The men were waiting for her as Deborah approached her car in the dark parking lot. Her tall black high heels made an echo in the narrow street as they clicked the wet, dark pavement. Swiftly, they walked toward her as she fumbled for her keys. Startled by their size and speed, she tried to struggle but the needle pierced her neck and she quickly passed out into unconsciousness. There was no plea for help and no struggle.
Deborah awoke, her vision blurred and head spinning dizzily. As she stirred she was stunned with a slap across her face. Rough arms held her upright. She wobbled and slowly her vision cleared. Deborah was in a warehouse of some sort, cold, cavernous, and quiet. In the dim lights, she saw the man approach her and realized she was being held by two other men, each with a tight grip on her arms. She looked from side to side and noticed they wore masks, rubber gloves and rubber aprons. Where am I and who are these people, she wondered silently, frightened at their threatening appearance.
The man facing her spoke. "Good evening, Deborah. We have been waiting for you to wake up so we can get down to business." He motioned for the men to shove her into a chair and hold her there.
Deborah struggled against the two other men. "Let me go. What business? Who are you and what the Hell am I doing here? And how do you know my name?" She was slowly gaining back her composure.
The man in charge barked a short laugh. "You can call me Mr. Stavros. And you are here because we need to know what Kenneth told you about the gold. And we know YOU know Kenneth."
Deborah realized instantly the danger. Kenneth was her boyfriend and had been involved with a gold export operation in South Africa. She told him it sounded dangerous and now she was sure this spelled trouble.
"What about Kenneth?" She asked warily.
"Unfortunately for you he is gone. Out of our reach for the moment. But you are not, clearly. And so we want to know where he hid the gold. If you tell us the truth, you will go free and if you value your life and that of Kenneth, you will keep your mouth shut after we let you go."
Deborah thought for a moment. Two of them are wearing masks, so maybe they do plan to release me. But what the Hell can I tell them?
"Kenneth never told me anything about his business dealings, " Deborah said, trying to sound sincere.
"Nonsense, dear Deborah, not even pillow talk?"
"I don’t know anything."
"That’s what they all say, my lady. And now you will tell us or life will become very unpleasant for you. Prepare her for the interrogation."
The two men holding her picked her up out of the chair and brought her to a square metal workbench in the center of the large room. It had stout steel legs about three feet high and was anchored to the floor with large bolts.
Deborah was wearing her short, tight black dress and high-heeled pumps that clicked on the hard concrete floor as they walked her to the apparatus. She was a very beautiful woman, tall, shapely, twenty-eight, with dark brown hair, large dark eyes and full lips. She liked to wear deep, dark red lipstick and had her perfectly manicured finger- and toe nails done to match. In fear and anticipation, her large breasts began to heave under her tight dress as she breathed more quickly. Her fear only increased her ravenous, stunning looks.
The men walked her up to the edge of the table and then waited for Stavros to join them.
"Stop it. What are you doing to me?" Deborah protested. She thought they might rape her on the table.
At least she was fully clothed, although her short skirt began to ride up her hips as she struggled against the force of the two men. Deborah was not going anywhere. Stavros approached her and looked into her large, beautiful eyes, as they became clouded with the tears of fear and dread. Deborah’s perfect eye makeup began to run down her cheeks.
With great force, Stavros grabbed the thin straps of her expensive black dress and tore it off of her shoulders. Deborah squirmed and cried out but Stavros then grabbed the low cut top of her dress and tore it down the full length of her. Deborah stood, quivering, in her seductive black silk bra, panties, and garter belt. It was cold in the room, and her nipples became erect and stood out against the filmy silk black bra. Her breasts were large and full, and swelled as she panted rapidly from fright.
"Do I have to continue, Deborah? Why make it so hard on yourself when you can just tell me what I want to know?" Stavros was growing impatient.
"I….I..don’t know what to tell you…I…don’t know…" Deborah was quaking in fear and had no idea what would happen next, which only increased her terror.
"Very well, Deborah. Prepare for pain." Stavros gestured for his men to tie her to the table. Her ankles were tied with nylon rope to the table legs and she was then forced face down on the table , bent over.. When she bent over, the cold steel edge of the table hit her soft stomach and she groaned again. She felt the icy metal through the thin film of her bra on her large, sensitive nipples.
Deborah’s arms were outstretched and tied with rope to the other table legs. Stavros admired her wonderful hips and legs. Taking out a sharp razor, he slit the back of her bra, exposing her naked back. He then cut off her panties and garter belt, then pulled down her sheer black nylons to her ankles.
"Begin with the viper." Stavros pulled up a chair facing the table to watch and wait. Deborah heard the words through her terror, but had no idea what Stavros meant. The largest of his assistants went to a cabinet on the wall, opening the doors to reveal a collection of evil-looking whips. He chose a heavy brown leather strap, tapered and cut at the end with two pointed strips.
"Please leave me alone…please…" Deborah wailed.
Face down, her heart throbbing, Deborah’s thick hair was sprawled on the table top. The sharp corner of the metal table hurt her stomach where she was bent over. From her fear the cold steel of the table on her sensitive nipples gradually grew warm and moist. With her buttocks in the air and legs spread, she was embarrassed and afraid at what this strange position would mean. Was she going to be raped from behind?
Mr. Stavros approached and she tried to look up at him from the table.
"I want to know about the gold."
"I’m sorry. I really can’t help you. This is a big mistake. You have to let me go and you’ll be sorry you did this." She could only see his belt buckle, and when she tried to lift her head to speak, her neck ached badly.
"Deborah, I have not done anything yet. And I am never sorry about whatever I do to women like you. You have no idea what I can do to you to get the answers I need. My two friends here are skilled in every vile form of torture, pain, and mutilation our minds can conceive. I use them because they get results. Always. There has never been a woman in my care that we have not broken completely. Now, where is my gold?"
The surprise and horror of what may be coming appeared on Deborah’s perfect face. She was going to be tortured! And for information she did not possess! That means they could keep working on her thinking she was resisting! And she knew nothing! How could they "break" someone who didn’t know anything? Could she make up things and be believed? Would they torture her to death? How long could she stand the pain? And what if she could not stand it anymore and they kept hurting her anyway? Could she make up things to get them to stop? Her heart was gripped with panic as she breathed faster and with shallow gasps of fear.
"Oh my God. Please. I really don’t know anything about Kenneth and any gold. He told me he was involved in some business deal in South Africa and that’s all he ever told me. You must believe that." She was now really terrified that her words were not going to be believed and she would be hurt badly by these men.
Stavros shot back. "Well, I don’t believe that. So we’ll have to try some persuasion. You see my assistants here are wearing these rubber outfits and masks. To frighten, to be sure. But also, since I have not yet chosen how I shall torture you, they have to be prepared for any of my many methods. Some are quite bloody, you know."
"Oh, God. Stop it! I’ve told you all I know!" She strained against the ropes to no effect. The bindings on her wrists and ankles held fast. She could slide her hips across the metal table slightly, but that offered no relief and only excited the men further, who stared at her shapely figure.
Stavros shouted in anger: "And I’ve told you that you lie!"
"No, I’m begging you. Please! It’s all a mistake!" Shrieked Deborah, becoming hysterical and squirming again in her bonds.
"Your only mistake is your lack of cooperation. What shall I do? Cut you? Burn you? How about electric shocks? I can think of quite horrible places to stick the electrodes in you."
"I’m telling you, pleading with you, to believe me when I tell you I don’t know." She knew this part of the conversation was about to end.
Her body was superbly curvaceous and the men stood silently for a moment gazing at her wonderful hips and her long, smooth legs. She continued to tug at her bindings, her lithe, bare limbs flexing against the tight grip of the ropes. For the first time she felt her wrists and ankles chafe from her struggling to get loose. She stopped.
"The viper," ordered Stavros.
The large man drew back the two-tailed strap let the full force of it hit Deborah right across the backs of her slim, naked thighs. The sudden "crack!" of the leather against her skin and the sting caused her to cry out in pain and surprise. She strained against her bonds.
"Deborah, will you now cooperate? You are a lovely woman. If you persist in your silence, I shall be forced to commit great ugliness on your beautiful body. Will you tell me about the gold?"
She began to sob. Tears filled her eyes, smearing her sexy makeup. "I told you everything. Please leave me alone and let me up." Her thighs were red and burning from the stroke of the viper.
"No, Deborah, I can’t do that just yet. I still think you are faking it. So if one lash does not persuade you, how about a hundred lashes?"
"Oh, no, please…please…" She was sobbing fully now and shaking her head from side to side. Her thick, long, shiny auburn hair was sprawled out on the table.
"I will have you whipped for hours, and bring you ever-greater pain. And you will then realize the pain will get worse and worse and worse without any interruption. And then at some point you will talk."
"You know that you are scaring the Hell out of me! Can’t you see that I just want this to end. I cannot stand pain! I’m not strong like you think I am."
"Oh, but young, comely women like you can be very strong. We shall see how close you come to the endurance record if you like."
"No, I don’t LIKE," spat Deborah. "Now let me GO!"
Stavros went on terrorizing her with his explanation. "A question, a lash, another question. Sound inviting? One steady, hideous, successive agony, lash by savage lash. I can whip you by infinitely greater degrees at any time I want. And start and stop and start and stop. And then you will cooperate."
Deborah’s eyes flashed widely as she realized what was in store for her. She thought of the Inquisition. She imagined what it was like for those poor young girls, innocent like her, but accused of witchcraft. Tied to a whipping post in a torture chamber, stripped or wearing only their dungeon rags, they endured terrible suffering or confessed to false crimes. The Inquisitor, like Stavros, behind a desk with the quill pen writing out the confession while the assistants did their awful work. How strong were these women? Was she worthy of them?
How much pain could they stand and did it matter? Why not just confess and be spared a hideous interrogation by being whipped? And, God forbid, how long did it take to die if they refused to stop torturing you? Did it really take hours? Hours? The thought made Deborah sick to her stomach. How could she put up with that kind of punishment for hours? But maybe if you were able to take enough of the pain, they would stop and leave you alone. Deborah vainly hoped that time would come before the whips did any real damage to her. Or maybe it was all just a game and they were acting out this elaborate ruse to fool her into confessing.
Another lash with the viper across the middle of her naked back jolted Deborah back to the world of Stavros and the table.
She whimpered and cried out.
"Oh don’t do it, please."
The strap fell again, this time across her buttocks. Again and again the vicious viper struck her back, shoulders and legs. Deborah cried out with each lash, but soon realized she was not going to be injured in any severe way. The strap caused her skin to redden and raise a few blood blisters, but did not cut or bruise her. After fifty lashes, she realized that her back and legs were going a bit numb and that she could take this kind of whipping without going insane with the pain or being cut and scarred.
Stavros also knew that he had come to the end of this phase without results, although he was still convinced that Deborah knew where the gold was hidden. Greedy little bitch, he thought. She actually thinks she can hold out against me!
Stavros motioned to stop her whipping. "All right, I know you are strong, Deborah. That is very admirable. But the next whip I use on you will very surely change your mind." He walked over to the cabinet and brought out a fierce-looking cat-o-nine tails. It was black, braided leather, with a stiff braided handle. The entire whip was over three feet long. Its thick braided lashes had small, weighted metal ends.
Stavros struck the table beside Deborah’s head with the new whip and it made a loud clang as metal hit metal. Deborah flinched and tried to shield her head under her arm. Stavros grabbed her hair, now wet with sweat, and lifted her head, brandishing the cat in front of her.
"Do I have to ask again about my gold with this little number, you bitch? Do you want to cry out in pain all night? Do you want your marvelous young body lashed and scarred? For what? For Kenneth? I’m sure if he were being whipped he’d sell you out in a minute!"
"What do you know, you bastard. All you know how to do is hurt people. For no reason. Now stop it!"
Stavros relished this moment. "This is a cat-o-nine tails, Deborah. It is the same design used in prisons for centuries. It has broken the will of the hardest prisoner in countless places around the world. It is a fearsome instrument. Look at it Deborah! Decide if you want feel its touch!"
"I keep telling you the truth, you bastards. I don’t want you to use that thing on me. But I can’t help you. What do you want me to do? Lie about it?"
Deborah began to sweat profusely. Her entire body began to glisten from the moisture of fear. She was getting very warm. Even though she knew the room had been cold, her anxiety made it hot, very hot. The steel beneath her body grew warm and wet with her perspiration. She tried to squirm and was able to slide a bit from side to side in her own sweat but the ropes felt tighter and tighter. Her wrists and ankles were now raw from the friction of the ropes. It was coming. The real pain.
"All right, lay it on her!"
And with that terrible command, Deborah heard a swish in the air as the cat landed directly between her shoulder blades. Nine angry stripes graced her soft back, raising nine hideous, long red welts.
A scream as her back caught fire with the pain! Unbelievable! Unbelievable how much it hurt!
The second lash ran across her kidneys and raised more raw welts as the metal tips grazed Deborah’s lower back and slapped against her ribs. The force and pain was so intense that it knocked the breath right from her, this time evoking only a low cry and wail as the lashes registered their nine points of agony. The force of the cat was all the more brutal since Deborah’s body was against the table and she could not see the lashes coming and try to squirm away.
Again and again the terrible flogger fell across her naked backside. The torturer worked his way from her shoulder blades down her back to her buttocks, and then down again to her thighs and calves. With each swish of the cat, Deborah cried out and tugged at the ropes. Trickles of blood began to run down her ribs onto the table.
She could not bear up under any more of this and began to cry hysterically even before the next lash fell. Stavros enjoyed the psychological terror as much as the real pain, and he took the whip for himself after Deborah had taken forty lashes. He walked around her, sometimes swinging the cat only to hit the table, and laughing when Deborah screamed in anticipated pain. Other times he walked behind her and teased her tender body with a light slap of the whip, only to listen to her cries of terror at the touch of the lashes on her raw back.
She tried to speak but was unable to concentrate on the lie she had tried to invent to get them to stop the torture. Before Stavros could resume another hard lashing, she fainted on the table.
Deborah awoke. As she opened her eyes, she slowly realized she was seated in a wooden chair. Her back and buttocks ached very badly where her skin touched the wood of the chair. She writhed a bit, and this caused her to realize she was again tied by the wrists and ankles. The room was silent and no one was there. A bright light from in front of her felt hot on the front of her body. She was naked, the last strips of her undergarments removed while she had been unconscious.
Deborah was at once relieved but terribly scared. They were leaving her to think about her predicament. What could she tell them? Make something up to stop the torture? But what? And if she lied and they checked it out, what other horrors would they inflict on her body? And she also knew nobody knew she was missing or where she was. So being rescued was out of the question.
While Deborah’s thoughts raced, alone and naked in the chair, Stavros thought about the next session with the unadorned, curvy Deborah. Stavros knew that fear was almost as effective as pain. He was an expert interrogator, especially when going to work on young, attractive women. He studied and used all the methods known throughout history, finally settling on whipping as among the most effective. He could cause the hapless victim severe agony, but all with while gaze on the lovely body in front of him. Screams and fear only aroused him further. There was sometimes blood but usually no big mess. What a pleasure it seemed to lash the tender flesh of his pretty victims. Even electric shocks, which sometimes left no marks, did not have the romance of the whip. This was a connoisseur’s torture device. Terrifying, unrelenting, capable of infinite variety, and excellently painful.
Stavros was secretly hoping Deborah was strong, so that he could enjoy every moment of her upcoming agony. She seemed muscular and athletic, but all the while, perfectly feminine in shape and size. And even if she wasn’t able to hold up against the pain, he might amuse himself this evening by whipping her good anyway, just to see her writhe and suffer. But still a radiant, exquisite woman displaying courage under torture was a challenge he did not want to miss.
Stavros was aroused as he remembered another torture session years ago. The woman was also a dark-haired beauty, the daughter of a hiding mobster Stavros was assigned to murder. She held up well knowing that her confession would doom her own father, but in the end, she too could only take so much punishment before breaking under the pain. Naked and alone, with no chance of rescue, he flogged her as his torturers also inflicted burns and electric shocks on her young, lithe body. In the end, she gave up the hiding place, as they all did once in Stavros’s hands.
After about an hour, still under the lights, Deborah was still wide-awake. Her back and shoulders ached badly as her thoughts raced about what she could say next to get out of this nightmare. Her legs were also feeling the pressure from her immobility. She could not move and her position was getting very uncomfortable. She started to sob again in resignation when she heard Stavros and the men returning.
"Well, was that enough time for you to realize that you have no choice but to cooperate? Look at you, naked, helpless, waiting for pain. Sorry, not enough pain, just yet. Get it over with, Deborah, NOW, or I promise you Hell will follow next. This is the Spanish Inquisition ten times worse."
Stavros admired the perfect feminine form in the chair. Her shoulders were broad and muscular, and her waist was very small, making the most of an hourglass figure. Deborah’s breasts were large and full, and she had large pink pert nipples.
Deborah was jolted to the reality of her predicament at the threatening words.
"Oh God! Don’t you think I’d tell you if I knew anything? Money is not worth this. I want to get out of here in one piece. I don’t care about any gold and I don’t even care at this point about Kenneth. You’re right, Stavros. If I could betray him I would."
She heaved a sigh and groaned a bit from the pain in her back. She hated herself for saying this but she was just so frightened.
"Too bad. I’m going to ask you again after we’ve had some more fun with you with the whips."
He held a stiff, black riding crop in his right hand.. He approached her tapping the flat piece of leather on the end against his other hand. She cowered away from him by trying to slouch down in the chair. Deborah’s breasts were perfect in size and shape. They were large and round, and sagged a bit from their wonderful size. The leather caused her to get aroused from its touch on her tender, large nipples. They became erect as Stavros caressed them with the whip.
"I can see you still are being foolish," said Stavros.
He approached her with the riding crop and began to gently stroke her nipples with the leather slapper at the end. Deborah cringed at the touch of the leather on her breasts. She kept her silence.
Stavros, enraged, shouted at her. "Well try this, you stupid bitch."
Stavros raised the crop and brought it down directly on her chest. The crop hit her squarely across her quivering breasts and the square leather tip cracked against her left nipple.
"Ooowww, not my breasts! No! Please!!" Deborah was crying in pain and shaking her head from side to side. "Stop it!"
"Then start talking!" Stavros was growing impatient. He lashed her again and again across her breasts, upper arms, and shoulders.
"Aahhh!" The screams came almost continuously now--long, loud, and frightening to think of the pain the young woman was enduring. Deborah’s chest heaved upward but her breathing was becoming difficult. She was drenched with sweat, dripping now down her shapely body. Livid red lines crisscrossed her heaving, wet, luscious chest.
"My whips do not believe in mercy, Deborah. They will keep on hurting you until the skin is stripped off of you. Is that what you want?" The crop landed again severely on her right nipple.
Another blood-curdling scream. Deborah was in too much excruciating pain to say anything and Stavros knew he should stop it for a moment before she fainted again. He had seen this stage many times before. He stopped with the crop.
Deborah gasped for breath. "I’ll tell you anything. For God’s sake don’t hurt me anymore. I can’t stand it. Stop it! Stop the pain!"
"Good, now we’re getting somewhere. The gold? Or so I have to remind you again?" He slapped the crop against her tender shoulder.
Deborah flinched and kept murmuring desperately, "I don’t know…I don’t know…" until she passed out from the stress. Her head slumped back in the chair. Motioning one of the assistants to action, Stavros waved a command. The man pulled on a chain near the wall and suddenly a high-pressure gush of ice-cold water shot from a large showerhead in the ceiling directly onto Deborah. She jolted to consciousness, the sudden jerk awake sending a searing ache through her sore body. She coughed and choked from the water splashing into her mouth.
"Nice way to wake up, wouldn’t you say, Deborah? Now where were we? Oh, yes, let’s try again. This time you will really regret your lack of cooperation. I want you to feel the increasing agony as you are torn to pieces." He brought out a stout, braided whip, about three feet long. Deborah groaned at the sight of the hideous instrument and turned her head away.
"Don’t think for a minute that if you don’t see it, it won’t hurt you. Don’t be foolish. This is a sjambok. It is made from the toughest Rhino hide. Braided around a flexible steel wire core. It was used in South Africa to extract information from prisoners. Sometimes even the mention of the name was enough to frighten people into confessing. Well…" Stavros fingered the tapered end with anticipation.
"Just stop it please….I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know…I can’t stand any more of this…I am not a heroine and I’m not strong…you must believe me…"
With those words Stavros brought the Sjambok down on Deborah’s left shoulder. The whip made a searing cut across her collarbone and her scream was so intense she became hoarse and could barely eke out another word.
Another lash caught her across her stomach and immediately drew blood. As each lash fell, the pain was so intense she screamed again and again. She was becoming very weak and the full force of her suffering was overtaking her ability to remain awake and coherent. Stavros knew this was the beginning of shock and extreme stress, so he stopped this horrible whipping before attacking her breasts and had his assistant blast her with the ice water again. Deborah’s wrists and ankles were now completely raw as she struggled against the ropes that gnawed deeply into her tender skin.
The whipping then continued to get worse and worse for the unfortunate beauty as the savage sjambok took aim at her breasts. The pain was agonizing beyond anything imaginable. Deborah was losing her mind completely. She thought only of the savage whip tearing her chest to pieces. The horrific agony of what was happening made her lose all connection with the questions Stavros continued to shout at her. She had been lashed over thirty times! Stavros dropped the whip.
Whimpering and sobbing, Deborah could only say the words "No more…" over and over as the life began to ebb from her body. Pain and stress began to take its toll. Even the water shocks did not revive her fully to stand more of the punishment Stavros wanted to give her.
Stavros motioned to an assistant who knew exactly what to do next. A needle shot into Deborah’s arm. Her body was so inflamed with pain she did not even notice.
"I’ll give the stimulant a few moments and then we’ll start again." At this point, Stavros knew that even a slight slap with his crop on her open wounds would bring superb new heights of agony to her body.
Deborah regained consciousness and realized quickly she was not in a nightmare. She gasped at the reality of the pain in her chest, arms, and shoulders,. She would say or do anything to make it stop.
"I….I’ll tell you."
"Now we’re getting somewhere at long last. Had enough?" Stavros laughed.
"Kenneth has the gold with him. You’ll never catch him. He’s gone to Mexico."
Stavros shouted, "Don’t give me that, you lying slut! We traced him to a flight to London and you know it!"
"Oh for God’s sake, what do I know about London? He told me nothing about going to London." Deborah was desperate, her hoarse voice begging for mercy.
"Then how do you know he has the gold, anyway?" Stavros was curious. Is she finally telling me the truth?
"I would take it with me… if I knew… you… were after me," Deborah was barely able to get the words out. Her breathing was impaired by the agony in her chest and the full effect of the pain was returning as the stimulant did its work.
"Perhaps. But there is more I’m sure." Stavros raised the crop slowly to be sure Deborah saw what he was doing. Her shriek came out even before the whip landed on her raw shoulder again.
"Oh… my… God, I… can’t… stand… it… anymore." The crop continued to wrack her wet body, shining in the bright light. She began to choke between gasps and hoarse, weak cries of renewed levels of pain. Spasms began to shake through her like Deborah was a rubber band. Her wounds were now swelling and reddening. Stavros knew she had surpassed anyone who came before her by a a comfortable margin. Mercifully, she fainted again. The assistant reached to douse her with the water jet but Stavros motioned him to stop.
He turned to his assistants. "No woman has ever taken that much pain. She knows nothing. We have wasted time."
One of his assistants shook his head. "But it sure was great, boss. What a looker. Can we have her for the rest of the night after she comes to?"
Stavros shrugged and handed over a large bullwhip. He motioned to a set of rings high in the ceiling and a chain on a pulley. "Have fun boys. Good night."