Little Miss \'I-Am-The-Law\'

Little Miss 'I-Am-The-Law'

You don’t need to know much about me, but what you should know is that I’m an expert at making people talk. It’s a talent I always had, and I have honed and improved it over the years until I became what you’d call a capacity in that field of work.

It’s a well-paid profession, if the right people are your clients. I make a good living and have a lot of free time between jobs which is nice as well.

This time, after there had not been anything to do for weeks, they called me and told me they would send a woman to me. They told me what they wanted her to talk about and they told me what payment I’d get if I was successful, and I said okay. I drank another beer with my friends and played another game of cards and then drove home and prepared everything, as I usually do. The package arrived an hour later, in the middle of the night.

The two men that brought her in were no strangers to me – I had had them in my garage on three or four other occasions before. They opened the trunk of their Lexus and pulled a small woman out of it. She was hogtied with cable binders, her head wrapped with a cotton bag and sealed around her neck with tape. She wore boxer shorts and Nikes, a blue tank top and nothing else. So it was easy to guess that Miss I-Am-The-Law had been jogging when they had bagged and tagged her.

I call her Miss I-Am-The-Law because that’s what she was: A young prosecutor of the state by the name of Kate Everton, a hotshot that had earned herself a reputation for working relentlessly against the same people that paid me for my services. She had uncovered cases of bribery and corruption, had made things pretty complicated for my employers in the past months, had been on the news a lot.

Now she was here, smelling a bit sour from her own sweat, moaning under that bag in a way that told me they had gagged her pretty thoroughly.

“You shitheads should be glad she hasn’t suffocated yet”, I told them. “Now get the fuck out of my house before you fuck anything else up.”

They were not happy about the way I had talked to them, but I am a very big guy and people in the business call me Cleaver for a reason. As good as everyone is afraid of me and the goons were no exception. Their car left my driveway a minute later. Little Miss I-Am-The-Law and me were alone now.

I grabbed the woman and carried her down to the basement. I put her on the floor in one of the rooms, checked the cable binders and found that they had abraded her thin wrists and ankles, but not hurt them too badly. I cut the binders and, when the woman tried to roll around and hit me with a fast surprise kick, buried my fist deep in her stomach.

She went down hard again, so hard in fact that it sounded as if she was suffocating for real now. I hurled her up and sat her down on the heavy wooden chair that’s bolted to the floor in the middle of this particular room. She felt the chair beneath her and tried to fight me off, but she was small as a bird in comparison to me. I bent her arms backwards until she was forced to sit in a painful position, then I looped a strap around her wrists and another one around her elbows until her arms were cruelly pressed against each other and uselessly pinned against the wood back there.

I then put belts around her body, at the height of her belly and collarbone. She had caught some air by now and was fighting frantically, kicking and screaming into the gag, so I hit her again – this time with my fist against her bagged head, so hard that I was pretty sure she’d have the taste of blood in her mouth now. It calmed her down a little, but I could smell the stink of adrenaline seeping from every single pore in her pretty skin. This girl was definitely a fighter and by far not defeated yet.

She did not try to stop me when I strapped her ankles and thighs to the chair and was soon sitting in that uncomfortable position with her back arched, legs spread and knees pointing a bit upwards. She shuddered but did not utter a single sound when I used a carpet knife to cut all her clothes away. Kate Everton was a sexy woman, well-shaped by nature and well-trained by her own efforts, I give her that. It did not help her, but she was a sexy one, that particular troublemaker.

Finally I took the bag off her head. She had short blonde hair, an androgynous face, surprising dark eyes and a stubbed nose. She did bleed a bit, I had split her lower lip at one side, but she did not seem to care a lot. As I took the tape off her lips she just licked them once and coughed a bit and then looked at me.

“Are you trying to stare me down?”, I asked politely.

“I’m not trying anything”, she said with an icy voice.

“You are scared. You know that you are going to die, don’t you?”

“Someone else will take my place.”

“Maybe, but you will rot in an anonymous grave. So you are scared, of course. It’s okay to show fear, Miss Everton. Being brave isn’t going to change a thing.”

“Being brave changes everything”, she answered.

I found her impressive, but I am a professional and not really a romantic. “I have had them all in this chair”, I told her. “Some brave ones and a lot of not so brave ones. In the end we are all just meat and bone. So please, tell me where your people are hiding Forest Boyer and that other witness, Jerod Clay. If you tell me without making a fuss this is going to be over without pain.”

She shook her head. “I am not going to tell you anything.”

“Believe me, you will tell me everything Miss Everton. That’s really not the question. The question is if you want to go through hell before you talk. I knew Boyer and Clay some years ago, and those to assholes are, in my opinion, not worth it.”

“They may not be worth it, but getting them to testify against your organization is.” That was all she said. Then she just watched me as I got the rubber wedge and brought it to her mouth. She tried to bite her teeth to prevent me from stuffing it between them, but like I said, I have a lot of experience with this. I just needed to hit her in the right place and she opened up for me, nice and wide. I secured the wedge with a strap and began with my work.

Torturing someone is a very intimate act, if that makes any sense. The girl was strong and had a lot of courage, so it wasn’t as easy as with some other people I had worked on before. A courageous woman who knows that she is going to be killed as soon as all information has been extracted from her will put up a hell of a fight and take a lot of pain before she finally succumbs.

In Kate Everton’s case I used electricity to soften her up a bit, shooting high voltage through her tits and arms and legs until she steamed like a baked turkey. I hit and caned her until she was bruised all over, whip marks making her look like a sort of unique red tiger. I administered some LSD and sent her on a mighty trip, I also gave her Crystal to keep her wide awake. She screamed and fought, puked and pissed herself, but she did not give up that easy.

We talked while I worked on her. I told her about my own life, my background and childhood and she, in the time when she was not gagged, told me about hers. We exchanged some tired jokes, the sort of jokes that help the victim to get through some of the worst parts of the torture at first. It’s all a game of course, nothing else than one big mindfuck: Even while she thinks she is resisting and doing well, especially if she finds that her humor is helping her, it all just leads to total despair and hollow darkness and eventually to the inevitable breakdown.

When she was all bruised and the electric shocks had softened her up enough I began with the waterboarding. For a woman who's under the influence of LSD that’s especially unpleasant, but she coped well: Twitching and flapping around she even asked for more with a rough voice, telling me she was thankful for the refreshment.

The next thing I did was put a buttplug with contacts and a similar dildo into her ass and cunt. I made her dance again with the voltage, repeating the process over the course of about an hour. Her eyes were taped while I did it and I never told her when exactly the next dosage of electricity would hit her, and I could sense that she was slowly beginning to go insane.

I had worked on her for about eight hours by now and I was impressed, but I also knew the game was close to its inevitable end: Miss I-Am-The-Law was a piece of raw meat now, stinking like cattle, bruised and exhausted, her eyes half-mad and her voice so coarse from screaming that she didn’t even sound like a woman anymore. This time when I touched her cunt I did it in such a careful way that she first twitched, then looked at me more than just surprised with her one good eye.

“Wha… gh….? Wha’ a’ you... dddoing….?””

“It’s fine”, I said calmly to her and began searching for her clit. I found the button and stroked it, then kissed Kate’s cheek. She shuddered and began crying while she stared at me in disbelief.

“Nn…nno d…ddd…ddont…!”

“You deserve it”, I said to her with a soothing tone. “You’ve done very well, better than anyone I have ever had down here. You deserve this because you’ll be dead soon, look at you, you are a corpse already. Don’t you think you deserve this, one last time?”

She freaked out completely, screaming ‘Fuck you’ and ‘Go To Hell’ and everything you’d expect a woman in her situation to scream. But she nonetheless kept crying and kept pushing her cunt against my hand. When I stroked and pinched some more she opened up and let me finger her.

“How are you… how are you gg..gggoing to….?”

“I’m going to put a plastic bag over your head and let you suffocate”, I said and kissed her bruised tits. “Later I’ll bury you in the woods, about fifty kilometers from here.”

She moaned in disgust, but when I stopped stroking her she pleaded with me to continue. It took another five minutes before she told me, in between panic attacks and crying fits, where Boyer and Clay were hiding, how many men guarded them and what their codeword was. Her orgasm came surprisingly fast after that, like a dry branch suddenly breaking beneath a heavy boot. It shook her only for seconds and she still sobbed while it rolled through her.

When she came half to her senses again she realized I was already standing behind her, and as she looked at me and opened her mouth I pulled the plastic bag tightly over her head and secured it with tape around her neck. I began to tidy up the room while she flapped around and convulsed and freaked out behind me. When I had cleaned up she was already only straining weakly against the bondage anymore, and inside the fogged bag I could only see her wide eyes staring into nothingness.

I got paid very well for that job, but the money didn’t matter much to me this time. The really interesting thing was working with Little Miss I-Am-The-Law. She was one of a kind.