"Please, Nicola, just tell me now." He was in his fifties, handsome and distinguished looking, smartly dressed in the uniform of a Major.

"I can't," she repeated, yet again. She had no idea how many times she'd said this.

"Please, Nicola, you're an intelligent girl, you know what can happen here. If you don't tell me then I'll have to hand you over to other people who won't be so nice. I don't want that to happen to you. Please tell me."

She did, of course, know what could happen here. She'd heard plenty of stories. But she couldn't tell them, there was too much at stake. The Major had been so polite and friendly, it was like talking to a kindly school teacher. She was hoping that maybe the stories were just to scare people.

"Nicola, everybody talks eventually. It’s just a matter of when. Please tell me now, I don't want you to suffer any more than necessary. You're young, tell me and you can go back to your life and forget all this. Please."

"I won't ever tell you," she said. Although she was scared, at the moment it was fairly easy to be brave. Apart from the handcuffs around her wrists, she hadn't been mistreated in any way, and it was almost like an interview.

The Major sighed. "I appreciate your bravery. I want to help you."

"Then let me go."

"I wish I could. But we can't let you go until you've told us everything. If you tell me now I can make sure you're never bothered again."

"I can't tell you."

"I didn't want to show you this, but maybe it will convince you to tell me before things go any further. I'm sorry."

He opened a drawer in his desk, and took out a large piece of paper. Standing up, he walked round the desk until he was in front of her chair. He stared at her for a while, before saying again "I'm sorry" and holding up the paper so she could see it.

It was a photograph. It took her a while to work out exactly why he'd shown it to her. It was a girl, at first she couldn't tell who, but then she realized the contorted face was Lucy. She didn't know her last name, she was someone she had met only a few times who had given her tasks. She supposed this was why she was here now – Lucy had been able to identify her and tell them she was involved.

The picture showed Lucy tied to a frame, her arms and legs spread wide apart. She was naked. Her dark hair was messy and matted with sweat, her mouth open and screaming, eyes tightly squeezed shut. Her face was bruised and swollen, and her body was covered in scratches, bruises and burn marks. Her breasts were crushed between two metal bars. It had been tightened down so much they were almost flat. Blood was leaking from her swollen nipples.

About a dozen fishing hooks had been thrust through both lips of her vagina, each attached to wires which were pulled to the side and disappeared out of the picture. This spread her genitals open. Metal objects protruded from her vagina and anus, both so large the orifices were stretched obscenely around them. Electrical wires were attached to the ends of these. The whole area between her legs was covered in blood – there had obviously been a lot of tearing as the objects were forced into her body. Another wire, ending in a clamp, had been attached to her clitoris. She could see the sensitive flesh bulging around it as it was fastened so tightly.

She looked at the picture with horror. It was only a couple of weeks since she'd last seen Lucy – she was a beautiful girl, it was incredible to believe what had happened to her. So the rumors were true. She wanted to cry, but stopped herself. She must be brave.

"I'm sorry I had to show you that, Nicola. I didn't want to. But if you don't tell me, this is what will happen to you. Please tell me. Once you leave this room there’s nothing I can do to protect you."

"I can't," she said, although he could tell from her voice that she was now much more frightened.

He sighed again, and put the picture down on the desk. Without saying anything else he walked to the door behind her and left the room. She sat quietly. Her heart was pounding. She was terrified at the thought of those hideous things being done to her body, but she couldn't tell them. She mustn't.

The door opened again, and footsteps approached. She looked round and was surprised to see a different man, younger, probably in his thirties, wearing the uniform of a Captain. He stood in front of her, and looked her up and down.

"Well, you are certainly gorgeous. I hear you won't tell us what we want to know."

"I can't tell you."

He got a chair from the side of the room and positioned it next to her. He sat down. Without warning he grabbed her hair tightly and pulled her head back, so hard it cracked against the top of the chair back. He held her in that position, forcing her to look up at the ceiling, the pull on hair bringing tears to her eyes. He leant closer to her and spoke very softly.

"It’s me you'll be seeing next if you don't tell us what we need. It’s my job to make you tell us. But here’s the thing – I don't want you to. I want you to keep quiet so we can have lots of fun together. I want to spend days, maybe weeks with you, listening to you scream and beg, but I don't want you to tell me anything. Because then I would have to stop hurting you. And you're far too beautiful to just let go."

He reached out with his right hand, and stroked his fingers down her cheek. She tried to pull away, but he was still holding her hair tightly. His hand stroked down her neck and across her chest until it was rubbing her breasts. He grasped her blouse and torn it open, the buttons flying. She tried to struggle, but with her arms held behind her back against the chair and his hand in her hair she could hardly move. He pulled the straps of her bra down her arms, then reached into the cups and scooped her breasts out. His fingers moved over them stroking, her nipples becoming erect.

"Oh yes, fantastic tits, nice and firm. I bet they're sensitive aren't they? I'm really going to enjoy playing with those nipples. I've got lots of long needles to push into them. And you're going to look beautiful hanging by your tits, toes off the floor, swinging backwards and forwards while we whip you. Women really don't like that."

He was mauling her breasts roughly, squeezing them, pulling her nipples. Oh God, hanging by her breasts? This can't be real. Surely it’s not possible? She tried to struggle again, but an extra tug on her hair stopped her. Her neck was aching due to the position her head was in, and it was quite difficult to breathe with it pulled back so far.

She felt his hand leave her breasts and move down her stomach.

"Your skin is so soft. It’s going to look fantastic covered in whip marks, and burns, and cuts."

His hand was now moving down her leg, over her skirt. When he reached her knee, his fingers hooked under the hem of her skirt and started moving back up over the flesh of her inner thigh, pulling her skirt up with them. She again tried to struggle, but his grip on her hair still prevented any movement. She tried to close her legs, but his hand was too strong and he just continued the upward movement forcing them apart.

"So what do we have between these beautiful legs?"

His hand had reached the juncture of her thighs, and she was powerless to stop him as his fingers pushed aside her panties and then entered her. Two, then three and four. She couldn't help gasping at the pain as he stretched her, she was completely dry, and she closed her eyes, tears leaking from the corners. He pushed his fingers deeper, then started slowly moving them in and out. He wriggled them around, stretching the sensitive flesh, his thumb roughly rubbing her clitoris.

"Fantastic," he whispered into her ear. "So warm and tight. I have so many toys for this special place. Things that pierce, and stretch, and burn, and tear. Electrodes that will cause you more pain than you can possibly imagine. And remember, I don't want you to tell me anything. I want to hurt your cunt for as long as I can. I want you begging, and sobbing, and pleading, and screaming forever."

The movement of his fingers was causing some lubrication. She tried to think to think of anything else – her boyfriend, family, nice things. But the picture of Lucy kept swimming into her mind. How long did Lucy resist before she was forced to tell them everything? Would she last as long? How could she stand it? How could she not tell them everything when they were shoving red hot pokers inside her?

He pulled his fingers out of her and held them up to his nose to sniff. They were glistening with her juices. He rubbed them over her face, into her nostrils, across her lips. She could smell the familiar odour of her own body.

"A pretty little thing like you is going to be very popular with the men. There are about 300 based here. They're all going to want to fuck you. If they take five minutes each, although I think your screaming will make some of them take a lot less, that’s about 25 hours non stop fucking for you. I think you'll be pretty sore by the end. And by that time, the first ones will be ready for a second go at you."

She was crying openly now, although she was still trying not to. She didn't want to show any fear, but it was impossible. He was still stroking her face with his sticky fingers.

"So anytime I'm not making you scream and beg for mercy, some dirty policeman will be shoving his cock up your cunt."

He used his fingers to push her lips open, and run them across her teeth. She kept her mouth closed tightly. He took hold of her jaw in his hand, and squeezed the sides, forcing her to open her mouth wide. He peered in.

"Nice teeth. Not a single filling. You've missed one of the great experiences of life, having a dentist use a drill on you. I think we should put that right. Before I start on your tits and cunt, I'm going to have you strapped into a dentist’s chair, with your head held firmly and your mouth wide open. Then I'm going to take a drill, and make a hole in your tooth. Only the back ones, of course, I don't want to ruin your pretty smile. The pain as the drill goes through your tooth and into the nerve and gum is beyond belief. In fact some women think it hurts more than electricity in the cunt. I'm not sure about that, but you'll be able to tell me as you'll be experiencing both.

"And when the first tooth is done, I'll do it to another one. And another. Maybe six altogether. It will take a long time. And then I'll push some thin wire into the holes I've just made, which in itself will be agony, and I'll hook those up to a generator and you'll see how an electric shock right into the nerve of a tooth feels."

He kissed her on the lips, and released her hair. She stared at his smiling face as he got up from the chair.

"Hopefully I'll see you soon Nicola. Remember, don't tell us anything. We've got so much fun to have."

He left the room, and now he was gone she started crying properly. She was so scared. All he wanted to do was hurt her, the descriptions of what she would have to endure had been terrifying – the awful things he would do her breasts and that most sensitive of places between her legs which she had only let a very few people touch. And now if she didn't tell them everything hundreds of men would use her any way they wanted. But she couldn't tell them. What could she do?

The door opened, and she looked round in a panic in case it was the Captain. But it was the Major back again. She was relieved, and started sobbing loudly. He was the only one who could save her.

The Major walked round to the front of her chair. He pulled her blouse closed to cover her breasts, and then pulled her skirt down to cover her white panties. The act seemed so intimate it made her cry more. He took a hanky from his pocket and wiped away the tears from her cheeks.

"Please, Nicola, please tell me, or you'll be handed over to the Captain. You know what he'll do to you. I don't want that to happen. Please tell me so I can save you from the hell you'll be going to.'

She looked at him. There were only two choices – tell him what he wanted, the man who had been kind to her, and it will be over, or be tortured without mercy until she loses her mind. It was so tempting. He was looking at her with a very concerned expression. She knew she should do it.

"I can't," she said.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry Nicola, I really am, but I can't help you anymore."

He walked behind his desk, and pressed a button on the phone. Almost immediately the door opened and two policemen came in. They unfastened her handcuffs, pulled her to her feet, and led her to the door.

"Wait," he called.

They stopped. She looked over her shoulder at him. Maybe he was going to save her after all. She almost felt closer to him than any other person she'd known.

He smiled at her, the first time she'd seen him do that since coming into his office several hours ago. She smiled back.

He spoke to the policemen holding her. "Bend the cunt over the desk, I want to fuck her while she still looks attractive."

"NO!" she screamed as they dragged her across the room.