Casablanca, An Alternate Version

Casablanca, An Alternate Version

Part III

"Very well, Ilsa," Major Strasser said, a trace of sadness in his voice. "You give me no choice. In a short time you will realize that so far I have been very lenient with you. Up until now at least. Now you will learn how insistent on having our way we Germans can be."

He turned to the severe looking woman.

"Frau Drexler, please be so good as to take Ilsa into the next room and see if you can reason with her."

"Certainly, Herr Major," Frau Drexler replied. The tone of her voice very nearly said "it will be my pleasure."

The SS man bent down beside the chair and released Ilsa's bonds. He helped her to her feet. Frau Drexler stepped in front of her. She was a good bit taller than the petite Ilsa and placed a hand beneath Ilsa's chin. She raised Ilsa's face upwards so that she could look into her eyes.

"Now, liebchen, we are going to spend some quality time together, aren't we?" she asked. "Let's go to my playroom."

She turned on her heel a strode across the room to a door opposite the one Ilsa had entered through. She opened it and the SS man, taking Ilsa's arm, led her through it.

Frau Drexler's playroom was a starkly bare place, with dingy walls and almost no furniture beyond a table laden with various implements. What looked like a folding cot leaned against one wall, next to a straight backed wooden chair. Ilsa didn't look too closely at them. Her attention was attracted by a pair of leather cuffs hanging from either end of a two foot long metal bar. The bar itself hung on a chain in the center of the room.

The SS man firmly maneuvered Ilsa under the dangling cuffs. He raised first one arm, then the other and strapped the cuffs around them. Ilsa noticed they were cuffs designed for suspension. That gave her a clue as to where her tormentors were going. And she wasn't wrong, for as soon as the second cuff had been double checked the SS-man stepped over to one wall of the room where a hand cranked winch had been mounted. He turned the crank slowly, letting Ilsa feel the strain as her arms first straightened out above her and then began to bear more and more of her weight. He stopped when she was up on the balls of her feet.

Frau Drexler stepped up in front of her.

"Well, Ilsa," Frau Drexler said in a condescending voice, "you must realize that it is my duty to convince you to tell Major Strasser what he wants to know. You must also understand that I enjoy carrying out my duty. In fact, I enjoy it so much that I hope you maintain your silence for a very long time. Franz!"

The SS-man took two long strides and was beside Frau Drexler. He handed her something. Frau Drexler held it before Ilsa's eyes, a simple length of thin nylon cord with a loop tied in one end. She slipped the free end of the cord through the loop, then slipped the tiny noose over one of Ilsa's nipples and cinched it down tightly. Fritz handed her another piece of cord and she did the same to the other nipple. She finished by draping the loose ends of the cord over Ilsa's shoulders.

Fritz now moved behind Ilsa. He picked up the loose ends of the cords and began pulling them backwards, pulling up on Ilsa's nipples, stretching them and the skin of her breasts below them. At a signal from Frau Drexler he tied the cords together behind Ilsa's neck.

Frau Drexler approached, holding a slender bamboo skewer. She ran a fingernail along the now stretched out undersides of Ilsa's breasts.

"Yes," she murmured, "that should be just right."

She prodded the sensitive flesh a few times with the tip of the skewer. Then she grasped the skewer in her left fist and pulled the tip back with her right forefinger. She aimed it at a spot just below Ilsa's right nipple and released the tip. It snapped forward and struck with such an intense sting that Ilsa was forced to cry out.

"Surprising, isn't it?" Frau Drexler asked, though she undoubtedly was not expecting an answer. "Such a small stick. Such a nasty bite. Who'd suspect it? And they say we Germans lack a sense of subtlety."

Frau Drexler repositioned the skewer and gave Ilsa's other breast a similar stinging rap. Back and forth she went, taking her time, striking a different spot each time she released the end of the skewer. After about a dozen strikes Ilsa noticed something. Franz, still positioned behind her, was gently stroking her buttocks. It was quite pleasant, a bit exciting even. Combined with the torture Frau Drexler was applying to her breasts it caused a strange reaction to start. She could feel her nipples starting to react, to grow and harden, despite the attentions of Frau Drexler. And between her legs things were happening too. She hoped she wouldn't start dripping on the floor.

Frau Drexler was noticing things too. She gave each nipple several particularly hard parting shots, then pocketed the skewer. She took a few steps back and assumed a thoughtful position, one fist under her chin, the elbow of that arm resting on the other fist. She looked at Ilsa for a few long moments before she spoke.

"Now, liebchen," Frau Drexler said, "we are going to show you a clever little trick we learned from our comrades in Spain."

She went to the table, picked up an item and returned to stand in front of Ilsa. She held up a rope loop which had been threaded through a polished wooden handle. Ilsa wasn't sure what it was to be used for, but it looked strangely ominous. Frau Drexler handed the device to Frtiz who stepped behind her. She felt Fritz slipping the loop over her head.

"They're going to strangle me!" Ilsa thought in growing panic. Ilsa had a considerable menu of kinks she enjoyed, but asphyxiation wasn't on it.

But Fritz only placed the rope against her forehead. Then he pulled back on it. Ilsa wasn't sure what was going to happen until she felt the rope tightening around her head and then it was clear. Fritz was using the handle to twist the rope, compressing her skull. She recalled reading about it in a book on torture once. It was described as incredibly painful and the book was right. The pressure quickly grew to such a level that Ilsa was afraid her eyes would pop out of her head.

On a signal from Frau Drexler Fritz stopped. He unwound the rope and removed it.

"Excruciating, isn't it?" Frau Drexler said with a trace of a sneer. "But we've come up with an even better variation particularly suited to someone like you. A woman. Fritz, prepare her."

Fritz went to the table and picked up what appeared to be a very wide leather belt. When he spread it out Ilsa could see it was rather oddly shaped, the sides being flared and the buckle offset to one side. Where the buckle would normally be expected to be placed, in front, a metal ring was fastened. Another metal ring was fastened at the center of the back. When Fritz had strapped the belt around her Ilsa understood the odd shape. The flare of the leather matched the flare of her hips.

With the belt in place Fritz returned to the table and returned with a length of 3/8 inch nylon rope and another polished wooden handle. The handle had a hole drilled through its center. Fritz fed one end of the rope through the metal ring at the front of the belt. Then he stepped behind her and she felt his hand reaching between her legs to grasp the rope, pulling it up between her legs and working it into the slit of her sex, making sure that one strand of the doubled up rope went on either side if her clit and inner lips.

Then there was some fumbling behind as, she suspected, he fitted the rope through the hole in the wooden handle. This suspicion was verified when she felt the wood slide down to rest on the upper curve of her buttocks. Then there was some more fumbling as she assumed he was tying off the rope to the metal ring at her back.

Frau Drexler stepped close to inspect the arrangement. She stroked Ilsa's sex, tracing the lines of the rope that intruded into it.

"Now, Ilsa," she said, "after our initial demonstration I'm sure you know what we are going to do. I give you a chance to avoid it. Are you ready to tell Major Strasser what he wants to know?"

Frau Drexler continued her stroking. If she had intended to arouse Ilsa it was working.

"Franz, our little friend needs more convincing," Frau Drexler said. "I think another demonstration is in order."

Ilsa felt the rope start to tighten up, start to dig into her cleft. The ropes running on either side of her clitoris were particularly nasty, squeezing the tender flesh trapped between them as well as digging in. But it had a peculiar effect. It hurt, true, but the rhythmic increase and decrease in pressure on her sensitive parts was also exciting her even more. And Franz seemed quite experienced in using the device. He tightened it up, letting the ropes dig in, then released pressure only to tighten up again, a little harder each time. And each time Ilsa felt herself edging closer and closer that point where the pain and the pleasure began to mingle, to become indistinguishable. But before she'd quite reached it Franz stopped and began removing the equipment. Ilsa realized with a bit of a blush that she was actually sorry.

But then, she realized, Frau Drexler and Franz were far from finished with her. She half hung from the bar, waiting to see what was next and tried to conceal her growing excitement.

"Franz," Frau Drexler said, "I think our guest is getting a bit tired. Perhaps she'd like to sit for a while, nein?"

"Yavowl, Frau Drexler," Franz replied a with a heel click.

Franz crossed the room and returned dragging the heavy wooden chair which he placed in front of Ilsa. It had a tall straight back and sturdy arms. Ilsa noticed that the back of the chair was open from about where the small of an occupant's back would be and that the seat had a semi-circular cutout where the occupant's butt would be.

With the chair in place Franz first stepped in front of Ilsa and undid the small nooses that still pulled her nipples upwards. Ilsa felt a momentary stinging pain as circulation returned to each of the brown nubs. Then Franz went to the winch and began to lower Ilsa, slowly in case her legs buckled under her. And it was good that he since she'd been up almost on her toes so long that she found herself quite unsteady.

When he was sure that she was stable he undid the cuffs and then guided her to the chair. For the moment Ilsa wasn't concerned about what was next on the agenda. She was just happy to be sitting, even if her butt was hanging out over nothing, nicely exposed.

Franz busied himself with the many straps. With Germanic efficiency he quickly had Ilsa firmly fastened at ankle and wrist, knee and elbow. More straps ran across her thighs and under her armpits, pulling her shoulders back against the solid back of the chair. When he stood up and resumed his position behind her she tested the bonds. She was completely immobile.

"Well, Isla," Frau Drexler said with a bit of a sneer. "I'm sure you'll be more comfortable sitting down. But we still have work to do. As you've no doubt noticed, Major Strasser really wants you to tell us everything you know. And we always try to make Major Strasser happy, because he can be very difficult when he is not happy. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

"Yes," Ilsa said, putting on her most innocent expression. The stimulation to her pussy in the previous torment had brought Ilsa to that peculiar state of excitement, almost like a second wind, that was such an important part of these scenes. She had no doubt now that she would see it through. More than ever Yvette had become immersed in the role of Ilsa.

"And are you now ready to tell the Major what he wants to know, liebchen?" Drexler asked.

"No," Ilsa said defiantly.

Almost immediately she felt heat, then pain. Franz had touched her right butt cheek with something hot. She yelp and tried to turn to see what it was but her bonds kept her from turning her head far enough. Helpfully Franz held up his instrument, a light bulb on the end of an extension cord.

"Forty watts," he said. Then he lowered it out of sight again.

Frau Drexler reached out and turned Ilsa's face towards her, roughly.

"Once again I ask you, Liebchen. Will you talk to major Strasser?"

"No."

Again the hot glass of the bulb touched her, this time on the left. It was a brief touch, but it stung nastily. There was a pause. Then Frau Drexler placed both of her hands on Ilsa's breasts. She began to knead them softly.

"Such a lovely body," she said. "This is all so silly, isn't it? A lovely young body made for pleasure, yet you force us to hurt it."

Again the bulb touched Ilsa's vulnerable bottom. She yipped and strained against her bonds. Frau Drexler acted as if nothing had happened. She continued to fondle Ilsa's breasts. Again and again the hot bulb tormented her bottom while Drexler pleasured her upper half.

There was a pause. Frau Drexler gently grasped both of Ilsa's nipples, squeezing lightly. Ilsa felt Franz spread his fingers along the inner curve of one butt cheek pulling the flesh aside. She wailed as the hot glass briefly touched her anus while Frau Drexler dug her nails into her nipples.

And then they let her rest, though still bound to the chair.

After a while Major Strasser entered the room.

"Are you making any progress with our guest?" he asked brightly.

"Nein," Frau Drexler replied, "She is being very stubborn."

"Perhaps, then, it's time to put her to bed," Strasser said.

Drexler and Franz both went over to the side of the room. They returned carrying a folded up metal army cot. They unfolded the legs and set the cot down on the floor. There was no mattress for it, only the bare metal springs. Leather cuffs had been attached at each corner of the angle iron frame. The bonds that held Ilsa to the chair were released and she was helped to her feet. But her freedom was brief as she was firmly guided towards the bed frame and forced to lie on the bare springs. In short order she was strapped in place, wrists and ankles fastened at each corner, stretching and spreading her . The fit was so perfect she thought they must have taken her measurements in advance.

Major Strasser came to stand beside her and inspect the arrangements. He fondled her breasts, then moved one hand down to her spread legs to find and squeeze her clit.

"So, Ilsa," he said quietly, "do I really have to ask you again? Talk to me."

He emphasized the order by giving her a hard squeeze. She responded with a vigorous shake of her head.

"You give me no choice then," he said. His hand had returned to her breast where he briefly rolled her right nipple between thumb and forefinger.

"Frau Drexler, prepare the apparatus if you please."

He stepped back as Frau Drexler rolled a cart, like a restaurant dessert cart, up alongside the bedframe. On the upper tray was a black box with a dial and switches on top and a number of wires attached. On the lower tray was a large battery.

Frau Drexler spent a few moments arranging things on the tray. The wires were organized as pairs of black and red, each ending in an alligator clip. Then she started applying them. A red and black wire was clipped to either side of each nipple. The final pair of wires Frau Drexler draped over Ilsa's thigh. She then began stroking Ilsa's pussy and gently tugging on her outer lips. He picked up one of the alligators clips and fastened it to one labia. The small metal teeth dug in painfully. The matching clip was applied to the opposite labia. Frau Drexler gave each wire a light pull to check that they were firmly in place. She turned to Major Strasser.

"The subject is ready, Herr Major," she said as she stepped away from the bedframe.

"Very good, Frau Drexler," the Major said, positioning himself next to the cart. "Now, Ilsa, I know you're a very smart woman. Therefore you most certainly understand what we are about to do. Talk to me. Save yourself the anguish."

"No," Ilsa replied in a small voice.

A needle stabbed through her crotch as Major Strasser flicked a switch on the box. Reflexively Ilsa tried to close her legs, tried to pull away from the source of the pain, but there was no escaping it.

"That was a very mild setting, Ilsa," the Major said in his best kind uncle voice. "We can make it much worse if you insist on being stubborn."

As if to emphasize the point he sent a shock to each breast in sequence. Ilsa jerked and twisted and moaned with each shock. But the moans were taking on a different quality, something not lost on Major Strasser. He placed a hand on Ilsa's mound, fingers intruding into her cleft. He stroked her gently.

"Tell us everything you know, Ilsa," he said softly. "You can't resist, you know. You might as well give in."

"No," she said softly, eyes closed, breath coming faster and faster. And then, just for effect and because Yvette Delaune had a penchant for the melodramatic, like her favorite '40's movies, with all the breath she could gather she cried out "Viva la France!"

Her reward was a series of nasty shocks to breasts and pussy, one following quickly after another. She cried out and arched her body. But her eyes were closed and her mind was slipping rapidly into a different place. In her mind she was looking down on Ilsa/Yvette, stripped naked and fastened to a bedframe, being tortured cruelly.

Major Strasser's hand had resumed its position on her mound, the fingers massaging away more firmly now. It withdrew and another series of shocks tormented her. Tormented yet also pushed her closer to the tipping point. The probing fingers returned, lighter than before, slipping between the punishing electrical clips, caressing the sensitive erect nubbin and feeling for the hidden, secret spot inside her vagina. Ilsa was twisting and straining against her bonds ferociously even though the electric shocks had stopped.

Suddenly the hand withdrew and that part of Ilsa's mind that still remained detached and rational new what was coming but she didn't care, was past caring. The hot needle pain the jabbed through her crotch was felt for only a second before it was replaced by a stronger, much stronger sensation, and that sensation was only the first in a tumbling cascade the made her moan and whimper and made her body shudder violently.

As the wave of sensation slowly subside she felt hands unfastening the straps at her wrists and ankles. Distantly she heard Major Strasser's voice.

"Frau Drexler, let the records show," it seemed to be saying, "That the subject, one Ilsa Lund Laslo, died during interrogation."

Poor Ilsa, Yvette thought sleepily. Faithful to the end. She heard music begin to play, very faintly as if in the distance. She recognized it after a few moments, the theme music from the movie "Casablanca."

The End (At least until the next time)

Copyright 2005 by von Hentzau. Permission is granted to copy for personal use only providing all disclaimers and copyright notices are retained. This work may not be reproduced or distributed in any form in any media without permission of the author.