Bring Out the GIMP (Girls in Merciless Peril)


By Esso

An American pilot and nurse have been captured by the Chinese during the Korean war. He refuses to give up information although beaten. Now he is to watch the beautiful young nurse tortured.

Chang Li lazily clapped his hands twice. The curtains parted on the other side of the room. Two goons strutted in on their bandy legs. Each of them had hold of one of Carole's arms. They had twisted them brutally behind her back.

The fiends had changed their approach. They had a new way of breaking me. The guard holding me grinned menacingly. His sidearm dug into my ribs.

"You not say anything, American. Chang Li wants only to hear woman's cries."

I looked at Carole's trim body as she struggled with the gooks who held her. She was still dressed in the white nylon uniform, although it was no longer crisp and neat. Ugly rips appeared in the top and the skirt was pretty well tattered. Her feet were bare.

Chang Li winked appreciatively at the expanse of Carole's naked flesh. I was sure that having a magnificently formed American nurse before him was a rare treat for the blubber faced monster.

Carole's eyes were filled with terror. She shuddered at the touch of the yellow hands which circled her arms. With renewed frenzy I sawed away at the bonds which held me.

"You are a whore who brings comfort to American mosquito pilots," Chang grinned.

Carole stood before him, her head held high. "I am an army nurse. I am not a combatant." Her voice was clear and controlled.

"Soon you bring comfort to Chinese soldiers. Many soldiers here. Many more in Peiping. You work hard." Chang Li continued.

"I am a prisoner of war and expect to be treated as such." Carole's words had just the slightest hint of tremor in them.

Chang Li blinked his opium dulled eyes at her. Already he was breathing hard. He looked like some monstrous thing from deep beneath the sea.

"That right. You be treated just like other American prisoners."

The bastard clapped his hands twice and the two guards dragged the kicking girl to the middle of the tent-like room. For the first time I saw the ugly rings which had been imbedded in the floor. A charge of horror raced through my blood.

I could take what they had done to me. But looking at Chang Li through the slit of the curtain, I knew that there was more than rage in the man. He was savoring every bit of Carole's torment. What would give the beast more pleasure than the torture of a white woman? To defile her would be to bring the final degradation to Chang's mortal enemies.

I tugged again at my wrists. The cords slipped a little more but I was far from free.

"American woman will enjoy Chinese discipline." Chang Li intoned.

Wildly Carole looked around her. She gasped pitifully as she watched one of the guards tug on a heavy rope which hung from a hoist at the ceiling. Her fear was beginning to get the better of her.

With practiced fingers, the gook fashioned the line into a stiff noose. I wondered whether the bastards were going to hang Carole outright. I almost prayed that they would. But I knew better than to hope for a quick and merciful death for her.

As if punctuating my thoughts, one of the guards seized Carole's slim arms and pulled them high above her head. The other bastard slipped the noose over her shoulders and around her soft breasts, fashioning it into a diabolical halter. I saw the rope dig into her soft flesh, pinching and bruising it and turning it an angry red.

Another length of line was brought out and with practiced precision Carole's wrists were lashed behind her back. The stinking Chinese bodies pressed into her. I saw her wince; her face went white and her breasts heaved rapidly with her terrified breathing, but she didn't cry out.

One of the guards knelt beside her and captured her delicate ankle in his sweating fingers. He tugged it toward the floor ring and tied it securely. Then her other foot was tethered in the same manner, spreading her thighs far apart.

Chang Li watched closely, the saliva flecking his chin. He giggled wildly as Carole strained at her bonds, desperately trying to free herself.

Slowly he hefted his bulk to a standing position and waddled towards her. The two lesser characters fell back in abject respect for the general. He and he alone had the honor of stripping the helpless beauty naked.

I could see just how long her degradation and pain would last. Chang Li took almost five minutes to work the tattered uniform over her hips and thighs. Carole could do no more than squirm helplessly in the tight bondage trying to avoid his fat fingers while he kept up a running commentary on the treatment he had in store for her.

Carole tried so hard to be brave but tears began to well up in her eyes. The gook who had been guarding me found the suffering of the half naked woman more to his liking and ignored me. I continued to saw away at the ropes.

Evidently Chang Li had not touched the satiny smoothness of nylon before. He ran his hands over the nylon panties which covered Carole's hips. He tested the material of her pink bra. His eyes were closed to the merest slits. Carole threw her head back and stared at the ceiling, gnawing at her lip and trying to keep from surrendering to fear and disgust which threatened to overwhelm her.

With the most malevolent intent, Chang Li tugged at Carole's bra. The sound of ripping cloth filled the room. Inch by agonizing inch he forced her snug fitting panties down over her thighs and finally wrenched them from between her knees. Now she was naked with no protection from their diabolical stares.

Chang Li turned his back on her an remounted the throne platform. The mad dream torture of the girl was being conducted in slow motion.

Again Chang Li's fat hands clapped twice. One of the gooks picked up a thin bamboo rod. I heard its terrible whistle through the air. I heard the ropes creak and watched them jump crazily as Carole thrashed about under the sting of the rod. Again the whip came back. This time it exploded across her supple hips, causing her to dance wildly.

As I watched from the wings of Hell, one of the guards now stood shaving a bamboo splinter until is was sharp as a knife blade. His eyes never left Carole's face. Avidly he watched her nude body writhing under his companion's lash. He stooped down before and grasped her foot. Carole's screams hit a new crescendo as the point of the sliver dug under her toenail.

She watched with horrified fascination as the bastard lit a match to the end of the bamboo sliver. Slowly it twisted into a blackened ember, carrying the smoldering flame toward her flesh.

Carole fought the ropes like a crazy woman. All the time the whipping continued, the bamboo whistling across her naked hips and thighs. As the burning bamboo disappeared under her nail, Carole gave one last shriek of pure agony and fainted so she hung limply from the halter that encircled her breasts.

They weren't done with Carole, not by a long shot. Cold water was thrown in her face and she came to slowly, moaning in pain. The whipping had stopped for the moment but the gook kneeling in front of her had only been waiting for her to come around, and now began pressing another bamboo sliver under a fresh nail. Carole's screams bounced off the walls of the torture chamber as he slid the nail in deeper and deeper. When he lit the match and began to move it toward the new sliver, she began to beg the guard, sobbing, "Don't. Please don't. Have mercy on me, I beg you. Please" The sliver was ignited and the flame began to move toward Carole's toe. Her sobbing pleas turned to screams of "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" and then screams of pain.

She didn't faint then, and she didn't faint when two more bamboo slivers were set aflame and burned under her nail. But she did scream, struggle and beg for mercy, and finally collapse when the pain in her toes was too great to support her weight. While she hung in the halter screaming and sobbing, the guard torturing her feet continued to slide the razor sharp slivers under her nails, but dispensed with setting them on fire, the secondary agony of the burning obviously not as desirable as making her suffer from the continuous torture of new bamboo slivers.

She did pass out again twice, the second time after he had inserted the second sliver under the nail of her left big toe. She threw her head back and screamed, took a deep breath and screamed again. Then her mouth opened but no sound came out, she jerked in her bonds and her eyes rolled back in her head. I was thankful for the oblivion her fainting gave her, and the extra time it gave me to work on my wrist ropes.

This time they did not revive her, even though there were at least two more sharpened bamboo spines waiting for her other large toe. They took her down from the hoist, letting her naked body slide to the floor. I could see her back now; I couldn't count the bleeding welts from the vicious caning that covered her from her shoulder blades to her thighs. They untied her ankles from the rings in the floor but left her wrists bound behind her back. The two of them grabbed her underneath the arms and dragged her across the room.

They threw her down on a low slung table, not much more than a bench, that had a bar mounted on two metal stanchions, each one an extension of the two legs at the top end of the table. They then roped her slim ankles to the horizontal bar about two feet apart, so tightly that they could not move an inch. Carole had started moaning as she began to come out of her stupor. When her eyes finally opened it took her a few moments to realize she had been taken down from the harness. Now she lay face down on the narrow bench, her feet tied so the bar pressed painfully into her insteps, the soles of her bare feet facing upward, presented for torture.

Carole writhed on the table, trying to twist her head to see what they had done to her feet. But with her wrists tied behind her back and her legs lifted in the air with her ankles tied so tightly to the bar, she couldn't move her legs. She was helpless.

One of the gooks grabbed Carol by the hair and wrenched her head up, lifting her nude torso off the table. When she gasped in pain, he shoved a thick cloth into her open mouth. She tried to dislodge it with her tongue but it was too bulky, and just to make sure the other goon tied the gag firmly in place with a rope that sawed at the corners of her mouth and wrapped twice around her head. Obviously Chang Li had tired of listening to her screaming and begging.

After she had been gagged the guard didn't let go of her hair, but pulled her head back further, bowing her back and lifting her higher off the bench. The fact that she had been gagged emphasized her helpless, especially with her cries for help being muffled into loud groans and indistinct wailing by her gag. And the erotic manner in which her naked body had been bound her wrists tied at the small of her back pulling her slender arms back, her long legs stretched and parted, her supple back arching forward as though straining toward a lover, thrusting her beautiful breasts forward, but not of course to a lover but to Chang Li, her torturer.

I had of course seen Carole nude before our capture, as her lover. This of course was different, she had been stripped naked so her tormentors could reach even the most sensitive parts of her body with their instruments of torture. Her sweet pussy, her gentle breasts and delicate nipples, that I used to stroke and kiss and lick while I listened to her moan with pleasure. Now I would be forced to watch them savage these most intimate parts of her body and listen to her scream in pain and terror. All to try and make me talk.

The bench was positioned with Carole facing Chang Li, who undoubtedly was willing to forego a better view of her restrained feet being tortured so he could have the pleasure of watching the expressions of agony cross her face. I was being held behind the curtain to Chang Li's left, so I had pretty much the same view. And although I couldn't see her from behind, I knew her vagina was on full display between her spread legs. I couldn't help wondering, if I didn't get free in time, would they torture her between her thighs first or rape her and then torture her sex.

They would certainly get to that if I didn't talk, and probably even if I did, which was why I swore to remain silent. But before they moved on to that ultimate torment there was still unfinished business with her toes. While the first guard held Carole by her long red hair, his partner began to slowly insert the last two bamboo slivers. She went wild with the pain, her body heaving and bucking between her bound ankles and the goon holding her hair, her efforts to scream out her agony stifled by her gag.

It was over relatively quickly. As God awful as this torment was it was merely the last act of the ordeal that had started with Carole bound with the halter around her breasts holding her erect and her simultaneous caning. It was obvious that the Chinese were anxious to get on with new torments. What they would be we would soon find out, the only thing I was pretty certain of was that it would also involve her feet.

It was at this point my guard called out something and one of his pals came over and looked behind my back. My guy had finally noticed that my struggles had compromised my wrist bindings. The new guard punched me in the stomach hard but I was ready for it, although it did take any fight out of me for the time it took to redo my bindings. Fortunately he did a sloppy job being anxious to get back to Carole, and although it would delay my escape, it would not stop it.

The target would be the soles of her bare feet. Why else would they have bound her like that, with the nerve rich soles facing upwards, immovable. What would they use to use to make her scream whips, canes, needles, a flaying knife, a hot iron? But they weren't done preparing her, and the way they bound her for her ordeal was torture in itself.

The second guard took her by the elbows and held her with her back still bowed in a tight curve, while the other cut her wrists free from the rope. He had two lengths of binding twine ready, each with a small noose at either end. He slipped one over the thumb of her left hand and pulled it tight. Carole began a desperate if futile struggle, grunting loudly behind her gag with the effort, not knowing what they were planning but sure that it was a prelude to more torture. She closed her right hand into a fist trying to frustrate the guard's attempt to capture her thumb, but he easily pried it loose and slipped the second noose around it.

The guard who was holding her by her elbows pulled them back and up toward her fettered feet, arching her back even more so that her rib cage was lifted off the bench and I could see her stomach muscles straining beneath her skin. Next the nooses at the loose ends of the twine were fitted over her large toes. There was very little slack in the twine but when the guard let go of her elbows and she lurched forward the inch or two it allowed, the loops were jerked tight.

Carole shrieked into her gag. The pain must have been horrific, first from the twine tightening around her toes that were already throbbing with two bamboo slivers shoved under each nail, and then from the pressure of the weight of her upper body that was now dragging on her toes. The only way she could relieve the pain was by trying to arch her back enough to lift her hands closer to her feet so they would not be pulling on her toes. This she could do but only for brief periods until her strength failed her.

I hate myself for saying this but she looked sexy as hell, like the figure on the prow of a sailing ship, with her arms pulled back, her belly taut and her breasts thrust forward, but unlike a nautical figure head she was writhing erotically. She struggled for about five minutes before she yielded to exhaustion and hung groaning in her bonds.

That is when the two gooks went to work on her. Each had a stiff leather strap, about six inches long and two inches wide. They stood on either side of Carole, and each in turn brought his leather truncheon down on the sole of her bare foot. They did it with a short snapping motion of the wrist, not with full force but hard enough to make a slapping sound that resounded through the torture chamber. It is called bastinado, a Spanish word but a torture that was invented by and perfected by the Chinese.

The first blow fell on her left foot, the next on her right. With the first blow Carole stiffened in her bonds and her eyes went wide with surprise. With the second she winced and grunted into her gag. The Chinese kept up a steady methodical rhythm, spacing each blow a few seconds apart. The first few hurt, but were certainly bearable. The thing about bastinado though is that the cumulative punishment ratchets up the pain quickly. A slap of that strap on the bared sole of the foot which hurt the first time becomes brutal after ten and excruciating after twenty-five.

So it was with Carole. With each new blow her cries became louder and her writhing more frantic. After only five to each foot tears were rolling down her cheeks. At ten she gave her first scream and by twenty her screams were continuous and loud enough to be heard clearly throughout the torture chamber despite her gag. I worked feverishly at my ropes; I didn't know how much longer Carole could go on before she broke under the torture and went mad. The wild look in her eyes was frightening and she was shuddering so violently that sweat was flying off her naked body after each blow.

When they switched the straps for short bamboo canes I thought it was over for the helpless girl. The agony she had endured with the leather belts was purely an introduction to the pain that could be extracted from her tender feet, the broad straps merely softening up her feet for the punishment of the bamboo rods. They worked the rods up and down her bare feet, from her heels to the pads just below her toes and back. The cruel way her thumbs had been bound to her large toes bent them back painfully and pulled the delicate flesh of her arches taut, making each strike that much more excruciating. Her body began to jerk and twitch in a series of uncontrollable spasms and the sounds coming through her gag were unidentifiable as anything human. Her lithe body twisted in the harsh bondage, then arched as she reached back, with her hands clawing at empty air. She threw her supple body side to side and then again bent backward to an incredible degree, managing to grasp her feet, unmindful of what the bamboo canes would do to her fingers. Her only thought was to protect her tortured feet.

But the two Chinese did not strike. Carole hung there, her fingers wrapped around her poor feet, while after a glance at each other, the two guards dropped their sticks and walked to the front of the torture bench. Two lines of nylon filament had been prepared, tied to the front legs of the bench, with a loop at the free end. Their naked victim never glanced at them. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her head down, as she concentrated on keeping her grip on her bare feet. So she never saw them take hold of the lines and reach for her breasts. They grabbed her right below the aureoles and squeezed. Carole lost her grip and screamed as her body pitched forward and the twine bit into her thumbs and toes. Chang Li had once again rumbled down from his perch. He was handed a line by one of the guards, who pulled on Carole's breast, stretching it toward Chang Li's waiting fingers. The obese gook slid the loop over Carole's nipple and pulled the noose tight, trapping the delicate bud and drawing another scream from his prisoner. After he repeated the process on her other tit, he stood over her grinning.

Carole was totally helpless in the fiendish bondage. With the filament tied around her nipples stretching her breasts painfully forward she couldn't move back an inch, or even to the side, without daggers of agony stabbing at her tits. And with the twine binding her thumbs to her large toes, she couldn't move forward an inch to ease the pressure on her nipples.

I was sure they were now going to continue the bastinado, but what tore at my heart was my certainty they wouldn't stop there. They had Carole prepared for the most horrific torments they could conjure up. She was stripped naked. Her ankles had been bound far apart, stretching her legs, spreading her thighs wide and opening her sex to their instruments of torture. Her taut belly was waiting for the whip, her anus for the spreading pear, her tightly stretched breasts for the flaying knife, her sensitive nipples for the red hot needles.

But I knew that Carole was thinking only of her feet, her naked vulnerable feet. The torture of her delicate toes had been worse than the brutal caning, and she would not have believed that agony like that she had suffered from the bastinado was possible. It had left her arches swollen and bloody, with a score of thin striations crossing each other. Each strike of the cane had sent waves of unbearable pain up her legs through her whole body. Now with her bondage tightened, with her feet tied so tightly to the horizontal bar she couldn't move them, her bared soles and stretched arches presented to her tormentors, they were ready to continue her torture. The lines around her nipples that stretched her breasts made struggling impossible and the gag that filled her mouth prevented her from even begging. She could do nothing but sob and moan while she waited for her torture to continue.

Chang Li said something in Chinese and her gag was removed. "Water," Carole croaked.

"You no need water," Chang Li answered.

"Can't talk. Need water."

"No need to hear talk. Need to hear scream. Continue torture feet."

"No!" Carole shrieked, her voice cracking. "I...beg you. No."

"Ahh. Begging good too." He said something in Chinese and one of the guards brought a wet sponge and squeezed a couple of teaspoons of water into Carole's craning throat, then put the sponge in her mouth and let her squeeze it dry.

She looked up at her obese captor, desperation in her eyes. "Please. No more. I beg you. Stop torturing me. Have mercy...I beg you."

"Good. Good," he answered. "I stop, you suck on dick?"

Carole hesitated only a second as she looked up at the corpulent chink, and down below the folds of fat around his immense belly. She could smell his unwashed stink, but as disgusting as having his bloated cock in her mouth must have seemed, she would suck on it gladly to stop her torture.

She nodded her head. "Yes." she said. "I'll do anything. Just no more torture. My feet...the pain. Just stop. I'll be good to you."

"Maybe later," he said, jerking his head in my direction. "Now you tell American pilot talk or more torture feet."

She looked toward the curtain. I don't know if she could see me through the crack but she shouted in my direction, "Brad! Help me! Tell them! I can't stand anymore. My feet..." Her voice trailed off into soft moans and weeping.

I said nothing but continued to struggle with my wrist ties. I realized I was crying.

Chang Li looked at the guards and nodded. Carole shrieked at me, "Brad! Don't let them! They're going to torture my feet! Oh God help me...Brad save me!" All I could do was call out her name and continue sawing away at my ropes.

Chang Li grabbed Carole by the hair and pulled her face up toward his. She gasped in pain from the extra pressure put on her nipples. "Clean wounds, use salt. Then torture," he said, before waddling back to his place.

Carole was weeping pitifully. "No. Have mercy. I beg you. Not my feet. Don't do this to me. I beg you. No more. Not my feet. I beg you." Her head shook back and forth, her voice a whisper through her tears. "No more. I beg you, no more."

The next five minutes had to be the worst of her ordeal. The salt was poured onto her soles, coating them with the burning compound. Carole strained with all her strength to pull her feet free of their bonds, screaming wildly as she struggled. The ropes were so tight, so well tied, that not only couldn't she free her feet, she couldn't move them a fraction of an inch to shake off even one grain of salt. Then the guards began kneading her feet, grasping her instep with the fingers of both hands while they dug their thumbs hard into her soles. Even without the salt it would have been agony, their thumbs digging into her open wounds and pressing hard on her tortured soles. But there was salt, and the foot massage forced her wounds wider as they ground the fiery granules into her open cuts.

It was a picture I knew I would see in nightmares the rest of my life; Carole bound naked by her nipples and ankles with twine fastening her thumbs to her big toes, totally helpless and screaming in pain. Her shrieking only stopped when she finally fainted.

They wasted no time on bringing her around with cold water, and immediately started beating her feet with the bamboo rods. That is when she started begging them to kill her and end her agony. They ignored her and kept torturing her unmercifully. They went back to the leather straps to work on her breasts and nipples stretched tight by the nylon line. Again they started slowly, slapping the tops and bottoms of her breasts over and over, before turning their attention to her nipples.

Carole could no longer scream. All that came out of her mouth were hoarse animal sounds. When she finally fainted from her breast torture, they let her rest for a while before continuing to work on her. They switched to hot needles and tortured every part of her body, but always returned to her toes and feet.

The Chinese slowly tortured their beautiful prisoner to death. It took almost two days. The American flyer never managed to free himself and refused to give up any information, so they shot him in the head after Carole had screamed her last.

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