Group XS

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

By "Dr Saavik"

Chapter 4

Date Monday 18 th October 22.10

While Catherine had been whispering “Oh God!” to Lynne, Becky Meyer had been screaming it in tortured rapture, the words muffled by the steel ball she held firmly between her teeth. Between her lags as she knelt astride the parallel bars, the woman was gently teasing and stroking her clitoris, her practised and lubricated fingers slithering effortlessly over the engorged nub. She had already made Becky come three times. Three times Becky had come to a shuddering and wailing orgasm. She had begged and pleaded for the woman not to do the same, but with relentless, and callous certainty, the woman had begun to tease and probe, stroke and tweak Becky's breasts and pussy until the girl once again found herself becoming aroused.

“Do you want to come?” The woman said softly. “Pleeeeaaaaffff! Yeff! Yeff!” Becky cried around her gag, her body wholly betraying her. The woman thrust her right hand deep into Becky's gaping pussy and worked her fingers on the inside, searching for the spot up behind the clitoris which would send the girl over the edge once more. As she did so, the woman used her left hand to squeeze Becky's clitoris steadily as the girl panted and moaned in rising ecstasy.

“Yeff… yefffff… yeffffff!” Becky began to say, chanting the words like a garbled mantra as she felt the wave of pleasure sweep over her. Like a huge wave crashing on the beach, Becky felt the breaker wash over her and gently subside as the wave of pleasure receded. As the last of the orgasm shuddered through her body, she was suddenly assailed with a new feeling.

Pain.

Becky's clitoris, her nipples, her labia and the inside of her cunt which had all a few moments before been craving attention now sent an over-riding message to her brain telling her they hurt and wanted no more.

“Please no more. It hurts too much!” was Becky's garbled plea to her torturers.

Sadly for Becky, these were words the man and woman had heard before – if not usually as distorted - words they revelled in and words which would only spur them on to greater excesses with the captive female body. The woman heard the words and said “No more? But we've only just started! And you seemed to be having so much fun!” The woman turned to the man and winked as she said to Becky, “What would you like then my dear, another orgasm or to answer a few questions?”

Becky shook her head as best she could and said “No more. Anffer queftons!” around her gag.

Getting to his feet the man said “Very good.” He produced from his beautifully tailored jacket a small sheaf of photographs, one set of the girl in the cells a few feet away from Becky and another of the maid who had opened the door. The man was sure Becky knew neither of them, they had both been guests in this place for several weeks, two young college students who had mysteriously packed their bags and disappeared one dark night.

The first pictures in each set showed the girls in the Holding Cell area as they arrived and looked rather like the pictures taken by the police of prisoners.

Each girl stood in front of a wall with markings on to show her height, a placard with her name and the date on hanging round her neck. Unlike the traditional police shots, however, the girls were stark naked and had heavy chains locked around their wrists behind their backs, their ankles and connected to a steel collar. Other pictures showed the girls from the side, from behind and even bent over.

The man held the first picture in front of Becky. “This is a girl called Alison Wells, do you know her?” Becky shook her head. “No, neffer feen her.” She garbled.

Again the man held another picture up in front of Becky. This time it was of the maid who had opened the door. “This picture is of a girl called Tracy Burns, do you know her?” Again Becky shook her head and said “No, neffer feen her.”

The man turned to the woman poised between Becky's legs and said, “I can see she hasn't learned her lesson. We'll just have to see if we can jog her memory with a little persuasion.” Becky screamed as best she could around the steel ball. “Noooooo!!!” was her plaintive wail.

Her cries fell on deaf ears. The man pulled his chair a little closer and beckoned to the woman to proceed. A look of rapture on her face, the woman went to work on Becky.

She plugged the sinister black box with the dials and numbers on it into a socket in the floor and there was immediately a low and ominous hum. She then went over to the wall where the chain from Becky's mouth was fixed and flicked a switch underneath it. Immediately Becky let out a small cry as she felt a gentle tingling sensation through her sensitive mouth lining and tongue where they came into contact with the evil ball.

Returning to her stool, the woman plugged a metal butt plug into the back of the box and greased the plug liberally before inserting it into Becky's anus. Becky might have been forgiven for thinking the grease was there to make it slide in more easily; but she would have been wrong – the grease was there to make sure the electrical contact worked more effectively! And then the woman connected the clamps on the end of leads to Becky's nipples before, finally, connecting the thin knitting needle like attachment. The woman then donned the heavy rubber gloves, all the while Becky whimpering and pleading behind her gag.

Now, as the woman flicked a switch on the black box and the needles on the displays sprang into action, the pleading changed to one ear-piercing scream! The woman ignored this and picked up the knitting needle and greased this before she gently touched the tip to Becky's clitoris.

Becky jerked in her bonds as the sharp pain shot through her body, the electricity coursing through her clitoris and making a circuit with the ball in her mouth! The cables attached to her nipples and ass added to the electric frenzy, providing a background of intense pain augmented by an excruciating pain centred on her sex. As the woman teased her clitoris and then slid the needle down into the slit of her cunt, Becky experienced new sensations and agony. If she had wanted to release the ball – the consequences of which would have been dire as she fell back and down – she could not because her muscles had gone into spasm and she was literally biting down on the ball.

“Such a shame,” The woman said “You didn't answer the questions! We could have saved you a lot of pain, you know.” The woman moved one of the dials in a practised and expert way. The needle on the ammeter surged to the right and Becky became more rigid, if that were possible. Then the woman gently teased Becky's labia apart and used the needle-like probe inside her cunt, pushing it deeper inside and enjoying the jerking spasms she invoked in Becky.

Sweat was breaking out all over Becky's body and the woman watched carefully to see when the time was right. She nodded to the man who killed the current just before Becky might have passed out. Becky ceased to strain and be rigid and the man said “Do you recognise the girls now?” Becky didn't. Her mind still reeling with the pain she answered the question honestly and shook her head.

The woman had been watching for her answer and was poised, the needle now hovering just below the opening to Becky's urethra and deftly she pushed the needle in the narrow tube as the man flicked the switch again. If Becky had felt pain before, it was as nothing to the current now coursing from inside her. She bucked and screamed as the woman slowly slid the needle deeper inside. It was as if the woman was conducting an orchestra. Her eyes half closed she listened to the intensity of the screams as if they were the music she was conducting. Pushing the probe like it were her conductor's baton, she made Becky's scream rise and fall with intensity. Her left hand using the probe and her right adjusting the controls, she had Becky playing a sonata of pain for her.

As the probe virtually disappeared inside Becky it entered her bladder and made contact with the liquid inside. Suddenly the liquid too was conducting the electricity and, as if the woman's sonata had reached it's conclusion, Becky screamed one last burst in a rising crescendo as the man flicked off the switch.

A small stream of urine escaped from Becky as she relaxed in her bonds and the woman had to move backwards for fear of getting her Gestapo uniform soiled.

“Now,” said the man in a patient, almost fatherly voice, “do you know these girls or not?”

Becky now knew she had to lie to escape more torture. She nodded her head to say “Yes!”

“Good!” The man said. “Perhaps we can now get somewhere.” He stood up and pulled the parallel bars together so that Becky was raised up and the strain taken off her body. As the bars became vertical there was an audible “Click!” and they locked in place. The man then pulled the steel ball from Becky's mouth and let her relax for a moment before continuing with his questioning.

Becky herself felt a wave of relief sweep over her as the power was killed and the strain taken off her body. She could taste blood in her mouth where she had bitten down on the ball so hard and had to swallow several times and take deep breathes to stop the bile inside her from rising.

“So you know both of these girls, do you?” The man asked. “Yes I do.” Becky answered.

“And you know them to be opposed to the Nazi party?”

Becky wasn't sure how she should answer. She knew no such thing.

“You do, don't you?” The man said in an effort to lead Becky.

Becky nodded in agreement.

The questioning went on and, by the end of it, the man had established from Becky that both Alison Wells and Tracy Burns were, indeed, Jewish; they were lesbian lovers and were only too keen to sell their bodies in prostitution; and he had also “learned” that they were ardently anti-Nazi and were members of the resistance movement.

“Good!” He said when Becky had answered all his questions. “You see, it wasn't so difficult to answer the questions was it? You could have saved yourself all that pain if you had only answered them correctly at the outset. Anyway, I think you are now free to go…”

He waited a long time before continuing. He waited while Becky's hopes rose that she would be set free from the parallel bars and, who knows, set free from this dreadful place. He waited while her hopes rose so that he could have the sadistic pleasure of dashing them when he completed the sentence.

“… once you have been punished for telling lies!” Becky said “No, please! I didn't lie! Please don't hurt me more!”

The man and the woman both laughed and it was the woman who said “But Becky, you did lie and you have already confessed to being a Jewish whore amongst other things. You will be punished now for the lying and then you will be punished even more for the confessions you have made, you have to realise this. You will be punished for the rest of your miserable life.”

Joining in with the statement the man said, “And when we've punished you now for lying, you'll have to be punished for despoiling Nazi property by pissing in your cell!”

The woman picked up one of the glass bottles and the small paint brush as the man placed the metal ball back into Becky's mouth. The woman waited for the man to kick the pedal which sent Becky crashing back down and splay her legs invitingly. The woman dipped the brush in the bottle and gently stroked it over Becky's tortured clitoris and labia. Suddenly the woman looked like an artist at work, a view some of her associates held to be true, as she worked the liquid into the sensitive flesh.

Becky felt the wetness of the liquid first. She had no idea what it was and, at first, felt soothed by it. It felt cool against her sweaty skin and as the air passed across it seemed to get colder.

The woman was in no hurry and took her time removing the clamps from Becky's nipples and gently brushing Becky's nipples and her surrounding areola with the liquid. As Becky felt the coldness strike her nipples, she became aware firstly that her nipples were becoming proudly erect, and secondly that the coldness which had enveloped her clitoris and pussy was now changing. Her pussy and clitoris were getting warm, in fact, they were getting hot.

Whether it was the woman's words to her or a sudden realisation was not clear. Either way, as the woman said to Becky, “You'll feel it in a moment, it just takes a little time for the acid to work.” Becky suddenly felt not gentle coolness but burning heat as the liquid etched itself into her skin.

Then the woman picked up the tiny wire brush and said to Becky, “I'm just going to take off a couple of layers of skin, just enough to make you really raw and sensitive… then we can play some more with the electricity!”

The woman pressed herself close to Becky's cunt as she worked the brush over the burning skin. Using short strokes, she teased the skin away from Becky in small strips. Once she had completed her work between Becky's legs she repeated the process on her nipples and surrounding flesh.

For Becky the pain was indescribable. The pain from the electricity had been bad but, somehow, this was far worse as she felt small pieces of her body being removed and the rising sensitivity. Becky bucked and cried with pain. The woman soothed and stroked the skin and kept up a commentary as she worked. “There!” She said. “Your clitoris looks like a tiny red apple now, just ripe for plucking… or should I say fucking? Oh and look how red your pussy lips are… I bet if I blow on them…” She bent close and blew across Becky's red-raw cunt, “… you'll find them quite sensitive!”

Becky screamed some more in answer as the simple act of breathing on her pussy sent shockwave after shockwave through her body. Sadly, for Becky, the woman was far from finished.

Once her skin had been removed, the woman even using the scalpel to tease the skin away in larger strips, managing to pull it on her breasts even where the acid had not been, the black box was once again turned on. This time, however, the woman slipped on the other pair of rubber gloves, the ones covered in short wire bristles! The gloves had leads which were plugged into the machine and Becky was soon dancing and bucking on the bars for all she was worth as the woman stroked her sensitised skin with electrified wire bristles.

It was a masterpiece of torture. The woman caressed Becky like a lover, all the time shocking and scoring her already raw flesh. She teased her nipples, squeezed her clitoris and used her fingers to fuck Becky's cunt.

The pain for Becky was unbearable. Bound as she was she had no option but to let the woman inflict wave after wave of pain on her. The pain built in layers until Becky was wholly unaware of her surroundings; she knew no sensation, no feeling other than pain. Pain which just continued to build.

But the woman was very adept at her art. She kept up her relentless torture, telling the man when to adjust the dials up or down, sending more power through Becky's anus one minute, and then her urethra the next. It was either a mark of the woman's skill, or perhaps her experience of torturing woman, that she was able to see the signs before Becky began to feel them. As the intensity of the pain increased, as the pain moved to different parts of her body, Becky found herself focusing not only on the pain, the pain which had hitherto blacked out all other feeling, but also on a sense of warmth emanating from her cunt.

The woman worked her fingers carefully up and down the over-sensitised clitoris and rubbed one hand across tortured nipples. As she did so she felt Becky's pain and knew the bewildering pleasure that was burgeoning inside. Becky herself was by now aware that the woman was making her aroused and knew she was trying to torture her to orgasm – if such a thing were possible.

Indeed it was, as the woman knew only too well. Create enough blackness with pain and then a little pleasure will shine through the darkness with dramatic consequences. She could hear Becky's breathing become less ragged, could feel Becky fighting a loosing battle to try and stop another orgasm; an orgasm induced entirely by pain. Becky began to mouth her mantra again. “Pleaff!! Pleaff!”

Just as she was about to crest that impossible wave, just as her body was about to do the impossible and deride pleasure from intense pain the woman nodded to the man who flicked one last switch on the black box. Simultaneously both needles shot to the maximum level and more voltage, more current, than Becky had hitherto endured shot through every orifice. It was as if Becky had fallen from her surfboard as she reached the crest of that magnificent wave. Instead of riding it for all she was worth she fell into an inky blackness, being tossed and turned by the pain crashing around her. She screamed long and hard, a scream borne of frustration and borne of pain. As she screamed she opened her mouth wide and let go of the metal ball.

As she let go of the ball, Becky fell backwards, her legs splaying even further and her arms being wrenched behind her back. Only her body's inner strength stopped her from dislocating her shoulders or her hips as she was dashed against the rocks by the wave that had promised so much and fell into unconsciousness.

The man and the woman smiled at each other with a look of supreme satisfaction on their faces. There was noting better than a piece of torture which ended so satisfyingly, the victim unconscious through the pain of her ordeal; the victim sexually drained and, at the same time, sexually frustrated; and, of course, the victim left with enduring pain in limbs and tendons! “That's made me very horny!” The woman said. The man smiled and showed her the erection bulging inside his Gestapo uniform.

They gave each other a knowing look, and the man said, “I think it's the least she could do after all you've done for her. I mean you gave her, what five or six orgasms – well almost with the last one!” Between them they removed the unconscious Becky from the bars and let her slump to the floor where they removed the probes and plugs from her before tidying away their torture equipment. As Becky began to stir they pulled her onto all fours.

The woman then sat her stool in front of Becky and lifted her skirt to reveal a pair of shiny black satin panties, complete with a swastika on the crotch, which she pulled down below her knees. Sitting on the stool she splayed her legs while the man grabbed Becky's hair and pulled her face into the woman's soaking crotch.

While the woman held Becky's head hard into her crotch and urged the dazed, beaten and tortured girl to service her with her tongue, the man knelt down behind Becky and forced himself into her anus again. Once again he slid his rock-hard bulbous and veiny cock inside Becky, again enjoying the brief resistance from her sphincter and the sensation of Becky's anus trying to close around him.

As he rhythmically fucked Becky from behind, the woman used the rhythm to work herself towards orgasm, forcing Becky's nose to press against her clitoris while Becky's tongue lapped inside her. Whether it was because the man was coming or a sheer coincidence of timing, the woman let out a moan of pleasure as the man began to rut for all he was worth before shuddering to a climax.

Their sexual drive spent, for the moment at least, the pair let Becky drop to the floor where she curled into a foetal ball and began to sob for all she was worth. Neither of the Gestapo officers paid her any attention as they re-dressed themselves, only turning to Becky once they were fully clothed.

“OK. Back in your cell.” The man said. Becky begged, she pleaded, she offered them her body for sex, anything but to be put back in the hot, confined space to stand and wait for more torture. This didn't stop the pair from making her dress in the spiked lingerie again, the lingerie which declared Becky to be a Jewish prostitute, and to make her put the ballet boots back on. As they approached the locker, the man pointed to the puddle on the floor and said “We told you you would have to be punished for despoiling Nazi property!”

The hood was replaced in all it's stringent glory and then the woman found the two plugs for Becky together with the strap which held them in place. She also found another bottle and the paintbrush she had used to such effect a few minutes before. Now she painted the two plugs with a sticky liquid from another bottle in the glass-fronted cabinet before bending down to liberally daub Becky's cunt and clitoris with the stuff.

“Chilli oil in a sticky grease!” She said loudly so Becky could hear through the padded hood. Not that Becky needed to be told. The fire alight from the chilli's was burning bright in her sensitised pussy, even before the two dildos were replaced. Just before they secured her back inside the locker, the woman added two daubs to Becky's nipples, where the red raw skin protruded from the sinister Star of David.

Shutting the door on the horribly tortured girl the woman said, “I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink before we talk to Alison Wells?” The man agreed and, as they left the room, the woman could be heard saying, “What do you want to do with Alison? Do you want to start with the chair or shall we make her ride the horse?”