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Candice was jarred to consciousness as the old blue and white Buick traveled quickly up the poorly maintained road. The seat that she was laying on was dirty and cracked, the foam rubber showing through. The hot wind and bright sunlight coming in through the open windows made her painfully aware that she was naked. Looking down on the car floor, she saw her sundress lying in a bloody wad on the floor. Slowly, she began running her hands over her massively swollen and bruised breasts to assess the damage. While they hurt like hell, she was relieved to find she had not been permanently disfigured. Letting her hands travel downward, they crossed her bruised midsection where she had been strapped to the table, to gently feel her shaved mound and swollen pussy lips. She gritted her teeth against the pain to find that her jaw muscles and throat ached horribly from all of the screaming she had done. Probing gently between her labia, she lifted her hand and found it covered with dried blood and semen. Again reaching down, but this time behind her, her hand touched many layers of dirt and caked blood. Unconsciously, she groaned. Her entire abdomen hurt horribly from her recent torture.
Hearing sounds from behind him, the driver looked with concern over the back of the front seat into the terrified eyes of the girl. "Horrible what those soldiers did! I'm with Mountain Productions. I was sent to the airport to pick you up. I was waiting outside when the soldiers dragged you outside wrapped in a blanket and threw you into a car. Not knowing what else to do, I followed them as they drove you out of town where I watched them dump you and your luggage into a ditch on the side of the road. Please don't move. Rest senorita. We're on our way to my cousin's house. He's a doctor."
With vast relief, Candice closed her eyes and again passed into unconsciousness.
Unseen cameras hidden in the seats caught every detail.
When she awoke, she didn't know where she was. Still exhausted, she found that she was lying under a clean cotton sheet in an antique queensized bed. It felt wonderful! She felt the warm breeze from the ceiling fan blowing the fresh air through the four open windows around the room.
The room she was in was white stucco. In the lefthand corner, she spied her dirty luggage piled into a neat stack. A large mirror was attached to the wall opposite the foot of the bed. Below it and between two of the room's three doors, she could see the top of a lovely antique dresser. To the right of the bed stood an intravenous drip stand and, just beyond it, the room's third door.
With a start, she suddenly remembered why she was there and all of the horrible things that had recently happened to her.
Lifting the sheet to look at her bruised naked body, it was apparent that she had been thoroughly washed and cared for. She could see orange disinfectant stains on her wrists, breasts, crotch and ankles. A maxi-pad was taped between her legs. From under it, a catheter tube descended to a bag hanging from the side of the bed.
Looking to her left on the nightstand, Candice saw a glass with water standing next to a filled pitcher within easy reach. Lunging in her haste to overcome the thirst that assailed her, she knocked the pitcher onto the floor with a noisy crash. Gratefully, she gulped the water from the glass and then looked mournfully at the mess she had made. A few moments later, the door opened and a middleaged man and woman rushed in. In addition to his other clothing, the man wore a white lab coat and had a stethoscope hanging from his neck. The woman was dressed as a nurse.
With a barely audible "tsch tsch tsch", the woman stooped down and began picking up the shards of glass from the broken pitcher and then left to retrieve a broom and mop.
With a squeaky grunt, Candice tried to apologize for the breakage.
"Please don't worry about the pitcher and don’t talk", said the man in a kindly voice. "I am Dr. Jesus Interiano. That was my wife Martha. You have been asleep for well over a day. Now, don't try to speak. You must give your throat time to heal. You need rest. Are you hungry?" To a hasty nod, the Doctor said, "My wife will bring it up right away. Just eat and rest. I will be up in a few minutes to take a look at you." Tears welled up in Candice's eyes in gratitude as the Doctor left.
Within a few minutes, Martha came back in, helped her to sit painfully up, and placed a tray of loose warm porridge, milk, and juice before her. "I'll be back in a few minutes to get the tray, clean up, and to help you to go to the bathroom." Candice smiled her thanks to the kind woman who soon departed.
Though she grimaced in pain with each swallow, within minutes, she had gobbled down everything before her. Contentedly, she leaned back and relaxed.
Fifteen minutes later, Martha returned. In addition to a mop and broom, she also carried a pair of rubber gloves and an enema bag, which Candice eyed unhappily. After quickly and efficiently cleaning up the mess that she had made, she moved the tray off onto the floor next to the door, and made her patient slide down and raise her knees. Martha next removed the pad and catheter, and wheeled the I.V. stand to the foot of the bed.
By way of explanation for what was about to occur, Martha told her, "My husband doesn't want you to pass a hard bowel movement until you have had a few days to heal."
Opening one of the other doors to reveal a bathroom, Candice watched as Martha put on rubber gloves and went about the task of preparing the enema. Coming back into the room holding the enema bag upsidedown and a towel, Martha reached into her pocket and removed a small bottle of medicine and a long tube of lubricant that she placed at the foot of the bed near her patient's feet. She next opened the bottle and poured its contents into the bag. Finished, she then attached the enema bag cap, tube and nozzle and gave the bag a few quick swirls. A small metal clamp held the tube shut.
Resting the filled bag against the foot-board, Martha moved around next to Candice, reached under the girl's knees to raise her buttocks, and smoothed the towel beneath her. She then directed the girl to lay on her side and bend her knees. Opening the tube of lubricant, the woman next smoothed some clear cream onto the enema nozzle with her left index finger and then held it up to examine it critically for uncovered areas.
Candice turned her head away as Martha reached between her legs and carefully inserted the nozzle into her injured swollen anus. Enduring the short sharp pain this caused, Candice watched as Martha hung the enema bag onto the I.V. stand and released the clamp. Immediately, a rush of warmth filled her colon accompanied by a sharp burning pain. As she became more and more full, she could feel water trickling down the crease of her buttocks onto the towel. She became alarmed at the impending mess as Martha helpfully squeezed the bag to expedite the process. As badly as she’d been hurt, she was nonetheless gratified that she was not completely incontinent. Desperately she squeezed her damaged sphincter muscle as tight as she could and motioned her distress.
Martha slipped her fingers gently between the girl's ass cheeks, grabbed the nozzle and pulled it quickly out. She then helped Candice to get up and waddle to the toilet.
The subsequent painful release of water from her bowels brought tears to her eyes it felt so good. Again with help, Candice stood and, selfconsciously leaning against the bathroom wall with her legs spread, letting Martha gently wipe her clean and apply a medicated ointment to and within her anus. Closing her eyes against the pain, Candice reflected that the medicine being used must surely be effective if it hurt this bad.
Since she seemed able to stand on her own, Martha also took the opportunity to give her patient a sponge bath.
Finally finished and exhausted, Candice hobbled back to the bed. Martha took the enema bag, returned the I.V. stand to its position by the bed, and walked from the room.
A few minutes later, Candice sleepily heard the Doctor ascend the stairs to come to her room. As he came in, he smiled at her reassuringly and sat next to her on the bed.
"Now, let's take a look and see how you're doing", the Doctor Said. "We must be very careful to prevent infection. When you arrived, I gave you a shot of antibiotics and took X-rays of your chest and abdomen. According to the Xrays, nothing is broken." Reaching forward, he pulled the sheet carefully down until she was completely exposed. "Please relax. I'll do my best not to hurt you."
Carefully, the Doctor examined her swollen bruised breasts, moving them gently from side to side and pressing gently. "Bloodclots", he explained, "resulting from such massive bruising can be quite dangerous." Candice closed her eyes against the pain and did her best to relax.
Moving his hands down, he helped the girl to raise her knees and spread her legs. Again, very gently, he parted her swollen labia with his left hand to look within. Making her gasp in painful pleasure, the Doctor moved her swollen clitoris from side to side. Taking a small pen light from his shirt pocket, he then leaned over to look closely at the abrasions on the rim of her vagina.
"Well, beyond bruises that I'm sure must hurt horribly, your breasts and genitals do not seem damaged beyond repair; you'll heal."
Candice looked apprehensively at the doctor as he helped her to turn over so that he could examine her from the rear. The bruised strips where she had been whipped with the belt were plainly visible on her buttocks and thighs.
Reaching forward, he parted her ass cheeks gently to look at the stitches around her swollen anus. Based on his sharp intake of breath, she knew that it looked bad.
"I had to put in twenty-five stitches to repair your anus and colon. They will dissolve naturally over time. The disinfectant cream that my wife applied topically and the antibiotic enema should cause any internal and external damage to heal quickly and cleanly. In time, you should recover."
Again, the Doctor helped Candice to turn over and, assisting her to lie on her side, had her painfully open her jaws so that he could examine her throat.
"Well, those must hurt," commented the Doctor. "If you're good and don't try to make a sound, you should be able to talk normally in a few days."
"We're done for now. Try to get some sleep", said the Doctor. He pulled the sheet up and gently tucked her in.
Repeatedly, she awoke screaming from the same nightmare that laughing soldiers were slowly killing her by ripping her vagina and anus apart. After the third time, the Doctor came in dressed in his robe.
"Poor girl. This will help you rest." Pulling a syringe and ampoule from his pocket, he gave her a sedative.
Gratefully, she drifted away to unconscious sleep.
Over the next few weeks, Candice recuperated. The Doctor came and examined her daily. As she healed and as the hair on her crotch began to grow back, he had to order her not to scratch herself. To help, he gave her a tube of medicated ointment to reduce the itching and speed her healing. As he had told her, her voice was soon back to normal.
Hearing the tale of her treatment by the soldiers, the Doctor and his wife strongly advised that she forget it had ever happened and to not mention her torture to anyone. People who did seemed to have this habit of disappearing. They also strongly advised that she not leave the Country from the same airport at which she had arrived. By way of explanation, they told her quite frankly that the soldiers at the airport probably had not expected her to live through her ordeal and might be worried about reprisals.
To her worries that her tardiness would cost her the movie part, the Doctor assured her that his cousin Pepe had taken care of everything and that the Director wished her to rest, recuperate, and to come as soon as she was well.
Three weeks after her horrific arrival, Candice was ready to leave the clinic. Excellent care plus the resilience of youth helped her to heal quickly. The bruises on her breasts, crotch and buttocks had completely faded. To her dismay, she discovered that the muscle around her anus had been permanently stretched. While not incontinent, she would have no trouble with anal sex ever again.
At her request, the Doctor phoned his cousin Pepe who came to drive her to the film location 150 miles away. Refusing her offer of money, the Doctor told her not to worry, that Mountain Productions had paid for everything.
While Pepe loaded her luggage into the car, she said her goodbyes to the Doctor and his wife, and was soon underway.
As the dust from Pepe's retreating car settled in the distance, the cameraman and Assistant Director stepped from the front door of the Doctor's home. Had Candice remained, she would have immediately recognized him as one of the men at her audition.
Distastefully, the Doctor and his wife eyed the unscrupulous pair as they approached.
Reaching into his dirty coat pocket, the Assistant Director removed an envelope thick with U.S. currency and held it out.
Reflecting on his own hypocrisy, the Doctor abruptly reached forward and snatched the envelope from the man's hand. Such travesties as he had just been a part of were all that made it possible for him and his wife to live in modest comfort, and to provide affordable medical services to the regional inhabitants.
"Martha", said the Doctor with an obvious effort to maintain his composure, "please take the cameraman inside for refreshments. I would speak privately with Mr. Montalbo."
Once the two retreated into the house, he turned to the Assistant Director with unconcealed anger.
"You bastards!" screamed the Doctor. "That girl almost died because of your sick profession. This is the worst one yet. Had you done more damage, do you realize that she probably would have died before I could get her to a hospital? I've a mind to turn you in and face the consequences rather than see this continue."
"Spare me Doctor. Your hollow threats have no meaning," said Mr. Montalbo in a bored tone. "If I exposed all of the things that you and your wife have been a part to over the years, you two would never see the outside of a prison for the rest of your lives. Remember that we do have pictures. In any case, you and your wife would go to jail and all of your patients would languish in your absence. What's the suffering of one individual compared to the health of all those in your care. Besides, we have the signed contractual rights to do anything we want to the girl, short of killing her, just so long as we provide adequate medical care. And that, my dear Doctor, is you."
"Get your medical bag and luggage," ordered the Assistant Director. "We have to go soon; your part has only just begun. The girl will soon need your services once again."
"Oh God! What do you have planned for that poor girl now?" asked the Doctor.
Putting his arm around the Doctor's slumped shoulders, he explained.
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