Heather chuckled. "Thanks, Bruno. Try not to get the keyboard too sticky when you head back to the control booth, OK?"

Bruno didn't even blink. "Geez, Doc, I wouldn't HAVE to, if you'd just stop by and see me after your sessions. I know they get you worked up, same as me."

"Sorry, Bruno. You're not my type."

He sighed. "Don't I know it. Well, that's OK, Doc. It's a privilege to watch you work, anyhow. You're a real pro."

"Thanks, Bruno. You'd better get up there and start the tape."

"Sure thing, Doc. Enjoy." He locked the door behind him as he left.

Heather began to unwrap the black bundle. The girl inside was tall, a real Amazon. Slowly Heather peeled back the last layer of black canvas. Nice tan, long legs...Heather's nipples grew tighter by a whisper at the sight of the girl's tight, bald pussy. Flat, hard belly...this girl was in great shape. And her tits! Big, round, perfect...Heather's nipples were now quite hard beneath her tight, cropped t-shirt. BRUNO WAS RIGHT, Heather thought as she surveyed the body. THIS IS GONNA BE A REAL PLEASURE...

Suddenly Heather's breath caught in her throat. That face...it couldn't be! But it was! Elle! Oh, God, no! Let it be anyone but you, Elle!

Heather forced herself to breathe. Bruno would be in the booth by now, watching her on his video monitor. She had to play it cool, stay in character. If Bruno caught on...he had made it abundantly clear that he had a preference for slow hangings. Heather had a feeling that Bruno's work probably gave him plenty of opportunities to practice the art, and she didn't especially want to sample his technique.

She closed her eyes. Her back was to the camera. She could pretend to be enjoying the view for another moment or two; then she had to get to work. There was absolutely no way out. If she blew her cover and tried to save Elle, they would both die. And Bruno would make it last as long as he could. He'd love to watch Elle hang. Elle wouldn't die any easier that way. This way...well, maybe she could find a way to spare Elle a little pain. She could pretend to get carried away, snuff Elle in a fit of passion...would Bruno buy it? Probably not. He knew Heather was too cool for that. Like he said, she was a real pro. Usually.

Elle was still unconscious. Heather slipped the naked girl's wrists through thick, padded leather shackles at the top of the table, then cinched them up tight. She used similar restraints to secure Elle's ankles to the foot of the table. Then she reached for the smelling salts.

She broke the salts under Elle's nose, and prayed that Elle wouldn't blurt out anything that might blow her cover as she woke up. Heather surreptitiously positioned her body between the camera and Elle's face. That way a wide-eyed look might not give them away. But if Elle blurted out her name, it was all over...

Elle's eyes fluttered open, then locked instantly on Heather's. She didn't utter a single peep. Heather closed her eyes with relief. Elle was a pro. Elle would understand. Elle was dead either way. If she could help Heather maintain her cover, Heather might yet live...and more importantly, Heather could keep her position within the enemy's organization. At this point, that was more important than both of their lives combined.

Heather opened her eyes again. Elle nodded, so slightly that Bruno wouldn't have been able to see it on his video monitor even if Heather hadn't been blocking his view. Heather only noticed the nod because she knew Elle so well. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture. Yet it said so very much. It said: SNUFF ME AND MAKE IT HURT. THAT WAY AT LEAST ONE OF US GETS OUT OF HERE ALIVE. ONE OF US WILL LIVE TO SEE THESE BASTARDS PAY.

Heather went into her routine. "Hi, my name's Heather and I'll be your torturer this evening. Sometime--much later--I'll give you the opportunity to provide me with some information. If you do so, I'll end your life. Until then, I'll be busy making sure you want to take me up on that kind offer when I finally make it. Shall we get started?"

"You don't scare me, bitch," Elle said defiantly. "Go ahead and have your fun. I'm not telling you a goddamned thing."

Heather wondered how it sounded to Bruno in the booth. She decided he'd probably go for it, as long as they didn't overplay it. Heather chuckled evilly. "Thanks for being so defiant. It's always so much better that way." She took a bare wire and taped it to Elle's exposed nipple with thick, black electrical tape. She ran the ground to Elle's other tit peak. Once the wires were in place, Heather picked up a roll of heavy, transparent plastic film and began to wrap it around Elle's naked torso. She started just below Elle's breasts and continued on up, wrapping her shoulders, her face, her elbows. She kept going, all the way up to Elle's shackled wrists. Cutting the plastic free from its roll, she wound the tail end of it tightly around Elle's wrists.

Elle's eyes widened. The plastic film clung greedily to her nostrils, her mouth. She sucked the plastic in, trying to breathe it. A thin fog of carbon dioxide appeared on the underside of the film as she exhaled.

"Having a little trouble breathing?" Heather asked mischievously. "I'll bet you are. God, you look good. I'd love to just let you asphyxiate. There's a fair bit of air trapped in there. I bet it would take you a while to die...maybe ten or fifteen minutes." Heather reached beneath the waistband of her jeans and under her wet cotton panties. She began to finger herself gently. The slow asphyx routine was mainly for Bruno's benefit. If he was busy jerking off, he'd be a lot less likely to tumble to what was really going on. The part where she played with herself...well, that wasn't really acting. Seeing Elle's bound, naked, suffocating form was really turning her on. She felt a small twinge of guilt, but there it was: torturing gorgeous young women aroused her more thoroughly than anything else she had ever tried. The fact that in this particular case the victim happened to be her lover didn't make the scenario any less sexy--quite the contrary. Heather discovered to her astonishment that there was something especially exciting and satisfying about torturing a body with which she was so intimately familiar.

"Unfortunately, I need you around so I can ask you that question later," Heather concluded reluctantly. Pulling her hand out of her pants, she selected a small needle from her tool tray. She used the needle to poke several small air holes in that part of the plastic film which covered Elle's mouth. Air whistled eerily through the holes as Elle sucked it down.

"There," Heather said with a certain sense of professional satisfaction. "You should be able to breathe enough to survive for a while...though I bet you'd REALLY like more air than you're getting." There was fear and desperation in Elle's eyes. Her job was easy now. She didn't have to act any more.

"You're having some trouble breathing," Heather observed unnecessarily, "but you aren't in any real pain yet. I'd say it's time to change that, wouldn't you?" Without waiting for a reply, Heather switched on the generator. Elle's naked body jumped as the current tore into her breasts.

"That's better!" Heather enthused. She was awhirl with contradictory emotions. Her sense of guilt had become overwhelming--her lover was in agony, and it was all her fault! She kept telling herself that there was nothing she could do to help Elle--but she didn't quite believe that. And at the same time, she felt immense arousal. Elle was the most gorgeous woman she had ever known, and the pain made her unspeakably sublime...

Elle's screams were strangely muffled by the cellophane. It wasn't so much that the plastic blocked the sound of her cries, Heather realized; it was more that Elle simply couldn't get enough air down her throat to produce a decent scream. She had to settle for tortured gasps and strangled whimpers. Heather found these sounds deeply erotic. The way in which Elle's voluptuous body moved was equally exciting. The shocks made her jump and dance on the table; Heather couldn't help but recall, as she watched, the many beautiful nights Elle had spent jumping and dancing in Heather's bed. Elle's response was partly automatic, to be sure: her body moved as a body moves when agonizing electrical jolts surge into it. But there was something else. The way Elle arched her back, thrusting her flawless, perfectly round breasts up...the way her hips rocked back and forth...the way she clenched her thighs together, then released them...she was profoundly aroused. Heather recognized it only because she knew Elle's body so well, but to her it was unmistakable. Elle was in genuine agony, but she was also in the throes of a magnificent ecstasy.

Fascinated, mystified, Heather turned up the current. Elle's tortured body began to convulse wildly. I'M FUCKING HER HARD NOW, Heather thought, for that's what it had to be. Elle saw the torture for what it was: one final intimacy between lovers.

Heather peeled off her jeans and set them on a chair. Reaching beneath her white, French-cut bikini briefs, she began to manipulate her aching clit. This was perfectly in character; she often masturbated while watching her victims suffer. And Bruno would enjoy the show.

The cellophane crinkled as Elle bucked and thrashed. Tears were streaming down her twitching cheeks. Her lips were stretched into a vicious, inhuman snarl. Her whole body rippled with tension; she was on the brink of something astonishing. Heather smelled burning plastic. Heat from the wires had begun to melt the electrical tape, the cellophane. Molten plastic fused to Elle's huge, round, naked tits, adding new pain to her already extravagant torment.

Heather felt pleasure well up from her cunt. It spread through her body like a warm, wet cloud, and suddenly she was coming. She let the pleasure flow through her, washing away the guilt, the uncertainty. Elle's sacrifice was beautiful. She saw that now.

She turned the current up once more, and held it there for a long time, as Elle wriggled helplessly on the table. She had to make it look good. Otherwise Elle's sacrifice would be in vain. And so Heather slowly electrocuted her lover. Heather knew her business: she took Elle right up to the limit of her endurance, and kept her there.

At last she relented, spinning the generator's dial back to zero. "Where is it?" she said simply. "Tell me, and the pain will end."

"Oh, God, please...I'll tell you...I'll do whatever you say, just make it stop..." Elle whimpered. It was a very convincing performance. Heather almost believed it herself.

"Where is it?" Heather demanded again.

"The airport. Locker 2500," gasped the tortured Elle.

"There, you see? That wasn't so hard." Heather picked up her roll of plastic and wrapped another layer around Elle's mouth. "I think I'll simply let you suffocate. I don't see any need to continue shocking you." Bruno certainly wouldn't balk at that. He knew that she knew that he preferred her to use straight asphyxiation for the actual snuffing. Heather and Bruno had an understanding.

Heather watched as Elle slowly drowned in her own vapors. She didn't masturbate, because she didn't need to. She knew, somehow, that the vision of Elle's strangling, laminated body would be the defining sexual image of her life. Gradually the film clouded over as Elle exhausted the supply of oxygen within her plastic envelope. Soon her face was obscured by the cloud. Heather could see only her fine, firm breasts, still encased in melted plastic; further down, she glimpsed Elle's twitching, hairless cunt. It was magnificent.

And it took a long time. Heather felt bad about that, but it was necessary--and beautiful. Heather never killed her victims easily, and she couldn't make an exception for Elle. Elle twisted and squirmed for fifteen minutes, in obvious and desperate pain. Gradually she began to move more slowly, and at last she stopped. Her body quivered once, then she was still.

"Come and get her, Bruno," Heather said to the camera. "Then you'd better send a team to the airport."

Heather's PGP software considered the encrypted message briefly, then spit it out in clear:

YOUR REPORT HAS BEEN RECEIVED. WE REGRET THAT WE WERE UNABLE TO INFORM YOU OF CAPTAIN MACPHERSON'S MISSION BEFOREHAND. SHE VOLUNTEERED FOR THIS DETAIL WITH THE FULL KNOWLEDGE THAT THIS WOULD BE A SUICIDE MISSION. HER PLAN WAS TO PERMIT HERSELF TO BE CAPTURED AND TORTURED TO DEATH. DURING THE COURSE OF THE TORTURE, SHE WAS TO REVEAL CERTAIN INFORMATION. IT IS AN UNFORTUNATE COINCIDENCE THAT YOU WERE CHOSEN AS HER TORTURER, BUT YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THE MISSION WAS A COMPLETE SUCCESS.

OUR ENEMIES HAVE COMPROMISED MANY AGENTS AND WASTED VAST RESOURCES IN AN ATTEMPT TO ACT UPON THE INFORMATION FED TO THEM BY CAPTAIN MACPHERSON DURING THE TORTURE SESSION WHICH YOU SUPERVISED. CAPTAIN MACPHERSON HAS BEEN AWARDED A POSTHUMOUS CITATION; YOU WILL RECEIVE ONE AS WELL. YOU MAY BE RELIEVED TO LEARN THAT CAPTAIN MACPHERSON ELECTED TO UNDERGO NEUROLOGICAL CONDITIONING IN PREPARATION FOR HER MISSION; THIS CONDITIONING ENABLED HER TO EXPERIENCE PAIN AS SEXUAL PLEASURE, WHICH PROBABLY ALLEVIATED MUCH OF HER SUFFERING.

Well, that explained THAT. Heather was glad to know that Elle hadn't been in total hell during the session. The crafty little thing had found a way to turn it into one last bout of lovemaking!

WE REGRET THAT WE MUST ASK YOU TO MAINTAIN YOUR POSITION WITHIN THE ENEMY ORGANIZATION. WE REALIZE THAT THE DANGERS YOU WILL FACE FROM NOW ON WILL BE GREATER THAN EVER. BUT THE INFORMATION YOU PROVIDE US IS FAR TOO VALUABLE. WE CANNOT PERMIT YOU TO STAND DOWN AT THIS TIME.

Heather stood on her tiptoes. Her cheeks were slick with tears, her wrists securely bound behind her, the noose tight at her throat. "I know you want me, Bruno," she managed to gasp. "If I fuck you, will you make it quick?"

Bruno shook his head and smiled. "I don't want your cunt, Doc. I want your pain. I've been waiting for this for a long, long time."

He kept her on her toes for about an hour. She was amazed at how much it hurt. He studied her body as she suffered: her hard breasts pressed up against her half-T, her flat belly, her tiny waist. She knew she must look fantastic.

At last he hauled her into the air. She began to dance for him. Her naked legs kicked with involuntary energy and enthusiasm; it was a lot like a strip tease. She understood now why Bruno liked hangings so much. There really was something about it...