Chapter 1 – Hospital Visitors

Cara gently dabbed the cotton wool ball onto the man's arm where she had just administered the latest of a long series of painkilling injections. She smiled sweetly at the patient lying quietly on the bed, but she knew that he would never see her pretty face. Bandages swathed the young man, covering his head and blindfolding him. He was one of many severely injured patients lined up on beds in the hospital, victims of the terrorism that was turning almost to civil war in the little oriental state where she now found herself.

The pretty, young nurse continued her evening rounds, consulting the instructions on the clipboard at the end of each bed before using a syringe or offering tablets to her patients. She chatted incessantly to any that could hear her, mixing her cheery English greetings with the few local words she had picked up over the past three months. Some of her regulars spoke back to her, “Hello, love. How you today?” they would ask her in their best western accent. “That's very good. You're learning English well. I'm very well today, thank you,” she would reply with a wide smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

Cara stopped to re-dress the wounds of a young boy who was suffering from hideous burns. He was just fifteen years old, but had been caught in a petrol bomb attack. His stomach and pelvic area had been horribly burnt, and Cara had to gently peel off the old gauze bandages, clean his wounds and apply fresh dressings. She smiled as the boy trembled in pain in spite of Cara's tender ministrations. “Sorry. I'll try to be as careful as I can,” she said plaintively. The boy just mumbled incoherently as the nurse continued her work, his mind numbed by the morphine that was constantly pumping into his blood stream.

Cara wrinkled her pretty nose at the smell of the boy's burnt genitals. She was used to dealing with horrific injuries, but she still felt a tear form in her eye as she saw his mutilated penis and charred testicles. Even if he survived his injuries, this poor boy would never enjoy the thrill of sexual pleasure. Cara felt sad about that, as she gently wiped disinfectant on the burnt skin and applied a new dressing to his awful wound.

Cara returned to the nurses” rest room to wash her hands. She looked in the mirror and examined herself. Her Red Cross uniform fitted her petite body snugly. Her long, dark hair was carefully pinned and constrained in her regulation nurse's cap with its bold red cross on the front to identify her as a volunteer and impartial aid worker. Her blouse was buttoned to near the top of her chest, and her smock pulled tight across her boobs. It too, sported a large red cross. She noted the large damp sweat marks under each armpit; quite the norm in the humidity of an oriental day. With a dainty finger she gently pulled down her bottom eyelids. “I look tired,” she thought to herself. “No surprise there, I've been working for fifteen hours non-stop. Still, my shift will be over in another hour, and then I can catch up on my beauty sleep.” Tired she may have been, but Cara needed no beauty sleep. Her pretty features, cute freckles and slim body, coupled with her seemingly limitless energy and vitality, made her a most attractive young woman, and she knew it. She smiled to herself in the mirror as she thought of what else she could do in her bed before she fell asleep. Her body tingled a little in anticipation before she turned and headed back to her ward.

Cara sat at her desk and watched over her ward. All was quiet, as her patients tried to sleep, to fight their pain, or to dispel the awful memories of the acts of terror that had caused their injuries – often acts that had claimed the lives of friends or family members that had been with them at the time; acts of horrific brutality that were full of vivid and shocking memories for the ward's inhabitants. Cara had learnt about the psychological needs of such traumatised patients at medical school. She knew how important it was for her to be cheerful and friendly, but caring and empathetic in her demeanour. She had volunteered to come to this hospital, in a terribly dangerous country, because she thought she could help these poor, innocent victims of a brutal power struggle. She had signed up for six months duty and was half way through it, though already she wondered how she could ever leave and turn her back on her charges, many of whom had been her patients from the day she had arrived, and would surely still be here in another three months, if they were still alive.

Cara scratched her chin. She had thought through this same issue almost every day for the past month, and she still had no answer to it. Her life here was totally dominated by her work. She lived in the hospital grounds, and rarely ventured out. Her Chinese boyfriend, Lee, who shared her dreams and had encouraged her to sign up, was a surgeon here, so their pillow talk tended to drift into work topics. Her only links with the outside world, and her family and friends back in England was through very infrequent letters and postcards. She thought of the antics of her nursing school friends, who, like her, were in their mid-twenties. Unlike her, they were probably enjoying occasional wild nights out, making and breaking off exciting relationships, or planning weddings and starting families. Sometimes she envied them their “normal” western civilised lives. Only when one of her patients left her ward, having been nursed back to health, did Cara really know she was doing what she wanted to do. And that had happened only twice in three months!

A loud moan from one of the beds disturbed Cara's pondering. She walked over to the source and bent down over the bed. “What's up, love?” she asked softly. The man was sobbing, tears streaming down his callow cheeks. He didn't reply. Cara put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. The man gripped her hand tightly, but continued to sob for many minutes while Cara comforted him. Eventually the sobbing reduced as Cara's patient drifted into an uneasy sleep. Cara remained with her patient for a while longer; until she was sure he was fast asleep. Then she quietly slipped back to her desk.

Cara yawned. This had indeed been a long day, and maybe sleep would be a better idea than what she had thought about earlier. Her eyes closed for a moment, and then the door to the ward suddenly crashed open, and Cara sprang up startled. Five uniformed men walked briskly into the ward, followed by one of the hospital sisters, struggling to keep up. At the front was a short man with a peaked cap bearing the insignia of the rebel army, a black pentagram with red in-fill, and bright red epaulettes on his uniform; an officer presumably. Behind him were four soldiers armed with rifles. As Cara moved from behind her desk, the officer approached her and stood facing her, flanked by his escort. He spat out a string of words which Cara had no chance of comprehending. She stared back at him, puzzled. The sister rushed up and stood next to Cara, and gripped her arm.

“Cara, this man is the local military commander. He wishes to ask you some questions,” she explained in a serious tone. Cara felt very uneasy; her ward was now buzzing with disturbed patients, and some were already screaming in fear at the sight of these five uniformed men invading their sanctuary. The officer shouted out an order and his four men started searching the ward, obviously seeking out something or somebody. Cara moved as if to try and protest, or even stop the search, but the sister gripped her arm firmly in an obvious gesture for her to stay calm.

The ward was in uproar as the soldiers moved from bed to bed, checking out each occupant, and even looking to make sure nobody was hiding under the covers or beneath the beds. After a few minutes they returned to report to the officer.

The officer spat out more words in Cara's direction. The sister then translated. “Cara, the officer says that an American CIA agent has been active in the town. He says that the man was wounded in a gunfight today and he thinks you have helped him and are hiding him.”

“No,” said Cara in astonishment, shaking her head. “I don't know anything about a man.”

Before she could continue, the officer had nodded to two of his soldiers who moved forward and roughly grabbed Cara's arms, shoving the sister away and pulling the frightened nurse a little closer to him. Without warning the officer slapped Cara hard across her face with the flat of his right hand, causing a loud smack to ring out around the ward. Before she could react, he hit her twice more with the same hand on her left cheek.

Cara was startled more than injured. Her cheek smarted and she fought back a sob. The sister said something in protest to the officer, who replied with another stream of words that were incomprehensible to Cara.

Agitated now, the sister said to Cara, “He does not believe you. He says you are hiding the American spy and must tell him where.”

Cara shook her head again as the soldiers tightened their grip on her arms. His time the officer used his left hand to slap Cara's right cheek – three times in quick succession and just as hard as the last time. The smacks rang out again, and Cara's patients stirred and some started to protest as they witnessed the violent treatment of their lovely, caring, young nurse.

Cara struggled against the grip of the soldiers, but to no avail. Her face was burning on both cheeks now and she could feel tears in her eyes. She had never been hit before, and found this assault both shocking and frightening. She shook her head again and shouted, “No. I've never seen this man. No. I don't know where he is!”

The officer barked a short order to one of the soldiers, and he quickly moved towards Cara and raised the butt of his rifle. Cara started to scream, but her screech was cut short as the soldier thrust his rifle butt viciously hard into her stomach, just on her belly button. The startled nurse doubled up in pain, pulling her knees upward and bending at the waist as far as she could in the grasp of the soldiers. She gasped for breath, totally winded by the force of the blow, snot dripping from her nose and saliva from her open mouth as she fought to get air into her burning lungs.

The officer stood impassively watching the gasping nurse as she slowly recovered from the winding blow. He snarled another question at her. The sister explained to Cara that the officer still did not believe her.

Eventually Cara stood upright again and she straightened her back to look the officer direct in the face, her green eyes now burning with hatred and defiance. She took a last deep breath and blurted, “I've told you, I don't know anything about any American CIA agent.”

The officer nodded again to his soldier and this time Cara got her scream out just before his rifle butt again knocked the wind from her and had her spluttering and gasping for air. Again the officer waited for the nurse to recover, but this time she just shook her head when he asked her again to reveal the whereabouts of the CIA agent. For the third time the soldier attacked the pretty, English nurse with his rifle butt, and this time the other soldiers released the girl and let her fall to the floor in front of their officer.

The officer spat out more questions as Cara squirmed about on the floor, clasping her hands to her bruised belly. The sister pleaded for her nurse, imploring the officer to believe her and leave the hospital in peace. The officer was unmoved and ordered his men to kick the prostrate girl, causing her to squeal again in pain, as steel-capped boots bruised her back and her legs until she was able to escape and scramble back to her feet.

Once more in the firm grip of the soldiers, but now crying and shaking in fear, Cara found herself facing the officer again. He asked his question for one last time, and Cara shook her head. Seconds later, Cara felt her wrists being tightly tied together behind her back, and she was marched out of the ward, with the sister running along behind, pleading with the officer, but to no avail.

Cara was escorted out of the hospital by the back door, where more soldiers waited. They saluted smartly to the officer and opened the door of an army truck for the soldiers to pull the captive nurse inside. Once in the dark window-less truck, Cara was thrown roughly onto the floor and the four soldiers sat on benches around her. She heard the engine revving and the truck started moving, taking its captive nurse to a secret destination.

Chapter 2 – In the Officer's Chair

As Cara lay on her stomach on the floor of the truck, she felt every hole and bump in the rough road as the truck was driven along. As her eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, she could just make out the boots of the soldiers near her head. She wondered if these were the same boots that had been kicking her helpless body just a few minutes earlier. She felt the pain of the bruises on her body from the kicking, and grimaced. Then she thought of what that aggressive, spiteful officer would do to her in the privacy of the military offices to persuade her to give him the information he was seeking. She knew nothing of any American CIA agent, but how could she make her brutal captor believe her? She hoped the sister at the hospital would tell her boyfriend what had happened. He could get help from the Red Cross and the British Embassy to get her released. Cara hoped he would do that quickly.

She groaned as the truck thumped over a deep hole in the road, the hard suspension causing a violent jolt on the floor of the truck. Her hands were now numb, so tightly were her wrists bound behind her. Her stomach was sore from her beating, and her face still smarted; she could feel a little swelling on her cheekbones and a little blood in her mouth where her teeth had cut her. As she contemplated her injuries, Cara realised that the truck had now stopped and the door was opening, letting in some late evening light. She soon found herself hauled to her feet and dragged out of the truck, along a short path towards a wooden hut. She had no time to take in her surroundings, as she was hurried inside where the officer from earlier was already waiting for her.

Cara was manhandled until she stood just a yard in front of the short officer. To his left stood another man dressed in civilian clothes. The officer snarled some words at Cara, and the civilian immediately translated for the girl. “You are English nurse, ally of the Americans. We believe you have helped an American spy to escape from us and have hidden him. You must tell us where the American is, or we will treat you as a spy also.”

Cara took a few deep breaths as she took in what had been said. After a few seconds she responded. “I am a British citizen. I am a volunteer nurse for the Red Cross. I have no political or military allegiance. I have no knowledge of any American agents, and I demand that you release me immediately. My colleagues will by now have reported your actions to the British Embassy, who will verify my identity and insist on my release. If you don't let me go now, you'll be in big trouble.”

Cara breathed hard as she waited for the translator to finish. She was aware of how breathless she still was, and of how much she was sweating, not just from the humidity in this wooden hut, but from her stress and fear.

As Cara waited for the officer to respond, she could see him grow angrier with every word the translator spoke. Her fear increased as his rage showed more in his face. Suddenly he struck out at her again, punching her this time in the face with a vicious right hook. Cara fell to the floor, crying now. She was raised to her feet and held up by two soldiers as the officer hit her again and again, in the face and then further blows to her stomach and ribs. Cara felt blood trickle from both nostrils and more on her bruised lips. Once more she fought to catch her breath as he continued punching her, and soon her legs gave way completely and she had to be held up by her captors.

All the while, the officer screamed at her, though she understood not a word. Finally he stopped his brutal assault and the translator explained. “You are lying. Tell us the whereabouts of the American agent now, or we will interrogate you more forcefully.”

Cara swallowed hard and blinked away the tears in her eyes. “I don't know,” she gasped.

More soldiers brought forward a large wooden chair and sat the young nurse on it. They cut the bonds holding her wrists and Cara rubbed her hands together to revive her circulation. She also examined the raw and bleeding wounds on her wrists and gingerly touched her sore face where she had been beaten. She was relieved to find no fresh blood on her bruised cheeks.

“Take off your clothes.”

The order from the translator shocked Cara. She looked up at the man.

“Take off your clothes,” he repeated more firmly. “Or the soldiers will do it for you.”

“I'm a British citizen. You can't do this to me,” she protested.

The officer then strode up to her and raised his right fist and made to punch her again. Cara cowered and put her arms up to protect her face. “Alright, alright,” she pleaded, and she quickly pulled off her nurse's cap and removed the hairpins that held her long, luscious locks in place. She shook her head, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulders and held her cap out for a soldier to take. Slowly Cara removed her black shoes and white ankle socks. All the while the officer, translator and about eight or ten soldiers watched her every move with growing anticipation.

As her mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, Cara's fingers worked in slow motion as she started to unfasten her smock. At last a soldier took it from her and placed it on a desk nearby with her shoes, socks and cap. She paused, but the officer growled menacingly at her and Cara started to unbutton her long blouse, being careful not to show much of her pale skin as she did so. All too soon she undid the last button, and she sobbed as she slowly pulled the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her slim, firm body now clad in only white panties and bra.

Cara looked down at her feet, and noticed the red marks and brownish bruises on her flat stomach. She also realised just how sweaty she was after nearly sixteen hours of hot, hard work and the stress of her arrest and beating. As the officer snarled again, Cara timidly reached behind her back to undo her bra. She gulped as she finally removed it and handed it to a waiting, ogling soldier. Immediately she pushed her thumbs into the elastic of her panties and very quickly she pulled them down over her thighs and stepped smartly out of them. Finally, the pretty, English nurse was completely naked in front of almost a dozen strange, leering men. She covered her tits and mound with her hands and sat quietly in the wooden chair, sobbing with her head down, her chin resting on her freckled chest.

For a few seconds all was quiet in the hut, as the men regarded their naked captive. They admired her long, wavy, dark hair, her slim body with its perky breasts, narrow waist, round buttocks, curved hips and shapely legs. Her skin was pale and clear, sheened in sweat and liberally sprinkled with brown freckles. She was quite a contrast from the local women, but certainly an alluring sight.

The officer shouted an order and two soldiers grabbed the girl's arms and twisted them behind her back. Others brought a long length of thick, coarse rope and started to tie her to the wooden structure. Using a complex series of knots the soldiers wrapped the rope tightly around Cara's arms and torso. She noticed that the shape of the chair forced her to arch her back quite painfully. Ropes tied tight around her upper arms behind the chair forced her shoulders back, thus adding to her discomfort and thrusting her pert breasts out in front of her. The rope passed across her chest just above and below her breasts, and then crossed her chest diagonally with a knot made between her boobs. Cara could do nothing but sit and watch and groan occasionally as the soldiers bound her expertly in position. She was in discomfort rather than pain, but the way her breasts were being displayed promised her more torment to come.

With her upper body firmly tied down, a new length of the same thick rope was brought. Cara protested vainly as two soldiers pulled her knees as far apart as they could before securing them with rope to the legs of the chair. More rope fastened her spread thighs tightly to the chair, and then her ankles and finally ropes were passed over her gaping crotch, biting painfully into her most tender and private flesh.

At last the soldiers had finished and the officer and the translator approached the frightened, sobbing girl.

“You must now tell us where the American spy is hiding. Our methods of extracting information are traditional, but have been proved to be very effective. I recommend you tell us straight away what we need to know.”

“I don't know anything,” sobbed Cara. “Please believe me. It's the truth. You can't do this to me.”

“We know you know where he is. You have brought this treatment upon yourself.”

The officer made a sign and a soldier opened a door. Cara looked over her shoulder to see a bare-chested oriental man approach. He was not very tall, but was certainly well-muscled. He carried a large box, which he placed on the nearby desk. He opened the box and withdrew a thick bamboo cane about four feet long. He swished it through the air a few times in a wide arc and approached the trembling, bound girl.

Cara looked at the man's pock-marked face, and saw just a hard, compassionless visage. He seemed fully focussed on his target – her lovely body, expertly presented for him. Without further ado he stood to Cara's right and swung the cane like a golf club over his shoulder before bringing it round in a swift, whistling arc towards his now-screaming victim.

Whack!!!

The cane smacked into Cara's stomach just below her heaving breasts. The poor, wailing nurse closed her eyes as the blow winded her yet again. She groaned and fought for her breath as the next blow was already on its way.

Whack!

This strike hit the girl a little lower this time, eliciting another pained scream.

Six times the muscular man struck the poor nurse's tender stomach, each time leaving a reddish, brown stripe on her pale skin. After the sixth blow, a soldier grabbed Cara's long hair and forced her to face her captors. “No. No. No. I know nothing,” she wailed.

Now the torturer raised his thick cane above his head and brought it down hard on the young girl's smooth right thigh, half way between her hip and her knee. Cara wailed again at the bruising blow. Five further blows rained down on that slim, pale thigh before the grim-faced man moved to his victim's left and repeated the dose on her equally lovely left leg. The pain was so great that Cara wondered if she'd ever be able to walk again.

“Ready to talk, now, girl?” asked the translator as the cane-wielding torturer stepped away for a minute to take a long cooling drink of water, his muscular chest now running with sweat.

“Please. I don't know where he is. I've never seen him. Please, you must believe me now.”

“You lie.”

“No! I'm telling the truth. You must believe me. Oh God. No!”

Poor Cara wailed as the man approached her again with his thick bamboo cane. This time he took a wide, low swing and crashed the cane into the outside of her shapely right calf, numbing her lower leg. He stood in front of the screaming, petrified girl and alternately smashed into each calf that was tightly secured to the chair legs by the thick, coarse rope. After six blows to each leg he stopped again as his victim slumped, sobbing in her bonds. He stood impassively to await the officer's next instructions, eyeing up his pretty victim's widely spread crotch and wondering if he'd be given the opportunity to examine her hairy pussy more closely. He hoped so.

Cara found her head tilted back and water poured into her parched mouth. She gulped it down greedily. Both her legs were throbbing from the beatings they had suffered, but she had no way of relieving the pain or the cramps, except to plead again to her captors.

“Please. Let me go. I know nothing of this American agent,” she gasped. “I'll try and find out about him if you let me go, and I'll tell you anything I know. I promise. Please, I can't take any more. Please let me go now.”

“You lie. You know where he is and you will tell us. Why you keep protecting him? We carry on. It just get worse for you.”

The officer nodded to the torturer and he swung his thick cane yet again. This time he aimed for Cara's upper arms, smashing into first one and then the other, as he had with her calves. The bamboo thudded into each sweat soaked arm, spraying droplets of Cara's perspiration in a wide arc around her as the exhausted girl moaned her agony.

After a further dozen painful blows the man stopped again for refreshment. Beating this beautiful, young English girl in the stifling humidity of the wooden hut was proving thirsty work.

Cara's breathing had become shallower as she had tired. Now her head rested again on her bound chest and droplets of sweat fell regularly from the tip of her nose onto her breasts and her bruised thighs. She blinked away a mixture of sweat and tears and tried to compose herself. How much longer would they continue beating her? Would they carry on until they killed her? Why did they think she knew where this damned American spy was hiding? She hoped the British Embassy had been contacted and would send someone to negotiate her release before it was too late. Oh God, please make them hurry!

Cara's thoughts were rudely interrupted when she heard the familiar whoosh of the cane cutting through the air close to her. She screamed louder than ever this time as the cane thumped into her out-thrust right breast, squashing the firm globe right in its centre and causing the most horrible spasm of pain deep inside her lovely boob.

“No! No! You bastards! You can't do this to me! I don't know where he is!” she shouted at the top of her voice as she fought against the awful pain.

“Aaaahhhh!!!!!” screamed the girl again as her proud left breast received the next brutal, numbing blow.

“You tell us now?” asked the translator.

“I don't know!” wailed the girl. “Aaaaahhhhh! Stop!” she cried as the cane struck her again.

Ten times the cane struck each of Cara's firm, soft, beautiful boobs until each was turned to a tender reddish brown mass of bruises and was painfully swelling against the ropes that bound her to the back of the chair.

The anguished girl sobbed, her body heaving uncontrollably. Sickening bile rose from her stomach and she wretched, spitting strings of drool from her gaping mouth that clung to her poor bruised, sweaty breasts. She could hardly breathe now, with the stifling heat, the pain in her chest and her panic threatening to overwhelm her.

As she stared down at her tortured boobs, Cara became aware of her torturer approaching closer to her and she glanced sideways at him in trepidation. She saw he was carrying a small, ornately decorated polished leather box, which he put down on the floor just to her right hand side. She watched attentively as the man opened the box and took out a spindle of fine twine. Under the girl's incredulous, anguished gaze, he carefully unwound a length of twine and used it to circle her bruised right boob right at its base, where the flesh met her rib cage. He wound several circles of twine round her boob, pulling the twine quite tight to trap the swollen breast, before he tied it off.

Cara regarded her painful breast, and noticed the poor boob starting to turn a darker hue and to swell more painfully against the twine. As she looked at her poor, bruised nipple the torturer moved to her other side and repeated the process with her left tit. When he had finished he returned the small, polished box to his much larger box on the nearby desk and picked up a thin, very whippy cane, which he swished extravagantly through the air.

Cara watched in terror, and screamed hoarsely to her captors, “No! Stop! You can't do this to me. I'm a British citizen. I don't know anything. You're going to kill me! Stop! Please!”

“Tell us where the American is and we will stop.”

“I don't know!!!!” screamed the poor girl as the man came nearer, still swishing his thin cane through the air menacingly, his eyes never leaving her swelling, reddening, bound tits.

He stood just to her right, and Cara noticed his bulging crotch just below the level of her tear-filled eyes. She saw him take aim and closed her eyes as the sound of the cane cutting the air filled her ears. She wailed in agony as the thin cane snacked into her right breast, right on the turgid, prominent little nipple. She looked at her tortured boob, and saw a thin line of brighter red appear on the stretched skin of her breast. As she watched, a welt rose from the slick surface of her skin where the cane had struck her. Her poor nipple was throbbing and turning red, and soon began to swell as the trauma of the blow penetrated it.

The bare-chested man took aim again and the cane whistled towards his target; this time the girl's jutting left breast, across the nipple again. Cara wailed yet again as her other lovely boob suffered. Over the next ten, agonising minutes, both lovely tits received six cutting, slashing strokes of the thin cane across their breast flesh, all within a couple of inches of her reddened, swollen nipples.

At last the man strode back to the desk and replaced his thin cane in the box. He returned, however, with his small polished box and again placed it on the floor next to the bound and babbling girl.

From the box he removed two thin slithers of bamboo about six inches long. They were tied together near one end with some thin twine. As he knelt in front of the panting, tearfully crying girl, he prised apart the two bamboo sticks with one hand and pulled out Cara's reddened, swollen right nipple away from her bruised, welted tit with the other hand. He pulled the sore teat through the gap in the bamboo sticks until the base of the sore nipple was caught between the two sticks. Then he took some more thin twine and tied the other end of the two sticks together to firmly and painfully trap the poor, sensitive nipple.

Cara watched this latest torment through exhausted, bloodshot eyes. She had no idea that her tender body, and especially her sensitive breasts, could take such awful, painful abuse. She wondered how much longer they could continue with ever more agonising treatment before her body eventually gave up and she died. Even in her tormented mind she guessed her captors knew exactly how far they could go.

She shook her head in terrified disbelief when she saw her torturer pick a long, thin, sharp-pointed needle from his little box. He held it up in front of her face and twirled it between his fingers to show her its fine, smooth length.

“No…. Please…. No…. You can't…. Please.” she babbled as the awful needle glinted in the lights.

Showing no emotion, her torturer steadied her right breast with his left hand while he aimed the point of the long, thin needle at the tip of her trapped nipple. He placed the sharp point in position, just so she could feel the point at the entrance to her milk duct, and looked up at the agonised face of his young victim. Seeing no sign that she was about to give them the information they demanded, he pushed the needle slowly but steadily into the wailing girl's nipple, first a quarter of an inch, then half an inch, then an inch as the needle started to pierce the meat of the girl's swollen, beaten breast. The girl screamed louder than ever as blood started to seep from her nipple and the needle was approaching four inches deep in her breast. Then, without warning, the screaming stopped and the girl's body went limp, her head lolling against her chest and drool dripping from her open mouth right onto her pierced breast.

After a brief, sharp exchange with the officer, the torturer removed his bloody needle, released the trapped nipple and unwound the thin twine from the girl's swollen breasts. He packed his bags and left the wooden hut, looking forward to a long, cool drink.

A bucket of water revived the exhausted girl. As her eyes fluttered open, she realised all the tight, coarse ropes that bound her body had been removed and she was now slumped on the same chair but unrestrained. The pain in her right breast was agonising, with a sharpness that seemed to fill her tit to its core. Her other breast ached, as did her legs and arms, and her face still smarted from her earlier roughing up, but all these were nothing compared to the awful pain that long needle had caused her.

She looked around as she gently rubbed her aching tit, trying to dissipate the pain, without irritating the welts that decorated her tender, pale skin. Only half a dozen soldiers remained, including the one with the empty bucket. Another threw her clothes to the floor by her chair in an obvious invitation for her to dress. With sore, aching limbs Cara gingerly dressed herself, wincing as her bra squashed her tender, swollen breasts; she seemed to have gained a couple of cup sizes in the last hour. Her right nipple hurt her terribly, but she gritted her teeth and finished dressing, leaving only her nurse's cap, which she stuffed in the pocket of her smock.

When she was ready the soldiers ushered her out of the wooden building into the dark night to the waiting truck. This time she was allowed to sit with the soldiers as the truck jolted and jerked its way back to the hospital. Throughout the journey Cara stared ahead of her, almost unblinking in the dark vehicle, oblivious to the occasional, incomprehensible chatter of the soldiers around her. Finally, the truck slowed to a stop and the doors opened to reveal the hospital gates. Cara was led out of the truck and she watched as it drove off. No-one had said a word to her. She groaned as her stiff legs almost seized up, but she staggered falteringly towards the shadow that was the female staff accommodation block and fumbled for her door key. She found her empty bed and collapsed down onto it, rolling onto her back to try and find the least painful position for her. For a few minutes she cried as she undid the clasp on her bra to relieve her swollen tits and she kicked off her shoes. Then exhaustion overtook her and she fell into a deep and fitful sleep, filled with the most awful nightmares of bamboo canes, long needles and invisible American spies.

Chapter 3 - Respite

A shrill scream woke Cara with a start from her tortured slumber. In panic she looked around the sunlit room where she found herself, but there was nobody else there. She was panting and her heart was beating fast and hard in her chest, and she felt the dirty, sticky sweat all over her body, with her crumpled and stained uniform clinging to her skin. She felt pain all over her, but most sharply in her right breast. What on earth had happened to her? Slowly she remembered her arrest and interrogation – no, torture – of the previous evening. She felt sick and gingerly turned her stiff body before raising herself off her bed and staggering into her bathroom.

Cara raised the toilet pan and retched until a mixture of spittle, saliva and vomit finally dribbled from her mouth. She looked into the mirror and groaned. She looked ashen, her pale complexion contrasted by dark rings around both eyes and red bruises on both cheeks. Her luscious lips were pale, dry and chapped, with evidence of bleeding. Her cute nose was bruised and blocked with dry blood. She looked like she'd been in a boxing match, and lost.

The pretty nurse carefully undressed, sobbing as she revealed her bruised body, covered in wide, dark marks that reminded her of each awful, swishing blow of the bamboo cane. She sat on the toilet to examine her breasts more closely. They were swollen and mis-shapen, not at all the beautiful smooth, round orbs she was used to admiring. The pale skin was badly marked with a mixture of the dark wide stripes of the thick bamboo and the redder, thinner, more penetrating wounds from the thin, whippy cane. Both nipples were red and swollen, but her right nipple was much more injured, being double the size of its twin. Cara touched the throbbing teat with the tip of her finger, and gasped at the sharp pain of such a gentle caress. Her mind filled with the memory of that horrible, long, sharp needle entering her breast through that tender nipple. A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily and expunged the memory from her mind, for now at least.

Cara walked falteringly to the shower, the bruised muscles of her legs seemingly having lost much of their strength. She turned on the taps and allowed the water to cascade over her head and trickle slowly down her aching body for many minutes, revelling in the soothing, cleansing stream. At last Cara reached for the shampoo and washed her long, tangled hair. She turned to the shower gel and started cleaning her bruised face and body, trying to wash away the memories as well as the aches, pains and bruises, and the blood, sweat and tears. As she felt between her legs to wash her privates she smiled in relief that at least she had not been raped or been beaten there – it could have been worse after all.

Finally refreshed, Cara dried herself off using her softest towel and donned her dressing gown. She went to her window and looked outside at the hospital grounds. Glancing at her clock she saw it was mid morning, and the hospital seemed to be functioning as normal, with doctors, nurses and patients to be seen in the grounds. She wondered why Lee, her boyfriend, was not here to comfort her. Had the sister from last night not told him of her arrest? Have they not informed the British Embassy? Didn't anyone care about what had happened to her last night?

Suddenly Cara felt very tired again. She remembered she had three days off now, after her recent marathon shifts on the ward, so nobody would be expecting her to work. She walked slowly back to her bathroom, this time to the medicine cabinet to find some treatment for her injuries. She found some antiseptic cream, but knew she had insufficient for all her many bruises. Cara smearing some gently on her worst wounds, ensuring she treated her sore breasts liberally and reserving some for her bruised cheeks and black eyes. She wanted to look better for when she went back to her patients in a few days time. She wondered if they would be worrying about her; she hoped so, as nobody else seemed to.

Cara pulled the curtains to darken her room and flopped back down on her bed. In just a few minutes the exhausted girl was sound asleep again.

Chapter 4 - Recovery

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Cara awoke again with start. This time it was not her nightmares returning, there really was someone pounding furiously on her door. She groaned again as her stiff muscles protested against her movements as she made her way towards the door. She opened it to the darkness outside and found her ward sister outside, obviously in a very agitated state.

“Cara. Whatever happened to you? We've been so worried. How long have you been here? Oh dear, your face is badly bruised. What did those awful soldiers do to you? Let me help you.”

“Come in, sister. They released me during the night, and I've been sleeping all day. I'm OK. Where's Lee, sister?”

“He's gone to the city to meet someone from the embassy. We were worried that they might not let you go. The local governor was no help at all. He seems to be in the pocket of the military. It's a long journey and he won't be back for some days, I'm afraid, Cara. Now, let me get something for those bruises.”

“I've run out of antiseptic cream. I've got bruises all over me.”

The sister gasped as Cara pulled open her dressing gown to show the sister her injuries. The sister rushed off to the hospital pharmacy to fetch more creams and medicines to treat Cara's wounds and to fight any infection and help her regain her strength. For the next two days the sister visited the young nurse regularly to treat her and to talk to her and to make sure she was recovering quickly. Cara soon felt much better as she saw her bruises fading, and the colour returning to her face. Only her right breast remained really painful, and she knew that it would take a long time before it fully recovered from its invasive and damaging torture.

As she recovered, Cara's thoughts turned to this mystery American CIA agent. She wondered who he was, or if he even existed. More troubling for her, she worried that the rebel militia might suspect her every time a westerner caused trouble in the area. She certainly didn't want to go through a night like that again. Cara vowed to speak to Lee as soon as he returned and decide if she should go back to England, but she knew he wouldn't go with her – his life's work was here.

Sadly Cara began to realise that her relationship with Lee might be coming to an end. It had been getting increasingly strained in recent months. When she had met him in nursing college he had been like a breath of fresh air. She had hopped from boyfriend to boyfriend, never staying long with one partner, and always knowing that her youthful good looks, her extrovert, sunny personality and her boundless energy would attract yet another handsome young man to her bed. She could never resist a cheeky grin or a sharp line and she gave her sexy body willingly to any guy who could offer her an energetic and vigorous shag.

When she had met Lee he had been different. Sure, he was cute, but he was not the tall, dark male model Adonis that many of her boyfriends had been. He was of modest stature, typical of an oriental, and mostly he wanted to talk to her, to share his dreams, to inspire her to understand and fulfil hers. For the first time she found conversation with a man interesting, and she found herself almost spellbound by his great faith and belief in himself and in her. He made her believe she could really make a difference in the world, and so she had come with him to the Orient. They had come to this rural, regional hospital to care for innocent locals caught in a vicious battle between the loyal army of the elected, civilian Government and a growing band of rebel militia, whose arms were becoming more sophisticated and whose tactics were becoming ever more extreme. And, of course, he had the most unusual, exciting, passionate and erotic techniques in bed. His knowledge of how to give her body the most exquisite sexual pleasure had surprised and enchanted her. While her previous partners had mauled her lovely, firm boobs and squeezed and twisted her sensitive nipples, often quite roughly, they seldom if ever asked if she enjoyed their caresses, let alone sought her ideas about how to satisfy her. They normally assumed that a few lagers, followed by a bit of necking, some sloppy kissing and a rapid hump were all she wanted – and for years she thought it was. With Lee, he always asked if she found their love-making exciting and fulfilling, often discussing what they should do before they went to bed, giving her choices and experimenting or occasionally just surprising her with a new position. Her sexual satisfaction seemed to matter to him so much – and she had never before found that in a relationship.

Cara remembered some of their more stimulating sessions. Her nipples tingled as she recalled how their experiments at finding new pleasures had developed. One night Lee had brought with him a wooden box containing two little metal clasps, like tiny crabs with razor sharp teeth that he had attached to the tips of her sensitive buds, after he had slowly and lovingly brought them to bullet-hard erection with his playful tongue, of course. She remembered the feeling of having those clasps biting into her nipples. They certainly hurt, especially when Lee pulled on them and the tiny teeth gripped deeper into her flesh, drawing minute droplets of blood on her swollen teats. Somehow the sharp pain and the sight of her own blood had excited her and helped bring her to a heavenly climax. What a contrast to the brutal treatment her poor nipple had so recently suffered – how could pain be so exquisite sometimes and so excruciating at others?

Cara remembered that a few weeks later, after the novelty and intensity of using the clasps had worn a little thin, he had shown her a short, multi-thonged whip and asked if she would like him to use it on her clasped tits. She recalled how she had carefully examined the thongs of the whip to be sure they were soft and would not harm her, and how she had then squirmed and shrieked in pure ecstasy as he had powerfully and energetically whipped her tits all over, with the greatest intensity and force on her hard, red nipples, until she had reached a wild, orgasmic climax. Cara shuddered at the memory and hugged her boobs as she recalled how the hot reddening of the smooth, pale skin of her breasts had lasted all night.

Later, as she recalled, he had used the same, soft whip to excite her cunt before he plunged his rock hard cock into her and they both came together in blissful harmony.

That had only been a few short weeks ago, and Cara pondered as to how things had changed so quickly afterwards. With some sadness she remembered how just a few days after their last passionate coupling they had quarrelled after Lee had brought a new toy to show her. This was another whip that looked very similar to the last one, but when Cara examined the short thongs more closely she found them to be much harder, with tight, little knots towards the end of each thong. When Lee had asked her if he could whip her tits with it she had refused him as she feared the pain and damage the little whip would cause her. Lee had been very disappointed and had tried for a long time to persuade her to allow him at least one or two mild strokes of the whip for Cara to see how it felt, but she had been adamant and would not agree.

Cara remembered that she and Lee had never made love again – Lee then preferring his own room in the male staff block. They both worked exceptionally long hours, she on the ward and he in theatre patching up the bodies of so many innocent victims of bloodshed. They were almost strangers now, she thought. It seemed his dreams and desires no longer included her, at least not as a focal point. England seemed to be so far away, but its attraction was growing on her with every minute. Still, he had gone to the city to try and save her from the clutches of the militia, so he must still care for her. Maybe they could work something out after all. Cara went to the shower to cool down.

Although her face was still a little bruised, Cara was determined to return to her charges on her ward after her time off. She spent time with each patient, smiling as always and greatly encouraged by their obvious relief that she had recovered from her ordeal with the soldiers, even if she could not understand what they said to her. She knew that many of her patients had suffered too from abuse by the militia and she felt a warm kindred spirit with them. She was concerned however that Lee had still not returned from the city, and she found out from the hospital administrators that no word had been had from him since he left on the morning after Cara's ordeal, not knowing of course that Cara had already been released by then.

Somehow Cara was not surprised when days and nights passed and Lee still had not returned. Her injuries were now fully healed, though her pierced tit still ached and was very sensitive to any squeezing or fondling, not that she had a boyfriend around to do that any more. She was pleased that the bruises had left no permanent marks, and her skin had returned to its pale, smooth, freckled, typically English complexion. She asked the hospital management to tell the Red Cross she wanted to go home, and in the circumstances they agreed to release Cara from the rest of her tour of duty. She started to pack away her few personal possessions in readiness for her return home, and she posted a letter to her best friend in England to prepare for an emotional reunion. She even started saying goodbye to her patients; sad in the thought that she would be deserting them before they were recovered enough to leave the hospital.

Chapter 5 – Bedroom Visitor

Cara returned wearily to her room after yet another fourteen-hour shift on the ward. It had been a difficult shift; the fifteen-year-old lad with the serious abdominal burns had taken a turn for the worse and in spite of the best efforts of her and the surgeons, the boy had died in great pain that afternoon. Although she was used to death, this had hit her hard as she had dressed his awful wounds for months, each time fighting back the tears as she thought of the terrible pain he must be suffering and the horrific mutilation of his young body. Cara was angry that the boy had been caught up in this awful power battle in this horrible little country so far from home. She was angry that she was still here – she was angry with Lee for bringing her here – she was angry with Lee for deserting her, and she wanted to go home – NOW!

With a face etched in tiredness and stress, Cara pulled off her uniform and went to the bathroom. She felt dirty and sweaty after her awful day. She turned on the shower and waited for the flowing water to reach the right temperature before stripping off her bra and panties and stepping in. As the refreshing water cascaded over her head and down her slim, pale body, Cara at last smiled and started to regain her strength and positive nature. “Why is it that a shower can do that?” She thought.

Her long, dark hair plastered over her shoulders and half way down her back as Cara reached for the soap. She rubbed the fresh smelling lather into her sweaty skin, washing away not just the dirt, but the anger as well. She felt her sensitive nipples harden as she washed her perky boobs, and smiled at last. She rubbed her teats and was pleased to find her right boob was much less tender than it had been and was at last now almost fully recovered. She pulled her nipples out from her chest, extending her breasts to cones as she arched her back. How she missed Lee's tender and stimulating touch! When she got back to England she'd have to find a new partner – maybe she could teach some young stud how to satisfy her properly!

Cara sighed as she eventually turned off the water and stepped from the shower naked. She pulled a clean towel from the rail and walked into the bedroom.

“Wow! That's a fine sight to greet me.”

Cara turned around startled and held her towel to her chest. She saw a man sitting on her bed, smiling at her. “Who the fuck are you?” she screamed. “Get out of my room, now!”

“Hold on there, Cara. I'm a friend, not an enemy.”

“How do you know my name?” asked Cara, a little less aggressively.

“I'm a friend of Lee's. It's too dangerous for him to come here. The militia are watching for him. They've got road blocks all over the place.”

“So how come you came here. You're a fucking Yank, aren't you?”

“CIA. I can dodge the roadblocks and get in here without being noticed. Lee's not trained for that sort of work.” He showed Cara the laundry cleaner's uniform he was wearing.

“Are you the guy that got me arrested and beaten up, you bastard?”

“Hey, less of that. No, that was another guy. There's lots of us here. He made a mistake and got caught up with the rebel military. I don't make mistakes.”

“So what are you doing here, spying on me in the shower, you pervert?” asked Cara. She was trying to secure her towel around her without flashing any more flesh, and she was still not pleased at this invasion of her privacy, or at the thought of what would happen to her if the militia found a CIA agent in her room!

“Lee asked me to look out for you. He says he's sorry he left you here, but it was just too dangerous for him to stay. You see, Lee's been working for us. For the past few months he's been acting as a go-between for the CIA agents, taking messages and passing them on. No-one suspected him, after all he's a fine surgeon and he came here for all the best moral reasons. When our agent got shot, he went to Lee for help, and Lee treated him and hid him. He told us what had happened and that the stupid locals had arrested you, so we took them both away to the city into the safety of the US embassy. Luckily for us, the locals thought it was you that helped our agent, so he and Lee got away while they were questioning you.”

“Fucking great. Lucky for them, but fucking unlucky for me! Do you know what those bastards did to me?”

“Yeah, sorry. But they must have believed you knew nothing or they'd never have let you go so quickly.”

“Sure they fucking believed me. I was screaming my head off as they beat me up and fucking tortured me!”

“Well you looked pretty good to me coming out of that shower, so it obviously wasn't that bad. Anyway, Lee tells me you like a bit of sharp treatment on those cute little nips of yours!”

Cara was speechless. She sat down on the bed, the opposite side from her arrogant, uninvited visitor. How could he be so uncaring and heartless about her awful torture, and all because her boyfriend – no, ex-boyfriend – had been a secret CIA agent?

“Anyway. Lee's still real fond of you, Cara. The CIA are going to really de-stabilise this area soon, so he's asked me to get you out and take you to the British embassy. They'll evacuate just before the exercise starts. If you wait for the Red Cross to send you home, it'll be too late.”

“What about all those poor people in the hospital? They're only in there because of CIA “de-stabilising'. If the violence gets worse, there'll just be more bombings and shootings and more deaths and injuries.”

“Collateral damage. We can't let the militia take over. If a few more locals get hurt, that's a price we need to pay for future stability. We've not really done much so far, just kept a watching brief and made some contacts, but we're going to give some proper arms to the government soon, so they can really hurt the militia. What do you want to do, stay here and take your chances when the soldiers come for you again, or leave with me? Believe me, the militia already suspect Lee of CIA sympathy. When the bullets start to fly they'll be here looking for you in a shot, and this time they won't believe you don't know anything.”

“What choice do I have?” sighed Cara resignedly. “You Yanks are hell bent on ruling the world, aren't you?”

“Get dressed then, unless you're happy to go like that!”

“Yes, sir!” Cara saluted mockingly at her arrogant visitor and walked to her wardrobe.

“There's no room for luggage. You can't take anything with you that you can't easily carry. Best just take the clothes you want to wear.”

“Yes, sir! Can I wear some knickers, please, sir!” mocked the frustrated nurse.

“Oi. You listen to me. I'm risking my neck getting you out of here. I'm only doing it as a favour to Lee, so you show some gratitude or I'll just fucking leave you here to take your chances with the soldiers.”

“All right. I'm sorry. I'm just pissed off with all this. Please, give me a little privacy to dress.”

The American went into the bathroom and Cara heard his pee hitting the bowl before she finally dropped her towel to the ground and set about dressing. In the circumstances, practicality seemed to be the key, so she donned panties and bra and a pair of khaki shorts with a green tee shirt and a warm jacket, as it could get cold at night. She just started putting on her ankle socks when her escort returned to the bedroom. He eyed her with interest, as her shorts rode up the back of her slender, smooth thighs, but Cara scowled and quickly finished putting on her socks and stout shoes.

“Don't forget your passport, but don't bring anything else to identify you.”

“OK. I'm ready.”

“Sorry, but I'm going to have to put you in this sack. That way I can get you to the van outside without arousing suspicion.” The American reached down by Cara's bed and pulled up a large Hessian sack, normally used for dirty linen.

Cara sighed, and half wondered if she was dreaming this whole thing. The American opened the sack and motioned Cara towards him. On her hands and knees the young nurse crawled into the open sack before curling herself into a ball. The opening quickly closed, leaving Cara in darkness inside the foul smelling sack. Suddenly she heard a grunt and found herself lifted unceremoniously off the floor and swung over the shoulder of the strong CIA agent. A firm hand patted her backside twice, much to her annoyance; before she heard the door of her apartment opening and she felt the steady motion of the sack being carried outside, step by unfaltering step.

After a few minutes Cara heard a creaking door being opened and felt herself being placed down fairly gently on a flat surface.

“Don't move until I tell you it's safe,” came a hushed, but stern instruction.

Cara heard the engine burst into life, and then felt the motion of the van as it moved away through the hospital grounds. She waited to be allowed to extricate herself from her smelly, claustrophobic prison, but heard nothing from her companion driving the van. It was stifling in the closed sack, and Cara soon found herself sweating and fighting for fresh air. Still there was no sign from the driver and Cara felt herself getting close to swooning. Eventually she had no choice but to try and open the sack to get some air and she wriggled about until she was able to get her hands to the neck of the sack. She fumbled in the dark with the ties at the neck of the sack, but just could not budge the tight knots. The bumpy, bone-jarring ride did not help as she tried in vain to get a good grip on the ropes. However, she did gain some relief by placing her mouth at the small opening and gulping in lungfuls of fresher air from the back of the van. She called out to the Yank to let her out, but heard no reply. Eventually the exhaustion of the day got the better of her, and the young English nurse fell into a fitful sleep, still imprisoned in her Hessian sack, with her mouth gaping at its opening.

Chapter 6 – Paying her Fare

A sudden jolt woke the weary nurse from her uncomfortable slumber. For a moment she wondered where she was. Then she remembered the CIA agent, the linen sack and the bumpy van journey – but was it real, or just a nightmare?

The van was bucking and kicking along what was obviously a dirt track and Cara was becoming more scared. She had no idea where she was, or even how far from the hospital they had travelled. She could not see her watch in the darkness, and had a pounding headache from the stresses of her day and the awful confinement in this airless, smelly sack. She felt sick, but knew that vomiting would only make her environment even worse.

Finally she felt the motion of the van stop, and she heard a door slam. A few seconds later and she felt the welcome draft of fresh air around the sack and then the neck was opened and she saw the shadow of her companion in front of her eyes.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “There were a lot of soldiers about. I didn't dare let you out in case I got stopped. We're off the road now, and we'll camp down here for a few hours to get some rest. We're due to meet some friendly locals here later. They'll take us to the city. Come on, out you get, you look a little green.”

“I feel sick, you bastard. Have you any idea how shitty it is in that sack?” Cara was sure the Yank was smiling as she climbed out of the van and promptly retched, spitting vomit onto the dusty ground.

The CIA agent dragged another linen sack from the van and emptied it onto the ground. A large blanket dropped out, and he carried at to a relatively flat patch of ground some yards away and spread it out. Cara raised her pounding head and watched. She gulped in the fresh night air and tried to clear her head.

“Your bed awaits,” stated her companion.

“Where are you sleeping then?”

“It's time for you to pay your fare.”

“What?”

“That was my deal with Lee. He said you were worth it.”

“Fuck off.”

“Your choice. You either give it and enjoy it, and I keep you safe, or I take it anyway and leave you here for the wolves, or the hyenas, or the soldiers – or all of them.”

“Fuck off. I'm not a whore.”

“Get your arse over here, NOW!”

Cara took a deep breath. She was helpless. She had no idea where she was, and she certainly did not trust this arrogant pig of a Yank. She was sure he would happily leave her to a horrible fate, but the thought of having sex with him was just awful.

“Look. I've got a really bad headache and I feel sick. It was so hot in that sack. I really don't feel like it. Maybe in the morning after I've had some sleep.”

“Don't give me that crap! You've got five minutes to get your arse over here and strip or the deal's off. And you'd better be hot as hell, or it's null and void and I'll still leave you here to take your chances.”

Cara sat on the ground a few yards from her companion and contemplated her choices. Her head was clearing in the fresh air, and she knew she really had no choice at all. Her body was very sticky with sweat, and she certainly didn't feel sexy, but that wouldn't worry this nasty Yank. He'd been very clever, getting her into that sack and then tying it so she couldn't escape, making sure she was exhausted and disorientated and totally dependant on him. Now she was at his mercy, or lack of it, and they both knew it.

“One minute left.”

Cara sat and glared at him in the darkness, hoping that she could unnerve him, but knowing it was hopeless.

“Thirty seconds.”

“Ten seconds.”

“All right. I'm coming.” Cara got up and slowly walked to the blanket. She knelt down and pulled off her jacket.

“Just in time, Cara. Don't forget to make this good. Take off all your clothes first, nice and slowly, and let me see that sexy little body of yours again. And don't be so coy this time.”

Still fixing a sullen glare at her companion, Cara pulled at her green tee shirt and slowly lifted it off her torso, revealing her lacy white bra holding her perky boobs in place.

“Bra next.”

Cara slowly reached behind her and unclasped her bra before shrugging it off her arms. Her breasts hardly drooped an inch, her nipples pointing directly at the Yank in the night air, just a few inches from his face.

Without ado, the CIA agent grabbed a pert breast in each large hand and squeezed firmly. Cara gasped, “Oi, not so rough, please.” She gripped his wrists, but could do nothing to stop his mauling.

“I was told you like your boobs fondled. Anyway, I do what I like, and you do what I like – that's the deal, darling.”

“Just don't be too rough, please. They're still tender. Owww!” squealed the nurse as the Yank pinched her hardening nipples between thumb and forefinger.

“Quit moaning, will you Cara, or I'll stick something in your mouth to shut you up, and let go of my wrists. Arch your back.”

Reluctantly Cara did as she was ordered, offering her breasts unprotected to the Yank, who continued to squeeze her flesh and twist her nipples until she moaned in pain.

At last he released the girl's throbbing boobs and removed his own tee shirt to show off his broad, hairy, well-muscled chest. “Now take the rest off,” he ordered.

Relieved that he had at last released her boobs, Cara quickly untied her shoes and bared her dainty feet. The Yank did likewise and then waited for the nurse to unzip her shorts and pull them off her slender, sexy legs, leaving just her knickers to remove.

“Stand up,” he ordered, and Cara reluctantly obeyed.

“Take them off… slowly!”

Cara inserted her thumbs into the elastic and slowly pushed her knickers downwards over her flared hips. The Yank watched intently as the girl's hairy mound was gradually revealed, and finally her pink pussy peeped out over the elastic waistband of her knickers. Cara belt forward to push her knickers down her shapely thighs and past her knees until she was able to step elegantly out of them and stand naked in front of her companion.

“Stay there. Open your legs.”

Cara slowly obeyed.

The Yank knelt in front of the girl, his eyes directly in line with her puffy pink slit. He raised his right hand and started to finger the shamed girl, fiddling with her pussy lips until he found the sensitive, little nubbin of her clitoris. He pulled at it and tickled it with the tip of his finger, eliciting a gasp from the young nurse.

“You like that, don't you, you horny, little bitch.”

For several minutes the Yank continued to play with the girl's most intimate sex organ as she squirmed and gasped in embarrassed arousal.

“Owwww!!!!” she squealed as he suddenly pinched her clitoris hard, sending a sharp pain shooting into her very soul. “Please, don't do that.”

“I'll do what I want.” He released the girl's sex and smelt the juices on his fingers. “Now that you're warmed up, get down here – on your back and spread “em.”

“Are you Yanks always so romantic?” asked Cara scornfully.

“Are you English girls always so fucking frigid?” he retorted sharply.

Cara carefully lowered herself to lie on the blanket next to the CIA agent. She parted her legs slightly, feeling the cool night air in her damp pussy. Her nipples were still hard, pointing upwards to the night sky as she prepared herself for what would undoubtedly be a rough, maybe violent, coupling. She wondered if there was any way she could find to enjoy it.

The Yank quickly removed his trousers and Y-fronts and rolled on top of the slim nurse, his face hovering just inches from hers. He forced her thighs further apart with his knees and started to suckle on her slim neck, nibbling at her. His hands again roamed to her perky breasts and started more rough mauling of her beautiful boobs until she moaned in pain and squirmed under his heavy body. She felt his large member trapped between their bodies and noticed it getting harder as she wriggled and moaned at the pain in her breasts. This guy was obviously getting off on hurting her. His mouth moved to her left nipple, leaving a trail of saliva on her neck and chest. He sucked hard, and then nipped her teat with his teeth as she wailed under him and flailed at his muscular back with her tiny fists.

She felt his penis swelling and hardening even more. He raised himself off her slightly and guided his throbbing member towards her sex, slipping it easily into her lubricated cunt. He thrust his pelvis, penetrating her deeper, and grabbed her bony shoulders for extra leverage. His heavy balls slapped against her as he pushed into her to his limit. Cara felt the penetration and awaited a fast and brutal fucking. She was surprised when the Yank withdrew slowly and started up a steady, controlled, rhythmic humping of her petite body. His hands returned again to her breasts, mauling them again and playing roughly with her sore nipples, pulling them, squeezing them and twisting them until she squealed, tears flowing from her eyes. His teeth again sought out and found her slender neck and shoulders, nibbling at her flesh like a vampire – and all the while he humped her with long, slow and deeply penetrating strokes of his thick, pulsating cock.

Cara looked up at the stars twinkling in the clear night sky as her companion used her lovely body for his own pleasure. She felt her nipple being pulled upwards by the Yank's teeth and she arched her back as much as she could to try and relieve the pain. As he pumped into her a little harder, a little faster, she moaned - surely not in passion? He was coming to his climax, and Cara didn't really know if she was pleased or not. She gasped as he pounded her now, grunting in his exertion and concentrating only on fucking her, rather than mauling and biting her sexy body. She found she had bent her knees and spread her legs even wider and was grasping his sweaty torso now instead of punching it. Her mind was spinning as he neared his climax, staring wildly at her face as he spurted deep in her sex, again and again amid loud groans of ecstatic lust. Then it was over and the Yank withdrew his floppy dick from her sore and sopping cunt and slowly rolled off the gasping girl. They lay side by side, breathing heavily, cheeks aglow in the cool night air.

A few seconds later Cara pulled the blanket over her sweaty body and rolled onto her side, facing away from her companion. Within minutes she had fallen into a deep slumber.

Chapter 7 - Deserted

Cara woke from her deep, troubled sleep as the first rays of the new morning started to light up her pretty face. The warmth was welcome after the cold night with her nude, sweaty body wrapped only in the single blanket. She blinked at the sun as it peeped over the nearby treetops and groaned as she gently stretched out her sore, aching body. She rolled over to face her American companion, but found to her surprise that she was alone in the large blanket. In panic, Cara looked over to where the van was parked – it was gone!

“Shit! The fucking bastard!” spat Cara to herself. She scrambled to her feet and quickly dressed before searching the area for any sign of the Yank or any message from him to tell her what to do. There was nothing.

Cara's stomach rumbled and she realised just how hungry she was, and thirsty – but what should she do? She remembered the Yank had told her that friendly locals would meet them here and take them to the city, to meet up again with Lee. Maybe he had gone to find them, but why hadn't he taken her with him, or at least woken her to tell her, and left her some water? “Fucking bastard!” she repeated.

The rising sun was already getting hot and Cara knew the dangers of getting caught in it without cover, especially with her fair, western skin. She picked up the blanket and walked across to the tree line and sought out some cover. She sat down in the shade and did the only thing she could do – she waited, and hoped that someone would come and rescue her before she died of thirst. Eventually Cara curled into a ball and dropped off to sleep again.

The noise of a rattly diesel engine this time woke Cara. She sat up and peered out from under the trees, hoping to see the laundry van approaching. From the sun's position, Cara could tell it was now late morning, and her thirst was now far worse.

As the engine noise got louder, Cara heart beat faster. “Shit!” she exclaimed as first one, then two army jeeps appeared along the track. Each contained four uniformed soldiers, and they were obviously following the tracks from the laundry van, looking intently down at the ground as the jeeps slowly came nearer to Cara's hiding place.

Cara prayed silently that they would somehow fail to stop, and would continue past her, but of course they didn't. The first jeep came to a halt, its driver motioning to the vehicle following to stop. All eight soldiers got out of the jeeps and after a brief huddle they started searching the area. Cara's mind was racing – she was sure these soldiers were the same militia that had been at the hospital, and she certainly didn't want to fall into their hands again. On the other hand, if she didn't get some water soon, she would become very dehydrated, and a slow, lonely death out here would be even worse.

Thus, Cara concocted a desperate plan, but one she persuaded herself she could pull off. If she skirted around the clearing, keeping in the trees out of sight, maybe she could get to one of the jeeps and drive it away before they noticed her. But she'd have to hurry, as the nearest soldier was approaching her now, and was only about twenty yards away!

Cara moved furtively back further into the trees, keeping low, crouching or scrambling on hands and knees to avoid being seen. The dense trees, fallen branches and uneven ground made progress slower and more painful than Cara had thought, as her bare arms and legs became scratched and bloody. After a few minutes she had only moved twenty yards or so, and a glance behind her showed the soldier had already found her discarded blanket and was starting into the trees after her, calling on his comrades to join the chase.

A loud cry told Cara that she had now been spotted and a volley of bullets into the treetops above her head confirmed her fears. Cara hurried on, not worrying now about keeping out of sight, or of trying to steal a jeep, but just running and skipping through the trees to escape her pursuers. Fresh sweat stained her tee shirt as the young English nurse fled through the hot Asian forest, followed by half a dozen local soldiers, each eager to be the one to claim the credit for capturing the fugitive, and any prize that may come with it!

Cara leapt high over a fallen tree trunk, and over the edge of a steep slope that ended some ten feet below her. She tumbled down, rolling over and over until her progress was abruptly stopped by another tree at the bottom of the slope. Winded, the young nurse scrambled to her feet, pleased to be uninjured, as the first soldier started down the slope, a broad grin on his face. Cara glanced at the young man and turned to run away again, dodging through the trees. But she was struggling to catch her breath after her heavy fall, and the soldier was gaining on her with every stride, shouting at her every few seconds to heighten her fear and let her know he was now right behind her. She thought she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck as she jumped over yet another branch, and as she landed she certainly felt his hand on her shoulder blades giving her a firm shove that sent her falling flat on her face on the floor of the forest.

She rolled over onto her back to see the grinning soldier standing over her, his rifle pointed at her heaving chest. He said something to her that she could not understand, and then turned to accept the congratulations of his comrades who joined him to surround the prone, breathless nurse.

One of the soldiers reached down and grasped the front of Cara's dirty, sweaty tee shirt just above her breasts and hauled her to her feet. Within seconds, the soldiers had bound her wrists tightly together with a long length of rope. They handed the end of the rope to the soldier who had captured Cara and he had the privilege of leading his captive back through the forest to where the jeeps were waiting.

Poor Cara trudged wearily after her captor, encouraged by constant sniping from the other soldiers, and the occasional slap on her firm backside when they thought she might be faltering, or when they fancied a quick feel of their lovely prisoner, so Cara thought. She glared at the soldiers as she was brought slowly back to the campsite, and she wondered what would happen to her now – she had never before felt so helpless or alone!

The hot sun suddenly beat down on the captive nurse as she was led out of the trees and towards the first of the jeeps, where the two remaining soldiers were waiting. Cara could see one of them carried a two way radio set, and the other was engaged in earnest conversation on the radio. Cara's escort placed her immediately in front of this soldier, who was obviously in charge of this patrol. Cara enviously eyed the jerry cans carried on both jeeps, and hoped her captors would recognise her urgent need for water.

Finally the soldier finished his radio conversation and handed the microphone to the operator. He looked Cara up and down and smirked. Cara took the plunge and smiled back, “Please… ” she asked hesitantly. “I really need some water, please.” She nodded at the jerry cans.

The soldier replied with a stream of words that Cara could not comprehend, but which brought hoots of joyous laughter from the other soldiers. Cara blushed. She pointed with her bound hands to the jerry cans and smiled nervously. The soldier issued an order, which again brought laughter from his squad. One of the soldiers picked up a jerry can and offered it to the nurse. She fumbled with the tricky stopper and then smelt the contents a little suspiciously as the soldiers looked on intently. She wrinkled her nose and replaced the stopper – it was diesel! “Water… please,” she asked plaintively, shaking her head. The soldiers laughed and took the can from the nurse, offering her another. Cara again struggled with the stopper before putting her pretty nose to the top. She breathed in the welcome smell of fresh water and put the can to her lips, struggling with the weight of the heavy metal container. One of the soldiers tipped it for her, sending water cascading over her face, down her chin and soaking her tee shirt and shorts. They laughed as Cara spluttered and tried to drink down the sweet tasting liquid. She gulped down as much water as she could, grateful for the refreshment and momentarily forgetting her dire predicament. When she was finished, the soldiers took the jerry can from her.

The soldier in charge issued some orders and three of the soldiers led Cara away towards the centre of the clearing. Cara wondered what the soldiers would do – they were obviously in no hurry to take her away in their jeeps, but none seemed to speak any English, so they were in no position to ask her why she was here or where the Yank had gone.

Cara looked over her shoulder to see the other soldiers sheltering in the shadows of the jeeps, or in the shade of the trees. On the other hand, she was out in the open in the sweltering sunshine, and she could already feel her bare arms and legs burning up. She hoped she too would be allowed some shelter soon. To her dismay Cara found herself led to where a large tree trunk lay on the open ground. It was about three feet in diameter and twenty feet long, with very thick, rough, knobbly bark. It must have been a very old tree. The soldier leading Cara by her bound wrists was her original captor, but as they came up to the tree trunk he handed the rope with a broad grin to one of their two escorts. He turned Cara around to face into the hot sunshine and pushed her down until she was sitting on the trunk. She stared at him, noticing his lustful grin as he overtly eyed her up. She saw him lick his lips as he took in her perky tits, with her nipples poking at the dirty, wet tee shirt that stretched across them. He looked at her thighs, the lovely, smooth skin already turning pink in the sun. He didn't seem to mind that they were dirty and a little scratched from her flight through the forest. He grinned at Cara like a teenager on his first visit to a brothel, and she knew then that she was his prize for capturing her. No wonder he had chased her so hard. She would be raped on this tree trunk, but would he be her only, or just her first, rapist.

“Please… Don't do this,” the young nurse asked, her eyes pleading at the lustful soldier. He licked his lips again, still grinning and grasped her breasts through her cotton tee shirt, squeezing them as roughly as the Yank had done the previous night. Cara gasped in pain at this latest mauling of her sore boobs, but was helpless to stop the soldier, with her wrists still tightly bound together. After just a few seconds the soldier released her throbbing boobs and pulled a sharp knife from his belt. Still grinning, he pulled at the young nurse's green tee shirt and inserted the bright polished steel blade under the hem and slowly split the flimsy material all the way up the front, revealing Cara now off-white lacy bra. A tear tricked from Cara's eye as the soldier inserted the blade between her breasts and easily cut through her bra, allowing the cups to fall to either side and reveal the smooth, pale, lightly freckled skin of her lovely breasts, with their perky pink nipples poking invitingly out from them. The soldier replaced his knife in his belt and resumed his intimate examination of the sobbing girl's tits, this time without any barrier between his rough, callused fingers and the silky smooth skin of her trembling tits. For what seemed like an eternity the soldier massaged Cara's breasts, sometimes quite tenderly, but often very roughly, digging his fingertips into her firm flesh and leaving sweaty, red finger marks to decorate her pale skin.

Cara noticed the growing bulge in the soldier's crotch, as he finally ceased his mauling of the girl and nodded to his comrade who held the rope tying her wrists together. He pulled the rope taught and walked behind the sitting girl, causing her to lift her hands above her head, and eventually forcing her to lie back over the tree trunk until her shoulder blades almost touched the ground. Cara breathed heavily as she looked up into the cloudless sky, the rough bark of the tree now digging painfully into the base of her stretched spine. The soldier holding the rope kept a firm grip on it, ensuring the girl was kept stretched and unable to squirm away from her captors, while her rapist stood between her splayed legs and prepared to ravish his lovely victim. The third soldier looked on, presumably insurance in case the feisty captive managed somehow to get loose.

The prone, young nurse felt the soldier undoing the button in the waistband of her shorts. A few seconds later the zip was pulled down and then her shorts were dragged off her hips and all the way down her legs and off her ankles. This was followed immediately by her shoes and socks, which were quickly removed. Cara looked up between her sore breasts and could just see to top of her white panties still in place around her hips, but she knew they would not stay there much longer. She noticed the glint of a steel blade and felt the warm air on her pussy, and knew she was now fully exposed.

Cara let her head drop again as she awaited her rapist's penetration of her cunt, which was still sore from the Yank's attentions the previous night. Instead of his hard, wet cock, though, she felt the cold, sharp steel of the man's knife on her sweaty skin. Cara jerked her head up in panic. She saw the familiar grin as the soldier scraped at her skin with his blade, sending curly wisps of dark pubic hair falling to the ground around Cara's crotch. She hardly dared breathe, lest the soldier's concentration lapse and he cut her most tender flesh. Having scraped away the main thatch of hair, the soldier was now intent on denuding the nurse's crotch completely. Using his left hand to stretch her skin, he delicately severed each hair at its base, sometimes using the very tip of his razor sharp blade. Occasionally he nicked the terrified girl's flesh, drawing blood on her pale skin and causing her to cry out in pain and anguish. He laughed, the grin never leaving his face, and continued until he had removed all the nurse's pubic hair. Now she was as he liked his cunts, totally nude. He wiped the blood from his knife on the girl's sweaty thigh and prepared to fuck his prize.

Cara felt the wet tip of the soldier's cock teasing her crotch, running up and down and all around her sex lips until she felt her juices flowing in spite of herself. The soldier was talking to himself, or his comrades, and he laughed at her reaction, probably calling her a dirty whore, thought Cara. She breathed hard as she felt the cock poking at her sex as the soldier grasped her hips tightly in his hands. He entered her slowly, savouring her tight sex and relishing her whimpering, tearful debasement. Then he lunged in hard and fast, eliciting a pained groan from the captive girl. From then on the soldier concentrated on building up a steady, satisfying rhythm, rocking the girls hips back and forth in time with his deep lustful thrusts, oblivious to her suffering as the rough bark scraped away her skin and her splayed legs kicked the air in desperate anguish.

He finished with her with a final pounding thrust and emptied his balls deep into the struggling, crying nurse. He stepped back, still grinning down at his lovely captive, and replaced his limp cock in his trousers. He then took his place at Cara's head, holding the rope that bound her wrists and kept her bent so agonisingly over the rough tree trunk. The soldier he replaced stood guard, while the third in the group took his turn between the girl's spread thighs.

And so the second soldier took his pleasure of the captive English nurse, fucking her hard and fast as her sexy body writhed and wriggled under him, oblivious to her sobs and occasional cries of pain as he pounded her sore sex. When he had finished the three swapped position again, allowing the third soldier to rape their pretty, young prisoner.

Cara felt the hot pain in her ravaged sex, and she also felt the burning sun high above her, scorching her sweaty chest, arms and legs, and her tear-stained face. She licked her parched lips and looked up just in time to see the third soldier shudder as he came inside her. She hoped that would the end of her awful ordeal.

The soldier holding her down released Cara and helped her up to sit again on the rough tree trunk. She looked down at her mound, noticing ruddy abrasions where her pubic hair had been, with some nastier looking cuts around her sex lips. Her cunt was covered with drying semen, and she took a few moments to wipe the worst of it away. Meanwhile, behind her a soldier had taken his knife to her tattered tee shirt and bra and removed them, leaving the girl completely naked. As she sat panting in the hot sun, Cara noticed three more soldiers approaching, one carrying a jerry can of water.

The three newcomers talked excitedly with their comrades while Cara drank eagerly from the jerry can. Their laughter and lascivious gestures annoyed Cara, but there was nothing she could do to stop them, or even to make her annoyance known to them. She poured some water over her sunburnt shoulders, allowing it to trickle over and soothe her burning, bruised breasts and her thighs. She hoped she'd soon be allowed some shade to stop her becoming too burnt up in the sun.

Finally the three earlier rapists bade farewell and left Cara in the hands of the three newcomers. Soon, she was again bent painfully over the old tree trunk, its rough bark biting into her red raw lower back. The first soldier raped her quickly and roughly, pumping her hard for just a few minutes before spurting his load into her to join those of his comrades. The next two followed suit, performing their debasing sexual act on the English girl in a rather perfunctory fashion, as if it was just another task they had been ordered to perform.

The final two soldiers walked over to their captive. This time there was no respite for Cara, and no refreshing drink. The three others stayed with their captive and chatted for a while with the two latest arrivals, who included the soldier in charge. As far as Cara could tell, he seemed to be leading the conversation, with much nodding and smiling from the others. Cara blinked away the sweat and tears from her bloodshot eyes as she tried to work out what they were talking about. She found out when the soldiers suddenly flipped her over onto her front and positioned her pert backside in place on top of the tree trunk. She felt the hot sun now burning the pale, freckled skin on her back and the backs of her thighs, and more worryingly she felt hard hands feeling up her arse cheeks, testing their firmness and exploring the deep crack between the cheeks. Cara squirmed, but was firmly held down by the rope that still secured her tiny wrists so tightly together.

Cara wondered if the soldiers just fancied a change of position, but her fear grew quickly when a stubby finger wormed its way into her arse crack and burrowed down towards her tightly clenched sphincter. “No!” she yelled hoarsely, wiggling her arse to hoots of laughter from her captors.

Cara had never had anal sex. Although some boyfriends had suggested it, she had always found the thought repulsive. She had always maintained that sex should bring as much pleasure to her as to her partner, and while she was very happy to experiment with different positions, scenarios and toys, she had never allowed anyone, or anything to penetrate her arse hole.

She kicked out at the soldier in charge, for it was he who stood between her legs and was fingering her anus. Poor Cara tried to wriggle free and tried to kick away her attacker, but her efforts were fruitless, and gained her only a hard slap of her right buttock. She felt more digits intruding into her virgin arse and screamed her protest louder now, but that just seemed to encourage her attackers even more. She thought she heard a zip being undone, and Cara steeled herself for this awful violation. She screwed her eyes up tight, trying to distance herself from what was happening to her, trying to tell herself that she was having a nightmare, that it was all a horrible dream, and she would wake up safe and sound at any moment.

The wet cock slipping up and down the crack of her arse reminded the distraught girl of the awful truth. As strong fingers prized her open, the slippery wet cock pushed towards the twinkling entrance to her virgin anus. She felt the gases from her intestines escape as she farted involuntarily, but that didn't seem to deter her attacker whose cock was now forcing its way into her, inch by inch, as her resisting muscles were gradually overwhelmed by his strength and determination. Hard as she tried, Cara just could not withstand the assault, and she cried out as she felt the thick, hard cock enter her. Finally, after much exertion and heavy breathing, the soldier's balls thumped against the young nurse's arse, and he pronounced to his squad that he had reached his goal. They cheered as poor Cara wept in pain and misery. The soldier slowly pulled back out, revelling in the agonised cries of his captive, until just the tip of his cock remained within the girl's tight opening. Then he pushed in suddenly, gradually opening the nurse's anus as her muscles weakened and stretched. And so he continued, gradually fucking the wailing girl's virgin arse faster and harder, ambivalent to her agony or to the trickle of bright red blood that flowed from her arse and down the inside of her left thigh. With great stamina he continued to rape her arse, gripping her sweaty hips with both hands and grinding her pubis into the rough bark of the tree trunk with every strong, long thrust. It seemed like an age to Cara before she finally felt the final debasement of her virgin arse hole as the soldier grunted and came into her, splattering his semen deep into her gut before pulling his cock out and slapping her trembling arse with delight.

The other soldiers slapped their leader on the back in congratulation for his performance. They chatted enthusiastically as the ravaged, English girl sobbed her anguish.

Cara had to endure four more brutal anal rapes before she was finally pulled to her feet and marched slowly back to the jeeps. She could hardly walk, such was her pain and discomfort. Once by the jeeps, the soldiers gave her another drink of water and allowed her to wash the blood from her crotch and her thighs. She was then allowed to sit in the shade of the jeeps, her wrists still bound in front of her with the end of the rope securely fastened to the steering wheel of the jeep. Here Cara tried to compose herself. She looked down at her bruised, sunburnt body, with her denuded and bloodied crotch, and she wondered what was in store for her next. Surely it couldn't get any worse than this? Tiredness overcame the young nurse and her eyes closed, and her chin rested on her chest as she dropped into another fitful slumber.

Chapter 8 – More Questions than Answers

A harsh jerk on the rope binding her wrists caused the half asleep girl to fall forwards onto the dusty ground. She was hauled to her feet to find the soldier in charge once again talking earnestly into his two-way radio. He nodded and gestured to his men, and then he signed off. He issued a stream of orders to his squad and answered a few questions from them quite curtly. Cara was led across to where a large tree overhung the clearing with a thick, strong, sturdy branch. Cara thought the soldiers were going to throw the rope over the branch and suspend her from it, but to her surprise she felt her wrists unfastened and she was pushed to the ground on her front. Her arms were twisted behind her back with her elbows bent at right angles and her forearms held together parallel, so each hand was next to the elbow of the opposite arm. She felt the rope being wound around her forearms, binding them both very tightly together. The soldiers pulled the bound girl up to a kneeling position and then wrapped the rope around her torso, pulling her upper arms tightly against her sides. The rope was first passed just under her sore breasts, and then just above, squeezing them painfully between the two ropes. Then she was pushed back down to the ground.

The soldiers then bent Cara's legs and tied her ankles together at a right angle, forcing her to spread her thighs. Then each shin was tied to her thighs so tightly that the ropes sunk deep into the smooth flesh, causing the tortured girl to whimper in pain. Finally, a rope was attached to her bound ankles and passed behind her forearms and pulled as tight as the soldiers could make it. Cara squealed in pain as she was forced to arch her back as her ankles were brought up slowly towards her forearms. The soldiers ignored her protests as they completed the agonising hog-tie. Finally they threw the long end of the rope over the branch above her and started to haul the tightly bound girl into the air. The rope groaned and twisted under the strain as the soldiers pulled on it. Cara moaned as her arms and ankles took her full weight as they pulled her up until she was several feet above the ground, with her head just about at the height of her captors. Her sweaty, bruised breasts hung down, squeezed painfully by the ropes, and her sore, spread crotch hovered above the ground, just inviting attention from any potential attackers.

As the sun beat down on the tightly bound, moaning, gently swinging girl, sweat poured down her stressed body, dripping from her nose, her nipples and even her sore sex lips onto the dry ground below. Cara looked plaintively at her captors, who now circled her. What were they going to do to her now, helplessly bound, her breasts and sex easy targets for any horrible torments they might like to inflict on her?

Cara's questions became a little closer to being answered as a third jeep sped into view and skidded to a halt next to the others. A short stocky man stepped quickly out and came striding purposefully over to be bound girl, followed by three others. Even at a distance Cara recognised the man as the officer who had arrested her at the hospital all those weeks ago and had overseen her awful beating and torture at the army camp. She shuddered in her bonds, as she realised her predicament had suddenly got much worse, just when she thought it couldn't.

With the officer was his translator, and it was he who repeated the words spat out vehemently towards her, “So. You were lying. You are a Yankee spy. You made fool of me. Now you tell me the truth!”

“No. I know nothing. Please, you must believe me,” gasped the desperate girl.

“You fled from hospital with Yankee CIA spy. Where is he? You talk now, or we beat you bad.”

“I don't know. He brought me here and left me. I don't know where he is.”

“You lie. We beat you, make you talk.” The officer motioned to two soldiers and spat out an order. They ran to the officer's jeep and returned carrying a heavy wooden crate which they placed next to the officer. They opened the crate in front of Cara's wide, tearful eyes, and picked out two large heavy bamboo canes about six feet long. The other soldiers stood back a little as the two swung their weapons through the air in wide arcs, practising their actions as the canes whished through the still, warm air.

“Last chance. Where is Yankee agent?”

“Please…” wept the trembling nurse. “Honestly, I don't know. The bastard brought me here and left me.”

“Liar! You talk soon enough.” The officer nodded to the two soldiers who were now positioned each side of the gently swinging, bound girl.

Whack! Whack!

The canes landed heavily on the sweaty skin of the poor, English nurse, spraying droplets of sweat over the watching soldiers.

“Aaahhh!” squealed the agonised girl as the impacts bruised her legs and arms.

Whack! Whack!

The canes landed again, this time on different parts of the girl's beautiful, young body as she swung around.

“Aaaaahhhh! Please stop!” pleaded the girl as her hip and shoulder took the blows.

Whack! Whack!

“Aaaaahhhh! I don't know where he is!” she screamed as her flat stomach and bound shins were beaten and bruised.

Whack! Whack!

“Aaaaahhhhh No!” wailed the girl as one cane crashed into her right knee and the other smacked into her ribcage.

Whack! Whack!

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!” Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as her thigh and back took the hard blows.

Whack! Whack!

“Aaahhh!” Cara's voice was weakening already as more bruising blows struck her aching limbs.

Whack! Whack!

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh,” she squealed – a longer and even more pained scream this time as her right breast took one of the vicious strokes. She thought it had exploded, and was relieved to find it still intact when she eventually opened her eyes and glanced down at her swollen tit, now sporting another nasty, red bruise.

Whack! Whack!

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh'. Cara's other breast experienced the same deep, burrowing pain from a full-blooded swing of the heavy bamboo cane.

Whack! Whack!

Whack! Whack!

Whack! Whack!

Whack! Whack!

Whack! Whack!

Whack! Whack!

The brutal beating continued until the bound girl failed to respond, even when the canes found her most sensitive areas, a bulging, swollen breast, the inside of her spread thighs, and even right up onto her raw, ravaged sex.

The officer gave another order and a can of water was slowly poured over the beaten girl's head, gradually bringing her back to consciousness. The officer grabbed her lank, matted hair and pulled her face upwards to meet his stare.

“Where your Yankee friend, girl. You tell now, or it get much worse for you.”

“I….I….I don't know,” gasped the exhausted girl.

“You know. Now you tell.”

“No. I…. I don't know. You….you must believe me. I'd… I'd tell you if I knew.”

“You know. You spy. You trained to resist questions. I break you.”

“No! No! I'm just an English nurse. You must believe me. Please … please let me go.”

“You make fool of me one time. This time I make you talk. I use needles. I know you not like needles.”

“No! No! Please. I'm telling the truth. Oh God. No!” gasped Cara as she saw a soldier pick a box from the crate and open it in front of her eyes. Inside were a dozen long, thin needles about a foot long with the sharpest points she had ever seen. The officer picked one out and held it in front of the girl's sweaty, tear-stained face. Her eyes opened wide as the tip glinted in the bright afternoon sunshine. Fresh tears trickled down her flushed, sun-kissed cheeks, as she pleaded again with her captor. He remained unmoved, replaced the needle in its box and handed it to one of the soldiers.

The young soldier grinned as he approached the swaying, tightly bound girl. Cara recognised him as the soldier who had hunted her down in the forest, and had roughly shaved her before being her first rapist. She smiled piteously at him. “Please… please don't do this. You….you seem like a nice guy. You….you wouldn't want to hurt me any more, would you? I really don't know where he is… really… honestly.”

The soldier's grin never wavered. She might as well have been begging him to spear her with the needles. He handed the box to the soldier next to him and picked out one of the long, thin needles. He breathed on the sharp point and tested it with his fingertip, as if to prove to the watching girl just how sharp it was. Then he grasped Cara's right upper arm with his left hand and slowly, deliberately pierced her bicep with the needle as the terrorised girl trembled and screamed in agony. The sharp point entered the muscle easily; poor Cara feeling every terrible inch of its progress deeper and deeper into her flesh until the shiny tip reappeared on the other side of her arm. When two inches of the needle were visible the soldier stopped and stepped back to admire his work. Thin trickles of bright red blood seeped from puncture wounds on each side of her injured arm. Cara turned her head away and sobbed.

The grinning soldier then turned the swinging girl so her back was towards him. He steadied her swaying body and picked out another long, thin needle. This one he used to pierce her straining left thigh, entering the muscle from behind, just below the crease of her trembling left buttock. Again Cara screamed as she felt the sharp point penetrate her epidermis and enter the muscle beneath. The thin needle passed slowly through her leg, missing the bone by just an inch before the tip poked out of the front of her sweaty thigh, between the ropes that bound her so tightly.

Turning her again, the sadistic soldier grinned into Cara's tortured face as he picked out his third needle. He glanced at her bruised, swollen tits that still bore the marks of his vicious earlier mauling and the more recent beating. Cara feared they would be his next target. She wondered how she could survive that. Instead his aim was lower, but even more incredibly painful. He now attacked her smooth, flat stomach with his needle, piercing her pale flesh just to the left of her sunken belly button. This was not muscle he was damaging, but internal organs, and he was careful to avoid endangering the girl's kidneys or liver as his needle agonisingly penetrated Cara's slim, young body. She screamed and vomited as the thin needle passed through her and her body spasmed and shuddered in pain. The grinning soldier watched her reactions eagerly. He considered himself an expert in needle torture, and he knew this beautiful, bound English girl was experiencing the most horrendous pain. He also knew he could yet make it even worse for her, if the stupid bitch didn't tell the officer what he wanted to know, but he doubted he would need to. No, a needle through the gut was normally enough to persuade even the most hardened prisoner to talk.

Nausea overcame poor Cara as she retched. Her stomach contracted violently as her vomit splattered on the hard ground below her. Her eyes rolled as she screamed her agony before she fainted away again with the excruciating pain. Her head lolled against her chest, a string of spew and saliva dripping down from her gaping mouth and nose. Her body twitched in its tight bondage as the soldier with the needles shrugged his shoulders and exchanged knowing glances with his officer.

More water tipped over her head brought the tortured nurse slowly back to her senses. She opened her eyes falteringly, frightened of what she might see next. To Cara's surprise she found herself back on terra firma and free of her tight and painful bondage. She also found the hideous needles had been removed from her tortured body, though the pain in her stomach remained agonising, and any tiny movement made her squeal. Nevertheless, once she was conscious, Cara felt firm hands grasping her under her arms and hauling her back to her feet. She screamed as the pain shot through her body, but they took no heed and stood her to face the officer once more.

“You not know where Yankee spy is,” he said in a matter of fact voice. “Now you come with me. I look after you while I decide what I do with you.”

With that, a weeping Cara was marched limping to the officer's jeep. Her hands were tied together in front of her with more rope, and another rope was tied around her slim neck. She was manhandled into the back of the jeep and the end of the rope around her neck was tied tightly to the rollover bar behind her. The late afternoon sun still shone brightly down on the naked, young English girl; her tender, pale skin streaked with sweaty marks from ropes and fingers, bloody trails from canes and needles and crimson burns from her exposure to the hot, oriental sunshine. She ached all over, but the worst pain was from her pierced stomach, her ravaged sex and her violated anus. She squirmed on the seat, trying to find the least painful position, but every way she turned and twisted seemed to add to her discomfort rather than diminish it. As the jeep started up, and the officer sat next to her, Cara knew this was going to be a long and painful journey, with little prospect that her situation would be any better once they arrived at their destination. Just what did this fat, smelly militia guy intend to do with her?

Chapter 9 – Refreshment Break

Yet another bone jarring jolt disturbed Cara's anguished sleep as the jeep's engine roared along the primitive, pot-holed highway. It was now almost dark, and getting cold and the nurse's beaten, bruised and sunburnt body was shivering as the temperature dropped. Her teeth chattered but the soldiers surrounding her in the jeep didn't seem to notice, or at least they didn't care. Cara hugged herself as best she could to try and keep the worst of the cold at bay. She hoped the jeep would reach its destination soon, no matter how much she feared what awaited her there.

Just as Cara was drifting off again into a fitful slumber she felt the jeep veer to the right and leave the track. She awoke as the jeep came to a halt alongside a single wooden shack some twenty yards back from the road. All the soldiers got out of the jeeps and Cara found her neck rope released from the rollover bar and she was led stiffly towards the shack. As she got closer she saw two local peasants at the door and they greeted the soldiers with warm grins and chattering voices. The soldiers filed through the door and Cara followed, her arms firmly in the grip of two militia men with a third pulling the rope still tied around her slim neck.

As Cara got inside the shack she found a small entrance hall leading to two main rooms. As she passed a door on her right she saw a living room and kitchen area in which a number of soldiers were busying themselves with bottles of beer and scraps of cold meat. She was led into the other room where two single beds stood side by side. In this room were the two peasants who she assumed lived in this shack, which was little more than a hovel. The beds had filthy blankets on them and even dirtier pillows and a few tatty clothes were strewn about the floor. The two peasants were waiting for Cara and as she was brought into the dimly lit room they approached her with gapped toothed grins and wide, hungry eyes. One of them grasped her left tit with his right hand and squeezed her sore boob sharply, causing Cara to curse him.

“Owww. Fuck off, you little shit!” she yelled as she tried to kick out at him.

Much laughter ensued as Cara's attacker merely gripped her boob even harder and his mate grasped his hand over her roughly shaved sex and fingered her with his stubby, nicotine stained digit. Cara tried to squirm free but she was very firmly held by two soldiers who were now laughing raucously as their comrades from the other room passed bottles of beer to them.

In the hullabaloo that followed Cara could only try and protect herself from the marauding hands of the two peasants. The animated exchanges between the peasants and the soldiers were incomprehensible to her but she guessed they were only haggling over a few details and that she was the local currency for the food and drink on offer. Finally the rope around her neck was removed and her wrists untied and she was thrown onto the nearest bed. Almost as she landed Cara found her arms seized by two beer drinking soldiers and pinioned to opposite corners at the head of the filthy bed. The pillow was removed and forced under her backside as one of the peasants mounted the bed and slobbered on top of her. As his mouth closed in on hers she almost retched at the stench of his foul breath and turned her head to the side to avoid his slimy tongue meeting her lips. He kicked her feet apart as he undid the ties on his dirty, baggy trousers and removed his small, thin, grubby, but very hard cock. Cara did not dare look as he rubbed its purple end along her sore slit before entering her with a sudden lunge.

Her rapist slobbered drool over Cara's upper chest and neck and then onto her horrified face as he savoured his nubile, young victim - his hands now never leaving her breasts, pinching her nipples and mauling her soft flesh as he pumped back and forth with rapid, jerky motions.

Cara's whole body groaned. Her back, arched over the pillow, screamed its pain while the muscles that had been beaten and pierced earlier that day gave new testament to their own agony. Cara screwed her eyes tight shut as she tried to block out the pain and humiliation of her suffering, yet tears still flowed as she sobbed.

With a loud grunt Cara's latest rape was over. She hardly noticed and she had no time for reflection as she found herself immediately hauled to her feet and walked to the foot of the bed. Almost in a daze, Cara was pushed forwards over the back of a chair that had been brought into the room and held fast by two soldiers, her arse in the air. The second peasant then approached her and kicked her ankles wide apart before prising apart her arse cheeks to finger the bloody red ring of her anus, so cruelly abused just a few hours earlier. Cara came out of her daze with a scream, “No! Leave me along you fucking bastards!”

Her attackers laughed loudly at their captive's outburst and the excited peasant could wait no long to sample the sweetly presented arse of the young English nurse. Out of Cara's sight he pulled out his cock, a little larger and thicker but just as hard and dirty as his friend's, and placed the end at the entrance to the girl's sore anus. She screamed again as he pushed forward and reopened her tight sphincter and drove his cock as deep as he could into her shivering arse.

Cara kicked out as best she could to try and fight this latest attack but she was exhausted and her bruised legs could muster little strength. The peasant lurched in and out of her sore arse, his toothless grin ever wider as his calloused hands grasped Cara's hanging breasts ever tighter. Cara's body shuddered and shook with a mixture of pain and shame as she was forced to endure another brutal arse-fucking. After what seemed an age she finally felt his cock swell and then shrink as he came in her arse. Thank God it's over, thought Cara.

But it wasn't over.

Cara did not find herself released and led back to the jeep. Instead the soldiers maintained their firm grip on her arms and the peasant's place was taken by one of their comrades who raped Cara even more brutally in her arse, fuelled by a bottle of beer and the cheers of his comrades. When he was finally done, another followed, and another. Then Cara found herself again on the bed as a soldier raped her sore cunt, followed by another, and another. Cara lost count as she was again arse-fucked, but she could see the smears and trickles of blood on the insides of her thighs bearing testament to her prolonged and agonised suffering.

Beer was poured over her as the soldiers” fuck party continued and she was even made to drink some as her energy waned and her feeble cries and struggles ceased to excite her attackers. For Cara it was all now just a numbing nightmare and she was finally allowed to curl into a ball on the blood, sweat and cum-soaked bed as the soldiers and peasants had finally fully sated their lust.

Made to sit up, Cara's hands were tied together in front of her and the rope replaced around her neck. A yank on the rope caused her to fall from the bed in a heap on the floor to be dragged up and out of the shack to the waiting jeep. Her neck rope tied as before to the rollover bar, Cara slumped on the seat, shivering in the cold, night air as the jeep's engine burst into light and the convoy set off once more.

Chapter 10 – In the Military Compound

At last the searchlights illuminating the military compound came into sight, and Cara was almost grateful. The guard house gate was quickly negotiated, with tidy salutes afforded the officer in the jeep, though the guards” eyes seemed to stare long and hard at his lovely, naked, young captive, huddled in the centre of the back seat of the jeep, and securely tethered. The jeep stopped outside a large, wooden building and Cara found herself escorted inside, groaning as her stiff limbs were made to work, and the pains from her injuries reminded her again of her recent suffering.

The naked, shivering girl was grateful for the warmth of the inside of the building, which was obviously the officers” quarters. Two soldiers led the nurse by her neck rope down a hallway and through a doorway into an anteroom, where a neatly uniformed man awaited her. He looked her up and down thoughtfully as he and the soldiers exchanged a few words. Then they handed Cara's lead to the man and left. Without delay Cara's ropes were removed.

“You fight or try run away. You pay dear, girl. You behave and do what I say and it be better for you. You understand?” Cara nodded. He led her through another door into a dressing room with a large bathroom. “You wash good. Water hot. You take time. No rush. General eat and drink for one hour and then he want you. After you wash, you make pretty.” He gestured at the dressing table with its mirror and a small selection of cheap cosmetics.

“Can I have some clothes, please?” asked the young nurse, still hugging her naked body.

“You no need clothes,” came the sinister, if not unexpected answer.

The man left Cara in the windowless dressing room but did not close the door. He must be the General's sergeant, thought Cara. The young nurse knew she had little choice but to do what she had been told – she could give witness to these soldiers” brutality and had no doubt they would kill her if she caused trouble. She walked stiffly over to the large, iron bath and turned the taps, allowing water to pour in, steam rising slowly. She even found some cheap, scented bath salts and added them. When she was satisfied with the temperature and depth of the water she stepped gingerly in and gasped as the warm water soothed her aching, tortured, young body. She grabbed the nearby sponge and pressed it against her sore sex and anus, trying to wash away some of the pain and degradation of her brutal gang rapes. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, imagining for a few blissful moments that she was back in her safe apartment at the hospital, or even better in her student nurse's flat back home in England. Oh, how she wished she'd never met Lee and certainly never come to this god-awful country!

Cara slid her aching body down the bath tub a little and allowed her head to dip under the water, taking a deep breath first. She gasped as she raised her head again and the water poured down her cheeks; her long, filthy hair matted to her face. Now she started washing properly, tenderly dabbing her sunburnt shoulders and the many bruises and grazes with the soapy sponge, being particularly gentle with her swollen breasts and sore nipples, and the tiny puncture wounds in her arm and thigh, and especially her poor tummy. Such a small mark, but my how it still hurt her deep in her stomach!

Cara started to feel better as the soap and warm water cleaned and soothed her. She washed her hair thoroughly and stepped from the bath, leaving the filthy, dark water behind her. She found a towel and dried herself off, sitting at the dressing table with the towel around her as she struggled to comb out the tangles in her lovely, long hair. She tugged and pulled, sending long strands of her beautiful hair falling to the floor. As she did so, a middle aged local woman entered the dressing room and set about cleaning up the dirty bath that Cara had left behind. The young nurse smiled weakly at the woman, “I'm sorry for the mess.” The woman did not reply, but finished scrubbing the scum mark from the bath and left without as much as a glance towards the English girl.

Finishing with her hair, Cara sorted through the cosmetics on the dressing table. She had no idea what most of them were from the labels, so she opened each and looked quizzically at the contents. Suddenly she found the sergeant looking over her. “General like this one,” he said, pointing out a bottle of perfume.

“Wait!” Cara heard the firm order and turned around to look at the sergeant. She was startled to see him holding a cut-throat razor. He turned Cara's chair around so she was facing him and pulled up another chair to sit opposite her. Without speaking a word he motioned Cara to remove her towel and spread her legs. The young nurse hesitated for a few seconds, but then noticed the man's glare becoming suddenly more menacing so she parted her towel and spread her legs a little. The sergeant slid his chair towards Cara's and pulled her thighs so her sex was on the edge of her chair. He motioned at the girl to spread her legs even further, and this time she obeyed straight away. Then the man picked a shaving brush and cream from the dressing table and started to spread the cream on the girl's roughly shaven mound. “General like his girls very smooth,” explained the sergeant unnecessarily. “You keep very still or you get hurt.”

Cara needed no further rejoinder as she felt the fine blade scrape effortlessly across her tender skin, scraping away her remaining stubble and the pubic hairs missed by her earlier rapist. The sergeant seemed to be quite expert and teased the secret folds of Cara's sore sex with his fingers before delicately removing any last trace of the curly bush that had decorated her just a day before. He washed the soap away and then closely examined his handiwork, probing here and there with inquisitive fingers, caring not at all when the girl squirmed in embarrassment. He noted how bruised the girl's sex was, and wondered if the General knew how much she had been abused. He saw the bruising around her anus and knew the General would be disappointed she was not untouched there. Still, it was unusual to have a Western girl here for the General's pleasure, and this was certainly a very pretty girl with a sexy body. He knew the General wouldn't mind her bruises, and would probably be keen to add to them. And the soreness of her sex and arse would probably make her more responsive when he fucked her.

The sergeant used the end of his sharp razor to tidy up the very last odd hidden hairs around Cara's sex and told her to stand. He removed the towel from her and made her brush her drying hair, now restored to its usual lustre. He picked up a large bottle of perfumed body oil from the dressing table and emptied some of the liquid onto a sponge and started rubbing the cool liquid into Cara sunburnt shoulders. It felt quite pleasant to the young nurse as her skin absorbed the clear liquid easily. The sergeant moved down her back, her arse and her legs, and the rubbed more of the oil into her arms before turning her around to start on the front of her body. He rubbed a lot of the oil into Cara's bruised and still swollen breasts, working quite gently as the worried girl looked down at them. She saw how her skin glowed with the oil, and how the marks from her caning stood out even darker now against her pale skin. The sergeant finished with the body oil and then dabbed more of the General's favourite perfume on the girl's neck, in the valley between her perky breasts and on her smoothly shaved mound.

When he was satisfied, the sergeant took Cara by the wrist and led her out of the dressing room and into a much larger room, which was dominated by a huge four-poster bed, draped in mosquito nets. More sinister were the numerous manacles, hooks and chains that also adorned the two posts at the foot of the bed, and which immediately caught the young girl's eye.

Close to the huge four-poster was a much smaller bed and it was towards this that Cara was marched. She sat on the bed as the sergeant went to a drawer and came back with a handful of gleaming silver cuffs and chains. Cara, exhausted and frightened, did not resist as the sergeant fixed a shiny silver collar snugly round her slim neck. To the collar was fixed a fine silver chain about three feet long. Next, the sergeant held Cara's hands behind her back while he fixed polished silver cuffs to her wrists. These were joined by another fine chain of about a foot long. The sergeant fixed the middle link of this chain to the collar at the back of her neck, thus forcing her wrists uncomfortably upwards behind her back. Finally the sergeant pushed Cara down onto the small bed and fastening the chain from her collar to the headboard. With her hands cuffed behind her Cara was helpless.

“You sleep now. General come for you later,” instructed the sergeant as he left the naked, chained English nurse lying captive on the tiny bed.

Cara was very grateful for the rest. Although her arms ached from their strained bondage she was at least clean, warm and dry. She soon dropped off into a fitful slumber.

Cara's sleep was disturbed by the sound of the door to the General's bedroom closing. She opened her eyes in trepidation. She was a little relieved to find the familiar figure of the sergeant approaching her. He silently unfastened the chain from the headboard and used it to encourage the lovely nurse to rise from her bed and follow him towards the much larger bed nearby.

The sergeant pushed Cara against one of the tall posts at the foot of the huge bed until her arms were pressed hard against the smooth, polished wood. He threaded the end of the chain through a ring in the bedpost and pulled it tight before fixing it in place, forcing Cara to stand very straight with her pale, bruised breasts thrust out in front of her. Then, the sergeant took each slender ankle and fastened it to a manacle set into the floor to each side of the bedpost, spreading the young girl's thighs, much to her growing discomfort.

Without another word, the sergeant stepped back to check his work and then left the room, leaving the door to the anteroom open. Cara tested her chains, but of course they were unyielding. She looked down at her naked, bound body, her lovely breasts gleaming in the shimmering light of the room; their pink nipples standing erect; their dark bruises prominently, almost proudly on display.

Chapter 11 - Reunited

Cara waited, her fear growing with every passing minute. She had been half-asleep when she had been chained to the bedpost, but as her cognitive senses grew sharper she became increasingly aware of her perilous situation. She was naked, chained to the bedpost of a man she had never met, but clearly a powerful man to have the title of General, who liked pretty girls to be washed, groomed, perfumed and shaved. Her boobs were thrust out begging for his attention and her wide-spread legs offered her ravaged sex on a plate. Suddenly a cold shiver shook her to her soul.

Cara's feelings of impending doom grew even greater as she waited. She struggled to free her chained hands and strained against the manacles on her ankles. She just managed to cause her chains to move a little but of course the links were far too strong to allow her any chance of escape. She started to sweat a little from her exertions, or was it from her stress, she knew not which, but she could feel her armpits becoming moist and her breathing was becoming faster. She just had to escape, for she knew her forthcoming encounter with the General would be more awful than any of the pain and degradation she had so far suffered in this horrible, little country. She gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might against the chains on her wrists and ankles, but of course they would not yield an inch!

Just as Cara gave up her struggles with her chains the door to the bedroom opened and a figure in fine military uniform walked into the bedroom – the General was here at last. Cara looked furtively at the slight figure that approached her. She had expected an older man, maybe a little tubby and bald, but this General was young, not much older than herself, and slim. As he slowly closed in on the naked, captive girl the General removed his cap and Cara was able to see his youthful, smiling face.

“Lee?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“General Lee,” came the correction.

“How strange that sounds; faintly familiar in a weird sort of way,” thought the shocked young nurse.

“You look stunning, Cara. I always knew you would blossom with the right persuasion.” Now standing directly in front of the astonished girl, Lee added, “Your body is glowing. Your tits are … simply sensational.”

Lee ran the tips of his fingers over Cara's presented breasts, but instead of marvelling at their firm, pale flesh he traced out the darker marks left by the canes on her lovely smooth skin.

Cara was speechless, but Lee was now in full flow. He lowered his gaze, and his hands, to her freshly shaved mound. He fingered the baby-smooth skin of her pubis. “You look so good shaved, Cara. Why wouldn't you do that for me before?”

Cara winced at Lee's intimate touching, a touch that she had always previously found so stimulating. She recalled the night when Lee had tried hard to persuade her to shave herself…. unsuccessfully. “I've always kept myself very neat down below,” she babbled, “but I think it's a bit pervy to want a grown woman to be smooth as a baby.”

“Well now you have no choice,” Lee retorted with authority, sending another shiver down the captive girl's spine.

“Lee. Can you please release me? I've had a horrible time and I want to go home. I don't understand what's happened to me recently, or why you are here dressed as a General, but I know that I just want to go home as quickly as I can. Please, Lee.” Cara burst into tears.

“I'll explain everything later, Cara, but first I'm going to enjoy you in the way I've always wanted to.”

Cara sobbed louder. Lee was behaving so strangely and he was frightening her. They had been great friends and passionate lovers, so why was he allowing her to be chained up naked in his bedroom, and why was he saying all these weird things to her?

Lee removed his smart jacket and loosened his tie. Having carefully placed his jacket in the wardrobe Lee returned to Cara carrying the small wooden box that was so familiar to her. He opened the box in front of her wide eyes and picked out the two crab-shaped metal clasps she knew so well. Lee placed the box on a nearby table and held the clasps in one hand. He smiled at Cara as his other hand searched out her right nipple. He looked closely at the sore bud, his expert eye noting the tiniest scar where her poor nipple had been pierced with the needle. “That must have hurt,” he thought to himself as his grin broadened almost imperceptibly. He massaged her nipple quite gently and was pleased to find it react to his touch much as it used to when he and Cara were lovers. As her bud hardened Cara watched breathlessly. She well remembered the sensuous stimulation of these tiny clasps but she feared this time would be different. To her relief Cara felt the familiar sharpness of the tiny teeth of the clasp as Lee pressed it vertically into her rock hard nipple. She gasped as he pressed harder, maybe harder than he ever had before, until a tiny trickle of bright red blood appeared beneath the clasp.

Without a word, or even a glance at her lovely face, Lee turned his full attention to her other breast and its pretty, rosy nipple. Tears were now welling in Cara's gorgeous green eyes as Lee pressed hard on the second clasp until a further crimson line decorated her pale skin.

Now Lee looked his captive in the eye and smiled. Somehow this was a different smile from that which had so often warmed the young nurse's heart and Cara shuddered as she watched her former lover through teary eyes.

After depositing the box on a nearby table Lee turned back towards his captive. He stared hungrily at the sight before him; the girl he had loved so much, but had so frustrated him, now chained securely, her beautiful, slim body glistening with aromatic oil; her lovely smooth pale skin marked with the welts and bruises of her recent interrogation; her firm, perfect breasts thrust out towards him, the bleeding nipples with their painful clasps just begging for his intention, and, of course, her smooth-shaven sex so very inviting between her wide-spread shimmering thighs. He had waited so long for this moment.

Lee looked at Cara's lovely face; the glow from her hours in the sun had turned her cheeks a lovely shade of pink, and the tears in her beautiful green eyes made them look bigger and more alluring than ever. As he approached this vision of loveliness he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her passionately, his tongue darting into her open mouth before she had time to decide if she wanted it.

Almost instinctively Cara responded to Lee's kiss. The familiar taste of his lips and tongue overwhelmed the other sensations in her body for a few seconds as the memories of their love came flooding back over her. The tender caress of his fingertips over her smooth, flushed cheeks, and the rubbing of his trousered thigh into her open crotch made her forget for a moment her dire predicament and her fear. This was almost like old times as the two kissed deeply and hungrily. Lee's hands moved gently to Cara's breasts and massaged them firmly, causing sharp pains from the girl's trapped nipples. Lee felt Cara's pain through their firmly locked lips and squeezed a little harder until a squeak of anguish escaped from her mouth. He gripped her boobs even tighter and felt the dampness of fresh tears on her face as she struggled now to free her mouth from his unwanted kisses.

“Please…. Please, Lee” he heard a plaintive gasp.

Lee released Cara's lips from his and stood back a pace, allowing his hands to relax their iron grip on her sweaty breasts. He looked at the blood on his hands, and on his starched shirt. He grinned to himself as he quickly stripped off his soiled shirt and flung it on the bed, quickly following it with his trousers, shoes and socks. Now they were both naked as they had been so many times before. As usual, his cock was long, thick and hard, but this time Cara was sobbing as she looked down at her trembling, blood and sweat smeared breasts, her nipples throbbing with pain as tiny trickles of ruby-red blood continued to ooze from under the clasps.

Lee grinned and strode purposely towards a nearby cabinet from where he picked up an instrument Cara knew so very well. He swished the small, soft-thonged whip through the air as he approached the crying girl. Without a word he swept the six thongs of the whip hard over her left breast, just above its trapped nipple. Cara gasped, not that the whip was too painful, but at the suddenness and lack of finesse of the blow – so different to when he had last whipped her.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish.

Lee whipped each breast in turn, paying no heed at all to Cara's cries of shock and pain.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish.

Lee's strokes came harder and faster, his engorged cock showing his ever increasing arousal.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish.

As Cara's beautiful breasts first reddened and then darkened in colour under this increasing onslaught Lee grinned lasciviously at his screaming captive, his eyes wide with a maddened lust as he ferociously whipped the poor girl's tits until they were swollen and tender.

“For God's sake, Lee. Please stop!” cried the tearful girl.

At last Lee paused for breath, having delivered over fifty manic strokes to each throbbing boob.

Without a word to his former girlfriend he eyed up her lovely, shaved sex and suddenly lashed upwards into her cunt with the full force of his little whip.

“Aaaahhhhh,” squealed Cara as the soft thongs nipped at her sore sex.

Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.

The lashes continued to land between her splayed thighs as Lee whipped her with ever increasing relish. Cara squirmed as much as her chains would allow her but she could not avoid the stinging lashes as dozen after dozen bit into her sex lips and curled over her red raw anus.

After thirty lashes Lee finally threw the little whip to the floor. He was panting as much as Cara was sobbing, both of their bodies covered in sweat in the humid air of the bedroom. He approached close to the tearful girl and kissed her again, but without any reciprocation this time. He cared not as he guided his huge, engorged cock into her sore, red cunt and thrust in energetically to his balls. Cara's body shuddered at the violence of his entry and sobs racked her body as her former lover bit her lovely neck and mauled her hot, tender breasts as he thrust like a piston into and out of her sore, abused cunt.

“No. Please, Lee,” she sobbed, but she knew this man was not the former lover that had seemed to care so much about her sexual pleasure. No, this man was raping and abusing her body and he would not heed her pleas for an instant.

Lee pulled at the clasps on her nipples with his teeth, drawing more blood which he licked up with a few flicks of his tongue. “That tastes so good,” he thought to himself as he continued to hump her as hard as he could. “I'm finally getting what I've been waiting months for… and it's what I'm due for everything I've done for her.”

Using his teeth and his hands Lee pulled and pawed at Cara's tender right nipple to extract more blood as the captive girl squealed in pain. Lee turned his attentions to her left breast, all the time pumping her sex for all he was worth. He knew he could not last much longer and he finally grasped her shoulders in his hands as he trust as deep as he could before he felt himself cum inside the lovely girl's cunt.

Lee collapsed onto the bed, leaving the sobbing, pain-wracked girl still very firmly chained to his bedpost; her sore, red, bloody breasts out-thrust and a mixture of watery blood and cum trickling down the insides of both her wide-spread thighs. He smiled.

Chapter 12 – Lover's Kiss

Cara breathed deeply as she tried to calm herself. She turned her head as much as her chains allowed her to see Lee flat on his back on the bed, his penis now shrivelled to less than half the size of the throbbing member that had so recently and so violently fucked her.

“Lee,” she called plaintively. “Lee, can you please unchain me and let me rest.”

No answer.

“Lee, please. Please unchain me.”

Some minutes passed and then Lee rose from his bed and approached his chained captive again. He gently cupped her tear stained cheek in his hand and kissed her lips quite gently. Without a word he picked up his discarded whip and placed it back in the cabinet. Then he carefully removed the awful sharp clasps from her swollen and bloody nipples and cleaned the razor sharp teeth before placing them back in their wooden box. Cara gasped a sigh of relief. Maybe he would now unchain her?

Lee ran his fingers across Cara's sore nipples, pleased to find them still turgid buds in spite of their mistreatment. Still without a word to his former lover Lee returned to the cabinet and this time came back with another whip. Cara's eyes widened as she recognised the hard-thonged whip that she had refused to allow Lee to use on her all those weeks ago. Lee swished the whip through the air as he approached Cara's trembling body.

“No. No. Please, Lee, that whip is much too hard for me. You'll kill me.”

“I think not, my dear,” he chuckled as he allowed the hard knotted leather thongs to caress the tops of her sore breasts. “But I've waited a long time for this moment and I'm really going to enjoy finding out.”

Before Cara could think of a response Lee gave a stinging backhanded stroke to the meat of her right breast, with one of the knotted strands whipping evilly right across her swollen, tender nipple. “Aaaawwwww,” wailed the girl, but she had no time to absorb the pain before an even harder forehand stroke whistled agonisingly into her left breast.

Lee stepped back a moment to admire the results of those very first lashes with this harsher whip. To his sheer delight he saw the reddening mark of each strand of the whip clearly showing above the pinker hue of her sore breasts. “This whip is really going to hurt her, and it's going to leave some wonderful, painful stripes,” he thought to himself. His excitement growing, Lee swung his new toy in a wide, fast backhand arc to land the thongs on the underside of Cara's right breast, causing her poor boob to bounce upwards as she shrieked her pain. Another forehand swipe across the centre of Cara's left breast followed as Lee continued his vicious assault on the girl's beautiful body.

Cara closed her eyes tight shut and sobbed as each agonising lash of this awful whip landed alternatively on each breast. Where the softer whip had stung her skin like a nettle this whip seemed to drive its pain deep into her breast flesh with every lash. She begged Lee to stop, but she knew that he wouldn't – at least not until his growing lust was fully sated.

After twenty powerful lashes to each breast Lee stepped back, panting. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he looked upon Cara's beaten breasts. His cock was hardening again with each passing the second as he ran his fingers over the ridges of the dark welts that now decorated almost every inch of her perky boobs. Where the marks crossed and where the knots of leather had struck he could see blood almost at the surface of her skin. “A few more lashes and I'll have her blood for sure,” he thought as he stepped back.

Glancing quickly at Cara's lovely, tear-stained face Lee found his cock hardening further as he savoured the exquisiteness of her agony. He swung harder than ever as he lashed her breasts yet again, determined to bloody his captive's pink skin. Within half a dozen punishing strokes Lee was rewarded with the sight of blood welling up and finally trickling down her breasts from the welts that now covered them completely.

Ignoring his sobbing victim Lee grabbed his engorged cock in his hand. Breathing hard from his exertion he stared wide-eyed as the bloody streaks grew in number on the heaving breasts before him. “Wonderful,” he gasped, “but this is still not enough for me… or for her.” His gaze lowered.

Swish! “Yaaaahhhhhhhh!” screamed Cara with renewed anguish as the hard, knotted leather thongs bit deep into her raw cunt. “No! Please!” she screamed, but the only answer was a further punishing lash direct onto her shaved sex, with the knotted ends whipping up into her sore anus. Again and again Lee lashed upwards between poor Cara's splayed thighs; each lash producing a bloody, sweaty spray and an agonised wail. The lashes came ever faster and harder as Lee's arousal grew to new heights until at last he threw down the blood soaked whip and approached closer to his trembling captive. Without a word he grasped Cara's sweaty hips and thrust his rock-hard cock deeply and agonisingly into her bleeding sex. With tears streaming down her flushed face Cara could only wail and plead for her former lover to stop, but instead he kept pounding into her, his hands now mauling her bloody, welted breasts as he licked and kissed her slim neck and nibbled her ear almost lovingly.

The pain in her breasts was so intense that Cara thought their skin had been totally flayed, but when at last Lee's bloody hands released her poor boobs Cara was relieved to see a few pretty little freckles still visible between the welts and smeared blood. The pain in her sex however continued unabated as Lee's thrusting pelvis kept up its furious pace. With his hands now gripping her hips again very tightly Cara knew his climax was approaching. She screamed as Lee bit hard into her left ear as he thrust one last time very deeply into her sore sex. A few seconds later he had finished and he stood back to admire the sobbing, panting girl. He looked her up and down from the crying green eyes in her angelic face, past her sunburnt, freckled shoulders to her heaving, welted and bloody breasts with their swollen, bleeding nipples, down past her flat, trembling tummy and her smooth-shaved pubis to her bleeding, red raw sex peeking between her wide-spread thighs. Every inch of her looked exactly as he had imagined her. With a smile he kissed his former lover gently on her dry, shivering lips and left the bedroom.

Chapter 13 – A Date with Destiny

Before Cara had even realised that Lee had gone the sergeant was unfastening her chains. He released her ankles first, then her slim neck and finally he unchained her wrists to allow Cara to relieve the strain in her aching arms before chaining them again in front of her. She gently rubbed her raw breasts and sex with her hands as she sobbed. The sergeant, without a word, led her by her neck chain from the bedroom down a corridor, down some flights of steps until she found herself in a corridor lined on both sides with heavy doors fitted with large bolts and huge locks – prison cells. Cara stumbled behind the sergeant on unsteady legs, trying not to bump her bloodied, tender breasts, conscious of the soreness and dampness between her thighs. Finally the sergeant opened one of the doors near the end of the corridor and ushered Cara inside. The cell was small with a low cot along one wall. The only other object in the cell was a bucket. Cara sat on the cot as her collar and chains were removed and the sergeant left, closing and locking the door behind him. Cara lay on her back on the cot, her legs apart to try and relieve the soreness in her crotch, and finally she fell into a fitful sleep, punctuated by horrible visions of hard, leather whips, needle-sharp nipple clasps and the grinning, lust-fuelled figure of Lee, so many times her gentle lover, but now her merciless torturer.

The hours were countless, but Cara knew they had turned to days even though she could see no daylight and none of the guards who periodically brought her meagre rations and changed her bucket ever uttered a word to her. Her cell was stuffy, with only a small grate for ventilation. She washed herself as best she could with the available water, taking care to gently cleanse her sex as much as she could to avoid infection. She examined her breasts and crotch regularly, fearful that the severe pounding they had received would leave permanent marks. She had feared those hard leather thongs since the day Lee had tried to use them on her and she had now seen the result – her breasts had been beaten into raw, bleeding red mounds of pain – a mass of welts and bruises that looked as if they would never heal. Her crotch had looked similarly injured with her sex lips swollen and cut by the harsh lashes.

As the days passed Cara was pleased that her pink nipples regained their shape, even though they remained very tender. The skin on her breasts and crotch started healing with scabs forming where her blood had flowed and the dark, raised welts losing some of their soreness after a few days. The days seemed now to have run into weeks and Cara could do nothing but rest naked on her little cot, looking up at the ceiling of her little cell. “Where is Lee?” she thought to herself, but she wasn't sure if she really wanted to see him again.

At last Cara's body had almost fully regained its former pale beauty with the last of her welts just faint shadows on her skin. She had noticed her rations had become larger in recent days and she began to regain some of her strength. She always tried to engage her guards in conversation but there was still no response at all to her polite questions.

Finally, at last the door to her cell opened and the sergeant appeared again, armed with a set of familiar chains and a silver collar. Without a word he fastened the collar and chains to Cara exactly as she had worn on her way from the bedroom to the cell all those weeks previously. He led her out and Cara squinted under the brighter lights of the corridor after weeks of dim light in her cell.

Down the corridor, up the flights of stairs, Cara soon knew where she was going. As they approached the door to Lee's bedroom Cara started shivering in fear. The sergeant must have noticed but gave no reaction as Cara started to resist him a little. He jerked sharply on her neck chain to reassert his authority and Cara complied reluctantly as the door opened and Cara was led deep into Lee's bedroom. She looked fearfully at the bedpost where she had been chained before but to her relief Cara was led to another part of the bedroom where a table and two chairs were located. She was made to sit on one of the chairs and the chain between her wrists was attached to a ring in the table, forcing Cara to sit at the table and await her fate. The sergeant left her still without a word.

Cara suddenly felt dirty. She had not washed with soap for weeks and could feel a tackiness between her legs and under her armpits. Her hair was long, lank and tangled and she had not seen herself in a mirror for ages. She looked about for a mirror but none offered her a chance to see how she looked. “Oh well,” she thought, “there's nothing I can do about that now.” She sat and waited for her former lover to arrive.

At last the door opened and Lee entered his bedroom carrying a large canvass bag. He was again in the full uniform of a General of the rebel militia – a sight that frightened Cara more than she could believe.

“Ah, Cara,” rejoined Lee. “How nice to see you again. I trust you are now fully recovered.”

“Are you going to let me go home now… please, Lee?”

“Oh, I don't think I can do that.” Lee sat opposite Cara and placed the canvass bag on the table to one side. Cara noted with some fear the sharp metallic clunk as the bag was placed on the table. He reached across the table and squeezed her right breast. Cara flinched at his touch. “Still tender? Let me explain a few things to you.”

“Do you remember that CIA agent at the hospital?” Cara nodded slowly. “Well the day after he left you stranded we picked him up in the city. We had some very interesting conversations with him as you can imagine. Well, a few days later there was a huge car bomb in the city. Many very popular local elders were killed along with dozens of other innocent men, women and children. We found bits of his body in the car, or rather the van, which had contained the bomb. It seems as if the bomb went off prematurely while he was setting the timer,” continued Lee with a sly smile.

“There was a huge outcry as you can imagine. The Government came under ferocious attack – which they fully deserved – for failing to protect their people against Western aggression. We stormed the Government buildings and easily overpowered the regular army, most of which had turned loyal to us anyway. We formed our own military Government and re-wrote some key laws to enable us to implement martial law and have a very aggressive policy towards Western foreigners in our country. We have huge popular support. How could the CIA dare to send an agent into our country to set off a car bomb that killed local elders? The US Government of course denied it, but we had all the evidence we needed to link the agent with the bombing. We've booted out all the American and British diplomats and turned our people away from the West and firmly into our hands.”

“What's this got to do with me, Lee?”

“When we searched the agent's hotel room we found evidence to link you with him.”

“But you know I'm not a CIA agent! What evidence did you find?”

“So we put out an alert and reward for your capture. Of course we already had you in our custody but we kept that secret and portrayed you as a highly dangerous fugitive. We had every loyal citizen in the country looking for you. We announced your capture after a few weeks and put you on trial behind closed doors. You have been found guilty of being an MI6 agent and conspiring with the CIA to plant a bomb in the city that killed many innocent local people.” Cara looked puzzled as Lee continued, a broad grin now on his face.

“But why? Why are you doing this to me? I thought you were against the militia running the country.”

“I've long known that the rebel militia would soon gain control, so I joined them many months ago. I am now a General and a key member of the ruling junta. I have power and influence that I could never have dreamed of. Do you remember that while I was studying medicine at university I was doing a secondary course in media studies? Well, a medical surgeon with a degree in media studies from a British university gives the junta a huge amount of added credibility with the local populace. I was able to name my price, and part of it is you, as a special bonus. I loved you, Cara, and I loved every moment I spent with you. I loved your personality, your great humanity, your zest for life and of course your sexy body. But I grew to know I needed to push the boundaries, particularly the mix of pleasure… with pain. I loved to hurt you and the more I hurt you the more I wanted to. But I knew I had reached the boundary of how much of your pain you would willingly give to me. What we did in this bedroom was the next stage for us… well for me, and I know that you would never have allowed me to whip you like that if you had the choice. Now, part of my role in the military Government is to interrogate suspects and I will have many pretty girls to hurt and destroy as I wish. So now I need to finish my love affair with you… by reaching the ultimate climax.”

“But you cared so much for the innocent victims of the militia. How can you turn your back on them now and betray them?”

“We only have one life, Cara. This military Government is led by very clever, very powerful, and very ruthless men. I have now realised what I will gain by being with them rather than against them. In the months and years to come we will not only take over this country but the whole region. We will be as powerful as the USA, more powerful than the UK and we will influence the whole world. I will be a key player in all this with a name and reputation that will live for ever. What an opportunity!”

Cara could feel the passion in Lee's voice. “So what about me? I just want to go home. You know I am not an MI6 agent. You know I'm just a nurse who wants to help people. I won't tell anyone about what you did to me; I'll just remember our love as it was.”

“Sorry, Cara. Let me show you something that might explain things.” Lee opened the canvass bag and pulled out a local newspaper. He spread it on the table. Cara could see a large photo of the CIA agent. It looked like his passport photo. Next to it was a similar picture of her, also her passport photo. Below these pictures was a rather fuzzy image that looked as if it had come from a camcorder. In spite of the poor quality she could recognise the CIA agent sitting on a bed. She then noticed the image of herself facing him, holding a towel to her naked body. Lower on the page were pictures of the USA President and the Prime Minister of Britain, neither of them very flattering. Cara looked puzzled. Lee then pulled out another newspaper, this time the “Daily Telegraph” from the UK. She looked wide-eyed at the headline:

“PM “FURIOUS” AT BRITISH SPY NURSE DEATH PENALTY”

Cara looked down the article. There was lovely photo of her in her nurse's uniform, a more flattering photo of the Prime Minister looking grim-faced and a picture of her Mum and Dad at a press conference. They looked distraught. Cara quickly read the article and her face paled. She had been found guilty of being a spy and conspiring to plant the car bomb that had killed so many innocent people. The local populace had demanded the death penalty and burnt American and British flags. The military Government had agreed and she had been sentenced to be executed in public. The UK and US Governments had claimed she was not involved and the Prime Minister had demanded her immediate release and repatriation. The affair had caused a huge diplomatic row with the US and UK embassies looted after the diplomats had fled for their lives.

“You see, Cara, your execution will demonstrate very clearly how we are not intimidated by the UK and the USA. No British citizen has been treated like this by a foreign power for centuries, and especially not such a young and beautiful girl as you. We will send shivers down the spines of all the capitalist politicians not just in the West but in our own region. Your execution will greatly further our cause to be the most influential power in the continent. Your name will be written in the history books, and so will mine; though it's a pity you won't still be around to see it.”

Cara listened open-mouthed; her shock at what she was hearing grew with very word. Lee opened the pages of the local newspaper and pointed at another picture. It showed the Government Building in the main city square with a rectangular frame fixed on the front of the large balcony of the building. She had seen the building and the square before on television when they had held military parades.

“This is where you will die tomorrow, Cara,” he explained excitedly to his dumbstruck former girlfriend. “The local elders have demanded the most painful, humiliating, traditional punishment and execution for you. You will be chained naked, arms and legs spread, to this frame overlooking the main square. The frame will be rotated so all the thousands of people in the square can get a good sight of you. There will also be large video screens all round the square so the people further away can see every detail of your execution. As the main clock strikes noon your execution will begin. There will be two masked executioners; the chief executioner will be me, and Dan, who you met at the hospital, will be the other. He shares my dreams and has been very helpful in organising your arrest and execution.”

Through her foggy confusion Cara tried to make sense of it all. She recalled Dan, a particularly odious guy that Lee had introduced to her a couple of times. He and Lee had often spoken in front of Cara in their native tongue and she had found that rude. Their drunken laughter had often seemed lewd and Lee had once asked Cara if she would allow Dan to join them in bed – a thought that had disgusted her.

Cara made no comment as Lee's words of horror slowly sunk in. “Your execution will be a particularly brutal and prolonged version of “Ling Chi', a traditional method of executing murderers and traitors from centuries ago. Yours will be the first official execution by Ling Chi for over one hundred years.”

“Ling Chi?” thought Cara. “What is that?” As she pondered, her former lover continued his excited narration of her impending demise.

“At noon I will make the first cut.” Lee pulled a large, curved, heavily serrated stainless steel knife from the canvass bag and showed it to Cara. “Dan and I will use these knives, fastened to long bamboo poles, to make most of the cuts. I will make the first cut here… ” Lee held the knife below Cara's shocked face at a diagonal just an inch or so below her left collar bone, with the horrible sharp edge to the top, angled inwards. “I will cut across the top of your chest just below your collar bone. The sharpness and angle of the blade will carve open your flesh to the bone. A few seconds later Dan will make a similar cut on the other side. Once we have finished these cuts the frame will be rotated so everyone can see the first symbolic spilling of your blood. After that Dan and I will take turns to cut you. Some of our cuts will carve strips of your flesh from your body while others will just draw bloody patterns on your skin. We will cut all parts of your body except your breasts which will remain intact, though bloodied from the cuts higher on your chest. As you know, Dan and I are both very well acquainted with human anatomy, and of course I am especially knowledgeable with regards to your body, so we will be sure not to let you lose too much blood too soon.”

Lee paused for a second, but Cara could still find no words.

“We will take breaks when necessary, to give the crowd a chance to fully savour your suffering. We will also give you strong diuretic drinks before we start and as we proceed. This will ensure you pee yourself during your execution but do not die of dehydration. We will also give you a laxative to ensure you shit yourself. This will add significantly to your humiliation and that of the USA and UK and will entertain the locals.”

Cara started crying. “Lee, this is awful. You can't be serious about this. You're really scaring me now. You know I'm not a spy or traitor. I've never hurt anyone. This is ridiculous. Stop this now and let me go home, please.”

“But Cara, your execution has to send shock waves throughout the world. We will be showing all the world powers how we will deal with the enemies of our people – utterly ruthlessly – no matter their gender or nationality. Your execution will be beamed around the world by satellite. All right, the main TV companies won't show it live, but you can bet the Prime Minister and President, and every other world leader will be watching, and they will clearly see the fanaticism of our people and the power of our leadership, and so will everyone in this country and the entire region. The video will go viral on the internet and the whole world will see for themselves the power of our country. We will be feared and respected everywhere.”

Ignoring the despair of his former girlfriend, Lee then took another item from the canvass bag; this time it was a razor-sharp, spear-like instrument with a barbed blade spiralling round it. “Once you have shit and pissed yourself, when we feel the time is right, I will insert this up your anus.” Cara looked on with tears now streaming down her pretty face.

“The blades will shred your anal passage. I will rotate it when it's inside you and move it up and down to maximise your pain.” He picked a second similar, second spear from the bag. “Then, once you have peed, I'll stick this up into your vagina and do the same to that,” he explained with ever-growing relish.

Cara was sobbing loudly now, but Lee continued without hesitation, picking a small, curved knife from the bag and holding it up in front of Cara's tear-filled eyes.

“I'll cut off your nipples with this knife, very slowly,” he said in a matter-of fact way. He then picked out another larger, straight-edged knife. “And I'll cut off your breasts with this knife.” Lee held the gleaming stainless steel knife horizontally in front of Cara's right breast with the blade upwards. “I'll pull out your breast and cut very slowly upwards from the bottom until I reach the top of your breast. Then I'll cut off the other one the same way.”

“Finally, as your life slips slowly away, I'll cut open your stomach so your guts spill out. Then Dan and I will spear you through the heart as it beats for the last time. Your dead body will be left for all to see until the birds have taken all your remaining flesh. Then your bones will be ground to power.”

Cara hardly noticed that Lee had finished describing her execution… no, her torture to death.

“Of course, we may add in a few other refinements as we go. Dan and I are going to do a rehearsal in the army prison with a local peasant girl about your age and body shape so we may change a few details after that. Also, it depends how good a show you put on and how the crowd is reacting. Get a good night's sleep, Cara. Tomorrow will be by far the biggest day of your life, and your last. You need to look your best. I'll see you in the main square at noon tomorrow. Good night.”

With that Lee collected up the knives and spears and placed them back in his canvass bag. He then left his pitifully sobbing ex-girlfriend without another glance.

As Lee left, his sergeant entered the room and unchained her from the table. He led her sobbing to the small bed where she had been chained all those days ago and chained her there as before. Cara sobbed herself eventually to sleep.

Chapter 14 – Making History

Cara was awoken by the sergeant, who led her to the familiar dressing room next door. Still in a daze from the awful words Lee had spoken the day before, Cara passively allowed herself to be showered, shaved and her body thoroughly oiled. Her dark brown hair was brushed and dried to regain its former lustre and now hung down past her shoulders in front and behind her. She looked in the full-length mirror – only her bloodshot, tearful eyes detracted from her appearance as a beautiful girl in the prime of her life.

“Eat this,” she was instructed. Cara wondered if this meal included the diuretic drink and laxative. She had no choice but to eat and drink what was offered to her.

“Put this on,” was the next instruction. Cara took the bright orange boiler suit and stepped into the legs before zipping the front up to the top of her chest. Cara was then chained as she had been earlier, with a steel collar and chains linking her wrists and ankles. She was led out from the dressing room and eventually into the compound and the back of car with smoked glass windows. On either side of her sat very large militia men. The car moved out of the compound on Cara's last journey, to her torture and death. Cara shivered in spite of the humidity in the car, and tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Surely this could not be about to happen to her!

With the tinted windows and the two huge soldiers either side of her Cara could not make out any details of her journey. She sat and shivered and tried not to think about what was to come. Surely the might of the British Government could not and would not let Lee get away with what he had planned for her? Or was it all just a huge, terribly unfunny joke on his part? Maybe she was being driven to the airport to be flown home, and Lee would see her off with a cheeky grin and a last kiss.

At last the little light that Cara could see was extinguished and the car stopped in darkness. Cara was led from the vehicle, hobbling in her uncomfortable chains. She could see they were in a covered car park, with no natural light at all, and Cara was quickly ushered to a lift. A few second later Cara found herself in the Government building in the capital city being marched through the austere corridors. She was led into a large state room and saw immediately that it would lead out to the balcony. She was stopped within the room, and she could see from the clock that it was just past 11.30am. Two soldiers kept a strong grip on her arms as they waited. It was obvious that several high-ranking officials in full military dress uniform were organising the event, both within the state room and outside on the balcony. Cara looked around for Lee, for some tiny speck of hope amongst all these huge, powerful enemies, but she could see no sign of him. She shivered anew in the cool air of the state room.

Cara watched the second hand of the clock circle round, one, twice, three, four then five and six times. A soldier came with a glass of liquid and ordered Cara to drink it all. As the minute hand clicked across to 11.40am the two soldiers took an even firmer grip of her arms and were joined by four others, all dressed in full uniform with machine guns ready. At a nod from an officer the six large soldiers escorted the tiny, slim figure of the chained nurse towards the daylight and the balcony outside. Cara could hardly walk and was shivering uncontrollably as she was half-dragged forward. As she entered the balcony Cara took a deep breath of the cool air of the cloudy day and tried to compose herself. She was made to stand near the front of the first-floor balcony overlooking the main square. The first thing she noticed was the great noise coming from a few feet below her and she looked down and out to see thousands of people all looking at her, shouting out, shaking their fists and waving banners with all sorts of vile anti-Western slogans. Some had large pictures of the US President or UK Prime Minister with “Murderer” written over them and death threats. There were many banners with pictures of her or the CIA agent with the same slogans and some groups were burning US and UK flags. It all seemed like an awful nightmare to Cara, like scenes she had seen on TV but never expected to witness for herself; and with so much of the hatred directed at her. Surely she would wake up soon!

Cara looked around the huge square. It was festooned with the new national flags – thick horizontal stripes of light green at the top and bottom with a white central stripe and the black and red pentagram insignia boldly in the middle. Cara also noticed the enormous video screens Lee had mentioned, including two massive screens behind her to either side of the balcony. As she looked around her she could see her own image on the screens. How small and timid she looked, how scared, how frightened. She blinked back some tears and took another deep breath to try and compose herself. She looked for the camera that was taking the image of her and noticed that there were video cameras all over and around the balcony, including some on scaffolds to capture her execution from every conceivable angle. In addition, there were press areas to either side of the balcony where dozens of cameramen were pointing their long-lenses at her with a cacophony of clicks.

Cara noticed the image on the screens change as a senior military Government official approached the microphone just to her left. He held up his arms to try and quieten the crowd, but after a minute or so he gave up and spoke loudly into the microphone – his voice echoing around the vast square from dozens of loudspeakers. Cara could not understand what he was saying, but at intervals the raucous crowd became even more animated and some of the large screens showed pictures of the gory aftermath of the car bomb and pictures of the innocent and well-respected victims interspersed with her own image again, standing chained in her bright orange boiler suit. The inferences were obvious. Some of the banners with her picture on were set alight and the crowds cheered as her image blistered and burnt away. Cara again looked round for any sign of Lee, but could still find none.

After a few minutes the speech finished and Cara glanced at the clock on the other side of the square – it was 11.50am – just ten minutes to noon.

One of the soldiers approached Cara and took a key to unlock the chains that bound her. In a few seconds he had removed them all, but the other soldiers of course kept a very tight grip on her arms. Cara was trembling again as the soldier gripped the zip on her boiler suit and pulled it slowly down. The crowd was a little quieter now as they watched the action on the balcony, either directly or on the huge screens around the square. Cara could hardly breathe.

The zip reached her waist and the soldiers pulled the orange garment from her shoulders, revealing her pale, naked upper body to the crowd and cameras. Banners waved and shouts deafened the ears as the young, British nurse's body was gradually exposed. The soldiers pulled the boiler suit slowly down past her waist and onwards down her slim, shapely legs until she was forced to step out of it, totally naked and trembling in fear. Cara could not hold back the tears any more as she glanced up to the video screen that dwarfed the balcony behind her left shoulder. She desperately wanted to pee, but just managed to hold it back – for now.

The soldiers gripping her arms led Cara the few paces to where the rectangular frame was situated. It looked shorter than she had seen in the newspaper article and surely she could not stand upright within it? Cara was turned to face the front of the balcony, just a few feet away. One soldier pulled up her left arm and placed her wrist within a steel cuff that was joined by short chains to both the upright and horizontal bars of the frame in the top corner. He adjusted the cuff with a wing nut so it gripped Cara's wrist firmly. Cara watched his every move intently and then focussed on her right wrist, which was similarly trapped at the other corner. Her arms were only just above shoulder height, about four feet apart. Cara was just able to grip the top horizontal bar in her hands to ease the pain of the metal cuffs on her wrists. She tried to get as good a grip as she could while her arms were bent and not stretched out.

Cara glanced to her right to see another soldier pressing a button on a control box. She immediately felt her trapped wrists rising as the telescopic uprights extended to raise the top of the frame. Another tear escaped her eye as her exposure grew and the vulnerability of her position became even more acute. The motor stopped with Cara's arms now spread high above her head. A soldier grasped her left ankle and placed that in another adjustable steel cuff that was linked by short chains to the upright and horizontal bars at the bottom corner of the frame. As the soldier gripped her right ankle to pull that out, Cara gave a gasp as her legs were spread giving the crowd their first full sight of her smooth shaved sex. She glanced anxiously at the screen behind her right shoulder and cried when she saw the video focussing on her spread genitals. The motor whirred again and the uprights extended a little further until Cara's beautiful body was spread-eagled naked above the crowd. Her feet were able to rest on the bottom bar and help support her as she looked out above the baying crowd. The motor then re-started and raised the whole frame some six feet above the balcony, giving the crowd an exceptional view of the naked, spread-eagled and terrified British nurse.

Another tear trickled down her cheek. In spite of the cool, cloudy weather, Cara felt sweat forming in her armpits and her need to pee was already becoming overwhelming. She shivered more as she noticed the time on the clock was now fast approaching noon.

A motor clicked and Cara found her frame rotating slowly to her right. She breathed hard as the huge video screen beside the balcony dwarfed her view, showing her spread, pale, naked body on the frame, with her lovely, smooth arse cheeks prominently displayed below her slim, willowy back with her long, dark brown hair just fluttering a little in the cool breeze. The frame continued to rotate and Cara's gaze switched to the huge video screen on the other side of the balcony. It now showed a view from near the floor of the balcony with her hairless crotch in sharp focus. Cara shivered yet again.

The frame returned with a tiny jolt to its original position. From behind her two soldiers brought in a stand with about a dozen long bamboo poles in it. On top of the poles were fixed razor sharp blades of various designs. Cara looked down at the blades as the stand was placed on the balcony just behind her right shoulder. She trembled as she recognised some of them as those which Lee had shown her with such relish the previous day. She noticed the terrifying, large serrated blade he said he would use for the first, symbolic cut - along her collar bone, she remembered - and the horrible spears he said he would insert into her anus and vagina. Cara's attention was distracted and she looked around to the other side of her frame as two more soldiers placed an identical stand with the same selection of blades on poles to her left. These would be used by the hideous Dan, she supposed.

“Oh, God!” she muttered under her gasping breath. “OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD” she heard as the microphone in the top bar of her frame caught her faint words and transmitted them a thousand times louder from all the speakers around the square.

The crowd were ever more noisy and raucous as two men dressed in black arrived at the front of the balcony, their faces covered. They bore the insignia of the new military Government but were otherwise totally unidentifiable. Cara looked down at the foreboding figures – terrified.

Each man went to the stand nearest them and picked out the pole with the large, serrated blade on the end. They stood in front of Cara with the blades aloft just in front of her terrified face. Across the square Cara could see the time was just thirty seconds before noon. Cold sweat tricked from her armpits down her slender flanks. She couldn't breathe.

The two men took a step each to the side. They lowered and angled the blades to be parallel with the naked, British nurse's collar bones, the man to her right placing the razor sharp blade on her smooth, pale flesh an inch below her left collar bone where it met her left shoulder. The blade was angled upwards and inwards so it would slice into her skin at an angle and score the surface of the collar bone itself leaving a deep, bleeding wound. The man to Cara's left then placed his blade in the same position on her right collar bone.

The polished steel of the two blades glinted in her eyes as Cara looked down at them. Tears were staining her pretty cheeks now and she started sobbing uncontrollably. The crowd had become quieter as the global importance of what was about to take place suddenly seemed to overshadow their blood lust.

The minute hand of the clocked clicked over and the first chime rang out across the square.

“Aaaahhheeeeeeyyyyyy!!!!!!!” screeched Cara as the evil tip of the razor sharp blade at her left shoulder was sliced through her pale skin until it hit her bone. Just a second later the blade was pulled slowly towards the centre of her chest, the tip of sharpened steel scoring the bone all the way. A line of ruby red blood followed the path of the blade as it crossed her chest to her sternum, scoring that hard bone too. The blood welled up in the wound, trickling in tiny rivulets down to her heaving, sweaty left breast, rounding its soft curves to eventually dry on her smooth, trembling stomach.

The sound of Cara's agonised scream reverberated around the main square from dozens of speakers, and was echoed around the Western world.

Having scored her breastbone the bloody blade left contact with Cara's pale skin and its user stepped to the side to ensure all had a clear view of the screaming girl. Cara's battle with her bladder had been lost with the first cut. Her yellow pee splashed onto a large plastic sheet that had been spread out beneath her frame.

“Aaaahhheeeeeeyyyyyy!!!!!!!” Within seconds the blade at her right shoulder was mirroring that first agonising cut. Perhaps even more slowly Dan sliced the skin of the naked, young nurse. Perhaps he was relishing his work even more than Lee. Bloody trails now covered both the girl's breasts as the cut was completed and Dan stood to attention beside the frame.

Above him Cara looked down at her blood streaked body. The two cuts were deep, long and excruciatingly painful. Every breath she took made her chest cavity rise and aggravated the wounds a little. She felt as if her whole chest was throbbing in pain. Through the fog of her pain she did manage to notice that the flow of blood had almost stopped from the first cut – Lee had been true to his word in all things so far – she would not bleed to death… yet.

The motor clicked and Cara's frame was rotating again, just as Lee had described. The crowd at the side of the square roared as they saw at first hand the first spilt blood of the hated MI6 agent. Their excitement was matched by the crowd on the other side. Cara could not take her eyes off the big screens and watched the images of her bloody chest and breasts until she felt her frame click back into position. She looked down and saw who she assumed was Lee holding his bloody blade up towards her again. “No, please,” she whimpered. “NO PLEASE,” echoed plaintively around the main square to be greeted with angry shouts from the crowd.

Lee raised his evil blade towards Cara's right arm and cut a line of bright red blood along her upper arm ending near her armpit. Cara screamed again as she watched Lee's work. The terrified nurse quickly looked to her left as she felt another cut in her other arm, this time on her forearm, that left a bloody trail on her pale skin. Immediately Lee's blade was at work again, slicing across the muscle of her arm. More cuts followed, each fairly superficial, but all very painful and leaving a maze of bloody wounds on both her outstretched arms.

Lee's bloody blade cut again into the bicep of Cara's right arm. She screamed a little hoarsely. This time however, instead of a simple bloody cut, Lee angled his blade in a very shadow arc and sliced into the muscle of Cara's arm like he was carving a joint of roast beef. The razor sharp blade easily made the slice and removed a sliver of muscle and pale skin which fell to join the puddle of Cara's yellow urine beneath her frame. Cara looked in anguish at the gory wound on her arm just a few inches from her agonised face. The crowd roared – this is what they were waiting for from an authentic “Ling Chi” execution. Dan soon followed Lee's lead and a bloody slice of her left forearm plopped onto the plastic sheet. After a few more minutes both Cara's outstretched arms were a mass of bloody cuts and pain, with almost a dozen slices of flesh littering the floor of the balcony.

Lee placed his blade back into its stand and Dan followed his lead. They both left the balcony. A soldier approached the trembling figure of the British nurse with a bottle of drink and placed some steps in front of her in order to force feed her the liquid. Cara did not resist but drank in all the sweet tasting liquid, even though she knew it would make her want to pee again. She was also becoming more aware that the laxative she had been fed that morning was taking more and more effect as the minutes passed. She glanced at the clock across the square. It was almost twelve thirty now.

With another click Cara's frame rotated slowly again. This time it did not stop after one full rotation but continued until Cara's back was to the crowd. In this position Cara was almost facing the giant video screens on either side of the balcony and she just could not avert her eyes from the images being shown. The screens were showing split images, some with close up pictures of the gory wounds on her arms and collar bones while others focussed still on her spread arse cheeks or crotch. Others showed her agonised face with her tear-stained cheeks and water-filled eyes.

With her back to the crowd Cara could also easily see Lee and Dan returning to the balcony. They passed her pleading visage impassively and took up station behind her. Cara looked at the big screen to her right to see what they were doing.

On screen Cara saw Lee and Dan both pick identical, fresh blades from the stands. These blades were not serrated, but were about nine inches long with a slightly curved edge. They were, of course, highly polished and razor sharp.

In great fear Cara saw and then felt Lee part the hair at the back of her neck with the tip of his blade and then place it at the top of her spine, just below her neck. He was standing a little to her left and angled the edge of the blade towards her left hip. As the clock struck the half hour, Lee cut into the nurse's back until the blade met her vertebra. “Aaaahhheeeeeeyyyyyy!!!!!!!” screamed Cara again as Lee slowly drew the blade in a steep, straight diagonal cut down the pretty nurse's back. The blade cut easily through her strong back muscles and agonisingly scored each of her ribs all the way down to her left hip. Cara panted hard and sobbed as she watched the line of blood appear on the video screen in front of her.

She had little time for contemplation as Dan was now behind her with his blade poised. Starting at the same point at the top of her spine Dan drew his bright red line of agony even more slowly over her ribs to her right hip. “Aaaahhheeeeyyyy!!!!!” she screamed again.

Within a few seconds Lee had returned, standing directly behind the frame. This time, using just the very tip of his blade he made a horizontal cut from the bottom of Cara's left shoulder blade straight across her back to her right shoulder blade. He made sure the cut was the same length as the previous two cuts on the pretty nurse's back and was the same length each side of her spine. Lee worked very slowly and carefully to make sure this cut was true and straight, his razor sharp blade slicing keenly though the girl's pale, freckled skin. Cara hardly had the strength to scream this time.

The crowd all knew where the next cuts would be to the Western girl's bloody back, but Cara did not yet realise though her agony.

Lee was standing a little to the left again and used the same weapon to join the end of the cut on Cara's right shoulder blade to the end of the cut at her left hip. Again he cut very slowly, perhaps trying match Dan's level of sadism. His blade again scored each rib as it passed over it, as well as two vertebrae as it crossed her spine. This time Cara did scream her agony again, “Aaahheeeeyyyy!!!!!” though without the volume of earlier.

As Lee finished his cut, so Dan started his, joining the two remaining ends from Cara's left shoulder blade to her right hip. “Aaaahhheeeeyyyy!!!!!” screamed the wretched girl as more of her muscles were sliced and her bones horribly scored. Dan stood back and the crowd whistled and hooted their pleasure as the insignia of the new military Government was clearly, if not quite perfectly, carved in blood on the back of the condemned spy. Cara looked up at the big screen to see the bloody pentagram across her back; a stark symbol of the defeat of a Western spy and murderess and the triumph of the new regime in this ambitious country. Cara's frame of agony clicked into motion again and she started round in a slow, full one and a half turns. When it clicked to a halt Cara was again facing the baying crowd and the further horrors that still awaited her.

Below her stood Lee and Dan in their black, foreboding uniforms; their faces still covered. They both held poles with gleaming sharp blades, though the bamboo poles were somewhat shorter than the ones they used earlier and Cara could tell they would not be able to reach her lacerated and mutilated arms. Of course these were no longer their target and Lee, standing a little to her right, was again the first to use his fresh blade, slicing into her right flank to make a shallow cut from below her armpit to just above her hip. A strip of Cara's pale skin about a foot long curled from the blade and dropped to the floor of the balcony. Cara screeched her new pain, tears streaming again from her pain-wracked eyes. The crowd cheered again, their blood lust far from sated.

Dan followed with a similar, slicing cut to Cara's left flank; this gory wound was made slightly closer to her quivering tummy muscles but was equally agonising for the wretched, young, British nurse. “Aaaahhheeeeyyyy!!!!!” she screamed again, her pitiful cries amplified again around the square.

Lee followed immediately; slicing into Cara's spread right thigh and easily parting another long sliver of flesh from her bleeding leg. As Lee finished his hellish cut, so Dan started his next slice as the two executioners worked together to destroy Cara's lovely body. Every cut now removed more beautiful skin from Cara's stretched legs and the pile of gory flesh grew ever larger underneath her frame of agony. Her thighs, calves and shins all felt the keen edges of the razor sharp blades as slice after slice of pale skin and gory flesh were parted from her quivering limbs. As Lee sliced upwards high up the inside of Cara's taught right thigh, right up close to her pink pussy lips, the pretty nurse could finally hold back no longer and with a loud squelch she emptied her bowels, runny faeces trickled down the insides of both her wide-spread thighs while larger, more lumpy solids plopped down from her anus onto the bloody, gory plastic sheet that covered the floor of the balcony below her.

Lee and Dan jumped back to avoid the pungent, brown fallout and allow the crowd a perfect view of the British spy soiling herself. Jeers filed the square as banners were waved and the poor nurse's shame was raucously celebrated. As the stream of brown liquid turned to more irregular drips, so Cara also lost control of her bladder again and peed a stream of yellow liquid on top of the faeces.

When the splatter of urine eventually finished and the excited crowd had finally quietened a little, the motor again clicked and Cara found her frame rotating again so everyone could get a clear sight of her pitiful condition; her arms and legs half-skinned, half sliced, her breasts covered in bloody streaks, her back sliced with a large pentagram and her inner thighs slimy with blood, urine and shit. In spite of her agony Cara could not help but look at the giant screens as she rotated. She now had no doubt at all that she would die this afternoon where she hung on that frame.

Cara's frame clicked to a stop. She was again facing the crowd. She found another soldier on some steps in front of her face offering her a drink and she gulped down the sweet tasting liquid as she had before. Her fuzzy brain told her this replenishment of her body fluids would prolong her suffering, but Cara's spirit was not yet ready to give in. She licked her dry lips as the soldier descended the steps, but he did not move them away. Instead the steps were ascended by one of her two executioners. She could not be sure which, but she assumed Lee would want to torture her close up, and a brief glimpse as their eyes met confirmed it. “You fucking bastard!” she muttered to him under her breath. She smiled weakly as her gasping words echoed around the square from the many speakers. Lee did not respond but held a small knife in front of her eyes. Cara shivered as she recognised it as one of the blades Lee had shown her the day before – this one was for severing her nipples! “You fucked-up bastard!” she cried more loudly this time, but no echo came from the speakers this time, they must have turned off the microphone, damn it.

Lee had his head level and just to the right of Cara's blood streaked right breast. He checked that the nearest video cameras would have an unobstructed view of her breast as her grasped the bloody, sweaty teat in his left hand. He rubbed over the pink nipple with his thumb, just as he had done many times as a prelude to having passionate and loving sex with his gorgeous ex-girlfriend. Just as before, Cara's nipple hardened to his touch, poking now over half an inch from the tip of her breast. Cara watched intently, panting hard as Lee steadied the sharp blade of his knife against the lovely, smooth skin of her breast, just at the inside edge of her pink aureole where it met her paler flesh. He first sliced a shallow cut around her aureole about an inch long and then pulled her nipple to her right to open up the wound. He pointed the tip of the blade towards her trapped nipple and pressed the sharp point into the cut in her skin to work the tip of the blade under the darker skin of her aureole. The thin line of blood around her aureole turned to a trickle as he worked the point deeper into her flesh towards the centre of her aureole and its hard central bud. Cara gasped in pain, tears streaming afresh down her freckled cheeks as Lee worked the point of his knife delicately under the surface of her aureole until the tip was directly under her right nipple. Then, equally delicately and even more slowly, Lee started to work the blade down and around Cara's breast at the edge of her aureole. Moving the tip of the blade fractionally in and out of her flesh he gradually sawed around her trembling aureole as her blood trickled in wider streams down the under curve of her perky breast and onto her tummy.

Lee's thumb continued to stimulate the young nurse's nipple and keep it hard as his other hand cut her breast with the precision of the surgeon he was. He had now cut around the bottom edge of the pink aureole and was slicing slowly up the outer edge; his concentration was total. As he reached half way round the young nurse's breast Lee at last removed the point of his knife from her flesh. Cara's respite lasted only seconds though as Lee readjusted his position to continue his slicing up the outside edge and eventually along the top of her breast. Fresh blood now covered Cara's nipple as Lee continued to slice into her flesh until he had completely circled her aureole. The crowd had been very quiet as this delicate operation had proceeded but they were now becoming more excited as the climax approached. More tears stained Cara's angelic face as she continued to look down at her former lover's mutilation of her lovely boob.

Lee stared intently at the trembling breast that was just a few inches in front of his eyes. He could see the tiny beads of sweat on its surface and the pretty freckles that decorated the upper slope, growing fainter as they cascaded down towards the centre. How he longed to circle her hard nipple with his tongue and taste her fresh blood before sucking at it with his lips and nibbling it with his sharp teeth. He would then bite deeper, thrilling his taste buds with her sweet, flowing blood before he pulled her nipple away from her breast, severing it for ever. With a little sorrow Lee realised such an act would show just too much public intimacy with the condemned murderess. As he completed the circle Lee took a firm grip on Cara's bloody nipple and pulled it outwards from her chest. Blood now flowed more freely and Cara screamed in agony as Lee pulled harder.

“Aaaahhheeeeeeyyyyyy!!!!!!!” Cara screamed piteously as her nipple and aureole parted from her breast. Her knuckles showed white as she gripped the top bar of her frame even harder to try and dissipate her agony as Lee used his sharp knife to cut through the last few thin strands of gory flesh that still joined her nipple to her breast. He held the severed nipple aloft as the crowd cheered their satisfaction at this hellish mutilation of the British spy and murderess. With a flourish he threw the nipple down into the gory mulch below the sobbing nurse's frame and descended the steps quickly; a soldier removing them immediately to ensure the crowd could fully savour the sight of the distraught, agonised young nurse.

The frame clicked into motion and Cara's mutilated breast was shown to all corners of the square before the frame came to a halt again, this time with Cara's back to the crowd.

The blood had long since dried to a darker red on Cara's slim, sweaty back. The deep cuts that had formed the pentagram were prominent but bloody trails covered her back and the top of her boyish arse cheeks. Lee and Dan had picked up their longer poles with the razor sharp serrated blades they had used to carve the pentagram. They worked more quickly now, perhaps worried how much longer the pretty nurse would last, and sliced her back in unison, carving out large strips of flesh within the outline of the pentagram. Every few seconds another slice of skin and muscle fell to the ground as they worked to remove every square inch of skin within the pentagram. Cara's screams became fainter as her strength was being cut away with her flesh. The paler colour of her vertebrae and ribs, with the intercostal muscles between them, became more visible within the blood and gore as the two executioners carved effortlessly through her twitching, bloody flesh. For ten hellish minutes the two torturers worked on Cara's once beautiful back and, when they had finished this element of symbolic mutilation, Cara's frame was rotating again to show their handiwork to the cheering crowd. Bloody streaks now completely covered her arse cheeks and flowed on down the backs of her spread thighs.

The frame stopped again with Cara facing the crowd, her head now resting exhausted on her chest; her hands somehow still gripping the top horizontal bar. Lee used the sharp point of the spear to lift Cara's head. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked blankly at the spear with its spiralled, serrated blade. She closed her eyes as she remembered Lee's explanation of how this was to be used on her.

Suddenly the motor whirred and Cara's attention was again focussed very sharply on the desperate nature of her immediate situation. The bottom bar of the frame was extending outwards on both sides from the centre, taking her widely spread ankles with them. At the same time the vertical bars were contracting slightly so as not to increase the overall tension in her frame. After a few seconds the motor stopped and Cara looked down to find her ankles now almost five feet apart, causing horrible pain in her split crotch, which was now even more obscenely displayed to the baying crowd.

Without ado, Lee lowered the spear and crouched down between Cara's widely splayed thighs. Using his left hand to part her arse cheeks even further Lee placed the sharp tip of the spear carefully at the entrance to her anus. When he was sure it was accurately positioned he pushed firmly upwards, twisting the spear so that the spiralled blade cut through the flesh around her anal passage. Cara's blood covered his hands as he continued to push and twist upwards until the blade was completely imbedded in the shaking, screaming girl's arse. He secured the end of the spear to a bracket in the centre of the bottom bar of the frame and stood back, watching the steady streams of brownish-red blood flowing down the handle of the spear. The frame clicked into motion so the British nurse's latest torture could be fully appreciated by the cheering crowd in all parts of the vast square.

The frame stopped with Cara again facing the square. Drool dripped from her open mouth to join the blood, gore, urine and faeces beneath the frame. She tried to focus her bleary eyes to see what next horrific torment her former boyfriend had planned for her. She saw two of the razor sharp blades approaching her intact left breast. Cara shivered again. The blades closed in on the tip of her blood streaked breast and seconds later formed a vee with the fine blades on either side of her pink nipple just on the edges of her aureole, like some huge pair of deadly scissors. The pressure was increased on her aureole as her soft breast compressed. Suddenly Cara gasped as the blade to the outside of her breast cut downwards slightly, the razor sharp steel easily cutting into her smooth skin, drawing yet more scarlet blood from the tortured young nurse. The blade moved effortlessly up again, cutting deeper as the blade on the other side of her breast moved downwards, cutting into that side of her sweating aureole. “No!” groaned Cara as the realisation struck that she was about to lose her second pink nipple. She looked on in terror as the blades sawed deeper and deeper into her breast. The pain was awful – but then so much of her mutilated body was in such terrible pain already. “Aaaawww,” she moaned loudly as the blades got closer and closer until they had almost severed her beautiful, perky pink nipple. The blade to the inside of her breast stopped its sawing, allowing the other blade to finish the amputation of her nipple. She assumed that was the blade of Lee, who had so often sucked that very bud into rock hard erection, and had seemed to so much enjoy doing so. Cara closed her eyes and wept as one last cut severed her nipple and it fell, almost floating, to the ground with a small spurt of bright red blood. Almost before it hit the ground Cara's frame was rotating again to allow the crowd to see the latest wound inflicted on her helpless body.

As Cara's frame came to a halt again she felt the razor sharp tip of steel again lifting her chin from her chest. Her bloodshot eyes fluttered open and she trembled even more when she saw the second spear with its evil spiral blade. Fresh tears poured down her cheeks; she knew where this spear was going. Having gained his victim's full attention Lee slowly lowered the tip of his spear, dragging the sharp point symbolically down the bloodied body of the young, English nurse, never letting the tip leave contact with her pale skin and leaving behind a thin trail of bright red blood as the tip made a shallow cut down the girl's neck and on to her sternum, between the valley of her mutilated breasts, on down the very centre of her flat tummy, bisecting the hollow of her belly button and over her hairless mound until the tip lodged in the trembling, crying girl's sex.

The bloodthirsty crowd cheered as a close-up of the blade was shown on the big screens around the square. Their need for gory vengeance seemed to know no bounds. Cara took a deep breath, her face flushed with humiliation and the dreadful anticipation of the pain and suffering that was yet to come. She knew she would welcome a bullet in the brain at this moment if only a sniper were in the square. The noise from the crowd reached a crescendo, amplified by the huge speakers around the square. “Oh, God. No!” gasped Cara hoarsely as she waited for Lee to destroy her womanhood. “How can he do this to me after what we had, the love we enjoyed together?” she thought through her agony and despair.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” Cara wailed with more energy than she thought she had left. “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!”

Lee was using the razor sharp tip of his spear to slice away Cara's labia, one small piece at a time. The crowd roared as a bloody slice was severed from the left side of Cara's sex, followed a few seconds later by another, then another as Cara's labia majora were cut away.

Lee paused for a few seconds to gauge the crowd's reaction. Female circumcision had not been practiced in this country for some time, but then neither had “Ling Chi'. Lee was pleased that the crowd was so overwhelmingly in favour of this most brutal execution of the British spy. This would really send shock waves around the world!

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” screamed Cara as Lee now sliced away part of her labia minora. “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!”

Gooey blood now covered the end of Lee's spear and was trickling down the shaft towards his hands as her deftly carved another slice of his victim's most sensitive flesh from her quivering, pain-racked body. With his masked face just inches from his former lover's widely spread, obscenely mutilated sex, Lee licked his lips as he sliced away the last piece of the girl's inner labia. He glanced momentarily up at Cara's agonised face, perhaps remembering how much pleasure the bright and beautiful young nurse had given him. Then he looked back at her bleeding sex, focussed his eyes and with a quick flick of his wrists he sliced off her pleasure bud as she screamed again. “Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!”

Cara watched in absolute agony as her clitoris and its hood arced through the air with a spurt of bright red blood before dropping silently onto the plastic sheet to join so many other slices of her skin and flesh that already lay there.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed again, even more hoarsely this time as Lee jabbed the tip of his spear into her sex. “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” she yelled as he twisted the blade, cutting deeply into the tender walls of her vagina.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!” screamed Cara in absolute agony as Lee thrust his spear deeper into his trembling victim, all the while twisting and turning the blades to slice through the delicate walls of her vagina and onwards into her cervix.

As fresh blood covered his gloved hands Lee gave one final, spiteful twist of his spear before fastening it to another bracket in the centre of the bottom rung of Cara's frame. He stepped back and looked at the bleeding, mutilated body of his former girlfriend. Her hands had finally lost the strength to grip the top bar of the frame and she was now hanging from her chains awaiting her death – a death that was now close at hand. He looked at the two blood streaked spears, one in her anus and one now deep in her sex, and at her nipple-less breasts as her frame started to rotate again. He surreptitiously rubbed his swollen crotch and wondered if she had ever looked so sexy.

Two full turns of Cara's frame allowed the entire crowd so see the full scale of her punishment. Cara's head lay still on the top of her chest, snot and drool trailed from her nose and mouth. Only the slow, shallow rise and fall of her chest showed she was still alive, for just a little longer. The giant screens around her showed in close up the mutilations inflicted on her body; the numerous cuts to her arms, legs and torso, the pentagram of skin and flesh carved from her back, and of course the hideous spears still impaling her arse and sex, the latter still flowing fresh blood down the insides of her obscenely spread thighs.

The crowd started chanting, but Cara had not the strength to hear or to care. They had seen enough. They wanted her death now. But before that they wanted her breasts; her beautiful, smooth, perky, pale breasts that quivered on her blood streaked chest. They may be mutilated by the slicing off of their nipples, but the crowd knew an authentic execution by “Ling Chi” was not complete without the severing of the condemned woman's breasts. They wanted that to be done now.

Lee heard the chants. He had intended to use the smaller knife to remove the girl's breasts in the intimate operation that he had described to her the previous day, but he was not sure his throbbing cock would not let him down if he were again to savour the exquisite agony of his former lover too close up. He spoke earnestly with Dan for a few seconds and then they both approached the frame again, carrying their long spears with the razor sharp serrated blades – cleaned of the blood of their previous use and gleaming now in the afternoon light.

Lee and Dan stood a little to Cara's right and placed their blades on either side of her pretty right breast, the one where Lee had skinned her aureole to remove her nipple. Cara's eyes fluttered open and she raised her head a little as she felt the keen edge of the cold steel on her breast. The blades were again in a vee shape and squashed her soft breast flesh as they were moved closer together, right where her breast met her rib cage. Finally, after the few seconds of intolerable waiting, one blade and then the other starting slicing into Cara's soft, smooth breast.

“Aaaaaaahhhh,” screamed the wretched girl with all the volume she could muster. Back and forth sliced both blades, not too deep with each cut so as to prolong the agony of the amputation of the poor girl's breast. “Aaaaaaahhhh,” wailed Cara as the blades cut slowly and methodically into her breast flesh. She closed her eyes. The blades grew ever closer to each other as the sawing motion continued. Fresh blood flowed freely down the girl's tummy and onto her splayed thigh as her flesh was parted from her ribs. At last, after two minutes of slow, steady, and agonising slicing Cara's right breast hung by a few stubborn strands of flesh. One last, swift swish of Lee's blade and it fell silently from her chest leaving a large, raw, bleeding wound on her chest.

With so much blood loss now, Lee and Dan worked much faster on the prisoner's remaining breast. Cara had not even the strength to scream any more and the twin blades sliced quickly and effortless through her breast flesh. Within thirty seconds her second breast lay in the plastic sheet below her and Cara looked down through glazing eyes at the gory mess that had been her lovely, beautiful, vibrant bosom.

The frame shook into motion and Cara's mutilated chest was shown to all corners of the baying crowd. Satisfied now that the evil British spy had been duly punished, they just wanted to see her die so they could celebrate into the night. As the frame stopped for the last time Cara felt the sharp pain of the end of a spear under her chin as she was forced to look up. She could hardly breathe now.

Having achieved some small reaction from his victim Lee motioned to Dan and they placed the tips of their spears just under the dying girl's sternum. In unison they plunged their spears deep into Cara's stomach before drawing the spears slowly downwards and outwards towards her hips. Cara's tummy muscles parted and her guts started to spill from her abdomen just as Lee had described to her. With a retch Cara vomited bright red blood down on her two executioners. Undeterred they continued to slice through her tummy muscles as her intestines fell from her gut. Lee looked on avidly as he saw several the girl's organs come into sight amid the gore. He ticked them off in his mind as he recognised the healthy organs of the fit, young nurse. Many times he had operated on this area of a patient, often to repair a bullet wound caused by the very militia men he now commanded. He was well used to the stench from a bile and acid filled gut and on this special occasion it even excited him. Lee's spear sliced into the dying girl's pelvis but still he cut onwards, now angling his blade inwards towards her impaled sex. As Cara's guts spilled over, Dan sliced them away to slither slowly to the ground. Meanwhile Lee concentrated on cutting deep into her lower abdomen. As he sliced into her womb his heart stopped for a moment – he had not expected to see that! He delicately cleared the gore away with the tip of his spear. He had not been mistaken. The foetus must be about eight to ten weeks old.

Lee grabbed Dan's hand and bid him to pull away his blade. He dropped his own weapon and picked up a long, straight spear. He prodded the girl's bloody chin three or four times to try and make her raise her head to look at him for one last time. “You fucking bitch!” he muttered under his breath as he lowered his spear and plunged it quickly, firmly and accurately through the heart of the dead girl.