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Lisa and Brit
The small plane took off from the grass strip and
left Lisa and Brit standing there, wondering why Dr.
Schmidt was not there to meet them. They shouldered
their back packs and started toward the road which
should lead the village. They had no sooner reached the
edge of the forest when they were surrounded by
soldiers carrying automatic rifles and dressed in
camouflage uniforms. The soldiers took the back packs.
An officer approached them.
"May I see your passports, please?"
He said in fairly good English. "Yes, you are Lisa...and
you are Brit. Strange name, that. Is there a Saint Brit?"
"No."
"And what brings you here?"
"I'm a free lance reporter. I came to do a
magazine piece about the medical missionaries and how
they help the native peoples," said Lisa.
"And Brit?"
"She's my daughter. She's only fifteen. I
couldn't leave her behind."
"Well, I'm afraid I've no choice but to put you
under arrest." He took out some handcuffs.
"Fuck, Mom! What have you done now?"
"Be quiet, Brit. Let me do the talking."
Soldiers held Brit's arms, as the officer cuffed
her wrists together in front of her, then did the same
with Lisa. The soldiers hustled the women down the
road to a waiting truck and lifted them into the back,
while the officer sat in front. They raised the women's
arms over their heads and fastened the handcuffs to the
bows which supported the canvas covering. It was hot
and musty smelling. The soldiers sat on benches along
the sides of the truck bed, while the truck lurched down
the road and the women swayed unsteadily, half hanging
from their cuffed wrists. When the truck stopped, the
soldiers got out except for two, who groped the women's
breasts before releasing their hands.
"Stop that, you bastards!" shouted Brit, but the
soldiers just laughed, and one groped at the crotch of
Brit's jeans. He stopped when the officer appeared.
The truck had stopped in the inner courtyard or patio of
a substantial stone and concrete building complex. The
gates to the entry were closed, so the women had no idea
what lay without. The officer led them into a sort of
office and removed the handcuffs.
"You can't just arrest us for no reason. What's
the charge?" said Lisa.
The officer left them standing while he sat
behind a desk and lit a cigar. "Oh, espionage will do,
and assisting the communist rebels. Those missionaries
are in rebel territory. And slandering the government.
Our intelligence informed me you were coming. You
also work for Amnesty International. You planned to
report on 'human rights abuses', the use of torture by the
government forces. You will, of course, learn a great
deal about our use of torture." Two soldiers came in
with the back packs and started emptying them on the
floor. "Lisa, Brit, take off your clothes."
"NO!" said Lisa. A soldier stepped behind Brit
and pulled her elbows behind her, as the second soldier
used his bayonet to begin to cut away Brit's T-shirt.
"OK! Don't hurt my daughter. We'll undress."
The soldiers stepped back. Lisa and Brit leaned
against a wall as they clumsily untied their hiking boots
and pulled them off, and their socks. Brit pulled her T-
shirt up over her head, revealing her bra, and then she
fumbled with the button at the waist of her jeans. Lisa
wore a simple blouse. She undid the buttons and slid it
off over her shoulders. Her bra, chosen for comfort in
the tropics, was a thin mesh, front-closure affair; her
nipples were visible through the fabric. She undid the
fastenings and shrugged it off, too. At 34, her figure
wasn't quite what it used to be, but she was still a size
14, and a good looking woman. She looked at Brit, who
was inches taller than Lisa but couldn't have weighed
more than 110 pounds, with her slim limbs and flat
tummy. A soldier "helped" Brit with her bra, and
laughed as he turned it inside out to show it was padded.
Brit's firm little conical breasts contrasted with her
mother's slightly sagging C-cups. Brit slid the jeans
down over her girlish hips, and stepped out of them,
dressed now in nothing but a pink string bikini. The
waistband was low on her hips. There was only a small,
pink triangle of cloth in front, and a narrow band up the
crack of her ass in back. Lisa undid her belt and
dropped the baggy, many-pocketed khaki trousers she
had bought from a catalog, which had called them safari
pants. She stood there in her white cotton panties,
suddenly conscious of her somewhat convex belly and
well padded hips and tapered thighs, so much more
voluptuous than her daughter's bony figure. Brit's
parallel-sided thighs were no bigger than her mother's
shapely calves. The officer nodded at Lisa, and she
removed her last bit of covering, to stand there naked. It
had been years since a man had seen her naked, and
never three men at once. The soldiers busied
themselves searching the women's pockets and even
tearing out the padding in Brit's bra, in case it should
conceal spy paraphernalia.
A middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform
entered the room and looked over the two prisoners.
She applied a stethoscope to Brit's chest and back,
instructing her to breath deeply. She repeated the
examination with Lisa. The nurse said something in
Spanish, which Lisa understood to mean the prisoners
were healthy enough to withstand interrogation. Lisa
shivered with fear, and was thankful that Brit probably
didn't understand. "Squat", said the nurse, and Lisa
squatted on the floor. The nurse pulled on a latex glove
and slipped a finger into Lisa's vagina, sweeping it
around. "No contraband," she reported. "I think she has
had a hysterectomy." It was true, a treatment for
fibroids. Lisa had a sub-dermal implant to provide
estrogen replacement. She didn't mind that she could
never again get pregnant, and she was glad she no longer
had her monthly periods. Her sex life should have been
better, except that she didn't have much a sex life. She
wanted a long-term commitment, and that was difficult
when one traveled a lot.
The nurse went over to Brit and made her squat.
It was easy to push the pink cloth aside and insert a
finger into Brit's tight pussy. Lisa stood and said, "Don't
hurt her!" The nurse then inserted her finger into Brit's
anus.
"Ow! Stop that," said Brit.
The nurse withdrew her finger and helped Brit to
her feet. "No matter," she said in English, "We'll have
to clean you both out, anyway. Spies and drug
smugglers often swallow a capsule, thinking it won't be
detected, but we always find them. It all comes out in
the end."
The officer smiled. "Before we continue with
the in-processing, shall we call it, have you anything to
say?"
"Fuck you!" hissed Brit.
"I'll take that under advisement," said the
officer, smiling, "though I'm sure you will be fucked
first."
"She's totally innocent," said Lisa. "She just
came along for the ride, because she couldn't stay with
her grandmother. I'm innocent, too. I don't know
anything about rebels and communists."
"By your own admission, you were here to visit
them and to write propaganda in their favor."
"It's not true."
"You will confess soon enough. So will Brit."
"Confess to what?"
"Anything we want. Perhaps we'll have you
make a televised statement that you are a spy in the
employ of your CIA. I'm sure Brit could convince
viewers that she was a mule, carrying illegal drugs."
"But none of that's true!"
"Whatever we decide is true, you will say it is so.
Whatever your will power, we can break you."
"All right. Suppose we have confessed. Then
what?"
"Well, if you are very lucky, you will be
exchanged for some of our people, held by your country.
If you are not so lucky, we may keep you around for our
amusement. The troops are so isolated here. They don't
get to visit their wives and girl friends. You two can be
their whores." Lisa gasped at the thought. "If your luck
runs out, or you are not cooperative enough, you will be
disappeared. You will vanish without a trace. You
doubt that? We have only to take you on a one-way
plane ride, over the jungle or the ocean."
"OK, I'll say whatever you like, as long as you
let Brit go, unharmed. OK?"
The officer just laughed. "I don't have to
negotiate with you. You are mine, to do with as I
please. Let us enjoy your company for a while, a few
days, at least. Time enough for confessions then." He
gestured to the soldiers, who knew what to do, from long
practice, perhaps. They marched the naked prisoners
across the sunny patio and into another, darker part of
the fortress prison. There, was a large room, a former
stable, perhaps, dimly lit by light through high, slit-like
openings in the wall. It had the look of a torture
chamber, with stocks and a pillory and various apparatus
which Lisa did not recognize. Over a drain in the
cobblestone floor was a wooden frame, a sort of room
without walls, from which hung ropes and chains. The
soldiers began to tie a rope around Lisa's wrist.
The nurse said something to the officer, who
stopped the soldiers. To Lisa, he said, "I am advised
that our initial efforts should not leave visible marks, as
you may have to appear on televison. That is fortunate
for you, but be advised. If you do not cooperate fully,
we can use stronger measures." Lisa looked terrified.
"Amnesty International reported that we douched female
prisoners with hot oil and subjected their breasts to
terrible tortures. It's all true, of course, as you may find
out for yourself."
The nurse stepped forward and wrapped tape
around Lisa's wrists, and then Brit's. Brit, ridiculous in
her tiny pink bikini panties, had the look of a child at an
amusement park, as if she were waiting in line for the
scariest roller coaster, not a sadistic torturer. The officer
personally wrapped nylon straps around the wrists, over
the protecting tape, and attached the straps to ropes. At
a nod, Brit and Lisa were hauled aloft, hanging from
their upraised arms, facing each other. "Brit..." began
Lisa, unable to continue.
"It's all right, Mom. I'm not a child. I'm tough.
Whatever these ass holes do, I'll survive."
"Ass hole, eh?" said the officer, with a chuckle.
"That reminds me. You have one. We must see what, if
anything, lies within. But first..."
The soldiers expertly put straps around Lisa and
Brit's ankles, and the women found their legs being
hauled up and apart, until they hung from the frame with
their legs in a wide vee, the pelvis lifted and tilted so
that their cunts and assholes were raised and fully
accessible. Lis a found herself looking between her own
breasts at her upraised mons, with its bush of curly pubic
hair, and beyond that, she was looking directly at her
daughter's private parts, barely covered by thin pink
nylon. The officer took hold of the back of Brit's
panties and pulled, so the pink fabric folded and sank
onto the crease of Brit's vulva until it half disappeared,
and Brit's puffy girlish labia were forced apart, to peep
out either side of the pink. When he released his grip,
the thong rebounded, but the pink nylon stayed
embedded in Brit's vulva. Brit was breathing hard and
trying to remain composed. Lisa wondered how much
that hurt. Did it rub Brit's clitoris painfully? The officer
again pulled down on the thong, and continued jerking,
until the embedded cloth was sodden and Brit was
groaning, "uh,uh" and struggling with each jerk of the
thong. The officer smiled as he stretched the pink nylon
even more, and Brit cried, "Aww! Gaaawd!" and
relaxed. With a final yank, the panties tore away,
revealing the red, tortured membranes of Brit's gaping
vulva, framed by her sparse, matted, brown pubic hair.
One of the soldiers brought a black bag, like a
doctors satchel. The officer took something from the
bag and with his other hand he pulled on Brit's left
nipple, which was about even with his chin. He put a
spring clamp on it, not a little one, like the nipple
clamps in adult toy stores. This one resembled the
clamps on the end of battery jumper cables, and Brit
yowled in pain. He applied a clamp to the other nipple,
and then placed clamps on Lisa's somewhat bigger
nipples. Lisa gritted her teeth and tried to breath deeply,
willing not to scream. The beast obviously enjoyed
inflicting pain. She wanted to deny him satisfaction.
Brit, seeing her mother's stoic resistance, tried to keep
quiet, too. Perhaps it was the release of endorphins in
her brain, or a numbness from the restriction in blood
supply, but it seemed to Lisa as if the pain in her nipples
was the decreasing. She hoped that was true for Brit,
also. It wasn't fair for them to torture Brit. The bastard
officer enjoyed it, and he knew it hurt Lisa to see Brit
suffer.
The officer made a noose of stranded copper
wire and slid it over Lisa's left breast, pushing it as afar
as it would go toward her rib cage. Lisa could imagine
what would happen if he tightened that noose; it could
slice her breast off! The nurse said something and the
officer looked annoyed. He removed the copper wire
and substituted a loop of rubber strap, which he fitted
around the base of Lisa's breast and then pulled tight.
The constricting strap almost pinched off her breast,
making it swell into a globe, which began to turn pink.
Veins which had been invisible swelled under the thin,
pale skin, and the pain in her nipple intensified until
Lisa could not help screaming. Quickly, the officer
repeated the treatment on Lisa's right breast. Her
beautiful breasts were being deformed and stretched
before her eyes. Her eyes met Brit's. Brit was staring in
disbelief. Her little breasts, at least, could not be bound
like that.
The nurse, meanwhile, showed up with a hose,
like a garden hose. She pulled the little pink thong aside
and applied the nozzle to Brit's anus. The officer took it
from her and said, "This one is mine. I'll teach her
about ass holes." He twisted the nozzle to increase the
flow and, as the water forced Brit's little rosebud open,
he pushed the nozzle deep inside her, past her anal
sphincter muscles. Brit bore the indignity, along with
the pain of the nipple clamps, but soon the pressure
inside her was too great to ignore. Intestines have no
sense of pain, except for stretching, but they are very
sensitive to that. As the water gurgled higher and higher
into Brit's colon, the pain became unbearable, and she
screamed obscenities as she writhed as much as her taut
suspension would allow. Lisa cried, to see Brit's
torment, but she wouldn't speak, wouldn't give the
torturer the satisfaction.
At last the nurse put her hand on the officer's
arm, and he yanked the nozzle from Brit's upturned
bottom. A stream of brown water, with lumps of shit in
it, spewed from Brit's anus and splashed across her
mother. In seconds, Brit hung limp and quiet. The
officer stepped aside and looked down at the filthy floor,
looking for capsules of contraband, while the nurse,
somewhat more gently, flushed Brit's colon again and
again, until the water ran clear and it was obvious
nothing interesting would come out then. "Poor Brit,"
she said. "We will have to repeat this tomorrow. Here,
drink this." She held a squeeze bottle to Brit's lips and
forced her to drink.
"Yahgh!" said Brit, "it tastes awful."
The nurse made Lisa drink, too. It tasted like fish oil.
Then the nurse handed the hose to the officer, and
it was Lisa's turn to be flushed out. The indignity, the
embarrassment of having her rectum invaded, was bad
enough, but the mounting pain as she felt the water
pressing deeper and deeper into her was so great it
distracted her from her swollen breasts. When, at last,
the nozzle was removed, and the awful pressure in her
bowels was relieved, it was at the cost of her spewing
shit all over her own daughter. The officer didn't stop.
He pushed the hose deeper and deeper into her bowels.
She could feel it, pushing around the corner from her
rectum to her colon, moving up her colon, even across
under her ribs, all the while water spewing from her
wretched stretched anus. Finally, he let go of the hose
and Lisa felt is sliding out her, until the nozzle passed
her aching anus and fell on the floor. The officer said
something in Spanish about changing his clothes and
left, taking the soldiers with him.
The nurse went to Brit first, removing the nipple
clamps. Brit writhed in pain or relief, Lisa wasn't sure,
and then hung limply as the nurse hosed the filth off her.
Then the nurse removed the clamps and the rubber
bindings from Lisa's breasts. Yes, it hurt for a while, as
the more normal blood flow was restored, but Lisa was
reassured when her breasts seemed to rapidly assume
their normal shape. At least they didn't seem to be
permanently injured. The nurse hosed her off and used
the hose to clean the floor, making sure the effluent
from the bowels ran down the drain. The water, Lisa
realized, was almost body temperature, probably from a
tank on the roof, which had been warmed by the sun.
How much worse the ordeal would have been had the
water been really cold.
"Now," said the nurse, "I realize you are
uncomfortable, but you are in no danger, for the
moment. Had you been left hanging from your arms
alone, the blood would eventually pool in your legs, and
you might lose consciousness. You won't starve, and
with all the water you have absorbed from your guts, you
won't dehydrate for a while. Of course, the captain will
return to play his little games with you, but that may not
be before morning. So, rest if you can. I will check on
you, as a good nurse should, from time to time."
When they were alone, Brit spoke first. "Mom,
are you all right?"
"Yes, I think so. You?"
"Yes. At least he didn't do that thing to my
breasts. I'll bet it hurt."
"Yes, it did, and I worried that they'd be
permanently damaged."
"He's doing this for his own pleasure, isn't
he? He doesn't care if we confess or not. He just enjoys
torturing us."
"I'm afraid so, Brit. I'm sorry I got you into
this."
"It's not your fault, Mom. I know that. We'll
get through it, somehow."
Time dragged. The light from the windows
faded, leaving them in darkness. The fluid they had
been forced to drink was a powerful laxative, castor oil
or such, and their almost empty bowels cramped and
dribbled. Sometime in the night, the nurse returned,
with a lantern, and she flushed them out again, fairly
gently, and washed them and the floor. As she was
about to go, she turned and put her hand on Lisa's thigh.
"One more thing, I think. It may help you to sleep."
She turned the water on again and directed the
stream not to irrigate Lisa's rectum but to irrigate her
vagina. The stream of water played over the entrance to
her tunnel like a lover, and from time to time, the stream
was directed toward Lisa's clitoris. The hood fluttered
in the stream, and the sensitive glans, normally hidden
out of sight, was stimulated to the point where Lisa was
squirming and making incoherent noises. "Uh, uh, uh,
Ohhhh!" The tension mounted to a climax, and a mega-
orgasm washed through her, an orgasm like she hadn't
felt in years.
The nurse now turned her attention, and the hose,
to Brit's pussy. Lisa wondered how a teen-ager
would react. In the almost darkness, she couldn't gage
Brit's reaction, until she heard, "Please, stop," and the
nurse left. Lisa wondered, as she came down from her
high, if she should say anything to Brit.
Brit spoke first. "Mom, did you have an
orgasm?"
"Yes, a good one. I couldn't help it."
"Me, too. Several. I enjoyed it."
"I didn't know you knew about orgasms."
"Mom, I've been masturbating for years."
"What about boys? Have boys given you
orgasms?"
"Mom. You shouldn't ask."
"Are you a virgin?"
"Technically, yes. I don't want to get preggers.
But, I've let boys...you know, play with me. Ron Russel,
when we were staying with Grandma, he made me
come, a couple of times."
"I guess a mother is the last to know."
"Mom... Mom, do you think they will rape us?"
"I'm pretty certain they will."
"What if I get pregnant?"
"You just finished your period. You probably
won't be fertile for about a week. Given the way that
jerk likes to inflict pain, I'd say pregnancy shouldn't be
very high on your list of things to worry about."
"Is it true, Mom, what they say? If rape is
inevitable, lie back and enjoy it?"
"I never used to say that, but under the
circumstances, it might be pretty good advice. I'm
sorry, Brit. You are only a child, and it's a shame you'll
never grow up normal after this."
"I'm tough, Mom. It's like being in an accident.
I'll get over it."
"If we live through it."
About dawn, the officer was back. "Oh," he
said, "such nice upturned asses, with the skin taut and
pale and just waiting for some decoration". He selected
a cane and administered ten strokes to each ass,
alternating between Lisa and Brit and leaving both of
them sobbing, with ugly red welts across their buttocks.
He stopped when the nurse came in.
He glared at her, and she said nothing, just
watched, as he continued the torment. First, he used the
hose again, but the women were used to that by now,
and they kept quiet even as the cramping pains wracked
their guts. Their spew was barely colored and didn't
smell much. The officer rinsed them and hosed down
the floor.
"Gringas are always so concerned about their
asses and bowels. Did that pretty much break your
spirit? Not so proud now, eh? After you've shit on each
other!" Neither Lisa nor Brit replied.
"Hey, Lisa, you like to see Brit get it, eh?" Lisa
wondered if he had been drinking. She did not reply.
He selected a tapered butt plug and pushed and twisted it
into Brit's ass hole, while her mother watched. "Those
child-like little tits. It's a shame to leave those alone."
He looked in several cabinets and returned with the
things he needed.
First he rubbed Brit's tits with a smelly, greasy
stuff. They became shiny and a bit pinker. "Lisa, in
case you're wondering, that's a heat-rub, like they apply
to sore muscles. Brit's little tits feel like they are on
fire, don't they?" Brit remained quiet. "Here, Lisa, you
can have some, too." He rubbed Lisa's breasts with the
goo. There was a lot more breast to rub, and, yes, it did
burn. Strangely, Lisa found it sexually stimulating, even
as it hurt. Had he continued rubbing her breasts, she
might have come. "Lisa, you know what comes next?"
He wheeled a sort of cart up behind Lisa. He
took a pair of clear glass cylinders, like bottles with the
bottom cut out, and he forced one over each greasy
breast. Then he screwed a cap on each and connected a
tube from the cart to each cap. He turned a crank, and
there was a pocketa-pocketa sound, the sound of a
pump. Lisa's breasts were sucked into the cylinders.
With Brit, he had to have the nurse hold the cylinders,
until there was enough vacuum to hold them against her
smaller breasts. "I'll connect the hoses together, Lisa,
so the vacuum is the same for both of you. That way
you'll know just what your innocent child is
experiencing. Who knows, if we have time, she may
have C-cups like yours." He laughed at that and turned
the crank some more. Lisa felt her breasts being
stretched, and they turned pink again, as they had when
bound. What concerned her more was Brit's breasts.
She could see them swelling with fluid, and turning
color. Too. What would such stretching do to a girl's
delicate breasts? With so little tissue to expand, would
she be deformed for life? Would her breasts, perhaps,
sag on her chest like a used condom?
"The best is yet to come, Lisa. You are going
to fuck your own daughter. How can you have any self
respect, after you've done that?" He laughed again. She
was sure he was drunk. First, he released the straps
which held their ankles from the supports overhead, so
Lisa and Brit were were hanging from their arms, the
straps still on their ankles. Next, he dragged over a pipe
which he hung from a chain at the center so it could
pivot just like the see-saw one can see in a child's
playground. However, instead of having a broad seat,
the rider would be straddling a round object. "When a
male prisoner rides this, you can imagine what happens
to his testicles," the torturer remarked. He lowered Lisa
until she stood, straddling the pipe. He
took two shiny metal things, the size and shape of cigars,
and pushed one into her rectum until it was out of sight
and the other into her vagina. The one in her vagina was
a little long, so the last inch peeped out between her
labia. There were wires attached to each cigar. He
lowered her arms some more, disconnected the straps
from above and retied them beneath the pipe, so she was
sitting on the see-saw, the pipe pressing the cigar in her
cunt, mashing her labia, spreading her thighs, and she could
not raise herself to relieve the pressure.
On the other end of the pipe, he attached a knobby
rubber dildo, sticking up. He lowered Brit until she was
impaled on it. The nurse helped, guiding her so that the
dildo entered Brit's vagina without ripping anything.
"How's that feel, Brit? Do you like having a cock in
your cunt?"
Truthfully, Brit replied. "I've never had anything
so big inside me. It feels as if it will rip me open and
I'll bleed to death." The officer laughed. He used the
straps on her ankles to fix her legs in front of her against
the pipe and then slackened the wrist straps, so her
whole weight was supported by the pipe and the dildo
between her legs. "You will have to try to balance and
keep yourself upright. If you fall off, you will rip
yourself a new cunt." Brit found that by pulling on the
straps still attached to her wrists, she could hold herself
upright.
"Now," said the officer, "we come to the clever
part. I'm really quite proud of myself for inventing
this." He placed a sort of stool under the end of the pipe
behind Lisa, so the if she flexed her legs a bit, lowering
her end of the pipe, the pipe would hit the stool and
stop moving abruptly.
"Before we go on, let's stretch those tits some
more." He turned the pump crank a few more times,
until both Lisa and Brit screamed and pleaded with him
to stop. "Don't complain, Brit," he chided, "soon you'll
have B-cup tits." When she looked down at them, they
certainly looked bigger.
"Now we need the motor to make this go." He
connected the wires from Lisa's "cigars" to a box, and
he placed an electrical switch, attached to the box,
between the pipe and its stop. Lisa was heavier than
Brit, so if she did not support herself with her legs, her
end of the pipe would drop and compress the switch.
The torturer then lifted Lisa's end of the pipe and let it
drop.
Lisa could not stop the drop stiff legged; she had
to bend her knees a bit, and the pipe hit the switch. A
jolt of electricity raged through Lisa's body, contracting
every muscle, it seemed, below her navel. Her vaginal
muscles clamped on the metal cigar, just as the impact
of the pipe drove it deeper into Lisa's cunt. Her rectal
muscles did the same, as if to expel the rear electrode,
but, of course, they couldn't. The gluteal muscles in her
ass contracted, too, extending her legs and propelling
her upward. At least, as Lisa's feet left the ground, the
terrible electroshock stopped for a second or two, and
her muscles relaxed. Again Lisa's end fell, and again the
electricity convulsed her cunt muscles and extended her
legs and bounced her aloft again. And so it continued.
Entirely involuntarily, Lisa jumped up and down, while
her vaginal muscles spasmed painfully an instant after
her feet hit the floor. So preoccupied she was with her
own painful predicament, that it took her a while to
realize what was happening to Brit.
Every time the electricity made Lisa bound into
the air, Brit's end of the pipe dropped so quickly that the
dildo pulled out of Brit's cunt a fraction of an inch, and
every time Brit fell back upon the pipe, the rubber
invader was driven deep into her. Given the knobby
texture of the rubber cock, Brit was fucked harder than
she could have imagined. As Lisa screamed with pain
and frustration, fucking her own daughter even as Lisa's
vagina was clamping down on that metal cigar, Brit was
screaming with the sheer excitement of coming again
and again. Her wild ride on the end of the pipe was
fucking her harder than any man could have done.
Finally, the nurse put a stop to it. The vacuum
was released from the tit suckers, leaving Lisa and Brit
with bright red circles on their chests, and breasts which
throbbed with pain. When they lifted Brit off the dildo,
she was only semiconscious, fucked senseless. Lisa fell
off the pipe exhausted, her vaginal and rectal muscles
aching from the accumulated lactic acid of anaerobic
exercise; the demands on them hand far exceeded their
oxygen supply. "A minute more, and one or both of
them might have had a heart attack," the nurse observed.
"They need to rest." She removed the "cigars" from
Lisa but left the butt plug in Brit.
The officer insisted they be chained to the frame
by one ankle, so they couldn't escape. When he had
gone, the nurse brought them juice to drink and a plastic
air mattress, so they could rest a bit. With their bottoms
sore from the whip and the pipe, and their breasts very
tender, the only way to rest was on their sides, facing
each other on the narrow mattress. They managed to
sleep.
Too soon, the officer was back. He yanked the
mattress from underneath them, dumping them on the
cobble floor as he cursed in Spanish. "Get up! You
have no time for sleep. It's time to sign your
confessions." He held out a clip board with a typed
statement on it, in Spanish and English. "Lisa, sign
here, both copies."
With new-found courage, she said, "No."
He smiled, and walked to a rack on the wall,
where he selected a whip, a long, single-tailed whip. He
snapped it twice in the air and then, expertly, cracked
the tip against Lisa's right breast. She leaped back, to
the end of her chain, blood from a three-inch gash
dribbling off her nipple. CRACK! He marked her left
breast. She turned and curled up on the floor, hugging
her breasts for protection. Undaunted, the officer
lacerated each ass cheek. "Sign it."
"No."
"You know I can easily cut you to ribbons with
this whip, and I'd enjoy doing it, but that can wait for
later. Sign the confessions, or the next time I crack this
whip it will take off Brit's right nipple."
"OK, I'll sign." She did, and Brit followed her
example.
"My men are impatient," he said. "They had a
whore, but she died." He showed them a large photo of
a naked Indian girl. Her lips were pulled back in a
grimace, showing that her front teeth were missing.
"The better to suck cock," the officer said, pointing.
Her body, her breasts especially, bore several scars, like
the whip marks on Lisa. Across her belly, below the
navel, in large letters, there was an ugly brand,
"PUTA". "I show you this, " he said, "to remind you
that resistance is futile." He released the chains from
the frame and pointed to the door. "Go."
Lisa and Brit walked slowly toward the door,
their ankle chains clinking on the cobble stone floor.
They stepped outside, half blinded by the bright
sunlight. Soldiers took their arms and led them toward
the center of the patio. There two saw horses had been
set up. The officer directed the soldiers, as they used the
ankle and wrist straps to fasten down the women, facing
each other. "Lisa," he said, as her wrists were fastened
to the legs of a horse, as her ankles were, "I want you to
watch as Brit gets fucked by the entire garrison. And
then it will be your turn."
Lisa's heart pounded as she was forced to watch.
Brit was similarly strapped down, with her legs spread
and her ass upmost. Brit raised her head, caught her
mother's eyes, then let her head hang down. The soldiers,
more than Lisa had seen before, formed a line behind Brit,
each in some stage of undress. Most had removed their
shoes and trousers; a few were naked. The officer removed
Brit's butt plug and gestured to the first soldier. Lisa realized
that Brit could see each rapist, standing there behind her.
Lisa watched in horror as the man stroked his huge penis
a few times and then leaned hard against Brit's rump.
Lisa couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if in one thrust he
had buried that rod in her rump. Brit went, "Ahhh!,"
and "Uh!, uh!" with each thrust. Lisa cried to think of her
daughter being so abused, but through the tears, she saw Brit
look up and mouth the words --- if rape is inevitable....
Lisa felt the officers hand between her legs.
Somehow, she sensed that he couldn't get an erection,
but she felt him slide his thumb into her vagina, still
flaccid and unresisting after the electoshock, and his
forefinger rubbed her clit. She saw the soldier withdraw
his slimy cock from Brit, and the next man took his
place, gyrating his hips as he stretched Brit's childish
pussy. Lisa wondered if Brit was suffering or if she
might begin to enjoy it.
Lisa realized that, even though she hated the
bastard, the officer was making her wet. She shuddered,
as his thumb found her G-spot.
Then there was the stutter of automatic weapons
fire, and a crushing weight on Lisa's back. Blood
soaked her hair and ran down her cheek. All was noise
and confusion. Then silence. The weight of the dead
officer was lifted from her, and she looked up to see a
dozen masked men in campesino dress, obviously the
rebels that the officer has spoken of.
"I'm Dr. Schmidt," said a voice behind her. "I
am sorry we have to meet under such circumstances, but
I must thank you and your daughter for helping us.
Thanks to you, we caught the garrison with their pants
down."
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