I came to lying on a stone floor and shivering uncontrollably. I curled into a fetal position trying to conserve my body heat. I would have hugged my knees to my chest except my wrists were bound behind my back.
It wasn't that cold in the cell and as my head began to clear the thought occurred to me that it wasn't the chill that was making me shake but the after effects of the drug that had been used to knock me out. And then I felt my stomach tighten and a second later I began to retch. Nothing came up except a small amount of bad tasting clear liquid that spilled from my lips, and with it the knowledge that I had thrown up rather violently not long before. I didn't actually remember it, but I knew I had.
I lay there for about five minutes, shivering and retching, before my nausea began to ease. It was still a good half hour before I stopped quivering and my stomach didn't feel as though it were being squeezed in a gigantic fist. My mind also cleared enough so I could size up my situation in some detail, something that was completely unnecessary from a practical standpoint. All I really needed to know was that I was totally helpless, in the hands of the enemy and should have been terrified beyond all reason. Still I did what I had been trained to do, if for no other reason to keep my mind from dwelling on why they had grabbed me, what they wanted from me and what they were going to do to me to get it.
My vision had cleared and I could see down my front. I was wearing a plain gray cotton dress, although dress is probably dignifying it beyond its utilitarian function. There were no buttons, no pockets. It was more of a t-shirt than a dress. If I had been standing it probably would have reached mid-thigh.
It was not what I had been wearing when I had been taken. I had been wearing a black silk blouse and ecru wool skirt. I had also been wearing shoes, stockings, a bra and panties. I could see my feet were bare and the feel of the worn cotton on my skin, and the cold steel between the lips of my sex, told me there was no underwear. So they had undressed me. Why I wondered did they bother dressing me in the cotton prison dress? They were certainly going to strip me again before they started my torture.
And then there were the chains. They had bound me with chains. I could feel each individual link tight against my wrists and follow the chain's progress as it wound up my arms behind me, snaking up my forearms to wrap around my elbows, pressing them together and forcing my shoulders back and my chest out, then resuming its climb…around my upper arms and then around my chest, again three times, tight as a boa constrictor, squeezing my breasts and pinning my arms to my body. It hurt.
Looking down the front of my body I could see the second chain that wrapped twice around my ankles and four times around my knees, binding them tightly together. It then ran up to circle my waist two times before it was looped under and over itself so it could be run between my thighs and pulled painfully tight against my pussy and fastened to the chain that bound my wrists. I knew this because the slightest movement of my arms pulled the chain against me so it sawed painfully deep between my lips. I tried not to move my arms or my wrists.
Why had they used chains? Why not rope? Why had they bound me with such excessive zeal? The answer came to me along with other answers, all at once, some to questions I had not even asked. Whoever had ordered me dressed in the prison garb had done so for the pleasure of watching me stripped naked again, this time conscious, knowing it meant the onset of my torture, preferably struggling against the chains, trying to evade the hands that denuded me. I was sure of this. But why? Hopefully because they thought it would work on my mind, make it easier to break me once they started the physical stuff. Sake's torture? I had assumed it had been carried out solely to make her talk, and when she had, they had killed her. Now I knew they had not stopped, but tortured her to death for the thrill of watching her suffer. There was very little I could tell them if they had broken Sake. What was important to my captor was that I suffer for him so he could listen to me scream and beg and finally plead for him to kill me. Partially because I was the enemy, but just as importantly because I was a beautiful woman and totally in his control.
I was just beginning to understand that thought in its horrific fullness when I heard the door to my cell open. Without a word two men walked quickly toward me. One bent over, grabbed me by the hair and pulled up hard. I cried out in pain as I was yanked to my feet. Another hand, a very large hand, grabbed my open jaw and a large rag was stuffed into my mouth by the second man. He then tied a strip of cloth around the gag in my mouth.
"Ya know, tape would work better," he said to me as he wrapped it around my head two more times and knotted it behind, taking care to make sure it was around my skull under my hair, "but the boss likes the look of a gag."
Now the hand twisted in my hair bent my neck backward, it's mate pressed against the small of my back so I was supported with my feet more or less on the floor and my back bent almost parallel to it, supported by his ham sized fist. The man who had gagged me leaned over and brought his face close to mine. It was a large face with chapped lips and a two or three days' growth of beard. His eyes were blue-gray and seemed suspended in clear thin oil. He was too close for me to get any kind of real impression of what he looked like; even with my training I couldn't have ID'd him. But that wasn't what I was thinking. At that point I had not given up hope, but I knew I was in more trouble than I could have ever imagined.
"I got very specific instructions on how to get you ready before we bring you upstairs." He whispered these words, or hissed might be more descriptive. Those instructions had been issued by a psychopath and I was at his mercy.
The guard produced two circular wads of cotton bandage material and pressed them against my eyes. I tried to shake my head free but the hand twisted in my hair held me so tightly I could do nothing. It was my first attempt at resistance, as pathetic as it had been, and I quickly resolved not to struggle again against impossible odds. I would not give my captors the pleasure of watching me squirm.
I felt another layer of cotton pressed over the first and then a blindfold tied round them in the same manner as my gag. "Yeah, you're a lot better looking than the Chinese chick," he said and I actually started to say she was Japanese but I couldn't move my tongue around the gag. "The boss really got off on torturing her. You could really see it." And his voice suddenly became a little softer and for a moment I thought I could sense some real regret. "I'm sorry beautiful but I got to do what I got to do. You're in for a really rough time." With that my ears were plugged by something hard and then a clay like substance was pushed over sealing me off from any sound but my own tormented breathing.
Blind, deaf and dumb I was thrown over a shoulder and carried out of the room. I was counting his steps. We couldn't have been more than a few feet outside my cell when I was lowered, no, make that dropped, onto what felt like a padded bench. Straps were fastened tight around my ankles and knees, below my ribs and above my breasts. The bench started to roll. I felt the motions and the vibration of the wheels on a concrete floor.
To say I was terrified would be an understatement. I couldn't move. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear or even scream. I was being wheeled to…to…I didn't want to even think the words but no matter they called it now – an interrogation room, a debriefing session – I was being wheeled to a torture chamber.
I couldn't get the vision of Sake's dead body out of my head, the burns from the electric contacts, the welts and bruises from the whips and canes, the nails pried from her fingers and toes, her mutilated pussy and breasts. Oh God what they had done to those small delicate breasts. They had circled her chest and back with strands of fine wire spaced millimeters apart and then slowly tightened them until the wire cut through her breasts right to the ribs. Sid, the pathologist thought that the roasting of her flesh had been done with some kind of a blow torch and probably intermittently with the tightening of the wires. It would have reduced the bleeding. He did not have to guess about the wires; they had left them embedded in her breasts.
"Probably while she hung from the wrists. See the way the skin is scraped away? My guess is they kept her like that pretty much the whole time they were torturing her, you know, hanging like that but stretched out. See the same type of lacerations on the ankles? With her legs spread of course so they could get to the vagina. They used wires on her there too, but differently. And no blow torch, pretty sure it was a soldering iron of some type. You sure you want me to go on?."
No one said anything and Sid went on. Just as disturbing as the detailed description of the horrors that Sake had suffered before she had finally died was the way Sid referred to her body parts: "the wrists," "the ankles," "the breasts." Not Sake's wrists, or Sake's ankles, or Sake's breasts. As if they did not belong to her once they started her torture.
She had been the second of our agents to disappear, we assumed taken by the same group of terrorists for hire. The other, Carol, had been a friend until she began putting moves on me. I liked her, and one night had a bit too much to drink and she got my blouse and bra off before I politely demurred. But after that we were never close. When we got word she had been taken I admit to having felt guilty for some unknown reason. We never recovered the body.
Now I was being trundled off to face the same horrors Saki, and probably Carol, had had to endure. How long would it be before my body parts no longer belonged to me? How long before Catherine's nipples became the nipples, before Sid described my vagina as the vagina? I started to struggle against the straps and chains but could no better than wriggle ineffectually in their grasp. A large hand patted me on the shoulder.
We stopped for a moment and then there was a slight bump as we moved forward a few feet, then another pause before we started to slowly rise. They wheeled me out of the elevator after what could only have been a slow one floor trip and after a two or three minute stop and go journey they stopped and I didn't move for what seemed like hours.
I can't begin to describe the terror. Bound in chains and strapped down to some sort of gurney. Unable to move. Unable to see, unable to hear. Unable to speak or even scream. Able only to wait for the inevitable. I tried to lie still and empty my mind, but the picture of Sake's mutilated body kept forcing itself on my conscious. I wept and moaned and then wondered if anyone could see my tears or hear my sobs. I wondered if I was alone or being watched by my abductors. What were they waiting for? Why didn't they begin torturing me? I couldn't stand it anymore, I was going insane. I began to struggle, writhing and tossing my head from side to side, with total disregard for the impossibility of escape. I screamed over and over into my gag and my useless thrashings became more and more desperate until, exhausted, I could no longer fight my hopeless battle and lay quietly on the gurney weeping softly into my blindfold.
The straps were undone and I was lifted off the gurney. It came as such a shock that my only reaction was to stiffen at the first touch of their hands. I was carried a short distance and lowered to the floor. As I lay there paralyzed by fear, my feet were lifted in the air. Although I could hear and see nothing I was sure they were suspended from a rope or chain hanging from above, not held by one of my captors. This was important to me, to know something of my situation, with my sense of sight and sound gone and totally helpless to prevent whatever it was the were going to do to me.
What were they going to do to me? How were they going to hurt me, to torture me? I saw nothing, felt only the chains and the cold floor, heard only my breathing and the pounding of my heart. Again I had this perverse need for them to start hurting me. But again nothing happened and I waited, this time lying motionless and waiting for the pain.
I didn't have to wait long, maybe two minutes, maybe three. And when it came it came with such force and surprise that it drove the breath from my lungs with a loud snort through my nose. Wrapped in my cocoon, apart from the world, I was suddenly consumed with pain. It felt as though a red hot wire had been pulled through the soles of my bare feet. At the second blow I screamed into my gag and arched off the floor so only my shoulders supported me, until I collapsed at the third.
"I think we'll pause here."
After so many hours being isolated from any outside sounds the voice had the effect of a hard slap in the face. It took me a moment to realize that I had actually heard it and that it had not originated in my brain.
"Yes, Catherine, you are hearing my voice – through earphones embedded in the clay with which we stopped up your ears."
The voice is distorted by the earphones into a rasping, mechanical almost computer-like tone. I think it's a man's voice, but it's hard to tell. There is a lilt that makes it sound feminine. I will assume it is a man in charge of my torture as if it mattered.
"I just thought I would take a few seconds to explain a thing or two before we get back to working on you. I won't take long, and while I talk one of my associates is going to make a little adjustment to your bondage." He chuckled. "We are going to torture your feet for the next few hours. Only your feet. Then I will give you a while to think about your situation. I will ask you some questions about your organization before we resume your torture. If you answer, the torture will stop. If you don't we will work on the more sensitive parts of your body. Believe me you will talk, one way or the other, before or after."
I felt something tighten over my big toes. They were tying them tightly together, then pulling them back, back until I thought they would tear them right off my feet. Again I was writhing in pain, unable to control my body.
"Since you can't see I will explain. Your big toes are being tied off to the chains around your ankles. Pulled back so tightly the soles of your feet are stretched taut and the whipping will be that much more painful."
The lash whipped into the bare soles of my feet once again and again I shrieked into my gag.
"I am using a fiberglass switch on your feet Catherine. Not the usual bamboo or birch. I do have others, whips and canes."
Again the lash fell and again I screamed. My brain was on fire. He was going to whip my feet for hours and there was nothing I could do, no way for me to stop him.
"Let me tell you about the one I am saving for your pussy." Oh God oh God oh God. "It is the same length as this one, four feet, and just as flexible. Only the last six inches are flat and split five times down the length. When it lands the tips splay out and then snap back together catching the flesh of your lips or the tender flesh between them."
Again the switch cracked against my bare soles. My body jerked and twitched in its chains while I screamed and sobbed.
"I think I'll hang you upside down with your legs spread. Tie your hands behind your back, right wrist to left elbow, left wrist to right elbow. Work my way down your thighs with a whip, then tear your cunt apart with the switch. Hmmm? What do you think?"
I knew he was enjoying taunting me as much as whipping me. He fell into a rhythm. "Would you believe your feet aren't bleeding yet? They will. Then I'll rub salt into the cuts. To prevent infection." He laughed. CRACK. "There is a Spanish word for this, the whipping of the soles of the feet. Bastinado. So many wonderful tortures have Spanish names. The Inquisition you know." CRACK. "Aren't you glad you joined the department? Where else could you experience thrills like this? And the pay is so good too! I'm sure you would do it all over again. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't you? WOULDN'T YOU!" CRACK.
His voice had been rising and he was snarling now, and panting for breath. "I'm going to make you wish you had never been born. I'm going to make you beg me for mercy. I'm going to make you beg me to kill you. CRACK. "I did it to your little Jap friend. You should have heard her scream and beg. Now it's your turn. You'll talk. You'll talk and you'll beg." CRACK. I was begging, screaming "No more no more no more," over and over and over into my gag. He just couldn't hear me. Each lash was like a hot poker on my bare soles. For the first time in my life I knew what real agony was.
Then it stopped. There was silence. Even the low background hum of the earphones was gone. I heard nothing.
I lay there in my chains sobbing and moaning, waiting for the lash to cut again into my bare soles. But nothing happened. Were they gone? Had they finished with me? I prayed for an end to my torture. That was all I could do, pray. Minutes ticked by, my feet throbbed and burned. It was agony even though the whipping had stopped. But worse than the pain was my total helplessness. I could do nothing but lay on my back, my arms chained beneath me, the ache from my shoulders to my wrists bearable only because the pain from my lacerated soles demanded all my attention. My feet were raised a yard in the air so the only movement I could make was a futile squirming. And of course unable to see or hear or even cry out for mercy, completely cut off from the world, not knowing where my tormentors were or when they would start my torture anew.
When it comes it comes without warning, a red hot stripe across the bottom of both feet. That one blow almost breaks me. It isn't the pain, which is worse than any of the previous lashes and draws what would be a high pitched howl from my throat if I wasn't being choked by the gag. No, it was the realization that a new session was beginning. And that after this one there would be another, then another, until I can't stand the pain anymore and do what they want. And even then my torture might go on until they turn me into a gibbering idiot who will do anything to avoid more pain.
Again and again the lash falls on my bare soles. With each one I am taken to a new level of pain. He works slowly. He gives me time to recover between each blow, to anticipate the coming agony. First comes the searing pain. I arch my back until only my shoulders and the back of my head touch the floor and I scream, scream as I have never screamed before, then collapse sobbing, the only words in my head the pain the pain the pain… Minutes go by. The words in my head change no more no more I can't take any more I can't take anymore… But I can take more, he will make me take more. And more. And more. I start writhing in my chains, knowing that any moment the lash will fall. I try to pull my feet free from the chain that holds them up off the floor. He lets me struggle and when my strength ebbs and I lie moaning and helpless he again whips the cane into the bare soles of my feet.
The whipping goes on and on. It is the only thing in my world as I lie deaf and blind in my chains. All I can hear are my own screams. I faint. Cold water is thrown over me. I awake and he tells me that fainting will do me no good, that he will stop the torture until I have been revived. "Don't want you to miss a second of it dear heart," he says and the torture continues. Ten times the whip falls on my soles and then he speaks again, whispers in my ear, "Your feet are bleeding. In fact there is very little skin left on your soles."
Salt. He spreads the long narrow cuts on my soles with his fingers and applies the salt. Each crystal is a red hot coal. I can't stand it. I go wild with pain, bucking and arching as he rubs and kneads the grains deep into my wounds. I hear him laugh and then the whipping starts again.
Ten, twenty, thirty times he whips me. Now he canes the tops of my feet as well, then back to the soles. He doesn't neglect the toes. An hour goes by, then another. I pass out, am doused with cold water. He chides me again for fainting and rubs more salt into the cuts. Then whips me again. I become obsessed with spitting the gag from my mouth so I can beg him for mercy…mercy mercy mercy…
It stops. The whipping stops. I lie whimpering, a child's toy with a twisted spring. Broken. Time goes by and I even sleep. I wake screaming but no one is there. No, of course someone is there, watching me, looking at my body chained and half hanging by my sliced and tortured feet. Is this the way I am to die, unable to hear, to see, to speak, to even scream out my pain as they slowly torture me to death? I can think of nothing worse.
My feet are seized and unfastened from the hoist. I am dragged by my ankles across the floor. I can hardly breathe I am so afraid. Are they done with me or is it for more torture? My ankles are locked in some sort of press. More torture. I feel the wood pressing against my ankles just above the chains that bind them together. Again my feet are raised above my prostrate body, this time totally immobile. My large toes are pulled back so cruelly I can barely move the other toes either. They want my feet held steady for the new torture they have planned and I know it will be my toes. That is when I first feel the heat.
It comes from above and to the left of my feet. It is not painful, just a little uncomfortable, like sitting too close to a fireplace. But it is frightening. I can picture the brazier and the coals and the instruments sitting in them, turning red and then white hot. Fingers spread my first toe away from my big toe which is held fast by the wire or filament or whatever it is that binds it to the chains. Then I feel new heat, a tiny pin prick of heat that grows more insistent and more intense until it is hurting me. I start screaming and writhing before the needle even touches me – no no no no no – and buck and arch as it slides into the webbing between my toes.
"We have nine more needles heating up for you," the voice says, "seven go between your toes and the other two…well, you'll see." He pauses. "Mei Li, please be careful and watch my fingers," as he spreads my next two toes apart. Those are the last words I hear until all eight needles have been inserted.
The only time I stop screaming is to inhale for more breath so I can scream some more, or when I faint. I faint twice and twice they bring me around with a dousing of cold water. I wake screaming. There is no pause between the insertion of the hot needles, only the time it takes to spread the next two toes apart and expose the delicate flesh. Each time his fingers pinch hold of my toes and spread them and lock them apart I struggle madly against my chains. It is almost a relief to feel the searing agony of the needle as my helplessness is lost in wave after wave of pain.
"We have many ways of hurting you Catherine." I had fainted as the last needle was pushed home and this time they let me come to on my own. I had no idea how long I had been unconscious. "I will be very interested in your opinion as to which was the most horrible when we have our little chat. That will come when I believe you are ready to tell me all your precious secrets. Yes, I think I will ask you to describe all your feelings, not only the pain but the hopelessness of being completely at my mercy, and knowing I have no mercy to give. I will love to hear that from you." Faintly I heard the gleeful clap of his hands.
"Mei Li will continue your torture while I watch and enjoy your struggles. She is very good at the more delicate arts, much better than I. This next bit is one of her favorites. I am afraid it will be the most painful yet. Shall I tell you what she is going to do to you or let you guess?" He paused a moment then said, "No answer, hmmm? Then I will let you guess."
I didn't think anything could be worse than the hot needles. But it was only a short time ago I didn't think anything could be worse than the bastinado I had suffered. My head was swimming as though I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. Mei Li's fingers touched the little toe of my left foot. Her touch was soft and delicate but her grip firm. I thought she must have been a nurse before she became a torturer. That thought seemed ordinary and not at all odd. I heard her voice clearly. Her English was uninflected. In my strange disconnected state I wondered if she had her own microphone or if my captor had given her hers. She said only five words, "I love torturing white girls."
The man took my head in his hands and held it firmly but gently during my ordeal. He whispered sweetly "There there there," and "Now now it's not all that bad," and "Shh, it'll be over soon." He kissed me softly on my cheek in the small space between my gag and blindfold. His lips were soft and gentle. The irony was not lost on me but whatever humiliating effect it was supposed to have was lost underneath the roaring pain of having bamboo slivers slipped under my toenails.
Mei Li was, as promised, a master at the art of slow torture. My agony was unbearable. I would have done anything if it would have stopped her careful insertion of the sharp splinters under my nails. I don't know if it was this last torture or the culmination of all the pain. It must have been the latter but for the first time I prayed for death, asked the Lord to let me die if that was the only way to end this agony. But for the most part I was not lucid enough to think. The pain became so great I couldn't scream anymore. I couldn't struggle; my body just jerked in spastic convulsions.
I was broken. When she stopped I would have done anything they wanted, told them anything. All I wanted was the chance to spill my guts. I didn't care what happened to me after. I just wanted it to stop.
"We're almost done," he says, "At least with your feet," and I manage to scream once more. No no no no I'll talk I'll talk just stop oh God just stop I'll talk. "Mei Li is heating up the last two needles. This is one of my favorite parts." Once more I am writhing in a mindless attempt to escape the chains that hold me fast. But there is nothing I can do. I am helpless. There is no way for me to avoid this last torture.
Mei Li starts at the point where my heel ends and the soft flesh of my sole begins. She drags the fiery needle slowly up my foot while I go mad with the pain, drags it for long seconds letting the hot steel sear my flesh in a half inch line before she pushes it deep into my sole, not stopping until it hits the bone. Then slowly pulls it back out and continues the line for another half inch before pressing it home again.
On and on it goes. The needle is reheated. The pain is excruciating and does nothing but get worse. If it doesn't stop I will go mad. I must pull my feet free of their stocks or I will be driven insane by the pain. That is all I can think of – pulling my feet free of the torture. But I can't I can't I CAN'T I CAN'T oh God let me die make it stop help me God help me why don't I faint please make it stop somebody make it stop somebody help me somebody help me help me help help...
I didn't realize Mei Li had stopped torturing me until minutes after the last needle had been stabbed into the bare sole of my left foot, pushed in at an angle so the entire needle was embedded in the soft pad beneath my toes. Even though she had stopped the actual torture the pain was still unbearable and seemed to hardly diminish. I moaned and cried for what seemed like hours, not thinking about anything other than the agony that gnawed at my brain like a thousand rats.
"We are done with you for now," came the voice. "You need some rest and so do I, so I am going to give you some time to think about the consequences of not cooperating with us. This was simply a warm-up, a taste, a preview. If you don't talk, I will do things to you that you cannot comprehend. Think about that while you wait." As though I could think of anything else but ending my torture.
While he spoke I felt the stocks that bound my feet being loosened, then freed. But my legs weren't lowered. Instead I was dragged by the ankles a short distance. In that time I had such a vivid picture of myself – of the blindfold and gag hiding half my face, of the chains binding my body so tightly, of being dragged across the floor, of being totally unable to do anything to prevent them from doing whatever they wanted to me – that I knew the elation my torturers were experiencing, not so much from my pain, but from my helplessness and their total control over my life.
They stood me up, one of my guards holding me by the shoulders. I couldn't have stood by myself, even if I had had the strength in my legs to support my weight, which I didn't. The torture had left me as weak as water. The pain of my feet simply touching the floor was horrible, and for a terrifying moment I thought they were going to make me walk. I felt the filament or twine cut away from my toes and immediately after that my hair was seized, twisted and pulled to the top of my head. Before I could realize what was happening I was being lifted until I hung suspended by my hair.
For the moment the pain from my savaged feet was forgotten. It was as though a thousand hot needles were being stabbed into my scalp over and over. Tears ran from my eyes like water from the tap and I screamed continually into my gag for minutes on end. I squirmed and twisted and kicked my legs uncontrollably in my agony even though each movement added more pain. I struggled violently to free my wrists so tightly bound behind my back so I could grab the rope from which I was suspended. Finally I managed to bring my tormented body under control and hung almost motionless in my chains.
I can not tell you how long I hung there; only that it was for hours. I would slip into unconsciousness and then awake, always to the burning pain. Irrational thoughts flowed through my mind, such as They can't do this to me. They said they would let me rest. And then sanity would take hold, and the horrifying truth would make itself clear. This is torture. They can do whatever they want to me. They can leave me like this for days. I began to sob anew. I wanted to die. The hopelessness of my situation was clear. More than anything I wanted to be lowered, but when I was it would just be for more horrible tortures. Still when finally I felt myself begin to descend I almost laughed with the relief.
My feet touched the floor but my relief never came. The rough cement scraped against my lacerated bare soles and the pressure of my weight brought back the agony of the bamboo splinters still stabbing under my nails and the iron needles embedded between my toes and in the soft pads beneath them. I screamed and collapsed, hanging helplessly from my hair, waiting for them to finish lowering me.
But they had other plans. The winch stopped and I was left with my knees flexed to push my poor feet to the side. All my weight and the weight of my chains was still held by my tortured scalp. I hung there crying and moaning until I couldn't stand it any longer and forced my feet under me and stood. The pain was outrageous, especially from the bamboo under my nails and the two needles stabbed into the soft padding under my toes, but I held it as long as I could to give my tormented scalp a rest. Again I struggled to free my wrists. Finally I could stand it no longer and once again let my hair take the brunt of my weight with one short sharp scream into my gag.
I was a puppet in their hands and they must have taken great joy in playing with me, in watching me pick my torture between hanging from my hair and pressing my weight on my ravaged feet. Finally after what might have been hours or merely a fraction of that, I no longer had the strength to even push my feet beneath me and I hung their wailing until I passed out again.
When I came to after what must have been a lengthy period, it took me probably fifteen or thirty seconds to realize I was no longer tightly bound by the chains with my arms behind my back but was suspended, not by my hair, but by my wrists. The horrid pain from my scalp was gone, replaced by a dull ache in my shoulders that got worse with each passing moment. My feet still burned and throbbed. I shook my head trying to clear it, trying to clear my brain and understand what was going on.
"Welcome back, Catherine."
The voice never mentioned what time of day it was. I wanted so badly to know. I wished it would have said "Good morning, Catherine," or "Good evening, Catherine," but it didn't. I was still wrapped in my cocoon, ignorant of my surroundings, my captors, and my fate; aware of only my agony and the torture that caused it. I needed to know something, anything about the world that was still out there. If I only knew what time it was, what day it was then maybe I could believe that there were people out there looking for me, coming to rescue me. That there was something other than torture and pain.
"In a very short time I will be asking you some questions about the Hermitage. This is good news for you, because if you answer these questions truthfully your ordeal will be over. Until then we will be preparing you for the eventuality that you do not comply with our wishes."
I barely had time to think I would do anything they asked, debase myself and betray everything and everyone I knew for even as he spoke I felt hands grasp my ankles and pull them outward, spreading them. The added pressure hurt my shoulders.
"You will be sensible, won't you Catherine? You might not believe it but I did you a great favor with the little softening up session we had before. I hope it showed you what is in store for you if you do not cooperate, and the futility of resistance."
My ankles were locked in shackles and when the hands released my legs they remained widely spread. I did not try to close them. Although blindfolded, in my mind's eye I could see the chains reaching down to iron rings set in the floor, locking my legs far apart where no human effort could move them closer.
"Fix her head. Now."
Hands grasped my face and held it immobile and I felt something hard inserted in the hole in my left earlobe where my earring once sat, and then in my right. I gave a cry of pain as my ears were pulled to the sides. Any movement of my head left or right without tearing my earlobes off was out of the question.
"Remove her blindfold."
My vision returned slowly after so many hours of blindness, and what gradually became clear made me groan into my gag. It shouldn't have; there was nothing confronting me that was unexpected. But the sight – my first sight in so long – was of my reflection in a floor to ceiling mirror.
I had been bound to some sort of upright frame, spread-eagled by wrists and ankles inside the wooden posts. Chains stretched my limbs taut and the gray shift rode high on my wide spread thighs just below my groin. Large hoop earrings were pulled out to the side by thin chains that ran to hooks in the frame. The bottom of my face was hidden by the gag and above it the brown eyes were wide in horror. The cotton dress hanging straight down from my breasts seemed to quiver as my chest rose and fell rapidly. It had to be me but a part of my mind refused to accept it. Then finally I looked down the length of my legs at my small bare feet encased in their metal gyves and saw the bamboo and steel protruding and once again felt the pain that still raged from my toes. I no longer could pretend that the figure spread out so helplessly was anyone but me.
"Beginning to get the idea Catherine?" He was still speaking through the earpieces. And he was nowhere to be seen. The only thing in front of me was my reflection. Since he was speaking through the earpieces I could not tell what direction his voice came from. He could have been anywhere in the room, or outside the chamber, watching me from an observation room. Or in another city, or country, watching me on TV.
"First we must have you naked. If you are stubborn, my dear, we will want to get right back to work on you." Even as he spoke I detected a motion at the corner of my eye and then at the edge of the mirror I saw a figure, a man wearing blue jeans and a dark t-shirt. Before I registered any other details or saw the whip he held at his right leg or even saw it flash toward me, I felt it crack across my back.
My body lurched forward as far as the chains would allow and I screamed into my gag. A line of fire ran across my back from the right shoulder down diagonally to below my left shoulder blade and around my side at the bottom of my ribs.
"I told Murph to take no more than six lashes to strip you naked." Murph walked behind me and appeared at my right side. He was at the edge of the mirror. I couldn't make out his face, or anything else, except that he was tall and broad. He snapped the whip out once in the air and suddenly I realized the next lash would not be on my back. Oh God, I thought, my breasts my breasts. I started to scream the moment he brought his arm back. The whip tore across my stomach taut from the bondage and the tip dug into my left side. A new line of fire ran from the end of the old one down across my abdomen to the point of my right hip. My spread-eagled body jerked backward, the thin chains attached to the rings in my ears stopping my head from moving all the way with it and sending more daggers of pain into my brain.
"But I also told him," and through my agony I could almost hear the smile in his voice, "To take no less than six as well." It took a minute for my eyes to focus through the pain. In the mirror I saw that a large flap of my shift had been torn away from my body, exposing my stomach and the underside of one breast. The flap of material hung down over my right hip. Murph walked behind me back to my left side and I felt a moment of relief that the next blow would fall on my back. I didn't think I could bear being whipped on my breasts.
The whip was long and thin and came around my waist like a snake. The tip dug into by belly and snapped away tearing the thin cotton with it. I couldn't control my body and my I bucked and arched in my chains, screaming from the pain of the whip and the chains that threatened to tear off my ears.
"I guess there are easier ways to strip a woman, but you mustn't begrudge me my little fun." A thin strip of fabric held the bottom of the dress to the top. The cloth fell away from my right hip and thigh, held to my belly by the sweat of agony that oozed from my every pore. The angle of the material was such that it barely covered my pussy but exposed the thin line of pubic hair I had carefully shaved…when? I didn't know when. In the morning the day I had been captured? The day before? How long ago was it? How long had I been a prisoner? How long had I been tortured?
Murph was moving around me again. Sobbing and writhing in pain I tried to cry out for mercy. He was going to whip my breasts. Nooooooo. Pleasssssseee nooooo. The words formed in my brain but the only sound in my head was a strangled cry choked off by the gag that filled my mouth. Murph laid the whip on top of my breasts and let it slide off the front. I pulled at my chains, straining with every muscle to be free. There was no more logic or thought, only fear. He flicked the whip out once more at my breasts and then brought it down with snap of the wrist.
I don't remember any more of my whipping. I didn't pass out, I was simply unaware of anything put the pain. My next coherent moment was me staring at myself in the mirror and thinking that I was not totally naked. The whipping had stopped and I hung there with shreds of cloth clinging to my shoulders and hips. The whip had left welts across my hips, my belly and my breasts; long red lines that crossed my white body. I stared at them trying to make sense of what was happening to me. That is when I first saw Mei Li. Tall and thin, with long black hair fastened in a ponytail, she walked slowly in front of me. She was wearing a tank top and gym shorts and even though I was stretched out to my full 5'10" her eyes were even with mine. Her face was long with high cheekbones and although not beautiful, her smile was arresting in a way that made me shiver. She was enjoying this in a way that I knew I could never understand.
She reached out and pulled the last vestiges of my dress from my body. She easily peeled them off: they only clung to my skin because it was damp from sweat.
"Take the clay out of her ears Mei Li. I will let you do the talking until I am ready to ask her my questions."
Mei Li removed the clay and earphones, holding my chin while she did. The ambient sounds of the room were suddenly clear and loud. She took a piece of the wet cloth she had stripped from my body and used it to delicately remove the last remnants of clay from the swirls inside my ears. In a voice a little above a whisper she said, "I hope you hold out. I hope you hold out for a long long time. But even if you don't, I get to have a little more fun with you now."
She motioned with her hand and another man – not Murph, this one shorter, darker, a mulatto I think – wheeled a large black metal bowl to my left side. I felt the heat as it drew near and looked down to see the bowl was filled with hot coals. Nestled in the coals with only their heads protruding were glowing red needles. To be used on me.
I didn't understand. They were supposed to question me now. There wasn't supposed to be torture now. I tried to call out that it wasn't right. I tried to shake my head no. I couldn't. The gag. The chains that held my head by my ears. Mei Li looked into my eyes; saw the terror and the confusion. "Got to get you ready Catherine. Got to get you ready in case you don't want to talk. I'm afraid this is going to hurt a bit Catherine dear."
I was ready. They had prepared me for their torture. I was spread-eagled in the torture frame. I was naked and stretched and unable to move. They could do anything they wanted to me. My wrists and ankles were held by shackles and chains, my arms and legs taut, my body completely available to them, all of it, for torture. They weren't supposed to do this. I couldn't be more ready for them. They were supposed to question me now.
Mei Li had seized one of the needles with iron tongs. With her left hand she grabbed my left nipple and pulled it out, stretching my breast. I felt the heat, a small pin point of approaching agony, on my nipple. I couldn't move. The chains held me rigid and the inch or two of play in my stretched body was taken up by Mei Li's pulling at my breast. She took her time, made me wait and suffer the anticipation of the pain before she slowly pushed the hot needle through my nipple just behind where the bud met the aureole.
When she was finished with me my head hung from the thin chains that secured my ears. That hurt horribly but I had no strength left in my neck to lift my head. I would have sagged in my bonds but I was spread-eagled so tightly by the chains my flaccid muscles were pulled taut. Mei Li had inserted rings through my nipples where the hot needles had burrowed holes. She had pushed the needles through the sensitive flesh slowly and carefully, then pulled and pushed them back and forth to make sure the burned flesh on the inside of my breasts did not adhere to the metal. I barely felt it after the searing agony of the hot steel through my nipples. The rings were clipped to thin gold colored chains which ran to small pulleys attached to the top of my torture frame. The chains had been shortened to the point that my breasts had been pulled up, but only by an inch or two. The chains were held taut by the weight of my breasts and the pain in my nipples made the tears run down my cheeks. Mei Li stepped back to admire her handiwork, then seeing my tears reached forward and shook the chains until my moans were audible through my gag.
"Wait," she said. "In a minute you won't even feel this." I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look into her smiling face. Seeing her smug grin and listening to her taunt me as I lay stretched naked before her, with her having the power to do anything she wanted to me, added to my torture. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying this. A lot."
Seconds later I felt her fingers on my pussy, pulling out a lip. I screamed before I even felt the heat from the needle. She held it high up between my thighs almost touching my vagina so I could feel it's fire on my membranes before it touched me, held it like that for endless seconds while I cried and sobbed in anticipation of the torture, then touched my labia, withdrew it and touched it again, this time pushing it slowly through the delicate membrane. How much of my screaming got through the gag I couldn't tell but it rang loudly in my head.
"Be a dear and get me a ring, " she said to the man.
When Mei Li was done, both lips of my pussy were pierced and ringed and pulled down and back by chains identical to those that pulled on my nipples. I was barely conscious, hanging in the frame with my head slumped forward. She grabbed me by my hair, pulled my head back and slapped me hard across the face. My brain buzzed with the new pain, not so much from the slap but of the movement of my head yanking my ears against their bindings. The slap only magnified my humiliation.
"Look at yourself," she barked, "Look at yourself and lose all hope."
It took a few moments for my eyes to focus on the figure in the mirror, and when it did I couldn't bring myself to believe it was me. The face made almost unrecognizable by the wide gag, the long black hair flowing over bare shoulders. What beautiful eyes, I thought, what beautiful blue eyes she has and oh how exotic they look under that black hair. Slowly the rest of the picture forced itself on my consciousness. The naked body stretched in the torture frame, the large soft breasts contrasted with the hard ridges of the taut stomach. Those breasts curved upward by thin chains. The chains. Thick chains attached to manacles and shackles that spread-eagled the naked beauty. Thin chains that ran between her open thighs that pulled on her labia. It hurt. Oh how it hurt. Oh God, they were the lips of my pussy, that was me being tortured.
"I think you remember when I caned the soles of your feet. Mmmm?"
There has been so much pain since that whipping that the throbbing aching burning of my feet has become a background to my very existence, a constant agony that I bear but no longer think about. But now I do remember the soul-wrenching agony my torturers had meted out to me and just the memory of that ordeal is enough to make me want to promise to tell them everything, to do anything, if they will only kill me quickly after.
"This will be worse. Much worse. If you don't talk. But let me give you a sample."
Only now do I see the cane in her hand, and that she had stepped around to my side. I have one quick insight before she brings her arm back – It won't be my feet this time. They haven't stretched me out naked like this to whip my feet.
She slashes the cane across my buttocks. I shriek in pain and my body heaves forward against the chains. For a brief instant I think the lips have been torn from my pussy as they pull violently against the unmoving rings. If they only stop I'll talk. I'll tell them everything. While I hang in the torture frame sobbing in agony Mei Li motions to one of her henchman. He comes forward, reaches up and tightens the chains holding my breasts. Oh God, I think she's not done, she's going to whip me again.
The cane cuts into my back just below the shoulder blades. The pain is the worst yet and again I jerk against the chains. This time the rings tear at my nipples as well as my cunt. Mei Li cocks her head to the side for just an instant and I know she can hear me screaming through my gag. I don't want her to hear me scream, to give her proof of how much she is hurting me, to increase her pleasure of my torture…but there is no way I can bear the pain without screaming.
Mei Li touches me gently with the cane at the top of my thighs and slowly slides it down the back of my legs. She taps it once, twice and I steel myself for the pain, all the while trying to cry out to her not to hurt me anymore, I'll talk, just stop just stop stop stop...
A line of fire tears at my thighs just above the back of my knee and it's as though my effort to hold myself still does just the opposite. I have no control of my body and the incredible pain forces me to hurl myself against my chains. I pull with all my strength at the shackles trying to stop the spasms that now rack me, each shudder bringing fresh agony to my nipples and pussy.
Again and again the cane slashes into my taut flesh. Back, buttocks and thighs, maybe ten times, each savage lash sending a spray of my sweat flying from my spread-eagled body as I heave and jerk in my chains. Then in quick succession the front of my thighs and my tightly stretched stomach, the worst yet. I truly wish my contortions would tear my nipples and pussy lips from my body so their agony would end.
Mei Li grabs my face and shouts at me from inches away, "It hurts, doesn't it! It hurts a lot, right sweetheart – a lot!" She squeezes my cheeks hard and I moan, but not from the pain, that pain is nothing compared to the agony of the caning that is all but killing me. "What if I worked on your breasts and between your legs for a little while? Should I do that? Hmmm?" No more oh God no more I'll talk I'll talk stop this I'll talk… "Well I'll do a lot more than that if you don't do exactly as you are told. Do I make myself clear?" I nod my head frantically, so hard there is a sharp pain from my ear lobes. Just stop the torture please no more pain stop oh God stop…Mei Li is cutting away my gag. "When I take out the gag you are to say that you will tell us everything, answer all of our questions, not most or almost all but all. Understand?" Again I nod my head as far and as fast as I can. It's going to end, it's going to end, oh God let it end. Mei Li has cut away the cloth holding in the gag and, with my mouth straining open to give her access, pulls out the rag that has been stuffed halfway down my throat. Even before she has removed it I am trying to yell to her but all that comes out are unintelligible gurgles followed by a fit of coughing. Each cough shakes my body bringing new agony to my stretched pussy and nipples. Mei Li waits patiently for the coughing to stop, then brings a bottle of water to my lips and slowly pours it into my mouth. After a few swallows she takes it away. "What are you going to do?" she says.
"No more," I gasp, "No more torture." My voice is raspy whisper even though I am trying to shout. "Just don't hurt me again. Please oh God please stop. I'll do wh…" but Mei Li has grabbed me again by the face and is squeezing my cheeks together forcing my open mouth into a twisted oval. I can't speak.
"What did I tell you?" she snaps, "Didn't I tell you to say you were going to tell us everything?" I was going to say that. I was. I was. "Didn't I?" I try to nod my head yes but the thin chains holding me by the ear lobes and her tight grip make it impossible to move my head. I simply grunt what I hope sounds like a ‘yes.'
"Stick out your tongue," she says. I do it. I will do anything she tells me to. Anything.
She snaps onto the end of my tongue with a forceps and pulls it until I cry out in pain. Where it comes from I don't know but seconds later she is holding yet another glowing needle in her hand. She is going to use it on my tongue.
My head is held immobile by the forceps and the chains. I can't escape, can't even delay my fate by a fraction of a second. I try to beg, to tell her there is no need, that I will tell her anything she wants to know, but all that comes from my mouth is garbled mewling. Not that it would matter, Mei Li is going to continue my torture no matter what. And the thought – the heart-stopping thought – occurs to me a second before she stabs the needle into my tongue: will she ever let me talk or is it all a game, a pretense for a reason to slowly torture me to death?
When I come to I am staring at the ceiling. I can see the top of the ring they have inserted in my tongue and the thin gold chain that runs from the ring to the top of the torture frame. My head is bent back to its limit arching my neck to an impossible angle, squeezing the vertebrae and adding yet another torment to the scores that already rack my body. My tongue throbs where the hot needle had been driven through but worse is the agony of feeling as though my tongue is being torn out by the roots. I try to lift my head just a fraction higher to ease the tension on the thin chain but they have pulled it tight. My tongue is supporting the weight of my head. God how it hurts. It hurts more than the burning welts from the caning or the bamboo slivers that still send pulses of pain from under my toe nails. What happens when they whip me? I groan loudly. What happens when I start to thrash about when they whip me? The smell of ammonia hits me, a capsule broken under my nose, probably what revived me, but this time my head jerks back and I scream in pain as my tongue is almost pulled from my mouth.
I hear them moving around but I can not see what they are doing. With my head pulled up and held in place by the chain attached to my pierced tongue, my face is lifted straight up and unable to move. Any slight movement I would have been capable of is prevented by the chains attached to my ear lobes. All I can see is my arms stretched and aching, my shackled wrists and the chains that run to the top of the frame, and the other set of thin chains that are pulling on my anguished nipples.
Of course I do not need to see them to know what they are doing. They are preparing me for more torture. I hear the click of a ratchet, the creak of chains and I feel my legs pulled down a fraction of an inch. There is a pause and then my legs are taken another notch down. What are they doing? I am already stretched taut. I can open and close my hands and blink my eyes, no more. The slightest movement of my lips moves my tongue and adds to the agony, and when they whipped me I felt my toes start to curl but the bamboo was pushed so deeply beneath the nails that the pain was unbearable. Another click and this time the movement of my legs downward pulls my breasts and tongue against their restraints, and with the next click I scream. My nipples are ready to be torn from my breasts and my scream has sent arrows of pain shooting down from my tongue. I scream again and again, each scream moving my tongue and adding to the God awful pain. But there is nothing I can do, I have no control over my body, I can't hold back my screams.
Mei Li has Murph ease back on the tension of the thin chains connecting my holding my tongue and nipples. Even though this woman is torturing me in ways that defy human understanding, I am filled with gratitude for this small mercy. I want to be able to speak, to tell her thank you. Maybe then she will have pity on me and stop the torture.
But my tongue and my nipples are still tethered by the chains, and the inch of slack does not allow me to speak in anything but a garbled mewling. Still I try and then hear Mei Li laugh, whether at my pathetic attempt at speech or because she has understood and ridicules my gratitude, I don't know. A moment later she orders another turn of the screw and I enter a new world of pain.
I am being racked. Slowly stretched. With preternatural sensitivity to my pain Mei Li waits until my body has adapted to the last turn of the winch before ordering the next. How many times has she had Murph turn the screw? I don't know, I can't think, there is too much pain. With each turn my body is pulled tighter, and even though I am stretched only a small fraction of an inch, pain flashes through my body with each one.
This is a new kind of pain – unrelenting, never-ending. With each turn I feel it stab at my shoulders and hips, my elbows and knees. It is like a hot knife driven into the sinews of my joints. Then, after my screaming has stopped, comes the constant grinding agony that does not ease in the least, leaving me moaning and sobbing and waiting for Mei Li to order me stretched another fraction of an inch.
"Let's take a break Murph," she says with a theatrical flair. And then to me, "I'll be back in a while to stretch you some more."
A sound escapes my throat which would be hard to identify as human. It is a cry of anguish. Don't leave me like this. You can't leave me like this. But of course she can. I am bound and helpless and she is torturing me. She can do whatever the hell she pleases with me. Still I scream hoping that she will understand my wordless shrieks for what they are – that I am begging her to stop my torture, that she will have mercy on me. I am debasing myself by begging my torturer but I do anything to ease my agony even if it only for a minute. But of course the only response is the footsteps of Mei Li and Murph and at least three others leaving the room.
Even as the footsteps recede I hear one set return. I can't see to whom they belong as my head is still stretched toward the ceiling by the chain inserted in my tongue. For a moment there is a flicker of hope that they are going to release me, or at least ease the tension, before they leave. Of course that is ridiculous but it is amazing the illusions the mind can come up with under torture. There is another click, but the sound is different from the tightening of the ratchets that have been pulling me apart. A moment later I start to slowly tilt forward, and I can see that the frame is actually two frames, the one to which I am attached by the chains and another that stands just outside it. There must be a pivot at the center with a locking device that enables my torturer to now move me forward until I am at a 45 degree angle to perpendicular.
Even this careful repositioning of my spread-eagled body is agonizing, especially to my nipples and pussy. The slight shift and the force of gravity makes me cry out once more and the tears run in torrents down my cheeks. At my new angle I can see that it was Murph who moved the frame and he walks away without looking back.
I can also now see myself reflected in the mirror, and what I see draws a long agonized wail from my lips. It is my reflection, it must be my reflection, but it is impossible to comprehend. As bad as the pain is and as much as I feel the chains merciless pull, I cannot make myself believe that the figure in the mirror is actually me. My skin seems translucent, whether because of the extreme stretching of my body or the lighting or even the surface of the mirror, I cannot even guess. The deep red welts glow against the pale flesh on my breasts, belly and sides and across the front of my thighs and my hips where Murph stripped me naked with his whip and Mei Li had tortured me with her switch. There is dried blood at the tips of my toes where the bamboo slivers still protruded, framing the needles in the delicate webbing between them.
But the evidence of those tortures is not the reason for my cries of anguish or the deep sobs that rack my body, sobs I cannot control even though each one brings agonizing pain as my taut body pulls against the chains. It is the visual confirmation of my complete helplessness, of my total inability to stop them from carrying out whatever obscene horrors they have planned next. I am naked, spread-eagled with my breasts pulled away from my chest and my legs spread wide, presenting my vagina for their…I can't even bear to think of what they might do to me…to it. My pussy no longer is mine. It belongs to my torturers. I have entered Sake's world.
I have been hanging here for hours, suffering I am sure as no woman has ever suffered before. Then I think of Sake and I realize they have barely touched my body. My God what they did to her. There was little doubt that they had broken her; no one could have stood up under that hideous torture. And there was even less doubt that they had continued to torture her after she had talked. Try as I might to block the thought from my mind I couldn't get the image of her mutilated body out of my mind, or the rational conclusion that the same fate awaited me.
There is no word to describe my agony. Every muscle, every tendon, every nerve in my body screams with pain. Even my skin burns from the stretching. I would do anything – anything – to stop the pain. I am way beyond withholding information. The promise of a quick death if I talked would be more than enough. But I am alone with my torture. There is no one to ease the tension that tears at my body, and even if there were, no way for me to beg for an end to my torture.
It gets worse. The pain comes in waves. Sometimes it is so bad I can't think coherently, then it eases just enough for me to hold out hope that I will somehow be able to bear it before it rushes back worse than ever as my sinews and muscles tighten trying to defend themselves from the God awful stretching.
My pain is exceeded only by my fear. The mind that could devise my slow torment, that could imagine a torture instrument like the frame/rack I am suspended from, that could carry out the agonizing ordeal I have already been put through, that knows I would gladly spill my guts to save further pain but continues to torture me nonetheless – this is a mind capable of inflicting torture way beyond what I have already suffered or that I could even imagine. And this is a mind that has left me alone like this to contemplate my future torment, knowing exactly what I am thinking now and knowing how it adds to my suffering.
Or are they not going to return? Are they going to leave me like this? Do they not want my secrets? Is this the death they have planned for me? Is this how I die – stretched out naked and alone screaming in agony?
I hear the door open and immediately try to swing my head toward the sound. Pain shoots through my ears and especially my freshly pierced tongue. The thin gold chains allow no movement. I can only stare straight ahead and wait for Mei Li to start torturing me again.
"Stop your blubbering," she snarls. Only now do I become aware of my wailing and crying as I try to beg for mercy. My words are of course unintelligible. "You will have real reason to scream in a few moments, so save your voice."
People enter the room. Even before I see the first person I know there are many more here than before to observe my torture. Over my sobbing I can hear the footsteps, hear the whispers and sounds of appreciation, soft ahhhs and ooohs. I can even feel their presence as they draw near.
"Touch her if you want," Mei Li says, "but be gentle." And she sniggers. "These are friends of ours."
They crowd around. Most are satisfied just to stare but a few reach out and touch me. One strokes my flank and another my belly. There is an outburst of laughter. A hand moves between my legs and fingers brush my pussy. I hear a voice and then more laughter. In spite of the pain that makes rational thought all but impossible I am overwhelmed by a new sensation – humiliation. These strangers have come here to watch me tortured and gloat at my suffering. I don't know who they are but they know who I am – a federal agent, an enemy and now a helpless captive. Will they be there to watch my final humiliation when I beg Mei Li to allow me talk and scream out every secret I know?
"Well Catherine, are we ready to talk?" What comes out of my mouth is between a groan and a sigh. "And are you ready to confess? Are you, my dear little Catch?" The sound of my nickname is a shock. It is not really a nickname, it is a pet name, a name I called myself when I was just starting to talk and couldn't pronounce Catherine. I called myself Catch. ‘Catch want cookie.' So my parents called me Catch, and later my little sister and then only my closest friends. And now my torturer. It is not Mei Li speaking. It is a different voice, a woman's voice, a voice I know. From where? I try to see in the mirror who the voice is coming from but the woman is blocked by my spread-eagled body."
"Sake called you Catch, didn't she?" She did. I told her the story and she started calling me Catch. I liked it. I liked Sake. But how does the voice know? Who is the voice? Why is it so familiar? "Do you know she called for you to save her – begged for you to help her – while she was stretched out on this very device? ‘Catch help me! Please Catch help me!' She was out of her mind with the pain of course. I was working on her pussy with a soldering iron at the time. Burning away her clit, I think."
The thought of Sake calling my name while she was being tortured is too much for me. That and knowing I can't stop her from burning my clit away as well. Despite the pain I begin to struggle wildly, pulling at my chains and wailing hysterically. Finally the pain becomes unbearable and I stop my writhing. She is probably lying, inventing Sake's desperate pleas to torment me. And then I realize to whom the voice belongs. It is that of my captor, the one who introduced Mei Li and stroked my head while my feet were being tortured. It is the voice I heard through the ear piece that I thought was a man. But it was a woman – the woman who savaged Sake's vagina so terribly and destroyed her breasts with razor wire, the woman who slowly tortured poor Sake to death. For a reason I cannot begin to understand, the thought of Sake being sexually tortured by a woman is more terrible to me than if it had been a man. Not only that, but I realize the story of her screaming for me to help must be true. How else could this woman know about Catch?"
But any thoughts of Sake and her ordeal are quickly driven from my mind by the knowledge that it is now my turn to suffer her fate. In the mirror I see my body, spread-eagled and helpless, every inch of my nudity offered for torture. My flesh glistens and sweat rolls down my sides and drips from my breasts and belly. I pull with all my strength on my chains. I can't move. I can't close my legs. I can't stop her. She's going to use a soldering iron on my sex. She's going to torture me like Sake. Oh God help me God help me please PLEASE God help me...
Mei Li is standing in front of me. She looks over my shoulder, then gives a little nod. The chains tighten, my arms move upward and I scream like I have never screamed before. The pain is incredible. My muscles have stiffened like frozen ropes from the hours of hanging with my body so tightly racked. My once supple body cannot be stretched any further. But it is, stretched the small fraction of an inch that comes with one turning of the winch. It would only be noticeable to the most observant watcher but to me it feels as though my bones have been splintered and my muscles torn from their moorings. Through my agony I can barely hear the "guests" laughing while I scream. But it is not over. After waiting for my shrieks to subside into deep sobs, Mei Li nods again and again the unseen hand tightens my spread-eagled body another notch, then another and another. I can't stand the pain anymore. One more turn and my joints will dislocate. My stomach muscles are stretched so taut I can feel them fluttering; they are ready to tear apart under the strain. Why can't I faint? Why don't I die? God help me please God help me let me die let me die…
"No, we are not going to tear you apart Catherine." I have stopped screaming. I can no longer scream. I am stretched so tight I cannot fill my lungs with enough air to scream. All my energy is devoted to gasping for breath. "We have other plans for you, more interesting torture. One of the nice things about the rack is that I can add new agonies while you suffer from being stretched."
"Wait." It is the voice of the woman who seems to be in charge, who is giving the orders to Mei Li. "I think it is about time I spoke to my little Catch face to face." I am so desperate for hope, for anything that will put an end to my torture, that for a moment I am sure she is going to let me tell her my secrets and end my pain. Why else would she want to finally talk to me? "Let her see who has captured her and who is doing all these horrible things to her precious body." And with that, in the one heart beat before I see my torturer for the first time I know why the voice is so familiar. It belongs to Carol Barre.
"Who would have thought when I last saw you that you would end up like this?" Even if I could have moved my tongue I could not have spoken. She was dead! Tortured and murdered by the same group as Sake – the group she now led or was at least a part of. "Do you remember hand-to-hand training? Do you remember beating the shit out of me, forcing me to submit time after time? I wasn't that bad, you were just that good. Now look at you. Not so tough now, are you?" She turns to Mei Li. "I think you've had enough fun for a while. I will take over from here."
"Allow me to let you in on a little secret – I don't really need any information from you. Oh, I'll take whatever I can force from your sweet lips but there will be very little of use that I haven't obtained from your friend Sake and my, uhm, other sources. What I want from you is your total humiliation, your total subjugation to my will. I want to hear you beg me for mercy. I want to hear you sob that you will do anything – anything – I demand if only I will stop the pain. I want to watch you slither across the floor with your ankles bound and your wrists tied behind your back to lick my feet; and then look up at me and say – and remember these words – ‘You win mistress Carol. Please have mercy on me. I will be your slave. Please I beg you let me lick your pussy to show you how I will serve you.'
"Are you ready to do that for me Catherine?"
I stared at her dumbly, not believing what I was hearing.
"Well let me start with an easier question. Are you ready to tell me all your precious secrets?"
I make a gargling sound, the only noise I am capable of.
"Oh, how silly of me. I forgot. You can't talk very well, can you? Maybe if I use the soldering iron between your legs…"
I scream "NO!" but of course all that comes out is a high pitched shriek.
Carol looks at Mei Li and they both burst out laughing. Mei Li spreads her legs and throws her hands in the air, opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out in an imitation of my spread-eagle body. Then she makes a high pitched wailing noise that sends both of my tormentors into further peals of laughter. Their laughter is echoed by the guests who are watching my suffering and humiliation. No, humiliation doesn't do justice to my shame. Even mortification or debasement doesn't measure up to it. Still, I should be infuriated but all I can think of is how I am naked and stretched open and helpless and what they might do to me next.
"Do any of you gentlemen want to fuck her while she is tied up like this?" There is no reply. "Oh come on. Don't be shy."
Still no one responds. I thank God. Besides the utter humiliation of being gang raped, the thought of a man pounding into me while I am hung spread-eagle and stretched tight as a drum brings visions of new agonies beyond what I have already suffered.
"Well if none of you fine gentleman wishes to partake in what I am so generously offering, perhaps a little demonstration will help. I am sure my man Murph will have no problems engaging in a little in and out in front of a small audience."
The next thing I know he is positioned behind me between my legs. There was a murmur of approval from the villains gathered to watch my debasement. I can only assume it is in admiration for the size of his dick, not good news for me. I feel his hands on my labia and touching the rings that pull them apart. He says, "Do you want these out of her cunt before I fuck her?"
"No, don't remove them but Mai Li, loosen the chains and the ones to her ears, nips and tongue. Just a little so we don't pull anything off. Don't want any permanent damage."
When cock pierces my pussy and his hips slam into my buttocks I shriek in pain. The force drives me forward but the chains racking me tight won't let me move. The agony of my savage rape drives any thought of humiliation from my mind. Again and again he batters my poor vagina, each attack stretching my taut body further. It is too much and I faint.
When I am revived with a pail of icy water Murph is done ravaging me. They have let him finish while I was unconscious, a change from their normal torture procedure which I am thankful for. Maybe they couldn't stop him.
"Well anyone for seconds?" Carol says. Still there are no takers. "Well I'm not shy. You gentlemen are in for a treat." She disappears for about ten minutes.
At first I can think of nothing but wonder what she is going to do to me. I start to weep. I don't think I can take much more torture without losing my mind completely. The men gathered around me get bolder in her absence. One of them finger fucks me and I scream at him in protest, curse him and tell him he's a limp dicked coward. Of course he can understand none of it. They make jokes, about my tears, about my nudity, my pussy, my screaming in pain. None of them are funny, but this is what I have been reduced to, a helpless naked object of bad jokes. I can't help it, I start to sob. It drives them to peals of laughter. I want to stop but I can't.
Then a hush falls over the room. Carol is back. She has changed into a tank top and tights, black tight. Strapped around her waist is a nine inch long dildo, also black, thicker than any cock I have ever seen, and girdled by circles of evil looking knobs. She is going to fuck me with the hideous object; that is their treat. I scream in abject horror.
Carol pats my buttocks like I am some kind of a lap dog. As she spreads a thin film of gel on she tells me "This is going to be worse than you think." and casually tells Murph "Flip her upright. I need a better angle." This is what I have been reduced to, this monster can nonchalantly give an order to a thug to move me into a position that suits her better, perhaps on nothing more than a whim, or more probably to pose me more to her liking for a new torture. And I can do nothing but gurgle in pain and despair.
Then as I am moved into an upright position I realize the obvious – Carol is going to rape me anally. Even though the thin chain leading from my pierced tongue to the torture frame has been loosened, it still makes legible speech impossible. No matter, I try to beg. Every word hurts like hell and nothing understandable issues from my mouth. The closest I can come is repeating "no…no…no…" over and over. The only reaction I get from Carol is her hands gripping my hips tightly.
I feel the obscene dildo touch the ring of my sphincter, the oily film helping it enter the first half inch. I scream "NOOOOO!" Carol's only reaction is to slowly push the newest instrument of her torture in another inch so the first ring of knobs is up against my anus. I scream again, this time a wordless shriek of pain and terror. It is the only sound in the room. My audience of enemies and Carol are deathly silent, enrapt in my agony.
I realize my eyes have been squeezed shut against the horror ever since I watched Carol lubricating the vile instrument. I open them and in the mirror see my naked body spread-eagled on the torture frame. All I can see of Carol is her thin black clad legs between my widely opened thighs. On the margin of the reflection I can see two of the audience called to witness my final debasement. They are both slack jawed and silent in wonder of what is happening to me.
I feel the dildo move another inch into my bowels and then withdraw so only the tip is inside me. I know this in preparation for Carol's first real thrust. I struggle against my chains in total panic, but my limbs are stretched so tight all I do is cause myself further pain. I feel Carol's hands squeeze on my hips and can actually see her fingers whiten as her grip tightens. I shut my eyes and try to prepare for the pain when she drives the torture phallus into me.
When it comes there is not a sound in the torture chamber except for Carol's loud grunt. My mouth is open wide but my vocal chords are paralyzed by pain. The gathered observers are silent in respectful awe. I feel every inch of the dildo inside me; the knobs which bulge out from the hard rubber cock a half inch at the very most feel ten times as large as they tear into the tender tissues of my innards. My taut limbs feel as if they are being ripped from their joints. My shoulders and hips a hair's breadth from separating. The next sound I hear is Carol's voice saying, "I only got half way in on that one." All I can do is pray she is lying to further torment me.
She isn't. Her next attack drives the torture cock further into me, the next even deeper. It isn't until her fourth lunge forward that I feel her hips bang into my buttocks.
Now my screams are joined by laughter and then a chant of "Go! Go! Go!" I should be humiliated past any normal standards but only pain fills my brain. When she finally stops and pulls the invading column out of my anus I feel a stream of shit and flesh infused blood running down my legs.
"OK, the show is over," Carol calls, "Everybody out. It's interrogation time."
A bucket of icy water is thrown over me and then another. Whether it is to revive me or clean me off I do not know but both are accomplished. Two of the henchmen unchain me from the torture frame and I am dragged across the room and pushed into a chair. The chair is large and made of dark wood. I don't – can't – resist when leather straps bind my wrists to its arms and ankles to its legs. The chair is wide enough that my legs are spread apart but another set of straps goes around my thighs holding them open even wider. Further straps go around my biceps, waist, forehead and ribs, with the top of the leather beneath my full breasts.
A two level metal table is wheeled over. On the bottom level is a recording device. There is a wire running to a microphone set in a stand that sits on the top level, next to a black box with dials, switches and four coiled wires that rest in front and are connected to terminals. A long extension cord runs out the back to where I cannot see, but assume it is to an electrical outlet. There are fine toothed alligator clips at the end of the wires and I have a pretty good idea where they are going to end up.
It is Mei Li who fastens them onto my body but I speak to – beg – Carol, "Please, there is no need for this. I'll tell you everything you want. Please, not this." Mei Li does not wait for Carol's answer and snaps the strong sprung clip closed on my right nipple. The teeth dig into the sensitive flesh and I give a sharp cry of pain.
"This is interrogation Catch," Carol finally speaks after Mei Li has snapped the second clip onto my left nipple. "If you answer all the questions honestly, accurately, completely and – don't forget this one – quickly, you won't be tortured."
"No!" I shriek at her, "You're lying! You're going to torture me! The questions are just an excuse...you're going...to torture me." I have started struggling fiercely against the straps that hold me prisoner in the chair. It does no good of could of course, I can't move, not even my head which is held tight by a strap around my forehead. I keep screaming, now at both of them, while I struggle in my hopeless rant. "You're lying. You're going to torture me!" It never occurs to me that they have me completely helpless and they don't have to resort to trickery if they want to torture me. There is nothing I can do to resist their torture.
My rant is interrupted by Mei Li holding a large silver bullet in front of my face. There was one wire that was not connected to an alligator clip that I somehow missed and that one is going inside my cunt. My anger suddenly disappears and is replaced by gut wrenching fear. I start to beg again, sobbing out my plea as she slides the smooth metal cylinder into my vagina. I even apologize for yelling at her and promise not to do it again if she will only not torture me. Mei Li says nothing, simply presses the sinister dildo home until it disappears deep inside me.
Then she simply says, "There now," not honoring my accusation with a denial or my pleading with a refusal. She reaches over to the table and without looking picks up the last wire with the clip attached. "One guess where this is going." I dissolve into tears while she plays with my clit, teasing it out of its sanctuary until she can snap the sharp teeth closed with great effect.
I shriek in agony and thrust my hips forward trying to throw off this newest instrument of outrage. And while I am screaming and writhing in pain Carol asks, "What is your name?"
I don't answer. I don't try to answer. I don't understand. And a second later my breasts are being tortured with electricity.
"What is your name?"
"Catherine!" I shout at her.
Again the current tears at my nipples, but this time she holds it for two, three seconds. "Your full name."
"Moore! Catherine Moore!"
I had been told that electro-torture was unbearable, but nothing could have prepared me for the fire that ignited every nerve in my pussy. "Middle name."
"I don't have one! I swear I don't have one."
"So Catch, have you ever had a lesbian affair?"
The question takes me by surprise and I hesitate for a moment. This time the shocks are quick, first to my tits and then to my pussy. I try to scream but I can't. It feels like every muscle in my body is frozen rigid. Even when the juice is turned off I can't move, can't talk. I see Carol's hand moving toward the switch and I manage to gasp. "No…no…"
Carol's eyebrows go up, she pauses for a moment and then blasts my breasts. This time I manage to scream. "I don't believe you," she says.
"I swear it. Please, I swear it. Please, no more."
"Why? Don't you like women?"
"Not that way."
"How long have you been with the agency." I blurt out the answer without thinking, hoping I am accurate. She doesn't hit me again so I assume I am. More questions about the agency, four or five. I answer them all as fast as I can. Then, "What about me? Wouldn't you like me that way?"
My mouth opens and closes but I make no sound. There is no answer that won't piss her off. So I wait trembling with fear, strapped into the heavy chair, unable to move or turn my head. But she doesn't use the electricity on me, she simply smiles in triumph and continues the questioning.
From here on in the interrogation is strictly business, or so it seems. Personal questions are all sexual and used to throw me off balance. Almost all the inquiries are business related, agency related. I answer everything but that is not always good enough for Carol. Sometimes she says I am lying or taking too long to answer, and she throws the switch that sends me to hell.
My interrogation goes on and on for hours. But she must know the answers to almost everything she asks. And it finally dawns on me – the reason for the interrogation. It is not an excuse for my torture, they don't need an excuse with me strapped down and helpless. It is a game. They are playing torture Catch, humiliate Catch, make her scream and struggle and beg and answer our questions. My interrogation is a charade but not to them. Having broken me they now have to show me how shattered I really am. We are playing torture the spy and make her talk.
Carol varies the pain. She varies the intensity, the length and the location of the shocks. She moves the clips from my breasts to my ears to my armpits to my thumbs to my big toes and back to my nipples. And every time she pauses my torture to move the clips I beg her to stop. Pleading with all my heart even though I know it is useless. But I also know the new pain will be different pain, unexpected pain, worse pain. So I beg and cry and scream for mercy while she readjusts the clips once more.
But she never moves the contacts from my pussy. My sex is a constant target. The word pain does not begin to do justice to my suffering. She might turn on the electricity for a half second, or for ten. If the latter it feels as if hot coals are being forced into my belly and my clit is being torn from my vagina, over and over and over again.
It is Carol who works on me while Mei Li stands next to her and watches her interrogate me. She says little, just smiles when I rush to answer Carol's questions and touches herself when I arch against the straps and writhe under the electro torture.
I answer a question. Carol asks Mei Li without looking at her, "What do you think?"
Mei Li answers, "She's lying."
I shriek at them, "Oh God no it's the truth!"
Carol, "I know she's lying, I mean where should I shock her."
"Do her pussy again, and her nipples."
While Carol moves the clips from my thumbs to my nipples I sob at her, "No, please no. Don't do this to me. I beg you no." And then I am transported to my electro hell.
I know my interrogation is nearing an end when Mei Li moves closer to Carol and begins caressing her belly. In minutes they are both naked, kneeling in front of me, their squirming bodies rubbing against my shins as they stroke and kiss each other. Carol's right hand is between Mei Li's thighs and she begins to masturbate her. Both women are staring at me, Carol clinically and Mei Li with hunger. Her moans are growing louder and faster, her tongue is running over her lips. I turn my gaze toward Carol. Our eyes meet and then she looks down and to her left. My eyes follow and I see the controller in her hand. Before I have a chance to cry out, Mei Li shrieks "Now! Now!" The scream fills the torture chamber, but it is not my scream; my vocal chords are frozen with pain. It is Mei Li's howl of pleasure. Not once does she take her eyes off me as she vibrates with joy, until she squeezes them shut in a paroxysm of ecstasy.
I was barely conscious when they dragged me out of the torture chamber. My wrists were bound behind me and my ankles secured with a nylon tie. I was gagged and a black bag pulled over my head, then thrown over someone's shoulder and carried away.
An elevator door opened and closed. We traveled down and the door opened and closed once again. No one spoke. All I heard were the echoes of footsteps on concrete. That we were in an underground garage was confirmed when I heard a car trunk sigh open and I was dumped – none too gently – into the trunk. Finally my legs were bent back and my wrists bound to my ankles leaving me hogtied when the trunk shut and we were on our way.
How long we drove I couldn't say. Not only because the time seemed to pass interminably slowly, but because I passed out numerous times and I didn't know for how long. When I was awake, bouncing around in the confined space of the trunk, it felt more like a tomb. After all I was probably going on my last ride. You would think that thought would make me, if not happy, relieved. I had known since my capture that death was the only reasonable outcome for me. And God knows that I had wished for that end rather than more torture. Given the choice I would not have hesitated to end my life rather than face more of the horror Carol and Mei Li had gleefully visited on me. But the thought of dying, especially like this, bound and naked at the hands of my psychopathic enemies, watching them delight in what would probably be a slow and painful demise, terrified me.
We stopped and I was pulled out of the trunk and dumped on the ground. Murph pulled the hood off my head. Another car pulled up behind us and four men got out. That made eight altogether with Carol, Mei Li, Murph and the other goon who had ridden with them. My ankles were untied and I was pulled to my feet.
We were in a forest. Not deep inside, but at the end of a dirt road, deeply rutted and barely wide enough for a car to pass. Oddly, my first thought was: How are they going to get out, there is no room to turn and from the looks of it the way out is long enough and narrow enough to make backing out difficult.
"Walk," Carol said. Murph and the other goon had me by the elbows but even with their support my tortured feet would not support my weight and my knees buckled beneath me.
"Walk," Carol said again, this time more sharply. I made no move to take a step. It was obvious they were taking me into the woods to kill me and dispose of the body and I wasn't going to let them make me torture myself by walking on my shredded bare feet to my place of execution. Murph let go of me and I dangled by one arm in the other guard's grip. "Drop her Louis," Carol said, and I fell to earth with a thud. The next thing I felt were two prongs digging into the small of my back on either side of my spine, followed by the now familiar agony of an electric charge racing through my flesh between the two sharp points. I screamed into my gag but made no move to rise, which would have been impossible anyway in my enervated condition and my wrists still tied behind me.
"Walk," Carol said, her tone conveying nothing more than a mild irritation. I didn't respond, just lay there letting the cool earth of the path caress my naked body. I was going to die and was now thankful for it. Perhaps that was why the incongruity of being totally nude in the middle of the woods struck me as strangely humorous. But it wasn't amusing at all when she kicked my ankles apart and shoved the prod between my legs hard enough that the prongs dug deep into my perineum. My last thought before the electricity jolted my poor tortured body was thank God it's not my pussy.
When I stopped quivering she was kneeling by my head. She whispered in my ear, "Are you going to walk? I can keep this up all day." I groaned into my gag and she pulled it from my mouth.
"You can torture me forever and I won't walk. I can't."
She pushed the prod between my lips deep into my pussy. It hurt, but my whimper was in fear, not pain. Still after the hours upon hours of torture I almost didn't care anymore. "Walk," she said.
"I can't. You're going to kill me, do it here. Go ahead, torture my pussy, torture me to death right here. I don't care. I can't walk."
I suppose she believed me, but whatever the reason she pulled the prod out of my vagina without activating it. She was still kneeling by my head. "Have it your way, but the final act of your little ordeal doesn't take place here. We have half a mile to go. The boys will just have to drag you there."
I felt their hands under my armpits and I was lifted until only my legs from the knees down remained in contact with the ground. And then they started to pull me along the dirt path.
"Christ she's sweaty," said Louis. Sorry to disturb you I would have thought if I hadn't been trying to deal with the pain. They had of course shredded the bottoms of my feet making it impossible to walk, but they had not ignored my insteps, and of course my toes had been subjected to Mei Li's tender ministrations. The needles are still protruding from between my toes and the slivers of wood were still imbedded under the nails. The road was rutted and uneven and my feet continually bounced off the ridges and furrows. With every bounce a shock of pain raced from my feet to my brain. I was being dragged not only to my execution but back in time to when Mei Li was torturing my feet.
I was in agony. This simple dirt path had become an instrument of torture. After only a minute I started begging for them to stop, to stop dragging me along, to stop hurting me, to stop the excruciating pain from my toes and feet. Of course the only word I said was "Stop … stop … stop …" repeated over and over when I wasn't groaning or howling. I heard Carol's voice, "Sure you don't want to walk Catch?" My right foot hit a rock and I screamed in pain. Mei Li laughed. They started playing a game, trying to step on my feet without breaking stride. They kept score by counting my shrieks of pain.
We stopped. Murph and Louis let go of me and I fell face down in the dirt, moaning and sobbing. It was over, I thought. It wasn't. It was simply a pause so Murph could change his grip and start pulling me along by my hair.
I know I was conscious those last minutes because I remember screaming and begging them to stop, that I would walk, "Oh God please stop, I'll walk, I'll walk." But that's all I remember. I don't remember stopping again and being hauled to my feet and pushed against a thick tree. But through a fog of pain I remember them binding me to the tree. Ropes went around my waist and below my breasts, circling the tree. They were pulled tight, trapping my bound arms between my back and the rough wood. Then more rope around my thighs, above and below my knees, welding my legs to the tree. My ankles were roped together but not tied to the tree.
Carol stepped in front of me, slapped my face forehand and back, and spilled the contents of a bottle of water over my head. "I'm cold," I pleaded.
They laughed, all eight of them who had gathered around me in a semicircle. Of course they would laugh. I was roped tightly to a tree, naked and helpless and the captive of an insane sadist who had done nothing since my capture but think of new ways to torture and debase me. They were going to kill me, probably not quickly, and they were digging my grave not ten feet in front of me. Yes, the men who had come in the second car were not only there to watch the end of my ordeal and perhaps add to my degradation by making it a public spectacle; two of them were digging six foot long trench. And all I could think of to say was, "I'm cold."
"Don't fret dear little Catch, you'll be warm soon enough." My eyes opened wide with fright. As impossible as it sounded, they were going to burn me at the stake! That is why they had bound me to the tree like a Christian martyr. "How … how are you going to … to kill me?" I stammered.
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," she laughed. She saw me staring at the men working with their spades. "That is your grave all right, but we're not going to kill you." She paused, thinking, or pretending to think. "I was going to save this for a surprise but perhaps it would be better if you knew what was in store for you while you watch them dig. You are going in there, but you won't be dead."
It didn't take me a fraction of a second to understand what she meant. I shrieked "NO!" and then again before she slapped her hand over my mouth. "Yes sweetheart, we are going to bury you alive." I screamed again into the palm of her hand. "Murph, get some tape over this mouth. I can't have her screaming at me for the next half hour."
Then to me, "Do you remember when we were almost intimate? When we used to have these adolescent girl style talks? Do you remember when I actually got your shirt off and was kissing and caressing your breasts, until you pushed me away and said ‘I'm sorry. I can't do this with you?' Do you remember telling me your fears, spiders and such, and being shut up in tight spaces?' Well I can't think of many tighter spaces than a grave."
I was screaming into my gag, trying to beg her not to do this to me, to tell her not even she could be this cruel. I was struggling with all the strength my adrenaline fueled panic could muster, but I could barely move my roped body an inch, they had tied me so tightly to the tree.
"I'm afraid we don't have a coffin though so you are going to have to go in as you are, tied up and naked." She looked back at my grave which was now about two feet deep. "I think three feet should do it. It won't be long now."
I started whipping my head back and banging it against the tree, the only movement I was capable of. I didn't have enough leverage to get enough force behind it to knock myself out, but in my terror of being buried alive I would try anything. Carol watched my futile efforts for a few seconds, then laughing said "That must hurt," and pushed her hand under my chin shoving my head against the tree. "Still, it is annoying and I don't want you to have even the slightest hint of freedom. I want you to feel the very depths of hopelessness and helplessness. Murph, get over here with some rope."
The rope went around my head and the tree twice, once across my forehead and once across the bridge of my nose. The second strand blocked my vision of the grave but when I wasn't screaming at Carol for mercy I could hear the shovels digging into the soft forest earth.
"Now where was I. Oh yes, no coffin. That is unfortunate because being interred in a box certainly would fit the description of a tight box and the air trapped with you would allow you to breathe and live for a while and appreciate the horror of being trapped under the earth. On the other hand being naked and unable to move and having the soil pressing on every inch of your bare body does have its appeal. Who knows what creepy things will snuggle up to, and maybe into, you. But I don't think you would survive more than a few minutes with nothing to breathe but dirt. So I came up with a solution.
"Murph, bring me the apparatus."
The apparatus was a clear plastic mask that sort of looked like the oxygen masks that pilots wear except it covered the entire face. Attached to it was a long ribbed rubber tube and the rim of the mask was edged with a sealing material. "This," she said holding the tube in front of me, "is long enough so after we've sealed the mask to your face it will reach above the ground and allow fresh air to reach you. There is a small battery operated fan we can attach to the top to help circulate the air. But before we do that there is something else I have to do." She handed the apparatus back to Murph and he handed her a clear plastic box. She held it up to where she was sure I could see it. In the box were twenty or so spiders, most of them quite large. "You will notice this box is oblong so the end will fit inside the widened top of the tube. Any of the little fellas that cling to the sides of the tube will be blown in by the fan. I don't know if any of them bite, and if they do, I hope they are not venomous."
She turned and walked away, leaving me so terrified I couldn't even scream. It wasn't only the thought of a score of spiders crawling over my face for the rest of my life, it was the unalloyed evil of someone who could think of torture in such detail.
I started sobbing hysterically. Minutes passed. I heard the sound of the shovels stop. Then Carol's voice, "Yes, I think that is just about deep enough." Then she was next to me wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Shh," she said, "It's time."
Two of the goons held me by the arms while a third untied me from the tree. I struggled with all my strength to break free but with my ankles bound and my wrists roped at the small of my back, it was nothing more than a pointless writhing. They held me up while my elbows were bound together with a heavy industrial tape. The tape was then wrapped around me just below my ribs securing my arms firmly against my back. Finally it was circled above, below and across my knees, locking my knees straight.
They set me down on my back, not ungently. I looked up and saw Carol staring down at me. She had a distracted faraway look in her eyes. "I'm going to miss you Catch. At least I'll have our sweet memories."
She bent down and ripped the tape from my lips.
I was bound so tightly I couldn't move. God knows I tried. I tried to arch my back, roll to my side, bend my knees. Nothing. All I could do was shake my head no while I begged Carol for mercy.
"Please, Carol, I beg you. Don't do this to me. You don't have to do this to me. Please. I'm sorry. Have mercy on me. I beg you. I'll do anything. Just not like this. Don't do this to me. Oh God not like this. Please, I beg you, not like this."
I went on like this for minutes while she just stared down at me. Then she seemed to snap out of a trance and whispered "Thank you," and bent down with the mask.
I started screaming "NO! NO! NO!" Then the mask was hovering over my face. I shrieked, "Kill me! Kill me! Only not like this. Please just kill me." I was shaking my head from side to side, not in denial now, but in a frantic effort to avoid the mask. Two hands grabbed my head and held it motionless. My last words were "WAIT! WAIT! STOP! WAIT! NOOOO…" then the mask was being strapped securely around my head. There were a few inches between the clear plastic and my face, more than enough room for the spiders to crawl around to their heart's content.
They wasted no time in lifting me and lowering me into my grave. My feet were positioned at the midpoint of the trench and hit the ground first from about a foot's height as even from their knees the men couldn't reach the bottom of the pit. My back now rested on the slightly sloped wall at the top and I was slid into my grave carefully. I was sobbing and wailing "No…no…no..." staring up at my captors who ringed the grave from what seemed like a bottomless well.
"Don't cry Catch," Carol said, "or you might drown in your own tears." That got a good laugh from everybody. Mei Li bent down and picked something from the pile of dirt and dropped it on my face. It was some sort of slug. I screamed and shook my head until it slid off the mask. That too got a good laugh.
"Don't despair Catch, you've still got a chance, even though it's a slim one." My heart leapt. Maybe she was going to let me out of my hell if I promised to be her sex slave or spy or something. I would do anything…anything. "When we leave I am going to call control and tell them where you are…sort of. I will tell them you are buried alive within these woods. All they have to do is find you in twenty five square miles of trees. I won't tell them to look for a breathing tube an inch above the ground. That would make it too easy." I uttered a low moan, my brief hope dashed.
"Why am I doing this for you? I just hope this thousand to one shot will give you enough hope to keep you sane until you die." Then she said something I couldn't hear and a moment later the first spade full of dirt hit my bare feet.
I stared incredulously as shovel load after shovel load of dirt was flung onto my body. I had stopped screaming and simply watched as I was buried alive, unable to fathom what Carol was doing to me, half hoping but half believing that she would stop them and have me hauled out of my shallow grave.
I couldn't tear my eyes off the shower of soil that was slowly engulfing me. They were piling the dirt on the lower part of my body, no higher than my knees. As the earth mound grew, new batches slid down the sloping sides, creeping up my body. They had kept me naked for long enough that it seemed normal, but for whatever reason, the feel of the soil against my bare skin, and me being absolutely powerless to stop it, was suddenly as crushing as the earth that was inexorably swallowing me. When it reached half way up my thighs I heard Carol order, "Slow down, slow down. I want to make this last."
It was really happening. I was going to die the way I did in my worst nightmares, but in those I woke up screaming before I did. I tried to fight against my bondage, but now the weight of the dirt on my legs was added to the ropes and tape that held me fast. I couldn't even move my head more than a few inches as someone above was holding the air tube.
A shovel full of dirt splashed against my belly, another on my mons. I could see the mound at my feet had reached the top of the grave and they were now piling the earth directly on my hips and abdomen. I felt the weight of the earth pressing down on my stomach, pinning me to the floor of the grave, pushing my back hard against my bound arms. The dirt was seeping between my thighs, I felt it against my pussy, in my pussy. I thought about the creature that Mei Li had thrown down on me, about all the other tiny beasts that could crawl up my cunt, slithering, biting, and I screamed.
I screamed again. And again. But then I couldn't scream anymore. The tube allowed in air to breathe but not enough to fuel my screaming. I fell silent, spending my energy gasping for air while the earth slowly buried my body.
The dirt covered most of my breasts and spilled around my neck and shoulders. The shoveling ceased for a time while four of the goons stomped on the earth already piled to the top of the grave, tamping it down so more could be poured on top of it.
They proceeded with care, using the shovels to block the path of the dirt up toward my head. Finally the grave was filled but for a small rectangle that held my face. I was staring up at a wall of earth that ran straight up from just below my chin. Carol squatted by my head. "Comfy?" she asked.
I wanted to curse her for the monster she was. But of course instead I begged her not to do this to me. "Are you trying to say something," she asked. "I can't hear anything except a whistling sound through that tube. But let me guess, you're begging me to let you go, or at least not to bury you alive. I think I can tell by the tears in your eyes. I do so enjoy watching you weep. I wish I could hear you beg me for mercy as well. But tears will have to do. So is that it? Just nod your head if it is. Oh, of course you can't even do that, can you. Well no matter, the answer is no, I won't let you go, and yes, I am going to bury you alive.
"I just came to say good bye before we start shoveling dirt over your face, and to give you a few parting words. I'm sure you must be wondering why I decided to stop torturing you, that is, physically torturing you. Well in small part I was getting bored. Don't forget it wasn't long ago I worked your little Jap friend over pretty good in addition to the fun I had with your body. Hey, I finally got to see you naked.
"But mostly I think it was I didn't want to mar your beauty. You are still so beautiful and that is the way I want to remember you. The whip marks and the other little odds and ends actually only enhance your beauty, at least in my eyes. And if I carried on I know I would let Mei Li slowly destroy that beauty. She is especially very good at breast torture but you have seen the results. Not very pretty.
"So tonight when I go to bed I will be thinking of that lovely face and gentle breasts and flat tummy that once I wanted to stroke so badly. And I will pleasure myself thinking of you under all this earth, naked and totally helpless and going slowly mad. I only hope you will occupy my dreams as well, for many, many years. Perhaps you can take some comfort in that.
"Oh and don't forget the spiders."
She stood up and looked down at me from almost a nine foot height. "Good night Catch. Pleasant dreams," She turned away from me and signaled the men to finish the shoveling.
I screamed "NOOOOOO!"
She turned back and said, "That I heard. Thanks," as the first spadeful splattered across my face.
I can't begin to explain the horror. As the earth fell onto my face and around my head I knew I would die a raving lunatic. At first I could see the dirt hit the clear plastic mask and some of it slip off the smooth surface. Then when my vision was blocked by collected earth, I felt the dirt fall on my face and around my head. Finally, and for a short time, I could only hear it, dirt falling, shovels scraping. And then there was silence except for my breathing. But they must have still been working, adding new earth on top of the old, the sound blocked by the mountain of earth already crushing down on me. That I couldn't hear them deepened my despair. That these people who were probably at this moment smoking cigarettes, drinking bottled water and walking on my grave, had tortured and raped me and who were now killing me in the most hideous way imaginable didn't matter. They were the last people I would ever see and I was as out of touch with them as if I were on Mars. They were only three feet away and I couldn't hear them or see them. And soon they would leave and I would remain unseen and unheard by another human being.
I had been buried alive. I was going to spend the rest of my life trapped under 4,000 pounds of dirt. With no escape possible. It would be a short life but a slow death.
I screamed. I sucked in air and screamed again. Nothing. It made me dizzy. It was hard to breathe with two tons of dirt on top of me. I started to sob.
I tried to move, just a little, an inch or two. It had been ten minutes I hadn't moved, couldn't move, and it was beginning to drive me crazy. With all my strength I struggled just to squirm. I prayed to God, just give me this. Not an inch. My hands were trapped beneath my back, the fingers flat. The straightjacket of ropes and tape and the weight of the earth held me like iron bands. I tried to move my head; the earth was packed around it and my breathing tube, I could only stare straight up at nothing. It was pitch black but I kept my eyes opened. I tried to wiggle my toes but my calves cramped. I almost welcomed the pain; anything was better than this living death. I screamed for help, three times, "HELP! HELP! HELP!" followed by a wordless shriek of pure terror.
They were gone, I thought. There was no one left to dig me up. But they hadn't left. I knew that when the first spider fell on my face.
I almost screamed but the creature was just below my lower lip. If I opened my mouth it would crawl in. I clamped my lips tight and shut my eyes. When it crawled up a few inches I tried to blow it off through closed lips. I couldn't. I managed to hold back my screams with long moans. I tried to tell myself a harmless spider was no threat especially when compared to being buried alive under thousands of pounds of earth.
Two more of the spiders hit my face. My brain went blank, the only thing running through my mind was Oh God Oh God Oh God. Then I felt a weak but steady breeze on my skin, and a second before the rest of the spiders fell on me I remembered what Carol had said about the fan and the spiders in the box.
They were all over my face, in my ears, one was halfway up my nose. I snorted him out along with my mucous. I was going mad trying to escape this new ordeal, struggling with all my might for what purpose I have no idea. I still couldn't move, not an inch. I think it was that more than the spiders that drove me to the edge of madness. My eyes were squeezed shut. The thought of them crawling over my eyeballs was agonizing. But I lost control and started screaming, shrieking for help. Spiders were in my mouth, I must have swallowed some, but it was the unyielding grip of the bondage and the weight of the earth that held me so totally helpless I couldn't even squirm that was the ultimate agony.
I passed out. When I came to of course nothing had changed except the spiders weren't as active. I didn't know for how long I had been unconscious but was thankful for the respite from my torture. It was getting harder to breathe, and I wished the weight on my chest would make breathing impossible and crush the life out of me. I faded in and out of consciousness. Each time I awoke I moaned with the realization that I was still alive. It became harder and harder to breathe but I could not make my lungs stop functioning and give up the ghost.
I had no idea how long I had been interred in my living grave. It could have been hours or it could have been days. My waking thoughts were not rational, my brain seemed to be turning in on itself as I waited for my slow death to conclude. I just lay there helplessly, desperately struggling unsuccessfully to move when my immobile state became too much to bear, and screaming in horror when I found enough breath.
I couldn't have heard it since my ears were stuffed with dirt. Then again since sound is vibrations maybe I did. It was a dull scraping sound that was slowly growing louder. I unconsciously tilted my head toward the sound and it moved! Only an inch but it moved! The dirt holding the tube had to have been loosened. I was like a junkie getting a fix after going cold turkey. I could move. Somebody was digging me out! Then my hopes were shifted to fear. What if it were Carol? What if she had returned to pull me out so she could prolong my torture? I started screaming.
I barely remember being hauled out of the grave. It was the good guys. There was a doctor. She gave me a shot. I think I was raving.
I don't remember anything after that. It is all a blur of lights and unrecognizable sounds. When I came to they told me they had me under sedation for eight days in the hospital before they moved me to a private nursing home that had some arrangement with the agency.
The room was comfortable and I was kept there for almost a month. I had two hours of psychiatric therapy every day. I never left the room, which was alright with me as I felt safe there. The director visited me two or three times a week, just to say hello. He never even hinted at company business or what had happened to me.
Finally on one of his visits he told me we were going out. "There is someone I think you should meet. Eventually you know you…we, are going to have to face what you went through. This person can help."
We took a drive across town to what was mostly a light industrial area with a smattering of artist lofts and Bohemian wannabe's pads. It struck me that the last car ride I had taken was bound and gagged naked in the trunk. I started to shake but brought myself under control.
I found my powers of observation and spy craft had diminished. No it was more than that, I couldn't concentrate and was anxious to the point of wanting to bolt. In the elevator I took the director's arm. I was feeling queasy even though all I had had to eat that day was some toast in the morning and bottle water in the car. I don't think he realized how badly I needed him for physical support. I might have collapsed without him to hold onto. He patted my hand and then squeezed it reassuringly. Of course it was the same story as the car. In my last elevator ride I had been strapped to a gurney, blindfolded and gagged with my ears sealed with wax. And my final destination was a torture chamber.
I didn't even register the floor we got off on. There was a long hallway but we entered a door opposite the elevator. That was good because I had become unsteady on my feet, as though I were walking on a large air mattress. I told the director that maybe we were rushing my rehabilitation a little. But by then we were in what looked like an office reception area but immediately walked through another door into an office that had a desk, a few chairs and a couch. The director guided me to the couch. I sat; I was thankful I could get off my feet, as I was feeling a bit lightheaded. Moments later the door on the opposite side of the office opened.
I was having some trouble focusing on the two women who walked in when the first one said "Hello Catch." Why was I not surprised it was Carol? Why was I not horrified beyond rational thought? I just sat there, my arms hanging loosely by my sides. "You've been drugged sweetie…again. In a minute or two you won't be able to understand a word I say so let me fill you in. You didn't think I was going to let you go so easy, did you?" The other woman laughed, I think it was Mei Li. "And of course they found you. I had worked it all out with Bradley. I know he gave you some story about tracing my phone and you were in no shape to think it through. Or maybe you didn't want to. No matter. He's been working for us from before I ‘disappeared.'
"Try not to blame Bradley. He really didn't want you to suffer at my hands. But I insisted and he didn't have much choice. In fact you probably didn't notice but he has already left. You see, I am his boss now."
I felt a hand on the back of my head and I was pushed face down onto the couch. My wrists were pulled behind me and zip tied, as were my ankles. The last words I heard from Carol were, "This won't be as dramatic when you wake up but I'll try to make up for that in the days to come. I've got some original ideas I am anxious to try out on your body." Then without a struggle I was thrown over somebody's shoulder and carried from the room.