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Number Four
The fourth night.
- …bla bla bla and yada yada. Basically it says that the brass wants us to step up the torture and lean on Number Four as much as we can. He he. Today they even finnish it off with: “It is very important for national security that she talks. Your nation is counting on you.” Ha ha, Boss, we’re the heroes of our nation now. HA HA.
Ollie threw the note on the table and added,
- I wonder what she did that was so bad.
His other assistant broke his usual dumb founded silence,
- It’s probably not her, but some illegal organisation or boyfriend they’re after. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s innocent. …and who cares anyway. We’ve got a job to do and let’s do it right. I’d rather have my ass in here than anywhere it could get shot.
Ollie slapped his second assistant’s ass and blew him a kiss.
- No, we wouldn’t want that purty little tush to get dented, would we?
He didn’t bother to check the note himself; he had no reason to disbelieve it. This was truly his worst nightmare. He wanted to be around Number Four as little as possible and now his bosses had ordered him to do pretty much nothing else. He felt insanity creeping up from inside. He stuck on a smile and rubbed his hands together as cheerily as he could muster, which wasn’t a lot
- Let’s get to work lads.
It didn’t seem to matter how bruised or tired Number Four was, her eyes were still unwavering and her silence was still compact. He had to yell to drown out his own thoughts about her.
- Just get over to the fucking trestle bitch.
- Yes, Sir,
she voiced silently. All the screaming had robbed her voice. It took her quite a while to reach her feet and her whole body was quavering from pain. He knew that the day shift interrogators had a big fondness for beating the soles of the feet, so he knew this would be very painful for her. She hobbled over to the trestle, bent over to the side as if defying gravity and propelled by invisible wires. It was an awkward dance. Amazingly enough, seeing her like this didn’t give him any pleasure at all. What had she done to him?!? This wasn’t him at all, and he wanted to get back to his old cheery self. God, he hated her now. He scratched the side of his face digging his nails in. He felt like tearing the skin off his face to quell the panic.
His assistants tied her down. He was now hiding his panic in fury.
- Ollie, grab her fucking hair and pull her head back. Keep her head steady.
He could see her eyes trying to look past her nose at him. He spat out in fury.
- Now you keep your mouth open like a good girl.
Her head was restrained as to forbid her from moving her lips in any intelligible way. He pulled his trousers down and let his ass hover over her face. Success. He could see her squirming to get away. He was finally getting to her. Ollie beat her shin with his truncheon and yelled in his ever slack yawed manner.
- Keep your head still bitch.
He could see the panic in her body was total now. It took a while but eventually he relaxed his sphincter enough to have his shit slide down and hit her face. He tried to aim for her mouth but it was hard. She was howling now completely out of control, in total hysterics. She was coughing and gagging on his shit now. He didn’t get it all out at once. But little at a time he managed to empty his system completely. His two assistants were laughing heartily now cracking jokes. When he was done he turned around to watch his work.
Her mouth was wide open and now totally still. It was full to the brim with his shit. The familiar stench rose from her face and hit his nostrils. Some of the shit had landed on her lip and some of it had dribbled down her cheek and onto her neck and breasts. Her eyes were dead now, staring straight up into nothingness. “Finally”, he thought to himself. The result of his work caused warmth to spread through his body. He felt he was calming down and getting his strength back.
- What a mess you’ve done, you filthy little whore. Good girls finish their dinner don’t they? Eat!
She didn’t answer, just sat there with her shit filled mouth wide open. Her body was now completely collapsed against the trestle. Her posture was gone. Not until Ollie had his truncheon smash down onto her thigh repeatedly did she start chewing and swallowing. It was quite a lot and took a while. Now and again she stopped and started shaking and crying hysterically, but Ollie’s truncheon got her back on the job. When she was done swallowing the shit in her mouth he added
- Don’t forget the shit around your mouth, whore. You don’t want to make the chef think you didn’t enjoy his dinner do you?
Her eyes where still dead. She started foraging around the side of her mouth with her tongue, lapping up every piece she could find. Once she was done she stopped again.
- Good girl. But you missed a bit there…
and he tapped her jaw with his boot. She obediently went to work. After this they got the hose out and cleaned her up with freezing cold water before raping her again. But now she was broken. Her gaze was dead and focussed into nothingness. God, he felt good about himself now. He felt a wave of relaxation hit him and wash all the tension from the muscles away. For the first time in days he could finally enjoy raping a prisoner’s ass. Just as ordered most of that night was spent torturing and raping her. It was such a release to fuck her holes while telling jokes about her with his boys.
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