an almost palpable blow. "You assaulted a hero of the Third Reich tonight," he intoned. "For what reason?"

"It was an accident. I meant him no harm," Marta replied evenly.

"You are a provocateur. You will be treated as such. Here you have no rights!" The man's voice became shrill. His lips were flecked with bubbles of foam.

He motioned to his assistants before spinning on his heel and walking to the cage where the second Norwegian girl was held. The Gestapo men grasped Marta under the knees and shoulders and carried her like a sack of potatoes to the wall where they propped her up with her back against the rough stone. There was no need to use the iron manacles that hung from the wall. With her wrists bound behind her and her ankles roped tightly together, she could do nothing but watch and wait.

"Now you will see how we handle the enemies of the Reich," the man with the boots gloated. "You will see how brave your fellow conspirators are. You will learn the price we exact from traitors to the new order."

He extracted a key from his pocket and handed it to one of the Gestapo thugs. Seconds later the other girl was dragged kicking and screaming from the cell. Quickly her arms were bound behind her and a leather collar fitted around her neck. A chain was dropped from a winch in the ceiling and attached by a hook to the collar. One turn of the hoist's crank pressed the collar up against the girl's throat just short of strangling her, holding her immobile.

She stood quivering in fear as one of the Germans unwound a length of hose from a reel. Freezing water sprayed over the girls nearly naked body as he approached her, causing her tremors to turn into convulsive shudders. He reached out and tore the bra from her and directed the forceful stream of water at her beautiful breasts.

But more diabolical than the hellish spray which dug furrows in her smooth flesh was the expression on her captors' faces. They understood to what evil purpose the hose was to be put.

The booted one stepped behind the girl. Throwing his forearm around her throat and forcing her head back. His assistant moved swiftly. Before she could even cry out the brass nozzle was jammed deep into her mouth. The jet of water slammed into her throat and stomach.

The girl writhed as somebody possessed. Slowly her abdomen swelled over the waist band of her panties. She whimpered piteously through her nose. In a matter of seconds her last breath would be crushed from her lungs by her swollen stomach.

But the Nazis weren't ready to let her die so swiftly. As the girl tottered drunkenly back and forth, held upright only by the grasp of the booted commander, the hose was ripped from her mouth.

As she sputtered and coughed up water, the two Gestapo men took a thick rope and wrapped it around her swollen belly. Each one grasped one end and began to tighten it, forcing their young victim to wretch up a bucket full of liquid.

The girl's eyes met Marta's. "" she managed to gasp.

The Germans laughed. A hand wrapped in the girl's long red hair and pulled her head back violently. She groaned, then shrieked, as she saw the hose being brought over.

"No!" she screamed. "Not again! Please not again."

They repeated the torture three more times. In the end she could not even beg, only shake her head and sob.

Marta begged for the poor girl. Bound hand and foot that is all she could do. She pleaded for them to stop torturing her companion, unable to bear the site of the girl's writhing body but not capable of turning her gaze away. Finally she hung her head on her chest and wept quietly.

Now the booted one stood over Marta. "You don't seem to approve of our methods," he smirked at the trembling girl. "You think we should let you defile and murder our men without reprisals. You think you are above the law."

The drool ran down his chin. His eyes flamed with sadistic lust. Looking at him, Marta knew he had no interest in enforcing the occupation laws. His only desire was to inflict agony on his helpless victims. And her time had come.

"Before we are done with you, you will tell us every part of your conspiracy. You will tell us who influenced you to attempt murder. You will scream it out in all of its traitorous detail."

"I meant to harm nobody. It was an accident," Marta breathed, her voice strained with fear.

"Enough!" he shouted as he backhanded the saliva from his chin. "You know something! You will tell us!"

A heart rending shriek of, "NO! NO! NOT THERE! YOU CAN'T! YOU CAN'T." turned Marta's head. The girl's panties had been stripped from her and one of the Nazis was beginning to push the nozzle of the hose between her thighs. Despite the collar that threatened to choke her, the girl was twisting and kicking as best she could, trying to prevent the nozzle from invading her vagina.

The Nazi seemed to be enjoying her struggles but tired of the sport after a few moments and spat something to his two comrades. One of them untied her wrists but quickly rebound them in front of her while the second undid the hook from her collar and fastened it to her roped wrists. The chain was then raised until her arms were taut and her delicate toes barely touched the floor.

Still she struggled as she hung from her wrists, kicking desperately at her captors, until her flailing feet were caught and roped to rings set to either side of her suspended body. This pulled her legs wide apart, and a tightening of the winch by two turns stretched her nude body taut. Now the young beauty was helpless, unable to close her thighs even an inch to protect her exposed sex from the torture.

The girl screamed in pain as the nozzle was shoved brutally deep into her pussy. The other Nazi walked over to the valve and the water turned on full force. Again the torture chamber echoed with a scream, but it was not the girl's, whose mouth gaped open silently, but Marta's shriek of horror.

They threw the hose aside and began torturing their helpless victim's nude body with a branding iron in the shape of a swastika. They started with her underarms, moved to the underside of her breasts and then down to her belly. And when the red hot iron was thrust into the curly red triangle of the girl's pubic bush and held there for long seconds she screamed out a confession.

The Nazi's ignored her; they knew she was innocent. Sven had once told Marta that this was the way the Gestapo operated. People were tortured mercilessly on the off-hand chance that they might have some information of value. Or just for sadistic enjoyment. She remembered Sven now and she prayed that her memory would fortify her for the ordeal that was about to take place.

But they weren't yet done with her fellow captive. The iron was replaced with a freshly heated brand that was held between her knees. Then so slowly it was moved up between her straining thighs while she begged for mercy. It seemed to take forever, with the heat bathing the inside of her thighs and roasting her vagina as it moved slowly upward. She was screaming "NO! NO! NO!" the moment before it touched her lips. Then her mouth opened in a silent scream and her body went stiff, shuddered once and sagged in her chains.

"You know what to do!" the booted one barked at the others. Marta gasped as she felt their horny hands running over her nearly naked flesh. She was conscious of being lifted in their arms and carried across the room.

When Marta witnessed the torture of her compatriot she had known the same or worse awaited her. But while she heard the screams of agony and watched the unspeakable evil visited on her naked body, her own screams were for the victim; her own fate did not once enter her mind. Now that her own ordeal was at hand, that torture suddenly took on a more personal terror.

"Have you ever seen a pig roasted?" the booted one asked. "Have you ever heard its fat splatter into the fire and seen the sparks fly up around it? You will experience the sensations which the hog never felt, because you will be alive through it all."

Marta stared at him with unmitigated horror. Was there anything too atrocious for his twisted mind to conceive? She was going to be tortured in ways no sane human could imagine. She began to struggle with her guards, unable to go placidly to her torture, no matter how useless her resistance might be.

They held her writhing body in their steel-like arms. The ropes were cut away from her arms and her slim wrists locked in manacles set into a long iron bar. Her ankles were freed for a moment and then tightly shackled into another spreader bar.

As if in a dream Marta heard the rattle of chains. She was standing, her arms spread wide and pulled above her head. A crank turned and her arms were drawn tight. Another turn of the crank and she was on her toes, her calf muscles bunched with strain, her legs held far apart by her chained ankles. She groaned in pain.

They stripped and gagged her. Marta felt the panties and bra being torn from her body. She was helpless; all she could do now was squirm futilely in her chains as they abused her naked body, their hands running over her breasts, her belly and between her legs. Her long blonde hair was wound into a braid and forced into her mouth, followed by her panties. A hemp rope pushed them deeper and held them firm. Marta choked on the horrible gag.

She stood there, her nude body spread-eagled taut by the chains, waiting to be tortured. They had bound her with her back to the fire-pit, so she could not see one of the Nazis prod the coals with a poker. In an instant she felt her entire body being bathed by searing heat which licked at her legs, her hips, her back. In horror she twisted her head and saw the gridiron behind her and the glowing coals winking up at her.

Her jaw was grasped by the officer who yanked her head around. He touched her gag with a finger. "We couldn't have your hair catching fire now, could we?" She could do nothing but stare back at him, her eyes wide with fear.

He cupped her breast and ran his thumb over the erect nipple. The debasement of being spread out nude before a Nazi officer was too much to bear. Marta began to weep. He laughed.

"Save your tears, Fraulein. I am going to teach you how to scream."

Marta whimpered and shook her head back and forth. This couldn't be happening to her.

"Are you wondering how we are going to get the information from you since you can't talk? Don't worry, when I am done with you, you will still be alive. A little worse for wear, but alive...and you will talk happily."

Even before he stepped away one of the Nazis was at her feet snapping a new chain onto the spreader bar. A moment later her feet were being lifted in the air. Marta screamed into her gag. Within seconds her ankles were at the same height as her wrists, her nude body a graceful arc as she hung from the chains.

Marta heard the chains rattle, felt her body being lifted. Each of the chains ran to its own hoist, and within seconds Marta's wrists and ankles were held firmly against the two winches, effectively spread-eagling her high above the ground. There was still some slack in her lithe body and she writhed seductively as she struggled against her bonds.

She heard laughter from her Nazi tormentors accompanying comments on the beauty of her buttocks and her erotic squirming. "What a wonderful show you put on for us," a voice called up to her. Still she could not help herself and still her desperate struggles. She had to escape. Their mockery would mean nothing once her torture began.

The hoists moved independently on a track that ran over the fire-pit. At a command from the Gestapo officer, the hoist holding her wrists was carefully moved down the track, slowly taking the play out of Greta's supple limbs until she was stretched tight. Her struggles ceased. The only protest she could make was to moan into her gag in pain.

With skill and patience the Nazis maneuvered the hoists until Marta's nude body was spread-eagled five feet above the fire-pit. The heat was intense but bearable, but Marta knew even before the officer spoke that this was only a preamble to her torture.

"We will start with your back. I will have you lowered very slowly. The pain will grow with the heat, and when you think it cannot be any worse we will turn you over and lower you again, belly first."

Marta sobbed into her gag. She heard the rattle of the chains as her descent toward the red hot coals began.

In a diabolical refinement to the torture device, the track itself could be raised and lowered. This way Marta's body could be held taut, her wrists and ankles shackled to the hoists as immovable as if they had been bound to stakes driven into the ground. A short wooden plank was forced between her outstretched arms and her head, pushing the latter up away from the fire's worst ravages.

The end had begun. Slowly they lowered her. The heat seemed to double with every inch she descended. Four feet above the fire pit she knew the pain would be greater than anything she could have imagined. "Give me the strength to die without speaking," she prayed.

At three feet she began to pull wildly against the chains that held her. Seconds later she let out her first scream of pain. Already the searing coals were turning her flesh an angry red. Soon the blisters would begin to form and break.

"You will tell us everything we want to know. You will tell us. You will talk." The voices blended into a mad nightmare as the chains continued their slow unwinding.

The agony was unbearable. Breathing itself was torture. It was a battle to suck enough of the hot air into her lungs through her nose with her mouth gagged. Still, Marta was screaming uncontrollably when the chains reversed and began to lift her.

She was free of the broiling heat; still naked, still enchained - but far enough above the fire that she was no longer being roasted alive. Was it over? Was she saved? For a moment hope rose in her chest. Then once again she started to descend and the hope was replaced by horror.

Marta suffered the Nazi's diabolical torture for another half hour before she fainted, her spread-eagled body lowered so close to the hellish inferno that the screaming maiden was sure her body would burst into flames. Then they raised her long enough for her to recover before she was again lowered toward the fire-pit.

Pain. All encompassing pain. It was the only thing Marta was aware of as she slowly regained consciousness. She throbbed with it, from her shoulders to her calves. She felt as if every inch of the back of her body had been torn with red hot pincers. She began to cry and moan.

Although the pain from her trial by fire overwhelmed all other sensation, Marta became aware of fresh agony in her wrists and shoulders. It took a few moments for her to realize she was no longer stretched between the hoists, a few more to realize she was hanging against a smooth wooden pillar. She was no longer gagged; that meant her interrogation was about to begin. With great effort she lifted her head to see where the new pain was coming from.

Marta was hanging naked from a whipping post. Her wrists had been bound together with rawhide thongs. Her torturers had then lifted her arms and slipped her fettered wrists over an iron hook so she hung with her toes two inches above the floor. Blood trickled down her forearms from where the leather straps had cut into her flesh. She pressed her face against the cool wood, sobbing quietly with the realization that the Nazis had new tortures planned for her.

The Gestapo officer took her face in his hand, "You probably think that nothing could be worse than being hung over the fire pit. You are wrong."

He held his leather gloves in his left hand. Still holding her chin in his right hand, he swung his gloves against her blistered back. She jerked against the post and cried out in pain.

"Think what the whip will feel like against your flesh." Again he slapped her with his gloves, drawing another cry of pain. "You will suffer a whipping like no other. Your scorched skin is stretched tight as you hang there." Again he slapped her with the gloves. Again she cried out in pain. "You see? Even the light tap of my gloves is agony. You will not be able to bear the force of the whip."

Tears spilled from Marta's closed eyes and ran down her cheeks. It was impossible to imagine pain greater than what she felt now.

"Who are your traitor comrades? Tell me and the pain will stop."

Every word was a struggle for the tortured girl. " am...innocent..."

She saw him step away and a second later the belt slashed across her shoulder blades. It slammed her into the post and drove the air from her lungs with a loud gasp. Her eyes flew open in shock.

"What are their names?" Marta stared at him uncomprehending, the pain making it impossible to think. Again the belt ripped into her, this time across the small of her back. Marta shrieked in pain. Again it fell, tearing into the back of her thighs just below her buttocks.

The officer thrust a three stranded knout in her face. "He is using a belt. It is broad and flat. Think how these will cut into your flesh."

The belt fell on her buttocks, then behind her knees. Marta's nude body writhed against the post. He fell into a rhythm. He would lash Marta and wait until her screams died down before he lashed her again. Eight more times, covering her from shoulders to calves, before she fainted.

A bucket of salt water was thrown on the unconscious girl. She came to with a howl of pain.

"No more!" she screamed. "For the love of God STOP!"

"Who are your comrades?"

"No...please...I don't know...have mercy...I beg you...have mercy..."

"Think what the pain will be like when we put you back over the coals...belly down. Think about those lovely breasts inches above the flames."

" can't take any more..."

He slid his hand between the whipping post and her hanging body, pressing against her stomach and sliding it up to her breasts. "Do you think I can only whip your back? Think what the lash will do to your roasted belly and breasts when we take you down from the hoist and whip the softest parts of your body."

Marta was sobbing and begging for mercy when the whipping began anew, this time with the three stranded knout. The torture chamber rang with her mindless screams, horrifying shrieks intermixed with half crazed begging. Finally she passed out once more from the pain.

When she came to, Marta was still suspended from the hook by her fettered wrists, but her captors had turned her so her back was against the whipping post. Now the nude and as yet untouched front of her body was open to their cruelties.

From where she hung she had an unimpeded view of the torture chamber, especially of the hoist and the fire pit, which was being stirred by one of the Gestapo team.

"You are still quite beautiful Fraulein," the officer said in a low voice. "Save yourself while you can."

Marta said nothing. She squirmed against the post and her toes stretched toward the floor in a useless effort to find relief from the agony that tore into her shoulders and wrists where the leather thongs had sliced deep into her flesh. She tried to push the soles of her bare feet against the smooth wood and find some purchase but she was too weakened from the hours of torture. With a groan she collapsed and hung motionless from her bindings, her head sunk above her bare breasts, her eyes closed.

"Who is Sven?"

The question was asked in a voice barely above a whisper but Marta's head shot up as though it had been yelled in her ear.

"He...what...I...who..." she babbled in confusion.

"Sven. You cried out for him between your screams."

"No. No...I didn't..."

"You begged him to help you. Who is he?"

Marta started to struggle and twist from where she hung. "I don't know. I don't know." She was sobbing again.

"Do you think he would want you to suffer like this for him? Do you think he would want your lovely body roasted alive? Your soft breasts destroyed by the fire and then the whip?"

"No. Stop. No."

At that moment two figures came into Marta's field of vision - one of the Gestapo thugs and the women whom she had "met" upstairs.

"Frau Mergenhaupt," the officer said, "I believe you said you had ideas on how to make pretty young women more, ahh, cooperative."

The husky women ran her eyes up and down Marta's helpless nudity with undisguised lust. Her tongue poked out between swollen lips. "Yes. Oh yes, mein Herr."

The officer turned to Marta. "I thought before we lowered you to the fire we would give Frau Mergenhaupt a test of her skills."

"No. No. Please no."

"Frau Mergenhaupt, what do you suggest?"

She walked up to Marta and placed her hand on the young girls belly pressing in on her pubic hair and lower. In horror Marta tried to twist away from the probing fingers.

"No. Don't. You can't. You can't let her."

"I need you to spread her legs apart," the fat lesbian ordered.

The officer laughed to Marta. "Of course. Leave it to a woman. I think she means to torture your cunt."

Marta began to sob. "Please. I beg you. Don't let her touch me there. Please don't. Have mercy. Please understand. Mercy. Please. Mercy."

Two of the torturers seized Marta's feet and pulled them behind the pillar, then crossed them at the ankles and laced them together with the same sort of leather thongs that bound her wrists. The pillar was wide and the procedure pulled Marta's thighs apart. Still, Marta's legs were long and slim; her bound ankles slid down the back of the column and the gap between her legs closed by half.

The Gestapo had obviously had practice at this. A sisal rope was tied to her fettered ankles, run up to a hook behind the post and pulled until her feet were at the same level as her waist. At the same time another rope was threaded between her thighs and the column, each end looped around the front of her thighs, then drawn tight and tied off at the back of the post, spreading her thighs wide apart.

There was no way for Marta to resist as she was bound for Mergenhaupt's torture of her sex. She fought them the best she could, trying desperately to keep her legs closed, but the only evidence of her struggles was her throaty grunts as she strained against the rough hands and rope. She was powerless against them, and within minutes she hung from the hooks, thighs wide apart, unable to move.

They weren't done. A wide wooden cylinder was pushed into the space between the small of Marta's back and then forced down behind her buttocks, arching her back and thrusting her pelvis forward. She cried out in pain as her body was stretched against the constricting ropes.

"Last chance before I turn Frau loose on your pussy."

"NOOOO!" she screamed, "You can't! Oh God you can't let her! You can't do that! You can't."

Mergenhaupt ran her hand up the inside of Marta's thigh.

"Get her away from me!" she shrieked, pulling with all her strength against the ropes.

"Who. Is. Sven."

Marta was sobbing pitifully. "I...I can't...please...have mercy...please..."

"Gag her," the officer ordered.

"NOOOOOO!" she screamed, "NONONONONO!"

Marta tried to turn her head away but her jaw was seized by one of the guards and her mouth forced open. Once she was gagged she would be powerless to stop her torture, unable to yield. She saw Mergenhaupt, saw the lascivious grin on her face and knew she would not be able to withstand the torture of her sex. God forgive me, she thought, and cried out she would talk.

"Schtaah. Iow teh..."

But with the Gestapo man gripping her jaw and squeezing her cheeks, all that emerged were muffled sounds before the thick rag was stuffed into her mouth.

Marta looked at the officer, trying to convey her surrender with her eyes. The way he smiled back told her he knew.

The needles were almost six inches long. Frau Mergenhaupt made sure Marta got a good look at them. "For the first step I am going to insert four of these into each of your cunt lips."

Mergenhaupt took hold of Marta's pussy. The captive beauty's eyes rolled back and she fainted. Her torturer laughed loudly.

"Water," she said, "This is going to be more fun than I thought."

A bucket of cold water brought Marta around.

"Faint as often as you wish my pretty. I will simply wake you and start where I left off. Now where was I?"

Mergenhaupt's fingers dug into Marta's sex and grasped her labia minor. Marta screamed hysterically into her gag. With careful deliberation her lesbian torturer inserted the first needle into the young beauty's nether lip. Marta pulled at her bonds with all her strength but the ropes held her fast; only her head was capable of thrashing from side to side. Her crazed screams could be clearly heard through her gag.

Mergenhaupt pressed each needle three inches into the sensitive flesh of Marta's sex, leaving three inches protruding from her lips. She passed out twice during her torture. Each time she was revived with a dowsing of cold water. Her struggles diminished, as did her screams, as the pain took its toll. As the eighth needle was inserted she simply hung in her bonds, whimpering softly.

"Don't you just love that expression?" Mergenhaupt murmured to the officer. Her voice was husky with lust. "Look at her. She's totally broken. Look at how she tries to beg me with her eyes."

Mergenhaupt patted Marta on the cheek. "Not so proud now are we, my sweet? Not so brave, eh?" She turned back to the officer. "When I am done with her she will sing like a bird, a little broken bird."

Marta wailed into her gag. They weren't done with her torture. She was ready to talk, to do whatever they wanted; anything to avoid more pain to her tormented pussy. But they were going to work on her some more.

"What more do you have planned for our little dove?" the officer asked, smiling, but never taking his eyes off Marta's tortured sex. It was at that moment she knew - there would be no end, no escape from the agony. Even after she talked her ordeal would go on. And on. Until she had been slowly tortured to death.

"First we have some more needles to apply. I think three here," and she lightly touched Marta's nipple while she stared fixedly into her eyes. "And here," as she touched the other one. And," her middle finger pressed painfully against Marta's clitoris.

When her torturer looked into the bound girl's eyes she was sure she would see terror and surrender. Instead she saw hatred and defiance. Marta knew her only hope was that Sven would rescue her before it was too late. With an act of implausible courage she swore she would not talk. It would not stop her torture.

Nor would it stop her screams. Marta did not want to scream; she knew that each scream excited her lesbian tormentor the way Sven's tongue excited her. She had felt Mergenhaupt's fingers tremble when she tortured her sex. She had seen her body shudder in orgasm when Marta had begged for mercy. She knew that merely the sight of her strictly bound body, stripped naked and stretched taut, with her thighs spread wide, opening her pussy for Mergenhaupt to torture, were enough to send her into sexual ecstasy.

But she could not hold back her screams. She could not deny Mergenhaupt that pleasure. She screamed with such force that even through her gag she could be heard throughout the torture chamber. Finally with the slow insertion of the last of three needles into her clitoris, she stopped screaming - she had fainted.

They woke her with a splash of icy cold water. She hung limp and exhausted in her bonds, her naked body shining with the sweat of agony.

"Are you ready to talk?" The Nazi officer lifted Marta's head by her jaw with a crooked forefinger he removed her gag. With the last of her courage she slowly shook her head no. The Nazi stepped away and Marta's head slumped to her chest.

He snapped his fingers and a syringe was brought to him, which he plunged and emptied into Marta's thigh. Almost immediately she moaned and her eyes fluttered open. "You are an extremely brave woman," the Nazi officer said to her, leaning in close and speaking in a low modulated voice. "But you are about to break. Not many could take the pain you already have, and no one can withstand what is in store from you. Frau Mergenhaupt, I'm afraid, is only beginning to warm to her task. Just tell me what I need to know and I will call her off."

Marta's heart began to beat rapidly from the stimulant. "No you won't," she stammered, and then had to pause for a moment, light headed from the drug. "I'm her reward...for something. Maybe for being a good Nazi. You will let her go on torturing me no matter what I tell you. So I won't."

The Nazi shrugged. "No matter what you think. You will talk. You all do."

When she saw Mergenhaupt approaching her with a plier in one hand and a soldering iron in the other, the naked beauty came to life and began to pull desperately at the ropes and thongs that secured her. At that moment she knew her interrogator was right: she would not be able to withstand much more pain before she broke and told him everything, even if she knew it was hopeless. But she would hold out for as long as she could. She could only hope that Sven would arrive to rescue her or she would die before she talked.

Mergenhaupt stuck the pliers in her belt but Marta only had eyes for the soldering iron. It was somewhat larger than the common tool, had an on-off switch and a flat quarter-inch square tip.

Mergenhaupt didn't say a word. She flicked the device on and began running her free hand over Marta's nudity: stroking her belly and breasts, her hips, the inside of her thighs. Her middle finger moved inside the helpless girl's vagina and she held the iron before Marta's face. "Just think what this would do in there," she simpered.

"You monster," Marta gasped, as the finger slipped out of her pussy and pressed hard on her on her perineum, then slid back to her anus. "Or in there," Mergenhaupt said, and giggled.

"You Nazi monster," Marta repeated.

"Curse me, that's all you can do. You're the one tied to the pole. I can do anything I want to you. And I'm going to slowly torture the most sensitive parts of your body. That's why you're naked, so I can reach your cunt and your tits and your ass hole. So curse me; soon you will be begging me for mercy.

"Now where should I begin?"

Mergenhaupt's right hand never stopped roaming over Marta's strictly bound body while her left held the soldering iron where the poor girl could not miss it. It would have been horrid enough to have this despicable creature licentiously fondling her most private places while she was pinned motionless against the column; she would have preferred death. But to have her doing this to determine where she should start her torture was unendurable.

Martha didn't want to give her lesbian tormentor the pleasure of seeing her fear, but she couldn't stop her moaning and pathetic writhing as she hung in her bondage. It was pitiful. Her struggles against the ropes were useless and her moans would soon be screams of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sight of the iron that would soon be used on her bare flesh or worse, pushed deep inside her. She began to weep.

"So my brave Norwegian freedom fighter can't bear to watch her torture. No matter, you'll feel it just the same. I think I'll start with your pussy."

It was all Marta could do not to scream for mercy. When she felt the heat of the soldering iron between her legs, her eyes flew open. She stared down her bound body, between her open thighs. She could feel the closeness of the heat beating against her groin but all she could see was Mergenhaupt staring intently at her pussy. She did not seem to be moving the iron any closer to her vagina. Then Marta felt new heat, deeper in her sex, not coming from the iron. It was quickly growing hotter, then roasting the lip of her pussy from the inside. Her torturer was heating one of the needles.

Marta had never known such pain. She managed to stifle most of her scream through clenched teeth. When Mergenhaupt had the needle heated to the maximum, when it was glowing inside and out of Marta's cunt, she took the pliers, grasped the head of the needle and steadily pushed the last three inches into her labium.

Marta struggled like a mad woman, trying to pull her sex away from the infernal pain. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out from her constricted throat but a series of grunts. The officer grabbed her by the jaw. "Who is Sven?" Marta couldn't talk, couldn't think. The agony was all consuming and Mergenhaupt was heating another needle.

The officer watched her body jerk and buck against the constricting ropes. He was rubbing his cock through his pants, not even aware of what he was doing. He had tortured many women before Marta but never one so beautiful. Her long blonde hair flew about her face as she shook her head violently in the throes of torture. Her alabaster skin shone with sweat. Her perfect breasts heaved on her ribcage and he wanted to order Mergenhaupt to heat the needles that protruded from her areola and nipples. But first she must finish with her pussy. He knew how just the thought of having her pussy tortured was almost enough to break her.

Marta was screaming now, first wordless shrieks of pain, then "Sven! Save me! Help me! Sven! Sven!" and finally when the sixth needle was pushed in all the way, "I'll talk! Just stop! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

The Nazi was so lost in his sexual reverie he didn't hear her scream her surrender. Then he came. "Who is Sven?" he finally choked out after his long groan of pleasure.

"I'll talk! Just make her stop! Oh God make her stop..."

"Who is Sven?" His voice regaining its strength.

"My lover...please, no more..."

Mergenhaupt was beginning to heat up the fifth needle.

"What's his name!" he shouted impatiently.

"Don't make me," she pleaded, "I can't...I can't!" her voice rising as the needle grew hotter, burning the tender flesh of her pussy lip. "Have mercy...please, don't make me." Mergenhaupt began to push the final three inches of hot needle into Marta's vagina. The tortured girl screamed "Trrnnngggnnn!" the name lost in her howl of pain.

"Again!" he shouted at her.

"Treungen...Treungen," she sobbed, utterly broken. "Oh God forgive me. Sven forgive me. I can't take anymore."

But she would have to. The last needle in her pussy lips had started to heat. "No!" she screamed, "Stop! I told you!"

"Tell me everything. Everything!"

Mergenhaupt moved the soldering iron to Marta's breasts. She started with the two needles in each of her victim's areola on either side of her nipple. Marta screamed out everything she thought the German's might want to know, anything that might get them to stop torturing her. Some of it was true, some of it only far-off plans and dreams of the Norwegian resistance. Some were cover stories memorized in case of capture. It all had become mixed into a indecipherable mélange in Marta's pain crazed mind.

Marta's torture fell into a macabre rhythm between inquisitor, torturer and prisoner. Mergenhaupt would keep Marta screaming in agony by touching the iron to a needle, then back off and let the tormented beauty spill out her secrets. Invariably Marta would break off her confession and start begging for mercy, and Mergenhaupt would reapply the iron and then use the pliers to press the needle deep into Marta's gentle breast.

By the time Mergenhaupt had reached the first needle that had been inserted into the center of Marta's nipple, the officer was sure he had gotten everything he could from his pain racked victim. Three times he had asked her where their next target was and three times she had shrieked out "Here! Gestapo Headquarters! To save me!" Since that was impossible as they couldn't have planned a raid to save her before she was captured he knew that part wasn't true. He wrote that off to a crazed wish caused by desperation to escape her unending torture. But he had four other targets to dispatch guards to. This Marta had been a wonderful find.

The pain from the needles pushed into the center of her nipples had been exquisite, and when the iron was held to the first one, Marta went wild, pulling with all her strength at her rope and thong bondage, screaming non-stop when Mergenhaupt slowly pressed the hot needle through the nerve rich nipple.

When it was over her head slumped down on her chest until the officer pulled it up by the hair. Marta looked into the cold blue eyes and groaned, "Why? I've told you everything...I swear. Stop the torture. more. Oh God no more..." He held her head up so he could watch her closely as Mergenhaupt placed the iron on the second needle in her nipple. He had to hold his hand over her mouth as her screams hurt his ears. He liked the feel of her wet vibrating lips on his palm as she shrieked in pain.

He let go of her hair and her head fell forward. He said to Mergenhaupt he said, "I need to go upstairs and reassign some men. Don't touch her until I get back." He was hard as a rock and just the sight of Marta's tightly bound nudity had him ready to come. He didn't want the pleasure of torturing her to end quite yet.

Moments after he climbed the stairs, Mergenhaupt pulled Marta's head up by her hair once again. The helpless girl looked into the lust glazed eyes of her tormentor and groaned, "What... what are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to torture you more. I am going to make you suffer as no woman as ever suffered before. I am going to torture every part of your body...but especially your sex...slowly, oh so slowly."

Marta was moaning, "" over and over and trying to shake her head in denial, but Mergenhaupt was holding her too tightly by her long blonde hair.

"Slow torture. I don't want to just hurt you; I want to pull every ounce of agony from that beautiful naked body of yours. I want to hear you scream in agony for hours. I want to come down here every day and find you, knowing that you've been sobbing all night because another day of slow torture was waiting for you. I want you to start screaming the moment you hear my footsteps. I want to watch you struggle to close your thighs when I begin to torture your pussy.

"You haven't forgotten about these, have you?" Mergenhaupt reached down and flicked one of the needles protruding from Marta's clit. She stiffened in her ropes and cried out in pain. "Just think what it will feel like when I heat these up and stick them in deeper."

She pulled on Marta's hair until tears came to the girl's eyes, and continued to taunt her by explaining in detail how she was going to savage her pussy and enjoy watching her nude body writhe in pain and hear her beg for mercy. Then she went to search the basement for new tools of torture while she waited for the Colonel.

She didn't have to wait long before her superior came hurrying down the stairs. He was already peeling off his uniform jacket before he was at the bottom. "Well, where do we start?" he said as though he were about to roll up his sleeves to begin on some household chore.

Mergenhaupt was standing behind the column. The Colonel walked toward her, realizing that he had not seen this aspect of Marta's bondage since he had had her roped to the pillar. It could not be as interesting, he thought, as the view from the front, which showed a young woman of rare beauty stripped naked, her arms stretched taut over her head by her bound wrists, straining her body almost to the limit. Her strong supple legs were pulled around the pillar, opening her thighs wide and exposing her sex, which was pushed forward by the wooden cylinder for the Nazi Mergenhaupt's tender ministrations. And of course that angelic face's expression of suffering and despair.

What he saw from behind the column was simply Marta's long slim legs, mostly her well-shaped calves and the bottom of her thighs. Her ankles were crossed and bound together with a thin leather thong, then attached by rope to a hook higher up on the column. The effect was to pull her bare feet above waist height which stretched her legs around to the back of the column, holding her body firmly against the front of the pillar.

Mergenhaupt was stroking the girl's legs, running her hands lovingly from knee to ankle. "I want to start with her feet," she said.

"Why? Why not her pussy?"

"I ask for your indulgence Colonel, we will get to that. I have already explained to her that this is merely one session of many, that we will be torturing her for days, and that we will be saving the special torments for her sex. Why not save the best for last. I know the anticipation will heighten my enjoyment and will add to her dread.

"And I think you will find foot torture of a woman more than satisfying."

The Colonel looked down at the delicate feet bound so invitingly, especially the bared soles that seemed to be crying out for attention. "Good points, Frau Mergenhaupt. I accede to your judgement," he answered with a low laugh that was more than a little frightening.

He walked in front of Marta. "Guten Morgen Fraulein. Are you ready to resume our little game?"

"Nooo," she moaned. It wasn't an answer to his question but a plea for mercy. "You're not going...please...don't do this to me...please...don't...please."

For an answer the Colonel thrust a rope the thickness of a man's thumb into Marta's mouth, pushing her head back. When the Nazis had first bound her wrists above her head, they had stretched her arms so they were drawn together until they were almost touching; thus her head was now pressed against her taut biceps. She tried to shake her head free but it was useless. He circled the rope around her arms and pulled it tight, then looped it around again and forced it once more through her lips once more before knotting it behind her and fixing her head inflexibly to her upper arms.

The two Nazis stood in front of Marta, staring at her with unmitigated lust. She tried to turn away from their lascivious gaze but she couldn't move her head. She wanted to close her eyes but found she couldn't look away from these people who had hurt her so viciously. Her sense of helplessness was complete. She couldn't even beg them to stop her torture. She tried but all that emerged through her rope gag was incoherent sobbing.

The bared soles of Marta's feet were pristine - white and soft, unmarred as yet by torture.

Mergenhaupt tested the binding cords that held them, then ran a fingernail down the length of each sole. Marta's body shook to the extent that her cruel bondage would allow but her feet remained fixed to the torture post, soles up with only her long delicate toes able to wriggle in the bindings.

"Look how beautiful they are? Dare I say virginal?" Mergenhaupt said loudly enough to be sure Marta could hear. She walked around to the front of the post to gaze lovingly at Marta's suffering face. She put the tips of the fingers of her right hand high on her prisoner's cheek, then ran them down so they barely brushed the skin, wetting them with Marta's tears, then over the ropes that gagged her, down her throat, breasts and belly, until they came to rest on and then in the naked beauties vagina. Her helpless prisoner could do nothing but writhe in the tight ropes that bound her to the pole. She leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Perfect beautiful feet... but not for long," before she gently nipped Marta's earlobe with her stubby teeth.

"Noooooooo," Marta wailed, and then screamed as the Colonel brought his riding crop down viciously on the upturned sole of Marta's right foot.

Something inside of Marta broke as the short whip came down again; this time on the soft pad just below the toes of Marta's left foot. What more could they do to her? What new ways would they find of torturing her? What new places on her defenseless body?

"Sir, if I might make a suggestion." The Colonel held the whip before it sliced into Marta's sole. "We have a soldering iron, and where there is a soldering iron, there must be solder." She held up a large coil of flux.

Marta did not know what they were doing behind her. It no longer mattered. She hadn't prayed since she had been a little girl, but now she did, begging God to let her die before they resumed her torture.

Mergenhaupt held the hot iron an inch above Marta's bare foot. "We don't want to give the solder a chance to cool before it lands now, do we?" she whispered in a voice made husky by lust.

Mergenhaupt drew hot silvery lines down the length of Marta's soles. After each she spread two of the poor girl's toes and used the tip of the iron directly on the soft flesh between them. Marta shrieked in pain and screamed to God to let her die. She begged him, screaming into her gag, "Why? Why? Let me die... let me die..."

The two Nazi's were so enrapt with Marta's torture they did not hear Sven and his men descend into the cellar until they were on top of them. The raid had been easy as only a few men had been left to guard the Gestapo HQ, the rest having been sent to guard Marta's confessed targets. But it was too late for Marta. She was so crazed she did not even recognize her lover, and died from her wounds less than an hour after having been taken down from the torture post.

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