Bring Out the GIMP (Girls in Merciless Peril)


By Esso

Suzanne works as an entertainer at the Kit Kat club in Cairo in 1957. She meets and falls in love with Gary Larkin. Larkin is an ex-GI looking for a Nazi war criminal.


She remembered Gary Larkin’s words as she’d lain beside him in the big bed at the Hotel Nasser. “Eisele’s here. He’s working for the State Security Service. I’m sure of it. He has changed his name, but once I see him, I’ll recognize him.”

Suzanne’s eager arms had slid around the American’s neck. She had pressed her body close to him, trying to smother the vengeance that was so much a part of him.

“Why, cheri?” she had asked. “The war was a long time ago. All of us have suffered. It is time to forget.”

“Forget?” Gary Larkin had snorted. “Forget what he did to Karen? Forget he kept me chained to a wall like a beast and made me watch while he slowly tortured her to death? Forget that he offered me a choice – either I delivered a full division to the Nazis by betraying them, or I would live the rest of my life knowing I had caused Karen’s mutilation and death. There are some things you cannot forget.”

A strangled sob broke from Larkin’s lips. “I killed her. One word from me and the flaying knives would have stopped. One word from me and the soldering iron would have been unplugged. It took hours. I can still hear her screams begging me to make it stop.” Suzanne had fallen silent. She knew she was fighting the ghost of a woman who had suffered martyrdom for Larkin. The odds were too much for Suzanne. She knew she could bring this suffering man temporary physical release, but she could never hope to blot out the disease that ran through his brain, not so long as Kurt Eisele remained constantly on his brain.

She’d cuddled Larkin’s head, drawing it to her soft breasts, hoping to ease his pain, if only for a moment. Finally he had slept beside her, even though his sleep was broken by the feverish moans of his nightmares.


The next night she is approached by a German at the club. Through the slip of a colleague’s tongue she learns it is Eisele. He buys her a drink. She decides to play along with his advances to get information for Larkin. Unfortunately…


Eisele gripped Suzanne’s thigh slightly above the knee. He increased the pressure until she was aware of intense pain shooting down the soft flesh of her calf.

The German’s manner had changed. From far off she heard his voice. “You have been drugged, Fraulein. You have no way of resisting. You will now walk out of here with us. Is that understood?”

Feebly Suzanne shook her head no. She felt herself being lifted from the bar stool. Eisele’s sinewy arm encircled her waist, crushing her to him. Swiftly he hustled her past the crowded tables.

Suzanne wanted to scream out, to shout a warning that she was being abducted. Her lips worked frantically but no sound issued from her mouth.

Outside the Kit Kat Club a sleek Mercedes Benz stood at the curb, its curtains drawn. Suzanne felt herself being propelled toward the vehicle. From inside rough hands reached out, drawing her into the soft cushions. She half sat, half lay across the back seat, hearing the key click in the ignition and the engine purr into life.

“Quick,” Eisele ordered, the drug will wear off soon.”

“Ja, Mein Herr,” a voice from above Suzanne answered. Unseen hands reached for her, twisting her arms behind her back. She sensed the cold steel of manacles surrounding her wrists. With all of her strength she lashed out at her tormentors, her shapely legs flailing desperately.

A great pressure was applied to the small of her back. Her ankles were seized and forced upwards until they touched her fettered wrists. A thin cord was twisted around them, attaching them to the handcuffs. Now she lay completely helpless, her body straining against the agony of being tightly hogtied, her limbs bending her lithe form into a tight arc.

Her head was pressed into the cushion until she was sure she would suffocate. Then she felt her head being dragged backward and she had one second to gasp desperately for air before another rope was passed around her throat and bound to her hands and feet. With unbelievable cruelty a dirty cloth was shoved behind her teeth and tied into place. The large sedan pulled away leaving only Suzanne’s shoes in the gutter as the only evidence she had ever been there.

Pain throbbed through her every nerve fiber as the Mercedes slithered through the winding streets and out into the desert. Her unforgiving bondage was in itself horrible torment. She had to strain her neck back to keep from choking on the cord around her neck. The coldness of the desert air brought new discomfort as it penetrated Suzanne’s thin clothing as though she wore nothing, and she knew that when they reached their destination she would be stripped naked for real. She heard Ibn Ben Ahmed’s voice whining over the engine’s smooth rhythm.

“It will be hard to replace this one, Herr Eisele.”

“You are being well paid. Remember you are getting more than just money. We will even allow you to partake of certain pleasures, my friend,” Eisele answered from the front seat.

Suzanne thrashed in her bonds. She would be hard to replace; they talked about her as though she were already dead. And with a horrible certainty Suzanne knew the “certain pleasures” contemplated by her captors was more than forced sex. She was going to be tortured.

“Don’t forget, it was you who told us about the schatzi’s affair with the Amerikaner. I must know about him. Only she can tell us.”

“It might prove to be nothing,” Ibn Ben Ahmed speculated, “Suppose it is nothing?”

“She knows something of importance,” Eisele countered, “I will prove that when we get to Abu Zaabal. Our methods are quite thorough there. We have even improved on Prinz Albrechtstrasse, my friend.”

Numb terror gripped Suzanne. She had heard of Abu Zaabal. But it had all seemed like so many fairy tales. The concentration camps had ended with Hitler. Those who hated Nasser had dredged them up as propaganda weapons. Or so she had believed up until this moment. And now, brutally bound and utterly helpless, she was on her way to that whispered nightmare.

“In fact I hope she does resist our methods. It is so much more fun to tear the secrets from an unwilling subject, especially one so beautiful.”

Suzanne screamed into her gag and, despite the pain it caused her, threw herself anew into her struggles against her bondage.

“Wait, I think she is trying to tell us something,” Eisele giggled. He leaned back over the seat and tested the ropes that tortured his prisoner, each tug adding to her pain. He patted her on the cheek. His hand came away wet with her tears. He smiled and cooed at her, “Have patience my dear. Soon we will be at Abu Zaabal and I will remove that gag so I can understand every word you have to say…after you have stopped screaming.” Unable to move or speak, Suzanne could do nothing more than stare into the cold gray eyes and moan.

The ride seemed interminable. In reality it lasted less than two hours. But Suzanne’s cramped position caused intense suffering. Her blood coagulated above her manacled wrists. She could no longer feel her bare feet. The tendons of her legs and arms were horribly stretched by her bondage. The evil tasting rag which gagged her worked its was deep into her throat threatening to suffocate her. And the heavy rope around her neck chafed her delicate skin. It was hard to believe that any torture the German could inflict on her could be worse than this pitiless bondage. But she knew it would be.

Despite her agony Suzanne swore to herself that she would not betray Gary Larkin. The American, for all his bitterness, had been gentle with her in a way she had dreamed of but never hoped to find. And for this alone she would repay him with her life, if necessary.

At last the limousine rolled to a stop. The back door was pulled open and Suzanne was unceremoniously dragged out of the car. A two foot long iron pipe was slipped under the junction of her fettered wrists and ankles and, with a man to each side, she was lifted and carried toward a huge tent. She screamed into her gag. The terrible pain in her taut limbs was doubled now that her weight was totally suspended from them. She groaned through her gag. In disbelief she saw men dressed in Nazi field uniforms strutting back and forth, their heads misshapen under steel helmets. It was only slightly less believable than that she was hog-tied and hanging from a pipe, swinging helplessly from side to side as she was carried to an Arab tent for her torture.

Arabs wearing burnooses moved among the Nazis, their eyes glittering in the torch light as they regarded the helplessness of the lovely victim that Eisele and Ibn Ben Ahmed were dragging into the tent. One said to Eisele, laughing, “I hope you will remove her gag so we will be able to enjoy her screaming and begging.”

“Achtung!” a man in a Nazi tunic shouted. Arms shot up in the old Nazi salute. “Seig Heil!” the man cried as Eisele moved past him.

Suzanne felt she had gone insane. This was Egypt, 1957. Yet here the German Army moved as if there had been no Alemien, no Field Marshal Montgomery, no unconditional surrender.

They dropped her on her belly onto a roughhewn table. Before she could recover her breath they had unfastened her handcuffs and cut the cords which bound her. But the freedom was short lived. Eisele gave an order and then departed with Ibn Ben Ahmed.

Suzanne saw that she had been left with a German and an Arab whose burnoose was filthy with reddish brown stains. The man rolled her over onto her back on the table. His dirty hands ran over her supine body, squeezing and pinching.

Then they caught in the bodice of her dress, ripping downward as the German held her prone. The cold air of the desert bathed her bared skin. The German’s eyes bugged out at the sight of his captive, now covered only in shimmering pink bra and panties.

Suzanne struggled with all her might against his grip but the man was preternaturally strong. He held her throat with one hand as he fastened a length of rope around her neck. Her wrists were then securely cuffed to the sides of the table and thick leather straps secured her thighs and ankles to the board. Finally rope was run between her back and her arms and tied to the table, pinning her helplessly to the splintery wood. Only then was her gag removed.

But the ultimate horror still remained. As she watched with horrified fascination, Suzanne saw the Arab open a small wooden box.

An obscene slithering noise came from inside the box. Gingerly the Arab poked around. Suzanne couldn’t still the shriek of horror which bubbled from her lips at the sight of the monster arachnid.

It was of the spider family, but larger than any she had ever seen, or even imagined. It was at least eight inches long from leg to leg, and the legs were thick and hairy. The Arab who handled the hideous looking thing wore heavy gloves which frustrated the spider’s wild attempts to sink its mandibles into his hand.

Swiftly he attached the spider to a thin cord and suspended it a scant six inches above Suzanne’s quivering breasts. The spider swung back and forth in a small arc, the legs clawing the air wildly, the vicious head swollen with poison.

Without a word the Arab lowered the string so that the spider’s hairy legs just grazed Suzanne’s straining breasts. With a pitiful cry of fear she flattened herself to the torture table and tried to control the heaving of her breasts to keep them away from the clutching legs. The Arab lowered the spider another measure so again the long legs brushed against the soft skin of her breasts.

She heard the steps of the German and the Arab retreating from the tent. The wriggling spider swung slightly in the murmur of a draft that circulated in the tent, and at the bottom of each arc the grasping legs scratched across her flesh, bringing a diabolical sensation of horror. Suzanne had been bound in such a way that her eyes focused directly on the loathsome thing. Alone as she was in the tent all other sights and sounds were blotted out of her mind. She could concentrate only on the frayed cord which swung above her with its fearful burden. She didn’t even hear her own terrified mewling.

Half mad with terror she remained in the tent by herself for two hours awaiting the final clutch of the legs, the final caress of the poison laden jaws. Two or three times a breeze had caught the spider and swung it more violently toward her face and Suzanne had screamed insanely.

But Eisele had no intention of allowing Suzanne such a “merciful” death. She became aware of his presence standing over her, describing her agonized sensations to Ibn Ben Ahmed, gloating at her abject helplessness.

“Look at her Ben Ahmed. What could be more enjoyable than to watch a half-naked beauty in terror and pain, strapped down and helpless and at our mercy? I can’t wait to play with her and teach her what real pain is like, to teach her to obey.”

At a signal from Eisele, the spider was returned to its box. The Nazi’s evil face replaced the hairy enormous creature in Suzanne’s line of vision, but the visage of the demented man looming over her inches away from her eyes was even more frightening. What he said was true, she was helpless and at his mercy, and mercy was something she was sure was not in his vocabulary.

“And now Fraulein, you are prepared to tell me everything you know about the Amerikaner?”

“What Americain Monsieur?” Suzanne managed to stammer.

“Do you take me for a fool, Fraulein? The man whose bed you shared at the Hotel Nasser. The man who has been making discreet inquiries throughout Cairo and Meadi concerning Col. Eisele. Do not be impudent with me, Fraulein. Do not insult my intelligence. I assure you the night is quite young. Stronger people than you have capitulated before me.”

Suzanne’s mind worked feverishly. It would be so easy to tell the little she knew. However, Eisele would accuse her of holding back information. She had but to look at the Nazi to understand that no amount of information would suffice to end the tortures he had planned for her. In defiling her body, the madman was reliving the days of his glory. The spittle oozed down his chin as his hands began to explore the tenderness of her bound body. This man would never be satisfied with less than the ultimate in her pain and degradation.

Besides, a stubborn voice within her ordered Suzanne to resist. One could not deal with logic where emotions were involved and Gary Larkin had awakened emotions she had never felt before. Again she swore she would die before she betrayed him and willed herself to ignore the hands that stroked her breast and crept down her belly.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Monsieur,” she panted.

“As you will, Fraulein,” Eisele answered. He fondled her bra, watching the intake of her breath. Then savagely he ripped the covering from her breasts.

Ibn Ben Ahmed had completely forgotten the economic loss of an entertainer. He sprang to Eisele’s side, clawing at Suzanne’s panties until they lay in pathetic strips across her exposed flanks.

The two men leered down at their terrified captive writhing and moaning naked and helpless in her bonds. Ibn Ben Ahmed reached for the flaming torch which had been placed in a holder.

The sweat on Suzanne’s nude body shone in the torchlight as the flame approached. She lay watching the sparks leap from the fire, waiting for the blistering touch, unable to move a muscle to evade the coming torture.

The table groaned and the ropes which held her creaked as the flame licked at the bare sole of her bound foot. The straps bit into her thighs, cutting into the corded muscles of her legs as she fought them to be free. The flame grew hotter, blackening and scorching her skin.

Finally she could stand no more. Scream after scream was wrenched from her lovely throat. She clawed at the table until her fingernails splintered and broke. Her lovely limbs convulsed in a motionless dance of the damned. Her back arched and her lungs ached with the force of her shrieking.

At last the torch was removed.

“What have you to tell me, Fraulein?” Eisele hissed.

Weakly Suzanne shook her head.

“The other foot, Ben Ahmed,” Eisele ordered.

“Oh God. Oh God help me.” Suzanne moaned.Once again agony flooded through her. The tent danced crazily. She tried to beat her head against the table, but the ropes around her neck held her fast and didn’t even allow her that small luxury. From far off, just before she fainted she heard Eisele’s, voice, “This is just the beginning, Fraulein, just the beginning.”

They revived her with a bucket of cold water. “Talk you little fool. How long do you think you can bear this?”

Suzanne did not know. She just prayed she would die before she broke under the relentless pain.

Ben Ahmed was holding the torch a foot above her body. She felt the heat on her belly, felt it grow more intense as he slowly moved it lower. She screamed, “NO! OH MY GOD NO!” As if in answer to her plea the torch was lifted, but then moved up so flame licked at the underside of her breast. Her shriek was inhuman. Ben Ahmed kept the flame moving from breast to breast so no serious damage was done but the pain remained unbearable. She was begging him now, screaming “STOP! STOP! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP!”

Eisele lowered his mouth to her ear and clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming. “Talk, Fraulein, talk. He can keep this up for hours; moving the flame up and down your naked body.”


“Continue Ben Ahmed.” The torch moved down her rib cage, over her stomach and down the slope of her belly. He moved the flame oh so slowly, periodically lifting it for a moment before bringing it down to within an inch of her flesh, tearing scream after desperate scream from the tortured beauty.

It was at her mons, almost touching the poor girl’s pubis, making slow tight circles, igniting the shreds of what remained of her panties, the silk sparkling for but a moment on her naked hips. Then the soft blonde down between her legs began to smolder and then burn.


The staccato bark of a submachine gun broke through the night. There were other sounds which didn’t quite reach the agony racked girl.


Gary Larkin bursts in to rescue our tormented heroine, kill the bad guys and get his revenge on Eisele. He and Suzanne live happily ever after.

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