Undercover Cop (female) Rape, torture. by JYM
When she volunteered for the assigment she'd never envisioned it
ending like this, in the cold basement of an empty warehouse. Someone
had given her up, betrayed her, but she had racked her brain without
coming up with a single name. Who'd benefit from having her removed?
Who? The question haunted her. She wasn't popular with the other
members of the squad - she was too pushy, too abrasive, too good a
cop. And she wasn't pretty enough to have them overlook her other
traits.
Now, with a brief respite from the torture she'd endured, she
thought back to the beginning. The captain had summoned her into his
office and told her that they needed a female undercover officer to
penetrate a drug operation at the university. One of her assets was
that even though she was an experienced officer with six years on the
force, she could still pass for a college girl. She knew that it was
her red hair, freckles, and big green eyes that made her look years
younger than her actual age of 28. That and her lean, rangy physique
which looked frail when she dressed in baggy sweatshirts and
loose-fitting jeans.
She closed her eyes and muttered, "Shit, how could I have been so
stupid?" She was still smarting at the ease with which they'd taken
her right off the street. And in broad daylight! A van had pulled up
to the curb a few feet in front of her just as a young male voice
called to her from behind. "Hey, miss, you dropped your wallet. Hey!
Red...." She turned, slapping her jacket pocket at the same time,
realizing that her wallet was indeed missing. The van door had slid
open, two men jumped out. One sapped her expertly behind the ear and
the other caught her as she sagged. Two steps and she was heaved into
the van. Nobody paid the slightest attention.
She'd regained consiousness within minutes and discovered that her
wrists were bound tightly behind her back with electrical wire. Her
ankles were bound too. And she had been gagged with duct tape. She
was helpless but she tried anyway and heard her captors chuckle as
they watched her struggles. After her futile attempt to free herself
she relaxed and tried to figure out where they were going. Again, a
futile effort. After many turns, many starts and stops, the van
pulled into an enclosed parking area and stopped. Her captors had
picked her up and carried her from the van to a flight of stairs that
led down into the basement of the empty warehouse. She had been
dumped on the floor in the middle of a large room - about 20x25' - and
her captors had turned and left, locking the door behind them. They
left the lights on or she would have been in total darkness because
there were no windows in the room. No source of light other than the
six bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
The room was cold. It was February after all and apparently the
owner of the building wasn't going to waste money on heat without a
paying tenant. She was left alone for what seemed like hours but
probably wasn't more that 30-45 minutes. Then the door opened and she
craned her neck to see who it was. Three men and a woman entered the
room and closed the door behind them. She heard the lock click, so
there was at least one more person outside the room. The three men
were older - in their late 40s and early 50s, typical middle echelon
thugs - hard men who'd done it all and survived. The woman was
different - she was in her 30s, blonde and attractive, but not the
flashy type men like this usually had hanging around them. But then
they wouldn't bring one of them into a situation like this. One of
the older men, clearly the man in charge, jerked his head at her and
said, "Get her ready and be quick about it."
The other two men hurried over and each took one of her arms,
dragging her to her feet, ignoring her grunt of pain. Meanwhile, the
woman set the big leather briefcase she was carrying down on the floor
and opened it. She produced some short leather straps with sturdy
buckles and tossed them toward her. One of the men holding her arms
picked one up. "Why are we using these? What's wrong with just tying
the rope to her wrists and ankles?"
The woman glanced at the boss and then answered. "Because we don't
want to mark her now. Just in case."
The men seemed to accept that. One of them punched her in the
belly to ensure she wouldn't struggle. Then they removed the
electrical cord and quickly attached the straps to her wrists and
ankles. In the meantime the woman had produced some lengths of chain
- 2 fairly long and 2 shorter lengths. The boss walked over to the
door and banged on it. When it opened he leaned through and spoke to
the person outside. A minute later another men entered with a ladder.
It all happened quickly after that. Two of the long chains were
attached to her wrist straps. One of the men had seized her around
the waist and held her in the air while the other got up on the ladder
and secured first one and then the second chair to hooks set in the
rafters. When the second was secure the man holding her let go and
she grunted with pain as she dropped a few inches and then was left
hanging by her wrists, her feet several inches above the concrete
floor. Then the shorter chains were attached to the straps around her
ankles and her feet were pulled apart and the chains secured to
ringbolts set in the floor.
So far she hadn't spoken a word. She knew it wouldn't do any good.
She stared at them in silence. The three men gathered near the door
and watched as the blonde woman approached the helpless redhead. They
all had expectant looks on their faces and she felt the first traces
of fear. The blonde reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and
produced a switchblade knife which she used to cut carefully cut off
every stitch of the redhead's clothing. Her jacket first. Then her
denim workshirt followed by her jeans. She stepped back for a moment
to let the men have a good look at the redhead in her plain cotton
underwear. Next, to tease the watchers, she removed the redhead's
cheap sneakers. Finally, she cut off the redheads bra and panties,
leaving her hanging there with nothing on but her white sweat socks.
"Well, she's a real redhead!" This from one of the goons by the
door. The blonde glanced at her, shrugged and raised an eyebrow as if
to say, "What can you do? Good help is impossible to find."
The boss snapped rapped on the door and snapped his fingers when it
opened. "Come on, lets go." The two goons filed out, followed by the
blonde. The door closed and the boss walked over and stared at her
for a minute. "We're going to leave you to think for a while. If you
tell us what we want to know it will be better for you." Then he
turned and left.
"....better for you." The words echoed in her head. She knew what
they meant. Talk and we'll make it quick. Two bullets in the back of
the head. Maybe they'd rape her first but there wouldn't be any
torture. No reason for it. If she talked. But she wanted to live.
So she couldn't talk. She could only hope that someone had seen
something. That a miracle would happen and the squad would find her
and....
And pigs would fly. There was about the same chance for either event.
She shivered and not just from the cold air on her nude body.
UnderCover Cop - II
Her shoulders were beginning to ache when the door opened and the
boss came in, closely followed by the slender blonde. He was smoking
an unfiltered cigarette and she had the insane impulse to ask him if
he knew what he was risking. He circled around her and came to a stop
facing her. He stared at her for a moment and asked if she was ready
to talk. To tell them the name of the informant who'd alerted them to
the drug operation in the first place. She shook her head. So far
she had not spoken a word. "What's your name?" Her only response was
another shake of her head. He sighed and reached out to run the tip
of his finger over her right nipple. "It's too bad. Such a beautiful
girl. Such a lovely body."
"Well," she thought to herself, "He's no judge of beauty." But she
had to concede he was right about her body. She'd always been proud
of it and worked hard to keep it in shape. Now.....
He took a long drag on his cigarette and she watched in horror as
he reached out and pushed it into her navel. She arched her back and
screamed in agony as he ground the cigarette out on her soft flesh.
He watched impassively, his eyes devoid of emotion. This was
business. Just business. "Ready to talk now?"
She stifled a sob and shook her head. He sighed and turned to the
blonde. "It's up to you. How long do you need?"
The blonde shrugged. "I don't know. Normally I'd say I could
break a woman in 30 minutes. But this little bitch seems tough.
Maybe an hour. Maybe two. It would be quicked if I didn't have to
worry about visibile damage." The redhead shuddered as she listened
to them talk about torturing her in the same tones they'd use talking
about the weather. The boss shook his head. "Those are the
instructions for now. Do the best you can. I'll let you know if the
situation changes." He turned and left.
When the door closed behind him the blonde turned and said, "Just
you and me now, honey. You can call me Cindy." She walked over to
her briefcase and brought it back, setting in down behind the redhead.
Then she walked over to the door and rapped on it. When it was opened
she spoke to the person outside and then waited at the door until a
wooden box was brought in. She placed in on the floor in front of the
redhead and climbed up onto it. It got her high enough to allow her
to look the redhead right in the eye. Satisified with the added
height the box afforded her she began by examining the redhead's body.
She did this by running her hands over the girl's body, stroking,
probing, poking, and watching carefully any reaction from her victim.
There wasn't any that she could detect. The girl just hung there,
staring at the far wall, her face a blank mask. There wasn't even a
reaction when she spread the girl's labia and probed her cunt. Nor
when she spread her buttocks and thrust a finger deep into the
redhead's ass.
What Cindy didn't know, and wouldn'd (couldn't) have believed, was
that the redhead, whose name was Samantha, didn't know the identify of
the informant so she couldn't tell them if she wanted to. Sam knew
that if she told them she didn't know they wouldn't believe her and
would torture her until they were convinced she was telling the truth.
And if they did believe her they'd just kill her immediately. It was
better, far better, not to speak a word and hope that someone rescued
her.
Cindy concluded her examination and looked up at the slender
redhead. She decided to show the girl that she was capable of
inflicting pain and didn't mind doing so. In fact, she enjoyed it. A
lot. She decided to start off slow. A good whipping with a leather
quirt. She took the quirt out of her briefcase and showed it to the
redhead. No reaction other than a slight widening of her marvelous
green eyes. Cindy felt almost sorry for her. But she whipped her
anyway, beginning in back, working her way up from the girl's slender
thighs, over her ass, and up her back. She gave her 50 strokes.
Exactly 50. The girl started to scream on the 5th or 6th stroke and
screamed with each stroke until around 20. Then she screamed
continually - long, gut wrenching sobs interspersed with high-pitched
screams as each stroke landed.
Cindy gave the poor bitch a five minute break after the first 50.
Then she asked her if she was ready to talk. The foolish girl shook
her head. Cindy started another fifty on the front of the girl's
thighs. Fifteen there. Then fifteen across her flat, firm belly.
And twenty across her firm round tits. When it was over the girl hung
there sobbing and whimpering. In spite of the cold, her body was
drenched with sweat. Her head hung forward as she sobbed. Then it
jerked up and a long scream issued from her as she felt the handle of
the quirt being rammed into her ass. "Noooooooooooo. Oh, god, please
nooooo!" She bit her lip and sobbed as Cindy raped her with the
quirt's leather-wrapped handle, driving it deep into her virgin
asshole. After a few dozen strokes Cindy drove the handle deep into
Sam's ass and left it. She lit a cigarette and relaxed for a few
minutes while the redhead stared at the floor, sobbing.
Undercover Cop III
Cindy finished her cigarette and decided that it was time to get
serious. She took a dozen long pins out of her briefcase. In the old
days they would have been called 'hatpins'. Each was 3" long, very
sharp, with a flat head. Sam began to whimper as soon as she saw
them. Cindy pulled a leather glove on to protect her right hand as
she placed the pins. She teased Sam's left nipple erect and then
drove the pin through it. The redhead screamed in agony as the pin
penetrated her nipple, a nipple that was still sore and ultrasensitive
from the whipping. Another pin went through her right nipple,
accompanied by more screams of pure, unadulterated agony.
Sam felt Cindy's fingers spreading her labia and she whimpered,
"No, please noooooo." Then her head went back and she let out a long
piercing scream as a pin was thrust through her clit. Cindy felt that
Sam's reaction made it worth another and she thrust a second pin
through the girl's clit. Then, pinching Sam's labia, Cindy thrust
several pins through from side-to-side, closing Sam's cunt by pinning
her labia together. By now the redhead's vocal chords were strained
and her screams were deep and wrenching. Cindy spread Sam's buttocks
and drove five pins into the sensitive flesh close to her anus. She
put each in about 1.5" or halfway. As each went in, Sam's body arched
and her mouth opened in a hoarse scream of pure agony. Still, she
refused to talk. So far no permanent damage had been done.
Just then the door opened and the boss stepped in, stopping just
inside the door. "You don't have to be careful anymore. Do what you
have to, but break her fast."
Cindy nodded and watched the boss step back through the door. "Did
you hear? Are you ready to talk?" Sam shook her head. "Stupid
bitch! Talk and save yourself a lot of pain." Another head shake.
Cindy shrugged and took out her lighter. It was a cheap propane
lighter with an adjustable flame. She turned the flame up and held it
under the end of the pin that pierce Sam's left nipple. As the pin
heated up the girl began to scream and blubber. When she didn't
break, Cindy passed the flame slowly across her nipple. Sam screamed
and fainted. Cindy revived her by using an ammonia capsule. Then she
repeated the torture on the girl's right nipple. Then her clit. Sam
broke as the needles in her clit turned red hot. "Pleaaaaassssse!
Stooopppp! I'll talk. Oh god! Please don't hurt me any more."
Cindy left the flame there for another 30 seconds as Sam screamed and
begged. Finally, satisified that the redhead was truly broken, she
stepped back and walked to the door. When the boss entered in
response to her knock she told him that the redhead was ready to talk.
He walked over and looked up at the sobbing girl. "Who?" She
lifted her chin and whispered, "Cindy, the bitch standing behind you."
Of course it was a lie but the boss didn't know and Cindy had told him
herself that the bitch had broken. Of course she could just be naming
the blonde in revenge. That was probably it. But why take a chance?
When he turned to confront the blonde he had his gun out. She went
pale and protested her innocence but she knew from the look in his eye
that it was useless. He forced her to remove her clothes and kneel.
Then he stepped up behind her and shot her in the back of the head.
She pitched forward and he stooped and put the muzzle of his gun
against her temple and pulled the trigger again.
The redhead was staring at him in horror when he straightened up and
turned toward her. "No! Please! Oh god no! Please don't kill me."
She was still begging and pleading when he pushed the muzzle of the
gun into her mouth and pulled the trigger. He shot her in the temple
to make sure and then turned and left without looking back. Both
women went into the bay that night.
THE END.
