Bring Out the GIMP (Girls in Merciless Peril)


Yvette was the Nazi's latest gift to the maniacal Arab. Her torture would buy them all of North Africa. Alone, I had to do something to stop their diabolical scheme.

By Esso

The eyes stared madly at me. The elongated body heaved horribly before me. The head rolled back and forth on its straining shoulders. The once milk-like flesh was crisscrossed with rivulets of oozing blood.

I saw the corded muscles of the arms and legs straining against their bonds. The fiends had done their work well. The naked beauty hung suspended from a rope attached to the vault-like ceiling. Tremendous weights had been tied to her slim ankles, stretching her body downward into the pit of hell.

The flaying knives had begun their ghastly work. But they hadn't finished. No woman was given the luxury of a fast death in this mosque of the devil himself.

She was still beautiful - even despite the agony contorted face, the hellishly twisted body - she was beautiful and damned.

I felt the sickness churning up within me again. My head spun dizzily. Blinding pains pounded behind my eyes.

The tortured girl looked pleadingly at the pistol in my hands. Her blood soaked lips formed the word. "Shoot." Instinctively I raised the gun. My finger pressed the trigger. I'd once had to shoot a horse which had broken its leg. The eyes had pleaded with me to hurry the way the girl was looking at me now.

I held my breath. Shooting her was the least one human being could do for another. Yet we weren't human beings - neither one of us. We were cogs in a machine - expendable parts that could be replaced by a million others.

One shot in the underground dungeon and all would be lost. Any chance I had of getting Yvette would go up in the wisp of smoke from my gun barrel.

"I'll get you out," I whispered to the woman. I moved toward her, trying to bring her some sense of comfort. It was a mistake. I almost wretched when I got a close look at what they had done with their flaying knives…her belly, her breasts, the insides of her thighs.

Swiftly I moved away, past the other cubicles which had been set up for the diabolical infliction of pain on the helpless captives.

I reached ever deeper into the bowels of hell. Somewhere in this diabolical torture palace was one of the French Resistance's finest operatives. Unfortunately she carried with her vital information concerning Torch. My job: reach her and either rescue her or put a bullet through her head before the Africa Korps swine tore her secrets from her bleeding lips.

As I passed the various enclosures, my mind became maddened by the sights, smells and sounds. The Mufti Ibn Said was a genius in fiendish cruelty. No western mind could have devised the torments which had been spawned in his evil brain.

One beautiful raven haired girl hung over a low burning fire. Her arms had been bound tightly behind her and her legs doubled up to the hook from which she was suspended. The delicate flesh of her bared breasts and stomach were being slowly scorched by the glowing coals below her.

Another was stretched on a vicious rack. Like all the other captive women in the mosque, she too was nude. The heavy ropes had dug deep furrows in the skin of her wrists and ankles. They had tightened the ratchets to the breaking point but she still lived and screamed.

Wherever the eye reached, the machines of torture were to be seen. Whipping posts where the woman being lashed would go mad and wrench her bound arms from their sockets in an attempt to escape the searing agony. Iron maidens which tore and gouged gigantic holes in the soft firm flesh. Fearful short ladders on which naked girls lay strapped awaiting the return of their torturers so that they might endure a renewal of the dread water torture of the Spanish Inquisition.

And yet there was no trace of Yvette. Certainly she was being held in the Mosque. She would be Heinrich's payment in full to Ibn Said.

I glanced at my watch. Time was running out. Soon Ibn Said would become restless with the ministrations of his dancing girls. The man was not normal. He could only receive gratification in his very special ways. He would return to the dungeon.


Yvette's peril at the hands of these merciless sadists was my doing. If I hadn't been such a pigheaded fool, I would have heeded her warning. She was to meet an SS officer named Heinrich that evening. She told me the man was a drunk and a braggart, and she hoped he would reveal useful information with his liquor fueled boasting. "But whatever you do, don't follow me. It could mean slow death for both of us. If they suspect, they have ways of getting information which nobody can withstand."

I followed her. I thought I was playing it real cozy but the Krauts had me spotted from the get-go. When I walked into the café Heinrich was seated with Yvette and he was livid with rage. He pointed his riding crop in my general direction. Yvette said something and he lashed her across the face with the short whip.

He had Yvette's wrist in a tight grip. He twisted her arm behind her back. His stinking body pressed into hers as he lifted her to her feet and marched her out of the café.

I forced myself to wait a few minutes and followed them into the cobblestone street. Heinrich still held Yvette by the wrist which he had pushed up between her shoulder blades. She writhed in pain trying to get free, but it was no use. I was going to attack him when a German command car pulled up. Heinrich barked an order and Yvette was thrust into the back seat.

I was sick with fear and dread. When the car made a quick right turn I knew where they were going - it was a short ride to the Medina quarter. I didn't need to be reminded that Ibn Said's torture castle lay waiting there.


Ibn Said paused before an iron door. His key rattled in the over-sized lock. The whole scene was like a grade B movie. But this was different. The blood which was spilled was not an aniline dye. The screams were not the products of sound engineers. The pain was real and unendurable and never-ending.

The iron door swung backwards on its well oiled hinges. Ibn Said moved inside. In a moment the figure of SS Sturmbannfuhrer Karl Heinrich appeared behind him prodding a dazed, dirt bespattered girl.

"Yvette!" I breathed in horror. I could tell it was her even in the dimly lit corridor. I could even tell despite the cruel pear shaped gag which had been forced behind her dazzling white teeth.

The SS man prodded her forward. Her face was scant inches away from Heinrich's. The Nazi grasped Yvette by her long golden hair, pulling her head back until her blue eyes stared into the twin orbs of evil which glinted from his skull.

He studied her the way a farmer studies a prize cow. "She is strong," he murmured as his hands explored the soft curves of his captive. She will be able to take much pain."

I heard Yvette's pitiful mewling behind the gag that distended her lips and watched her writhe in the Nazi's grasp, my blood boiling. I thought of her last words to me: "It could mean a slow death for both of us. If they suspect, they have ways of getting information which nobody can withstand." Now she was facing that slow death by torture, and knew exactly what it meant. She must have also known her struggles were useless, but in her terror she resisted the best she could.

"Let us not waste time talking, Effendi," the hideous Arab purred. "My whips and spikes and knives await only your bidding."

Yvette tried to struggle out of the brute's grasp. But her arms had been securely bound behind her back, her wrists tightly manacled and her elbows roped together, thrusting her breasts forward. She was helpless as a kitten as Ibn Said lifted her in his arms and moved toward the adjoining stone compartment. Heinrich trotted at his heels like some monstrous dog ready to sink his fangs into soft flesh. I followed, hiding the best I could behind some wooded casks.

The compartment resembled all the rest. It was a pit out of hell made all the more diabolical by the huge Arab who stood stirring the fire in a glowing brazier. His hand closed over an iron and he lifted it from the coals. The hellish swastika shone red.

"Back in the fire," Ibn Said ordered. "Stupid dog, do you want it to cool so that she feels nothing? First we must make her ready."

Heinrich's eyes glowed as fiercely as the branding iron. He moved to a rack and picked up a vicious looking camel-hide whip, testing its feel in his hands.

"It will be nothing unless the pretty one entertains us with her screams," Ibn Said smirked as he ripped the gag from behind Yvette's swollen lips.

It was as if the whole thing were happening to me. My throat ached as I watched Yvette trying to swallow. The clanking of chains was in my ears. I saw how chafed and raw the poor girl's wrists were from where the manacles had scraped away the tender skin during her struggles to be free.

Ibn Said watched her with snake-like eyes, waiting for her to prostrate herself before him and cower for mercy. Yvette was made of sterner stuff. She looked at him and spat full in his face.

The Arab's expression never changed, but his knuckles were livid as he clutched Yvette's blouse, tearing the thin material away from her lacy black bra. "Hold her, Heinrich!" he ordered.

The Nazi's lips worked back over his teeth. His whole body shivered obscenely. His arms encircled Yvette, drawing her backwards to him. His sweating fingers kneaded the flesh of her breasts which had been left naked by Ibn Said's raking fingernails.

"The iron!" Ibn Said hissed at the assistant torturer. "Hurry you son of a cross-eyed jackal!"

Suddenly Heinrich turned and stared directly at me. He studied me for a second. But I believe his mind had snapped in its insane ecstasy of having Yvette's supple body thrashing wildly against him. She knew her torture was about to begin.

Then Yvette threw her head back and her body went stiff as a board. Blood ran down her chin from where she had bit her lip to keep from screaming. Ibn Said had plunged the red hot iron against the soft white skin of her breast.

I faltered. I knew there was only one way. I wouldn't have time for more than one shot before the Arab guards who must lurk in the corridors swarmed in and overpowered me. I was sickened by the realization that this one shot must be use to put Yvette out of her agony. But I could not kill her. I was too much of a coward to do the only decent thing that could be done for her.

"I will show you the torment of the thousand needles," Ibn Said smirked at his Nazi friend. "It is something to see. It takes hours, days perhaps. Even this brave one who withstood the kiss of the iron without an outcry will be reduced to a simpering idiot by it."

Heinrich's nose flared in and out with his labored breathing. His filthy hands ran over Yvette's body as he held her. He watched with a maniacal stare as the Arabs dragged a heavy chair to the middle of the room. The fearful piece of furniture was a study in man's twisted and perverted mind. Only the spawn of the devil could have devised an instrument such as this. Every inch of the chair was covered with sharp spikes. The slivers of steel jutted up from the seat, from the back, from the arms and legs.

Yvette knew that in moments she would be bound to the torture device. She squirmed feebly in Heinrich's grasp, her strength sapped by the agony of the branding and her arms still chained behind her back.

"We will now remove her clothes," Ibn Said directed.

Heinrich jumped to the task. Ibn Said held the struggling girl from behind. The Nazi stripped the last tatters of Yvette's blouse from her body. His beady eyes took in the way her magnificent breasts rose and fell under the thin covering of her bra.

Heinrich's sweating fingers slid under the frothy lace. Yvette shuddered in revulsion as the material was pulled away. Now Ibn Said held her slim arms behind her as Heinrich worked at the fasteners of her skirt. The garment slid into a pitiful heap around her ankles, revealing her magnificent beauty hidden only by the brief black silk panties I had bought her.

The Nazi fell to his knees before her, his hands pawing at her stomach. Yvette kicked out at him but Ibn Said twisted her arms up on toward her shoulders, forcing her to arch her back. She moaned out her humiliation and pain as Heinrich pulled her panties down her long legs leaving her completely nude. I closed my eyes trying to blot out Yvette's final degradation.

The other Arab moved in. He seized one of Yvette's wrists and twisted a coiled length of heavy rope around it, tying it tightly while she tried in vain to pull it free. Using the rope as a leash, he dragged the now totally naked girl toward the spikes despite her desperate resistance.

Oh how she fought against being bound to the hellish device. Every muscle in her naked body corded in strain as the rope was passed around the chair's back and bound around her other wrist.

Heinrich watched her writhing silently against the bindings. Her nude body was a taut bow as the Arabs slipped a length of rope around her waist, drawing her tightly onto the spikes. Then another piece of line circled her hips and was tightened. Already little spots of blood appeared on her soft flesh. The fiends from hell finished the job swiftly, tying each of her ankles and knees to the chair's legs, spreading her thighs wide and exposing her sex.

Sweating with exertion, they stood back to examine their foul handiwork. Just enough slack had been left to allow Yvette to raise herself an inch or so, But when the effort brought an intolerable strain to her tired muscles, she would fall back heavily against the spikes. Every movement would bring new wounds - none severe enough to cause death, but the pain was indescribable. Still she could not stop trying to lift herself away from the spikes that tortured her. Heinrich stood twisting the whip in his hands, watching Yvette's futile attempts to be free of the constant torture of the spikes. Suddenly he lashed out, timing his strike to her arching up from her chair of torment. The whip caught her around her naked waist, bringing new agony.

Still she had not screamed, but a loud moan gurgled from her throat. "The trick," Ibn Said chortled, "is to make her move on the spikes. The spikes will strip the skin from her body."

Again Yvette rose in a tight arc trying to escape the hideous spikes. Her mouth was opened wide gasping for air and her eyes squeezed shut against the pain, so she never saw the whip fly at her breasts.

This time she screamed. The whip ripped into the top of her breasts and she shrieked out her agony.

Ibn Said joined in the fun. He slashed viciously at the inside of her thigh with a stiff quirt and Yvette screamed again. He raised the quirt again but Heinrich raised his hand.

"What are the Allies plans?" he snapped at her, "Or do we have to strip every inch of skin from your body?"

"No…no. I can't. Never…never…" Yvette's sobbing was the most pitiful sound I had ever heard, but Heinrich laughed. "We'll see."

Ibn Said brought his lash down on her inner thigh again. Yvette screamed "Noooo!" and when the whip cut into her belly an inch from her sex she shrieked "Stop! Stop! No more! No more!"

"Talk!" Heinrich yelled.

Yvette's breasts rose and fell rapidly on her heaving rib cage. She couldn't speak, only shake her head violently from side to side.

The whipping continued, Heinrich's long lash cutting into her nipples and Ibn Said bringing the quirt with great force between the lips of her sex. In the throes of agony Yvette couldn't control her writhing against the spikes of the torture chair. The sharp slivers of steel flayed the flesh from her naked body while the whips tore at her breasts and belly. Her screams had become a series of strident croaks. She could take no more, and fainted.

The German broke an ammonia capsule under her nose. Her head snapped back and she moaned, then begged for mercy.

"The only mercy you'll get is when you tell me what I want to know," Heinrich hissed at her.

My angle was no good to try a shot. I would do it if I only could and cursed myself for not taking the chance when I had it.

"Let us try something new on her," Ibn Said simpered at Heinrich. The Nazi grunted his approval and the Arab continued, "Abdul, bring the pliers. You will have to do this; I am too old and fat."

Ibn Said took the pliers and held them in front of Yvette. "Your last chance before Abdul starts removing your toenails." I saw her shudder and then carefully shake her head no, being careful not to move on the bed of spikes.

"Please," she begged, "I can't tell you. Stop torturing me. I can't… I can't…" She was sobbing, holding her body stiff so as not to move in the chair.

"Since you won't be talking…" and he reached behind him and brought forth the pear shaped gag. "We will spend the next hour or so listening to you scream. Abdul works very slowly. Then we will take out the gag and give you a chance to unburden yourself."

He turned to Heinrich. "See how she holds herself so as not to suffer the agony of the spikes? Once Abdul starts pulling out her nails she will be unable to control her writhing, shredding her own flesh on the points, I promise you."

Abdul came around to the back of the chair, held Yvette by the nape of the neck and squeezed on her jaw to open it. She didn't fight him; it would have done no good and just served to shred her flesh further. With Abdul grasping her jaw, before Ibn Said inserted the pear, she managed to cry out "No… don't… I beg you… don't." and then the pear filled her mouth.

Ibn Said drew the first scream from Yvette by widening the pear until it was one turn from dislocating her jaw. Then Abdul got to work. Sweat oozed from every pore of the tortured girl's skin. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, and with every exhale she grunted through the metal gag. When, after what seemed like an eternity, the nail on the small toe of her left foot tore free trailing threads of red flesh, a long groan escaped her lips and her head fell forward. Somehow she had managed not to move or scream through the entire extraction process, and one could sense the relief that that ordeal was finally over." But of course it wasn't. Immediately Abdul moved to the fourth toe, clamped the pliers onto the nail, and started the twisting and pulling that sent bolts of pain up Yvette's leg.

Her eyes shot open wide in shock and pain. It was as though she had forgotten that she had nine more toes Abdul was going to brutalize, as though it wasn't right that anyone who had withstood such pain should be made to endure it tenfold.

Her scream was distorted by the pear but no less heart rending. Abdul didn't bother to look up and continued working on her toenail. She screamed again and her back arched off the spikes. The ropes that bound her to the chair had loosened during her desperate struggles while she was being whipped. Her bottom and thighs rose another two inches. She hung there, screaming in pain, her body trembling from the effort of keeping herself off the spikes. She started to fall back toward the hideous barbs but miraculously found a reserve of strength and stiffened her body. She stopped screaming and now grunted with every breath in her desperate effort to remain off the off the spikes. Her body seemed to vibrate in the sultry air of the torture chamber, throwing a mist of sweat off her naked skin. Finally the nail slowly came loose with a sucking sound audible even to me across the room. Yvette's shriek was one of excruciating agony mixed with unbearable despair, the despair of total defeat.

It was over, she had lost and she knew it. Her trembling muscles could no longer support her; she was about to drop onto the spikes. And even before the metal shards shredded her skin yet again, she knew the pain would be too much to bear; the Nazi had broken her, she would betray her country and the Allies.

Her beautiful body writhed uncontrollably on the spikes as Abdul started on her middle nail. The torture chamber echoed with her screams. Her eyes found her Nazi tormentor. She tried to beg him but the pear that filled her mouth made that impossible; all she could do was scream.

Abdul moved to the little toe of her right foot, leaving the two largest toes on her left for later. Yvette made pathetic mewling sounds through her gag and craned her head toward Heinrich, trying to beg him with her eyes to stop her torture, to tell him she was broken, that she would tell him anything - everything - if he would only end the pain.

Heinrich ordered Abdul to stop just as he clamped his pliers onto Yvette's toenail. "I think she is ready to cooperate," he said.

"No," Ibn Said, almost pleading. "We promised her all ten nails were to be removed before she had a chance to end her suffering.

Heinrich cast a withering look at Ibn Said. "Don't forget why we are here, or my promise to you."

The promise had to be that after she talked the fat Arab would have her to torture at his leisure. Ibn Said dipped his head toward the German. "Of course, Sturmbannfuhrer Efendi. Take out her gag Abdul, carefully."

Yvette groaned with relief as the pear was screwed closed and pulled from her distended mouth. She opened and closed her jaws for a moment, unable to speak, then gasped, "No more. I'll talk. I'll talk."

I raised my sidearm. I would shoot her first, and then Abdul stood up from his crouch in front of her and blocked my way. I could not get a clear shot at Yvette.

Heinrich grabbed her by the hair. "Take me off," she begged, "Take me off."

"First the information," he spat back at her. It took less than a minute for Yvette to give up the information, the dates and the code words. Now killing her would only serve to end her torture and get me killed, if I was lucky. There was no doubt in my mind her fate was to join the other beauties I had seen on the way. I shrank back behind my cover. Now my mission was to not only kill Heinrich before he could bring back what she had said, I still had to rescue Yvette. But since that was going to be impossible, to kill her before she divulged her secrets again to another German.

Ibn Said clapped his hands. "Our deal is done," he chortled. "She is now mine. You can stay and watch if you wish. And any suggestions are always appreciated."

Yvette had fainted after giving up her secrets. Now Ibn Said and his henchman untied her from the torture chair. As they lifted her she came to with a start. I could see her back, buttocks and the back of her thighs - they looked as though she had been put through a meat grinder.

They dragged Yvette across the torture chamber toward a large iron chair. "Where… where are you taking me?" she moaned. They pushed her into the chair, which even though it had no spikes, was as foreboding as the one that did. A heavy chain circled her waist and was pulled around the back of the chair and fastened there. Two more chains circled her torso, one below her bosom that was pulled up behind the chair so that the iron links dug into the soft underside of her breasts, and one above that cut into her armpits when it was tightened. Now her beautiful breasts were crushed between the heavy chains, which along with the chain circling her waist pinned her to the torture chair. She didn't seem completely aware of what was happening but was beginning to understand her ordeal was not over. "Let me go," she stammered, "I told you what you wanted." Her wrists were shackled to the arms of the chair and her ankles to its legs. The chair seat was high so the gyves that were clamped around her ankles secured them six inches above the ground. She stared down the length of her naked body and tried to close her thighs that opened her groin and exposed her pussy. It was no use. The chair was very wide so her shackled ankles spread her thighs far apart.

Heinrich looked as though he was torn between racing back to deliver the intelligence, or staying to watch and see what horrors Ibn Said had planned for Yvette. Finally the fat Arab's reputation as an inventive torturer of beautiful young women won and he lit a cigarette and settled in to enjoy the French girl's agony.

A three inch high leather collar went around Yvette's neck and was fastened to the high back of the chair. "This will keep her from banging her head. It has been my experience that under torture my prisoners often try to knock themselves unconscious."

Abdul knelt in front of Yvette and once again took her right foot in his hand. Fully alert and aware now she bawled into the face of Ibn Said who was hovering over her. "No! You can't! I told you!"

Ibn Said held up his hand to stay Abdul. "Wait. Perhaps she is right. We can't do this." He looked down at Yvette, watched her face relax with relief, then patted her on the head. He turned back to Abdul. "We can't do it this way…we forgot the gag. Get me the pear."

With the collar holding Yvette's head steady, Abdul had an easy time forcing her mouth open, even though she struggled madly in her chains, screaming "No! No! No!" until Ibn Said had stretched her jaws to the breaking point and her screams were wordless shrieks of pain.

He waited until her screaming stopped and the only sounds she was making were choking sobs. Her beautiful face was a mask of horror and pain with her mouth forced wide open and distorted by the pear. "How horrible it must be for you. You broke so easily, betraying you friends and your country, condemning so many to die because of your weakness. And it did you no good. If only you could have held out, your pain would not have been for nothing.

"Instead you will have to live with that while I slowly torture you to death. Ah, death. You will beg for it, pray to your infidel god for it. But it will be a long time coming, that I can promise."

Yvette threw her body against the chains and shackles in a mindless struggle to free herself but all that her bonds allowed was a jerking of her arms and legs pathetic wriggling of her torso.

"We will begin easily, with Abdul tearing out your remaining toenails, before we move on to more serious measures."

I listened to Yvette's screams and watched her writhe helplessly in her chains while Abdul removed the toenails on her right foot. He worked deliberately, drawing out her torture as long as possible before the nail came free of its bed. She had beautiful feet and when we made love she used to like to use them to caress the back of my legs. Now they were the source of unending agony.

Watching her torture was the hardest thing I ever did. But I had no choice, I had to wait for my chance to kill Heinrich. And listening to Ibn Said made my blood boil with hatred. After each nail finally was torn from its toe, he would wait until Yvette stopped screaming and tell her what was waiting for her or remind her how she had broken under his "mildest" of tortures.

"When we are done torturing you here we will take you upstairs and spread-eagle you between two posts. Then Abdul will strip the skin from your belly and breasts and the inside of your thighs."

I thought of the girl who was hanging from her wrists, who had begged me to kill her. I thought of the once soft skin that now dangled in strips off her pain racked body. I thought of the pail of salt that sat nearby that had obviously been rubbed into her wounds. And I could see Yvette roped spread-eagled and naked before Abdul screaming for mercy as he worked on her slowly.

"But first I will let you rest and regain your strength. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever had to play with and I will make you last longer than anyone would believe possible. I will keep you alive for days… no, weeks. Alive and begging for death."

After the second nail Yvette fainted but Abdul brought her around by drenching her with cold water.

"I will have you watch as some of my other young girls are subjected to the same torture you are going to endure, just to give you a foretaste."

After the third nail had been slowly pulled from Yvette's foot, and her God-awful screams of pain had trailed off into moans and sobs, Heinrich interrupted. "This is getting boring. Can't we move on to something a little more interesting, or at least different."

My hope that Ibn Said would say no and Heinrich would leave were dashed when the Arab said, "Yes, why not. We can finish pulling out her nails later." If Heinrich left I could sneak out whence I came, follow him and kill him on the road back to Tunis. Ibn Said laughed, "Besides, she is probably getting bored as well."

He took Yvette by the jaw and turned her head toward him. Her eyes were wide with horror and she was trying to say something to him through her gag. "Let me tell you how we are going to entertain our important German guest. This chair you are chained to has many compartments, all of which can be filled with hot coals. The coals will heat up the iron and I could very simply fry you alive. The whole process would take two hours or more, but that is much too fast for my little pigeon. I need you to suffer a lot longer than that."

Yvette screamed into the pear and started her desperate struggles yet again. Ibn Said thought for a moment and then undid the pear's screw and removed it from her mouth.

She worked her mouth desperately trying to get her lips and tongue to form words after having been held mute for so long by the pear. Finally the incoherent sounds turned to words that tumbled out so quickly it was hard to distinguish one from the other. All that I could make out was "Why… please… no… why." But I heard Ibn Said perfectly, "Because you are my gift from the Germans."

Ibn Said something in Arabic to Abdul who pulled the brazier closer, close enough to Yvette that I could see the red glow from the coals reflected in the drops of sweat that covered the underside of her breasts. She opened her mouth and this time I could understand the three words she screamed: "Oh God no!"

Abdul walked behind the chair. I saw his arm start to move in a circular motion and heard the unmistakable sound of gears clicking against each other. At the same time the seat began to lower away from Yvette's bottom. The seat continued to drop until it was at the bottom of the chair legs, an inch off the floor.. I could see the seat was more than a sheet of metal - it was the top of an iron box about four inches deep.

With the seat of the chair removed, even with her upper body bound so tightly to the back of the chair, Yvette's thighs and buttocks slipped down below the frame that had held the iron seat. Abdul wasted no time winding another chain around Yvette's left thigh, pulling it up so it was level with her hips, and then fastening it to a hook on the underside of the arm. He then repeated the process with her other thigh.

Yvette was writhing helplessly in the fetters that held her tightly. She was keenly aware that with her thighs spread so wide her pussy was completely exposed above the open space that once held the chair seat. Her eyes fell on Ibn Said. "Why…what are you doing? What are you going to do to me?"

"Heat rises," he said, and reached for a scuttle which he plunged into the brazier of hot coals. These he spread in a thin layer along the floor of the iron box that sat beneath Yvette's tightly bound thighs.

Immediately she felt the heat warming her lower parts. She moaned softly and stiffened in her chains, pulling at the shackles that bound her wrists and ankles. It wasn't pain that forced this reaction - the coals were too sparse and too low to cause anything more than minor discomfort - it had to be the dawning realization that soon her thighs and buttocks and sex would be subjected to much more intense heat. Ibn Said had said he would draw out Yvette's torture as long as he could.

Abdul waited ten seconds before he started to slowly crank the fire box up. Each inch of elevation was marked by a distinct click of the gears. Every few inches he would pause to let Yvette feel the full effect of the approaching coals new position. At each stop her struggles became more desperate and her moans louder. When the coals were three inches from her pussy she was thrashing about to the limit the chains would allow and crying out in loud staccato grunts. She was in pain, real pain. She was frantically trying to tear her legs from the chains that bound her thighs and the shackles that locked her ankles to the torture chair. It was of course useless; the two Arabs had had great practice at their craft and had made sure Yvette would suffer as they had intended. The heat from the coals was frying the backs and insides of her thighs, but the worst pain was from coming from her labia which I could almost hear sizzling.

When Abdul lowered the fire box Yvette sobbed in relief as the pain began to diminish. But even as the coals reached their nadir and the heat, although still warming her nether lips, no longer added fresh pain, her sobbing became more intense and more alarmed; no one made a move to unchain her or remove her shackles or undo the leather collar that fixed her to the chair. This was only a pause in her anguish, an interlude to give her tormentors time to increase her suffering. Had she really thought they would stop torturing her? Of course not, it was only a desperate hope that disappeared when she saw Ibn Said approach the chair with a scuttle of fresh coals.

"No! Nononono!" she screamed. Ibn Said was standing in front of her, his smile distorted by the waves of heat rising from the scuttle. She looked up at him. "No more," she sobbed, "Please please no more. Stop…oh God I beg you stop. No more fire. Please…I'll do anything just stop torturing me." The Arab said nothing, just smiled down on her. It was almost a pleasant smile. I could see hope in her eyes, hear it in her voice. "I'll be your slave. You can do anything you want to me. I'll please you. I promise. I'll be your sex slave." She stopped speaking and Ibn Said seemed to consider her offer. She stopped struggling against her chains. "Please," she whispered. She was weeping softly. Please…please…I promise. I'm begging you. I'll be good to you."

Ibn Said cocked his head, feigning interest. I knew he wasn't going to stop torturing her, but it was Yvette's only hope. "You can fuck me blind. I'll suck you. I'll lick your balls. You can fuck me in the ass. I'll put my tongue up your asshole. Anything you can think of. Just please stop. Stop, I beg you, stop."

I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming out to her. This incredibly brave woman had withstood their torture for as long as she could and now was offering to debase herself for this disgusting fat sadist whose body odor I could smell from my hiding place. But it didn't matter: she had been broken, completely broken by Ibn Said's torture.

"You are a truly beautiful woman, but all I want you to do for me is scream, scream and beg while I have the most sensitive parts of your naked body slowly tortured."

"Abdul, tighten her chains."

While Abdul tightened her chains Yvette moaned "No. No. No." over and over and shook her head back in forth, but even this last attempt at denial was taken from her when her Arab tormentor tightened the leather collar around her neck. I looked on in horror as the constricting chains reduced her writhing to a pathetic squirming. All she could do was look on in terror as Ibn Said spread the fresh coals into the fire box.

He was not done. He went back to the brazier once again. Already the heat from the new coals was roasting her pussy. When Yvette saw Ibn Said refill the scuttle she started screaming at him, "You can't! You can't!" But of course there was nothing she could do to stop him. She was helpless, chained so tightly to the torture chair she could barely move, her bared sex hanging over the void and the sizzling coals.

When Abdul began to crank the fire box upward, Yvette's screams reached a crescendo. "My pussy," she shrieked, "Oh God my pussy's on fire!" Ibn Said clapped his hands in glee as he watched his beautiful captive's nude body jerk spasmodically in her chains. When the coals were mere inches from her bottom she went mad with pain. Her screams were wordless howls and despite her chains she managed to buck and twist in a vain effort to escape the excruciating heat.

Abdul lowered the coals to give Yvette a chance to recover, then slowly - very slowly - raised them again. He had changed his strategy, lifting them halfway and then lowering them, then raising them again until they almost touched her labia before bringing them back down. He went on in this manner, varying the torture. When she fainted he would revive her with cold water or smelling salts and start in again.

How long this went on I cannot say because Heinrich either got bored or realized the importance of the information he carried, excused himself and left. I slipped out of the door behind him.

There was no command car this time, and he decided to make the twenty minute walk back to his headquarters. I tailed him carefully, my last experience fresh in my mind, waiting for a chance to put a bullet in his head. Halfway there he turned down a quiet street. It might be my only chance. I closed on him quickly and when within point blank range fired twice into the back of his head. I bent over him and pulled the paper from his inside pocket that had the information they had tortured out of Yvette. People had heard the shot and I had to run before it was too late.

I escaped but it was hours before I could make it back to Ibn Said's torture palace. There were guards outside, no doubt having heard of the assassination. There was no way I could get in. I had doomed Yvette to her slow death.

To this day I often wake in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking from a dream of Yvette spread-eagled between two pillars, screaming in agony, as Abdul works slowly stripping the skin from her naked body. Between screams she stares right at me and begs me to make it stop. It never will.

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