This story is the sequel to ‘Water Treatment’.

Unable to get at ex-Minister Joseph Matanga directly, Captain Charles Otuba continues to take sadistic pleasure in interrogating and torturing those women he left behind for any useful scraps of information. Unfortunately for one of his lovers, American Carol Hansen, Otuba discovers that she has questions to answer. She believes that as a US citizen she is safe from arrest and interrogation, but she is very badly mistaken…

The Discomfort of Mrs Hansen

It was late evening by the time Captain Charles Otuba had dealt with all the important results from the search of Joseph Matanga’s house. Naturally the priority was putting the gold jewellery and the ‘house brick’ somewhere private and secure without anyone else knowing about it. Just as he’d suspected the ‘brick’ had turned out to be a thick block of crisp, new dollar bills; More than $50,000 at a rough guess, all untouched and so much more satisfyingly negotiable than his own country’s weak and inflation-ridden currency.

He wasn’t worried about complaints or awkward questions, as usual the Lieutenant and his men would have found and emptied any wallets or purses and liberated any other unclaimed money and small saleable items lying around. He’d said nothing…the lieutenant and the men were welcome to such minor perks.

He knew that when the safe was finally opened ‘officially’ in the morning, the fact that it was empty would just make everyone think that Jonas Matanga had managed to clean it out before he fled. Mrs Matanga’s duplicate safe key was at the bottom of a drainage ditch miles away and the rest of the bunch now back with her other possessions in the office next door and no one else any the wiser.

Relaxing at the end of a truly pleasurable day, the captain put the papers to one side and picked up the memory stick. He reached over, put it into the computer and waited to see what else that bastard Matanga had been hiding. Among the files listed, one was a video download. Otuba smiled, leaned back in his chair and clicked the icon.  

No titles, just a brief scatter of electronic noise then a view of a bedroom. He shot upright in the chair. It was Matanga’s own fucking bedroom!  He’d been standing in that room only a few hours ago. Captain Otuba stopped the playback and studied the scene. The camera must have been fixed to the wall mounted TV to give a good clear shot looking down and across the whole bed.

Captain Otuba clicked the mouse, leaned forward and peered intently at the screen. There was no arguing with the fact that Jonas Matanga was very well endowed. All nine inches of the evidence was hard and erect on screen as he lay on the bed arms behind his head watching the blond white woman as she played with his cock. He knows about the recording, Otuba thought, he’s enjoying this, the bastard’s performing for the camera. The woman was taking her time bringing Jonas Matanga to full hardness.

The sound was poor but they weren’t saying much beyond making the usual noises. Captain Otuba could feel his own erection tightening at the erotic contrast of the woman’s white fingers wrapped round the dark, almost black shaft of Matanga’s penis, rubbing and caressing the full length then moving up to tease under the rim before rubbing that special place under the head of the prominent helmet which was already shining wetly with a mixture of her saliva and the fluid seeping from the slit.

It was difficult to see the woman clearly because she was bent over and half turned away so he could only see part of her body. Not a teenager, but not that old either, probably late twenties the captain judged. She was very tanned, the thin lines and patches from a very brief bikini showing up clearly against the deeper golden brown of her skin. She had a good figure, very fit and toned, the captain nodded again approvingly. American he decided, she looks American, there’s something about that kind of tan and grooming. Then she turned and knelt up and he was able to get a full look at her front.

He’d been right, twenty-seven or eight at most he reckoned. She had a neat, pretty face rather than being beautiful, good bones and the set of her jaw line hinted at a strong, determined character. The captain nodded happily again as he saw her full and high riding breasts properly. The kind he liked the best, not balloons but big and firm without a hint of sag. The smooth undercurve capped with sharp nipples that jutted proudly, pointing upwards from the dark pink aureoles.

Her body looked magnificent, her skin clear and smooth and she was...yes, there...he peered as she suddenly stood up and half turned to wipe the sweat from her forehead... yes, the lady was a real blonde too. Below the little telltale trimmed strip of fur on her mound her cunt bulged into two full lips, engorged and puffy now with her excitement so they gaped a little and he could see the shine of moisture on the inner folds.

On screen she pushed the damp tendrils of hair impatiently away from her forehead, knelt on the bed and leaned over Jonas Matanga’s groin. Captain Otuba shifted in his chair, enjoying the view of her buttocks tightening as she bent forwards to reveal the tight rosette of her anus and the moist slit of her cunt to the concealed lens of the camera. Jonas Matanga closed his eyes and tilted his head tilted back as she kissed the smooth plum-coloured dome then, very slowly opened her mouth and let her head sink down onto the thick, black shaft. Pause, then, equally slowly she brought her head up again, reversing the movement until his penis bobbed free, a thin rope of saliva stretching from he lips to the slippery head of his cock.

She laughed and said something that wasn’t clear then bent her head and used the tip of her tongue in a tormenting tickling flutter in the sensitive vee right under the domed head of his cock. He replied then put one hand on her hair, pressing down in urgent desire to feel her lips round his cock again. She leaned over and this time she put her hands down, one on the bed, the other holding the base of his cock to control and guide it inside as she began to suck him with long, steady movements.

After a minute or so, Captain Otuba began jumping forward, skimming the rest of the recording just in case there was anything other than Jonas Matanga enjoying a bit on the side. He let it play when Jonas took charge, pushing the woman to kneel up on the end of the bed then walking round behind her and slowly sliding his already wet cock into her cunt. Once inside he pushed down on her shoulders so her breasts were against the sheet then held her hips as he drove into her with long, hard strokes.

The soundtrack was filled with the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh and the increasingly desperate noises from the woman. The chanting cries of, ‘Oh yes, yes, oh fuck...yes...Jeeesusss! Oh fuck me, Jonas...harder...go on fuck me hard you bastard...’ made it clear that Jonas Matanga was living up to his reputation. The woman’s accent confirmed the captain’s thoughts that she was American.

The real gold for Captain Otuba came right at the end. Obviously, Jonas had forgotten about the camera by then because after they had shared a noisy and vigorous climax the recording continued. He was lying, still naked, on the bed enjoying a cigarette, smiling and watching the woman getting dressed. It was clear from the pale cream business suit that she was going back to work somewhere leaving Jonas relaxing at home.

‘You’ve got to find somewhere else, Jonas. I can’t risk coming here too often in the day. Joyce will...’

Captain Otuba hurriedly clicked to pause the recording while he searched for notepad and pen. 

‘...Joyce will do exactly what I say,’ came the reply with an arrogant smile. ‘I know her; she won’t put all the pretty perks at risk. Besides I just bought her a nice, shiny new car to show how much I love her.’

‘But if those ISB bastards find out what you’re doing...’

‘So what,’ the ex-minister laughed dismissively, ‘all they’ll think is that there’s another American blonde who’s hot for a thick black cock.’ He seemed to realise that he’d said the wrong thing because he suddenly sat up and looked serious. ‘Sorry, Carol. What I mean is they won’t look beyond the affair to anything else. We know what this is...a little fun, a little sex...nothing more. That’s different to the main work we have to do.’

The words were muffled by the noise of his moving as he got up and started to dress too. ‘You’re right though; we do need to be careful. Don’t ring the office, unless it’s your PA to arrange another committee meeting. Leave anything for me at the usual place and ******* will pick it up.’

Otuba cursed because the name of the pickup was inaudible, the sound muffled as he pulled on a white polo shirt. ‘Believe me, I do know all about being careful...if there’s a hint of trouble then...well, everything’s arranged.’ He walked over to the woman. ‘What about you Carol, what will you do?’

Captain Otuba clicked the mouse again so the figures froze on screen. Carol...Carol who...Mrs Hansen...of course...this must be the Mrs Hansen, why was he so slow? He went back and listened to it again Shit, the bastard had it all organised in advance...and it had fucking well worked! He was already free and clear. He let the recording run listening intently to Carol Hansen speaking.

‘Oh I’m safe enough...they don’t mess with US citizens...any problem and the usual answer is a roughing up and the first flight out as persona non-gratia. The regime doesn’t want trouble, especially with the State Department or our military. Besides, if necessary I’ve got the right high level ID but I’m still worried about Jenny Onawa...’

‘…Shhh… careful…no full names even here, Carol.’ Jonas interrupted her hurriedly. ‘Je…I mean she… will be all right. Remember she works in a different department so there’s no connection at all.’ His laugh on the tape was dismissive. ‘Besides, why would I have anything to do with Rural Development? She’s not alone anyway because she’s got Tina and Susi at the university too. No problem there because they’re all trusted. Their fathers are either ex-army or police and their course is government sponsored. They’ve been officially cleared, and so no one checks on them any longer. Those ISB thugs haven’t got a clue. Not a fucking clu… Oh shit!’ 

He lunged off the bed and that was the point the picture dissolved into snow as the recording stopped abruptly.

Captain Otuba clicked stop and sat deep in thought for a moment. That bastard, BASTARD Matanga! All planned, all arranged and American bitch was right. Then he smiled. Yes, she was right…officially nothing would be done at all. But, if he was careful, unofficially Mrs Carol Hansen was going to find her self in very deep and painful shit indeed. Not just the American bitch either, there were at least three others who had some awkward questions to answer. He looked at his notes. A lady called Jenny, last name probably Onawayo, had some explaining to do as well as telling him all about two students called Tina and Susi. Students, female students… Captain Otuba smiled happily; he really did find his job very satisfying indeed at times.

*****

‘I tell you he’s gone, Guy, he’s gone...disappeared; his wife’s gone and Winnie didn’t turn up for work this morning either.’ Carol Hansen stared across the desk at her boss at the aid agency, Guy Lascalles. The fifty six year old Frenchman sighed deeply, looked at the clock showing that it was still only just eight thirty and lit his third cigarette of the morning.

‘That’s bad. What’s worse we don’t know why. I knew of course that he’d taken precautions if things got difficult but, if he’s gone, what made him go now? The other question is; did he make arrangements for his wife and Winnie too? If he did then things are OK for the moment.’ He paused and inhaled deeply before breathing out a thin plume of smoke. ‘But if he didn’t and they’ve been picked up…’ He looked down at the desk and his shoulder lifted in a disheartened shrug. ‘The ISB will have them...and sooner of later they’ll tell them what they want to know...one way or another...’

‘Christ, Guy, do you think I don’t know that...I’ve heard the stories too, rapes, electricity, canings and God knows what else...those animals would just love any excuse to get their filthy hands on a minister’s wife. No, the real question is what to we do?’

Guy Lascalles looked up, his face suddenly old and very tired. ‘We do nothing, we go, get out, leave. It’s over…finished. We’ve got to assume we are now in immediate danger. The risk of staying is just too great. You must get out... and I mean now, today...get hold of Mitchell, Smithson or whoever it is you talk to at the Embassy and insist that they arrange a fast exit for you.

‘But you...’

‘I am booked on a flight to Paris at ten this morning...it seems that urgent consultations at Headquarters require my immediate presence there. No, it is you that I am worried about. This is one of those times when waving a handful of dollars and claiming diplomatic immunity will not be any use at all’

Carol Hansen sat up straight and brushed a fragment of lint from her suit jacket. ‘You’re right; if he’s gone then the whole thing’s finished. The military will tear the place apart when they find out a government minister has jumped ship. Especially when he appears on CNN talking long and hard about corruption, rigged elections and who in the regime has got their hands deepest in the till. It’ll be another army crackdown, God help them.’

Carol stood up. ‘No, don’t worry about me, Guy.’ She looked out across the city, ‘I need to check a few things, pick up some bits and pieces from the flat and, yes...I will be on the next plane out. My friends at the embassy knew this might happen and the route’s well planned so as long as I can get to the airport by mid-day I’m away and clear. Relax, Guy...I’m not that stupid.’

She straightened up and her jaw set in a hard line. ‘Those ISB bastards aren’t going to get their fucking hands on me…’

She flicked a glance to the side of the room where two full suitcases and a zipped holdall were stacked against the wall. Guy Lascalles sighed again as she turned without another word and left the office, he listened to the fading click of heels on the tiled floor for a moment, took another long pull on his cigarette, and went back to feeding documents into the shredder at the side of his desk.

Carol Hansen checked very carefully before getting into her car and driving away from the office. She was very much on the alert, eyes flicking from side to side, watching for any sign of big 4x4s carrying groups of hard looking men in dark trousers and white shirts with guns and sunglasses. She knew from her ten months in the country that this was the unofficial ‘uniform’ for members of the feared Internal Security Bureau. Licensed thugs for the most part, they imposed a brutal penalty on anyone unwise enough to upset them or their friends. She shuddered and her fingers tightened on the wheel as she remembered the files she seen and the statements she’d read about what they did to interrogate so-called political prisoners. Oh yes it was time to get out, definitely.

It was only when she was safely back in her apartment she began to think more clearly. The immediate panic of the early morning had subsided but Guy’s advice now seemed to be even more urgent. Think! If Jonas Matanga really has skipped then the pursuit would be after him. The others? Well I can’t do anything for them without putting my own neck on the block. If the ISB arrest them, they can question his wife all they want but she’s been too busy spending money and gossiping at the country club to know anything useful. As for Winnie... what does she know...?

Carol muttered aloud trying to convince herself that what she was going to do was right. Never mind them they’ll be safe. She shook her head to put the sudden, stark images of some sadistic ISB thug attaching electrodes to a naked woman’s nipples out of her mind. Of course they’ll be safe…they live here. If I’m out of the country then it will be better for them too. Thank God I’ve got everything arranged, she thought. One short flight across the border in an hour and I’ll be out of the country before anyone gets any ideas. Catch the flight down to Johannesburg and pick up the long haul flight to the States overnight. Thank God for the CIA!  

Carol Hansen’s confidence grew all the way to the airport and through check-in. By the time she been through Security she was beginning to think that it was typical of Guy to get all excited and over-react... Why had she’d allowed herself to get in such a state? No one at all was remotely interested in an American woman returning to the States on leave. She collected her bags from the security x-ray machine and turned ready to head for the departure lounge.

‘Ah, Passenger Hansen, excuse me there is a call for you...a Mr Guy Lascalles...he said it was important he talked to you before you left...’ The ground hostess was smiling, holding out her boarding card and indicating a grey metal door in the corner. ‘You can take it in there...’

Probably the stupid old fool’s forgotten where he put his passport, she thought pushing the door open with her holdall and half turning to get through against the pressure of the closer. Or wants to tell me everyone’s turned up and it’s all a... ‘Hey, what the fuck’s going on?’ she said looking at the totally bare and empty corridor. There was a tiny sound behind her but; before she could do anything, her whole world went black as some kind of cloth bag was pulled down over her head.

‘Gaaaaaafff...’

A single gasp of agony was all she could manage as an unseen fist slammed into her stomach. Rough male fingers grabbed her by the arms and something was pressed against the cloth, ramming it against her nose and mouth. She fought for breath, but the air turned sickly sweet in her nose then...nothing.

Captain Otuba picked up the boarding card and tickets she’d been holding and handed them to a woman waiting with the men. ‘All right, go and get on the flight, you’ve only got five minutes. Remember, you’re travelling as Mrs Carol Hansen. At the other end get off and go with the rest, collect her bags and then look for Security. They’ll know about you.’ He looked at the woman, ‘sorry but then it will be the next flight back, Lieutenant.’ he grinned, ‘at least you’ll be able to get your Duty Free allowance...’

He looked down at the huddled figure on the floor, admiring the long tanned curve of one leg where her skirt had ridden up when the men let her fall. ‘Help this one to the car and then get her out to the house as quickly as possible but nothing else...’ his eyes raked over the four men, his most effective interrogators. He repeated, ‘nothing else...no words, nothing...until I get there, understand?’

The men nodded, smiling as they held the lolling figure easily between them, then they jostled and swaggered off down the corridor. Watching them take her away the captain allowed himself a brief smile of satisfaction; Mrs Carol Hansen had officially left the country. A 25-year-old Administrative officer called Jenny Onawayo would be arrested at home this afternoon. Now the most pleasurable part of the investigation could begin.

*****

Carol Hansen woke up in darkness that roared and thumped around her. She was lying on her side inside a vibrating box that smelled of oil and rubber. She gasped and whimpered in pain as she was jolted and thrown around against hard metal and rough sharp edges. There was little she could do to brace herself because she couldn’t get her arms free. It was only as the effects of the chloroform gradually wore off that she understood what was happening. She was in the trunk of a moving car with something rubbery filling her mouth, a stinking cloth hood over her head and her wrists tied behind her back.

She was trying vainly to squirm into a more comfortable position when she was thrown forwards, her head thudding against a wheel arch as the vehicle stopped abruptly. Doors slammed, the car swayed then there was a metallic click and she felt the warmth of the sun on her bare legs as hands grabbed her arms and she was hauled out of the trunk to stand swaying and shuffling still dazed from the exhaust fumes and the chloroform. She’d lost both shoes during the kidnap and yelped when the men forced her over rough, stony ground, her arms still gripped tight between two men.

Shallow steps going up, then the soothing smooth coolness of concrete before more steps, going down this time, the guard’s boots clattering on metal treads and Carol crying and fighting as her feet banged and smacked against each stair. Her cries of pain reduced to a blubbering mumble by the ball gag and hood. There was a clash of metal and she was thrown forwards, another ringing clash as the door slammed and she was alone.

Carol Hansen lay in the stinking darkness until the clang of metal jolted her back to full awareness She was jerked to her feet then there were fingers fumbling at the drawstring of the canvas hood.

‘Aaaah, goooo pleeeeg…’

Carol’s cries of pain and shock came out as a soft wet, muffled noise through her gag as one of the guards wrenched the hood off and blazing lights seared into eyes that had been covered for hours. A voice; smug and oily with menace and suppressed excitement, made her stare round wildly blinking blindly into the harsh white glare.

‘Mrs Hansen, how foolish of you to run away like hat...’

‘...Gooo aaastards! Ooooofff!’

The American woman doubled forward with a muffled gasp of agony as a guard swung a clenched fist into her unprotected belly. The blow made a wet ‘thwuck!’ as his knuckles slammed against her tanned flesh. Carol dribbled and snorted, fighting to ride the paralysing agony of the blow and trying to drag enough air into her lungs with the rubber ball gagging her mouth.

Captain Otuba watched her efforts with obvious amusement. ‘Lesson number one, Mrs Hansen...’ He waved the grinning thug away. ‘No, no more for the moment but don’t worry, your turn will come, I promise.’

He strolled forwards, his thin face split by a wide smile of sadistic anticipation. Behind him she could see others, two men in white shirts; the one the Captain had stopped and another grinning thug beside him.  Her breath bubbling through wetness, Carol managed to straighten up. Ignoring the spreading ache in her abdomen she stared back defiantly at her tormentors.

He waved one hand. ‘Of course you can scream and protest all you like Mrs Hansen...no one will take any notice.’ His expression changed, ‘we don’t like dirty little spies and subversives trying to stir up trouble. We deal with such people harshly…very harshly, as you will discover to your cost.’ He saw her eyes flickering from side to side. ‘No, no Mrs Hansen, do not raise your hopes, no one will come and rescue you. You are at ISB Headquarters. This is the most secure buildings in the city so please do not be so foolish as to even think of escape...’ he didn’t finish, deliberately tormenting her with terrible uncertainty.

He paused and looked at her, the unpleasant smile a little wider as he enjoyed the moment. ‘You are here for one reason only…to provide us with information; specifically, the names of all those involved in Jonas Matanga’s little scheme You know the one I mean.’ The smile widened, ‘Believe me, you will tell us…sooner or later.’ His fingers reached out and squeezed her cheeks together; pressing her lips so hard into the gag that she almost choked.

He shook her head from side to side. ‘…But I really don’t care about being fair to you Mrs Hansen. You see, I already know about you and that shit Matanga…you seemed to enjoy being fucked by him too.’ Carol went pale, how could he know about that? She’d been so careful.

Captain Otuba forced her head back. ‘You’re wondering how I know? It’s not difficult, Matanga liked home movies…do you want to see yourself sucking his cock? Full colour and sound.’ He paused and laughed nastily. ‘He’s really fucked you in more ways that one…but who cares what you think? You shouldn’t have meddled in things that don’t concern you.’ Even though the blouse and skirt still concealed most of her figure, she still looked attractively fit and toned, despite the effects of her recent ordeal. Captain Otuba nodded approvingly. It was going to be fun breaking this one...

In truth, just at that moment Carol Hansen looked anything but attractive. Her face glowed scarlet, glistening wet with the sweat of long confinement under the cotton hood; the usually immaculate hairstyle unkempt and tangled into damp spikes, her mouth stretched wide round the red rubber ball of the gag and her chin covered in saliva from where she had dribbled constantly over the past few hours. The nylon straps holding the gag in place had been pulled tight enough to dig painful grooves in the softness of her cheeks; her eyes were wide open, red-rimmed and wet with tears.   

Carol blinked again, shaking her head to clear the tears from her eyes so she could see properly. She closed her eyes as the smiling captain stood there waiting, letting her understand her plight; letting her imagine what obscene things that his men would be doing to her so soon. She swallowed, trying not to dribble round the edges of the red ball filling her mouth: rapid shallow breaths bubbling and hissing in her nose, the fear growing uncontrollably.

‘The gag...’ he said quietly.

Fingers jerked and fumbled in her hair and the straps of the gag came loose. Carol’s head was jerked backwards and fingers wrenched at her mouth, pinching her nostrils closed as the ball was pulled from between her jaws.

‘Ahnnngggglaaa’

Carol’s chest heaved as she fought for air, trying not to respond to the coarse laughter of the men around her. She swallowed and mumbled incoherently, working her tongue and jaws to ease the cramping pains of the last few hours. She glared at the captain with a mixture of fear and hate before she managed to speak at last.

‘I’ll have you arrested… you and your fucking thugs! Once the Consulate hears about this there’ll be a fucking invasion…’ She paused, anger boiling up, over-riding the fear. ‘Don’t give me any crap about further enquiries. I demand to see the US consul... then you can fucking well let me go NOW!’ The last sentence was screamed into the captain’s face in a spray of saliva as she lost control, fighting uselessly as the two thugs grabbed her by the arms and roughly dragged her away.

For a moment Captain Otuba almost hit her but breathed deeply and wiped the droplets of spittle from his face with a clean handkerchief. ‘Oh dear, such language and temper, but that particular outburst will cost you very dearly indeed. As to letting you go...I’m sorry to disappoint you.’ He didn’t sound in the least sorry ‘but since Mrs Carol Hansen officially left the country on flight ZBA138 this morning…no-one even knows you are here.’

Carol Hansen stared in total shock. ‘W-what do you mean?’

‘What I say, someone carrying your passport boarded a flight this morning and left the country…all official and documented…and since you have already left no-one is even interested in looking for you.’ He smiled gently, ‘so you see you are ours now … completely. No stupid rescue attempts and no one at all looking for you.’ The sadistic smile widened. ‘You will tell me everything I wish to know … everything, Mrs Hansen, absolutely everything…’

‘You bastards,’ Carol Hansen forced the words out, trying desperately to hold onto her self-control, ‘you can go to-to-to-to HELL!’

The captain looked anything but disappointed. ‘Keep any further outbursts of bravado until you’ve seen some of other things we do to obstinate young women. You must have heard the stories,’ he smiled again. ‘All true I’m pleased to say so I think you’ll find that hell has already been reserved for you, not me...’ He looked at his watch and flicked his hand at the two men who instantly followed the unspoken order.

Eager black fingers grabbed the sides of her top wrenching and tearing the blouse open and down her arms with such force that buttons flew across the cell. Next the zip at the waistband of her skirt was ripped open and she felt air against her bare legs as the ruins fell round her feet. The two guards grinned, their big hands holding her near naked body easily as she struggled and twisted in vain; enjoying the free show as her high firm breasts bounced and jiggled, barely contained by the flimsy cups of her bra.

Carol pressed her thighs together in a vain attempt at modesty... trying to conceal the transparency of her brief, white panties. She was horribly aware of how wet they were, so soaked with sweat that the thin cotton was pasted to her crotch and offering no more concealment than a film of paint. 

‘P-please, please....’ The captain stepped back and flicked his fingers again. There was the click of a knife then of the men cut the tie holding her wrists behind her back.

‘Very well, take them off yourself then…’ She stared at him, busy rubbing the throbbing purple weals round each wrist and working her fingers to get some feeling back into them.

‘Oh no... No, no, no I WON’T! Please…please not in front of…please....’ One of the men grabbed her left breast and squeezed. She jerked in shock and pain. ‘Aaaaaaah!’

‘Do it or they will…’

Carol Hansen looked round at the three men twisted away from the man holding her breast before reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. Before she could react to stop him the same man had stepped forward and pulled it away from her grasp and thrown it on the floor. Carol instinctively cupped her hands over her breasts.

‘And the panties, Mrs Hansen…now!’

She looked at the grinning men on either realising she had no choice. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and eased the skimpy thong over her hips and down until she could step out of it.

The captain stretched his right hand down and stroked the small patch of trimmed blonde hair on her mound. He smiled as she bit her lip and shivered, hands clenched at her sides as she tried not to fight at the gentle touch knowing that the two thugs were only looking for an excuse to hit her again. One finger slid lower, probing inwards. Without warning he hooked his finger between the lips of her cunt and lifted forcing her up onto tiptoe.

She clutched his wrist. ‘Iiiiiiiiiaaaaarrrggghhh! BASTARD!’

He let her go and studied the wetness on his finger for a moment then turned to his men. ‘Good, very good…she needs a lesson first though. Sergeant, take her next door, twenty-five should warm her up nicely. You’ve got half an hour.’

Carol Hansen stared in disbelief as the Captain turned to go. ‘You black bastard! You pervert! Just wait, you just wait...I’ll...I’ll...I’ll...!’

The captain turned back, ‘or you’ll what? On second thoughts Corporal, since Mrs Hansen insists on being both stupid and rude... make that fifty, on both sides...’

‘Yes Sir, and…’

‘…And nothing else, yet…understand?’

‘Yessir!’ The two men in white shirts grinned and nodded as the captain turned and left.

‘This way, cunt.’ The bigger of the guards, the one the Captain had called Corporal, pinched her left nipple between forefinger and thumb. ‘You come this way American bitch.’

‘Oh God, noooo, oh please, please don’t p-pull yes, I’m coming please...’

Crying and protesting twenty eight year old Carol Hansen had no option but to follow naked and shivering despite the clammy heat, into the dingy corridor, desperately trying to ease the agonising pull of that thumb and forefinger on her nipple.

The room next door was, like the last one, almost empty. Carol didn’t look round because her eyes were fixed on the middle of the room. Two waist high wooden posts jutted vertically from the concrete floor. Set about three feet apart they looked immensely strong... as well as being stained and battered by long use. Thick, leather straps with strong brass buckles were fixed to the base of each post with more straps halfway up. There were also some metal u-shaped brackets, bolted to the top of each post. 

The concrete between the posts was discoloured, dark and mottled with ominous stains. For Carol the posts, straps and stained concrete told their own wordless tale of agony and torture.

The Corporal tugged her forwards by the nipple until she was standing between the posts. He rolled the rubbery tip slowly to and fro, stretching her breast out into a painful cone of flesh. ‘Get your legs apart white bitch, right apart so your feet is round the outside of the posts.’ Before she could obey the other guard deliberately stamped on her bare toes then kicked her foot sideways. He chuckled nastily, ‘better do it quick or we’ll do that again....’

Biting back the blazing pain in her foot Carol shuffled her legs apart, trying to follow the brutish corporal’s orders. He kept the tender tip of her breast stretched forwards, lifting his hand to hold her on balance while the other one forced her ankles against the outsides of the posts. Instinctively, she squatted slightly, trying to relieve the twisting strain in her calves as the leather ankle straps were buckled then cinched tight. The awful straddled position became even worse as he forced her shins against the rough timber before buckling the other straps around each leg just below the knee.

‘Now to fix you up good and ready...’ Carol gasped in relief then bit her lips as the blood thudded back agonisingly into her abused nipple as the Corporal released his pinching grip. The other man grabbed her upper arms from behind and she was pulled backwards. A thick round pole was pushed between the posts; the Corporal put it in the brackets then flipped over two catches so it was held horizontally. Before the ropes were tightened, Carol was pushed forwards against it. As she curved forwards over the pole she saw the man studying her body to check the wooden bar was positioned exactly across her hips.

‘OK, do her hands now.’ Carol grunted with relief when he cut her wrist tie and she could bring her arms in front of her for the first time in hours. The pleasure of being able to move and rub the deep reddish purple weals round each wrist was short-lived. The man grabbed her wrists and pulled her forwards over the bar, stretching her slim arms out horizontally so her breasts jiggled and swayed, dangling free and unprotected beneath her chest.

But the tempting target was ignored as the men concentrated on strapping her wrists together with hands outstretched and palms together, using turn after turn of thin, strong cord. The corporal wrenched her head back using a fistful of hair as a handhold. ‘Up you come ...’

‘Ooooowwwww! No, noooo, I’m coming, I’m coming....’

The two men burst out laughing... ‘No, no you’re not, not yet but you will be… you’ll be cumming an’ screaming real good...!’ The man’s sadistic glee sounded in her ear as she felt something metal being forced between her wrists.

‘Oh no, please no, don’t do this please...’ Carol’s words were just a useless whisper as he finished pushing the iron hook into position before running the attached rope across to another hook fixed at shoulder height on the wall.

‘Please don...aaaaah! Noooooooo... iiiiiiiaaaaaaayyyy!’

The whispers became screams of pain as the other man hauled the rope taut dragging her hands forwards and up into the air. The screams became shorter, turning into gasping protests as her body was stretched out at an angle. Carol’s bottom was curved taut over the thick bar; the cheeks splayed wide by her obscene straddle between the posts. The tightness of the rope kept her upper body stretched, her breasts dangling and swaying slightly with every painful breath.

The older of the two watched the tension in the young woman’s outstretched arms; the way her muscles, especially around her ribs and the hollow of her abdomen were forced into stark relief by the torturing pull of the rope. ‘That’s enough man, leave a little slack for her to dance a bit.’ The tension in the rope eased slightly and Carol’s head hung forwards between her outstretched arms. The older man circled the posts, hands stroking the tanned flesh splayed before him. He bounced the offered globes of her breasts, tweaking each of the hard, tan nipples in turn then slowly tickled his fingers along the exposed hollows of her armpits and down the side of her rib cage.

Carol jerked and gasped at every touch, wriggling from side to side as far as the ropes would let her. The two men chuckled, exchanging crude comments as they enjoyed the white woman’s humiliation. Carol twisted her head from side to side, trying to see behind her as she felt the corporal’s fingers moving from her waist across the soft swell of her bottom cheeks. His fingers wriggled into the open cleft of her bottom and Carol jerked as though electrocuted.

‘Oh, don’t, please don’t...’

‘Can’t stop me, bitch…oh yeah, that’s tight...’ The finger worked deeper, stretching the circle of Carol’s anus...probing into the heat of her bottom.

‘Which one do you want, man...rattan or split bamboo?’ 

‘Splaaaat!’

‘Yaaaaah!’

Carol gasped and jolted forwards, catching her breath at the force of the stinging slap across her bottom from his open hand. He gave her three more stinging cracks before walking round so she could see him. ‘Hmmmm, try both on her ass...see which one makes her wriggle most...’ He grinned sadistically and leaned closer, his big, powerful hands reaching under her body to fondle the dangling peaks of her breasts once more. ‘Try the cane first man...make it hard and straight across the middle...’ He lowered his voice, ‘don’t think you getting off easy...these ones don’t count...house rules!’

‘Thack!’                 

The thin, flexible cane zipped through the air cutting across Carol Hansen’s buttocks with a sharp, crisp noise. For an instant she didn’t react, just a jerk at the impact and a slight widening of her eyes. Then her mouth stretched wide in a circle of agony and her whole body shivered; a series of heavy, gasping grunts were forced from her as she tried to ride the burning pain of the stroke.

‘Oh, oh God...oh...oh...oh...oooooh!’  

‘Not bad, plenty of response this end... now try the bamboo...no, no...The thicker one with the split ends.’ The Corporal’s face was alight with sadistic glee as he organised their cruel game. Unseen by their victim, his companion changed canes and without even pausing whipped the finger thick bamboo rod slicing round to cut a weal just above the raised purple line of the first stroke. The impact sounded like a beater hitting a damp rug.

‘Thrrrrwuck!’ 

The last eight inches of the cane had been carefully split allowing the thin blade-like ends to flex on their own. Unlike the single burning line left by the whippy rattan cane, the blazing, slicing impact of the split ends convinced Carol the bamboo had peeled a strip of skin off both buttocks. She surged forwards against the bar, her head thrown backwards and her back arched in agony as she screamed and screamed.

‘Aaaaaaah! Ah no...no...aaaaarrrgggghh...NOOOO!’

‘You see, man easy isn’t it...the lady obviously prefers the bamboo!’ He waited until the screams and spasms had died down. ‘Suggest you save a little breath ...remember what the boss said?’ His fingers rolled her nipples, making them stiffen and rouse despite her fear and pain...

‘N-no, no...Please don’t hit me again, please...I do anything you want, please...anything...!’ She looked up into the cruel, grinning face and cried out in despair, as she finally understood the horrible significance of what he was doing to her breasts... ‘Oh fuck you noooo, NO...NOOOOOO!’

‘Oh yes, yes indeed... that’s why you held like this... fifty back and front...that’s what the Boss ordered an’ that’s what you goin’ to get. He’ll lace your pretty white ass while I...’ He paused and used one finger on each hand to flick the hard, swollen tips so they jiggled and bobbed enticingly, ‘...warm these titties for you...’ He released her breasts and picked up the thin, flexible cane.

‘Goin’ to cane ’em all over real good but...’ the pale yellow rod lifted to caress the wide aureoles before tapping softly against the stiff, jutting peaks, ‘...but these get special treatment...make you think I’m slicing them off...’ He grinned at his friend who had rolled up his sleeves ready to begin.

The grinning corporal unbuttoned his cuffs and did the same as the other guard shuffled his feet; making sure he had a good purchase. He drew a gasp of terrified anticipation from his trembling victim as he tapped the line of those first two cuts measuring his distance before...

‘Take a good breath now ...time for the first ten...’

‘Thwuck!’

A pause as Carol Hansen fought to control her urge to scream aloud, ‘mmmmmmmfffh!’

‘Thwuck!        Thwuck!        Thwuck!        Thwuck!’

‘Yeeeeeaaarrrgggh! Ah...ah...ah...Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaahhh!’

‘That’s five at the back...now let’s warm these tits a bit...’ Jojo waited until the American’s first spasms of agony had calmed a little...letting the madly bouncing globes come to rest for a moment then...

‘Swick!        Swick!                   Swick!                Swick!                        Swick!’

The rattan sliced through the air with an evil hiss; each stroke landing with a sharp, wet sound as it cut across the out-thrust curves of Carol Hansen’s exposed breasts. The strokes were placed with diabolical skill, thin read weals showing across the upper and lower edges of her aureoles whilst the final one of the five was whipped across on a rising arc to slice into the thin, tender skin of the exposed under curve of each firm mound.

‘Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiarg...g-g-g-g-g-aaaaaaah!’  

Carol’s body writhed and twisted demonically against her leg straps, her torso flexing so those beaten breasts slapped and bounced wildly against her ribs. The woman’s mad screams were interrupted by gulping attempts to catch her breath. The metal pulley clattered against its hook as her spasms jerked and strained the rope holding her arms out stretched. The two men relaxed and exchanged grins, enjoying the sight of the white woman’s helpless agony, breathing easily and pacing themselves for the real caning session still to come.

‘Tol’ you to hold your noise... you need to save your breath;’ the rattan tapped the untouched nipples in warning. ‘Now, this next part we calls the seesaw...  you’ll guess why real soon...’ With that the corporal brought the rattan zipping round again; Carol instinctively jerking backwards as the stroke sliced another line of agony across the swinging peaks of her breasts. His companion was watching carefully, waiting for the moment when their squealing victim’s bottom was thrust back at its most exposed, then he swung his arm in turn and the split bamboo sliced into the crease at the top of her thighs with a wet ‘thwock!’ Quite deliberately he whipped the rod in short so the thin bamboo strands curled round into the cleft of her bottom, the knife-like ends catching the edges of her labia in an agonising caress.

‘Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrggggghhh!’

Carol’s thighs slammed forwards against the torture post. The involuntary reaction made her arch backwards, lifting her breasts even more prominently for the kiss of the corporal’s rattan. ‘Swick!’ This time the thin rod caught the hard, jutting tips of both nipples so they vibrated and bobbled with the impact. She gave a frantic, sobbing squeal, convulsing with another jerking spasm as she surged backwards, only to meet the next agonising stripe from the expertly wielded bamboo.

For twenty torturing strokes apiece the two men kept the American rocking to and fro in a wild screaming frenzy of blazing agony, their diabolical ‘see-saw’ of pain ensuring that it was Carol herself who provided the best possible targets for the torturing rods. Finally, they paused, breathing heavily and grinning across the twitching, sweat-soaked body before strolling to one side to share a well-earned cigarette. Carol swayed limply, nearly unconscious from the agony of the punishment beating, her weight hanging from the rope round her wrists and her mouth gaping slack with pain so she dribbled helplessly onto the concrete floor; her ribcage heaving as she tried to bring her breathing under some sort of control.

The once flawlessly tanned curves of her bottom cheeks were now a mess of fine, scarlet lines, the bruised and swollen flesh dull red and weeping; dotted lines of blood-beads showing where the cutting edges of the bamboo had stripped away skin to leave raw flesh beneath. Carol couldn’t see the damage of course; just feel the burning heat and thudding pain of the beating across the whole surface of her bottom. But she could see as well as feel the pain of what the thin rattan cane had done to her breasts...

With her head dangling down between her outstretched arms she was able to look back down the length of her torso to the bar across her hips. She stared at the swollen mounds and their burning, throbbing tips. A network of thin, raised weals was scored across her aureoles. Her and nipples were shiny and taut and swollen to almost twice their normal size, so painful she thought they were going to split or burst at any moment. She shuddered, mewing softly and biting her lips as the slightest movement send fresh stabs of pain lancing through her tortured flesh.

‘N-n-n-nnaaaarrrgggghh!’   

The corporal pulled her head back by twining his fingers in her damp blonde hair, the unexpected and sharper pain dragging another high-pitched squeal of protest from the young American. ‘Time to change round so you don’t get bored like...’ Her tormentor shook her head then deliberately rocked it back and forward, forcing her into a parody of nodding agreement. ‘Last ten at both ends... see how much breath you got left....’

Carol twisted and threshed in her bonds, whimpering and swearing as she tried to find some relief, anything at all, from the sheer horror of being beaten again. She gasped as she felt something touching the swollen ends of her breasts. Eyes wide she screamed as she realised it was the other thug using the split ends of the bamboo and delicately scratching the puffy, red weals scored across her wide aureoles. He grinned. ‘Oh yes, with tits like these you really going to dance for us now...’

He flexed his powerful muscles, bending the bamboo rod in a curve then letting the end go so it zipped through the air with a nasty, vicious  ‘swwwiiiikkk’ sound. He brought it up once more, measuring the knifelike ends against her left breast then swung back and....

‘Thwock!        Thwock!        Thwock!’

Yyyyyyaaaaarrrrggghh! Oh God! Oh...oh GOOOOD! No, no...’

‘Now the right titty...’

‘Thwuck!        Thwuck!        Thwuck!!’

‘Ih...ih...ih...iiiiaaarrrgghgghh, ah, aaaah, NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!’   

For a moment among the near-inhuman squeals it sounded like someone clapping as Carol Hansen’s insane convulsions made her breasts slap together hard enough to make a noise. The corporal, now standing behind the American and a little to one side watched intently as the bamboo laced a fresh network of fine red lines across the circular tips of both the American’s breasts; lines that showed little dots of blood where the edges of the bamboo had sliced open the weals left by the rattan earlier. The screams suddenly got more intense as his friend put extra effort into the last two strokes before resting stepping back and wiping the sweat from his face.

He grinned at his friend. ‘All yours, man... let’s see if you can do better than that...!’ 

‘OK...’  The corporal studied the half-squatting figure strapped over the bar for a couple of moments. His sadistic grin widened as he saw how the splay of the American woman’s thighs left the split bulge of her cunt quite exposed. From the evidence of the red, puffy lips it was a target that had already been caught a number of times. He adjusted his footing carefully before trying a couple of up swinging practice strokes. He knew from many interrogations that with a really whippy cane it should be possible to get right up into the slit... He deliberately avoided touching the fiery swollen stripes criss-crossing her bottom cheeks with the cane...this time he wanted no warning...no chance for the American bitch to clench her buttocks until after the first cut had landed.

‘THWICK!’… ‘‘THWICK!’… ‘THWICK!’… ‘THWICK!’  

The tip of the rattan cane sliced up right into the split of Carol Hansen’s labia. Before she could even scream the second stroke landed, this time curling even harder so the very end snapped against her clitoris with awful force. Every muscle and sinew in her body showed in rigid relief as she slammed forwards against the bar, back bending in an arching spasm and her head rearing back, mouth agape. A wordless shriek of agony bounced and echoed round the torture room, a shriek accompanied by the splashing noise of liquid hitting the stained concrete floor as the carefully spaced strokes cut into her exposed cunt like fire.

‘YAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!’ 

Carol Hansen screamed and screamed...then screamed even louder as the two men set to work using the diabolical see-saw technique to take her to a new level of rocking, blazing agony as they applied the last strokes of the promised fifty ‘front and back’ as Captain Otuba had ordered.

The screams died to a bubbling, babbling dribble as her torturers finally stopped. Carol was left dangling from her wrist rope barely conscious; her breasts and bottom on fire with throbbing, burning pain.

The men lit cigarettes and took a break. Ten minutes later and still laughing at the noises she was making they unstrapped her legs then cut the cords round her wrists. They let her slump onto the concrete floor and watched in amusement as she tried to curl up and shield her body from them.

‘Up you come, bitch,’ the older one said, eyes alight with pleasure as he grabbed her left breast with one hand and hooked the other into her armpit to drag her upright.

‘Gaaah, ah-aaaah, p-please, no, no please. Naaaa-aaaah!’

She scrabbled and twisted but they were too quick. Two sets of black fingers dug agonisingly into her breasts and she was lifted into the air, screaming in pain with her legs peddling uselessly six inches off the floor.

‘Amazing how quick they come back to life when you do that to ‘em…’ he chuckled, ‘now, you gonna walk or do we carry you?’

‘Oh Christ! WALK…I’LL WALK, PLEESE PUT ME DOWN…I’LL W-WALK! PLEEEEESE!’    

‘OK, your choice so…’ They lowered her and let go but she screamed even louder when each of them gripped the nipple nearest to them. The corporal twisted and pulled….hard. ‘Off we go then…’

Carol clawed at their hands but could do nothing to shield her tits from their cruel, pinching grip. She was led back into the original cell her feet pattering on the rough concrete as she tried to keep the awful pinching strain on her swollen nipples to a minimum. They let her go at the door and one of them pushed her in the back. She’d taken one involuntary step forwards when she was kicked behind the knee and collapsed onto the rough floor but managing to get her hands down so she ended up on her knees staring at the filthy wall of the cell.

They stood in the doorway looking down at the whimpering, naked woman the shorted one rubbed the hard curving shaft of his cock through his trousers. ‘Oh man a whipping like that always makes me hot...I could just fuck her ass now!’

The corporal laughed and pulled him back. ‘Cool it, plenty of others to fuck remember what the Captain said…he’s got questions he needs answered so this one’s to be kept safe…what she’s had is just a little warming up before they start makin’ it really hard.’

Still amused the men turned away. The metal door crashed shut behind them. Carol Hansen crawled round the cell collecting the ripped fragments of her clothes. The blouse and skirt were ruined but at least she could wear her underclothes. Getting them on was agony because every movement brought fresh pain from the raised weals lacing her buttocks and upper thighs. She found a filthy blanket in one corner of the cell and wrapped it round her to protect her injuries from the gritty concrete floor.

But worse than the physical pain was remembering the things they had already done to her…and imagining what they would do next. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she huddled in the dimness...listening in terror for the sound of returning footsteps.

It was nearly half an hour before Carol Hansen heard footsteps outside the door. She tried to move when the door slammed open but the sudden glare of light blinded her and she was hoisted to her feet and dragged out into the corridor. Two different men held her but they were from the same mould as the others. Hard, cruel faces alight with anticipation and enjoyment at handling a near naked white woman. Both were dressed in what she had come to recognise as the ISD uniform of white open necked shirt and black trousers.

She squirmed and whimpered, trying to stand unaided and hold the blanket round her as black fingers pinched her breasts, scraping the raised weals left by the rattan and the split bamboo cane. ‘Hey, look at these tits, man…they look real sore…’ They chuckled at her efforts to avoid their groping hands. With the speed of long experience they twisted her arms behind her and she bit her lip when another plastic tie was cinched tight, cutting into the already bruised and bloody flesh round her wrists.

The cry turned into a muffled wail of anguish as a black cotton bag was pulled down over her head and the American’s world went dark. Unable to use her hands the blanket slipped from Carol Hansen’s shoulders and fell unheeded to the floor behind her.

They pushed her along the corridor, their hands pinching her upper arms as she stumbled along between them. There were twists and turns and another short flight of stairs before they stopped and she heard the sound of a door being opened. The men tightened their grip on her arms and pushed her inside.

The room was hot, airless and rank with the smell of cigarettes and the stink of sweat, urine and the scent of male excitement. Even through the black cotton hood Mrs Hansen could tell the lights were powerful because she could feel the heat from them on her body. She shivered, despite the heat, aware that her bra and panties covered almost nothing and sensing that there were men in the room…watching her…staring at her body.

‘Take it off…and get rid of those stupid rags too.’ She heard Captain Otuba’s order through the muffling cloth of the hood. Fingers fumbled with her bra catch and then her thong was yanked down her legs so hard that she stumbled forwards. The jerk was enough to make her bra straps slide off her shoulders pulling the cups free as well. With her hands behind her there was nothing she could do to shield her body. Someone fumbled at her waist. A voice said ‘cut the fucking thing off.’ She felt cold steel touching her body then a knife sliced through the straps and the ruin of her bra was pulled off.

She cried out as the cotton bag was ripped off her head, screwing her eyes tight shut to cut out the blaze of light from the four spotlights trained on the middle of the interrogation room. Gradually her eyes adjusted and Mrs Hansen peered into the blackness beyond the glare.

She could see very little but glare and the blackness because she was facing the lights. Beyond the lights in the dimness she could see there were men sitting, three or four, she couldn’t be certain but she could see the intermittent glow of cigarettes, white teeth and eyes and the occasional glint of polished brass and leather from the uniforms they were wearing. Captain Otuba was standing next to a desk to one side. A separate light with a green shade threw a pool of light on the desktop. She could see papers, some kind of file and a black telephone. There was also a large computer and monitor with the screen turned out towards the room. He waited for a few moments then walked toward her.

‘Now we begin, Mrs Hansen, as I told you, my colleagues and I,’ he waved his hand towards the figures sitting behind the lights, ‘are very interested in your dealings with Jonas Matanga. You’ve had a chance to find out how we treat those who are, let us say…difficult…perhaps the experience has changed your mind about co-operating with the authorities in this matter?’

Carol Hansen flicked her head to try and get the wet tendrils of hair out of her eyes. She looked at him breathing hard with the effort she was making to control her terror. ‘I’ve told you my name is Carol Hansen. I’m an American citizen and I DEMAND that you stop this abuse right now. Yes, I was Jonas Matanga’s lover. You’ve obviously seen one of his recordings so there’s no point in denying it. But we are both adults and as far as I know the only thing that we broke was the bastard’s marriage vows.’

She moved forward but the men beside her gripped her arms and pulled her back. ‘I’ll tell you and your tame thugs what I’ve told you already again and again. I don’t know anything about Jonas Matanga’s other activities. I don’t know who he talked to. I don’t even know who his friends were for fuck’s sake! I can’t tell you anything useful so you’d better just let me go.’

‘Really? Then I suggest you sit down and watch that screen.’ Captain Otuba nodded towards the monitor. ‘Watch…and listen…very carefully Mrs Hansen…’ The men forced her over to a solid looking upright wooden chair was positioned in the middle of the floor.

She fought madly as she saw the chair clearly for the first time. It was heavy, crudely made with metal reinforcements bolted on at each joint and corner. The middle had had been removed so there was no seat, just the bare wooden frame, dirty and stained by hard use. Leather straps dangled from the two sides and there were more straps fixed to the back legs under the seat bar. The men just laughed at her struggles and forced her round until she had no option but to perch on the front edge of the frame, leaning forward slightly because her arms were in the way. She was all too conscious that she was facing the lights and those unseen men in the darkness. She pressed her knees hard together, trying to ignore the discomfort of the wooden bar digging into her sore bottom.

‘Gaaah…aaaah!’

Her outburst was a mixture of shock and surprise as one of the men pushed down on her neck while the other pulled her wrists up in the air. Before she cold recover she was forced back in the chair and her arms were pulled down over the top rail of the chair’s back. A length of thin cord was pushed between her wrists. The American woman was forced to arch her back as the cord was pulled tight and knotted to a metal hook bolted to the back of the seat. She arched even more as the square edges of the rail dug into the tender skin of her upper arms. She was left with her shoulder and leg muscles burning with strain as she tried to support herself, keep her knees together and avoid slipping down into the gap where the seat should be.

‘Enough, leave there for the moment,’ the captain said. ‘Watch, Mrs Hansen, watch very carefully.’ The screen came to life and the pinioned woman gasped with shock as she realised what she was seeing. It was her fingers stroking and caressing Jonas Matanga’s penis, her lips sucking the thick, black cock and her cries of pleasure as he fucked her slowly, with every detail in full colour and pin sharp focus.

Carol Hansen sobbed and looked down at her naked body, tears running down her face and dripping onto the thin red weals lacing her breasts. Her calf muscles were quivering with the strain of holding her body up, her thighs burning from the effort of clamping her legs together. Her head whipped from side to side sending a spray of sweat droplets across the stained concrete.  ‘Mrs Hansen, I suggest you listen very carefully to the next bit…very carefully indeed.’ On screen she was getting dressed as the damning conversation went on.

‘But if those ISB bastards find out what you’re doing...’

‘So what, all they’ll think is that there’s another American blonde who’s hot for a thick black cock. Sorry, Carol. What I mean is they won’t look beyond the affair to anything else. We know what this is...a little fun, a little sex...nothing more. That’s different to the main work we have to do. You’re right though; we do need to be careful. Don’t ring the office, unless it’s your PA to arrange another committee meeting. Leave anything for me at the usual place and … will pick it up. Believe me, I do know all about being careful...if there’s a hint of trouble then...well, everything’s arranged. What about you Carol, what will you do?’

‘Oh I’m safe enough...they don’t mess with US citizens...any problem and the usual answer is a roughing up and the first flight out as persona non-gratia. The regime doesn’t want trouble, especially with the State Department or our military. Besides, if necessary I’ve got the right high level ID but I’m still worried about Jenny Onawa...’

‘…Shhh… careful…no full names even here, Carol. Je…I mean she… will be all right. Remember she works in a different department so there’s no connection at all. Besides, why would I have anything to do with Rural Development? She’s not alone anyway, she’s got Tina and Susi at the university too. They’ve been officially cleared, and so no one checks on them any longer. Those ISB thugs haven’t got a clue…’ 

He pressed the remote and the screen went dark. ‘Well. Well, anything to say now, Mrs Hansen?’ He waited, looking at the naked American perched on the edge of the chair, she was shivering violently holding herself in position with shoulders arched back, arms wrenched down behind her and only her toes braced on the floor to hold her body in place. ‘Well, we’re waiting?’

Finally, Carol Hansen gave in and looked up at him. ‘I-I-It’s not what you t-think. Yes, I had an affair with Jonas but there was no plot. All that…talk…at the end, that was about k-keeping things from his wife for fuck’s sake. The only thing I helped him with was to get hold of US dollars…that was what he means by ‘the usual place’ it was a t-t-trade.’ She shifted, trying to relieve the pain and stop the uncontrollable quivering of her leg muscles.

‘Dollars…dollars for what, exactly?’

There was another long pause. The blonde American snivelled, a wet bubbling noise as mucus dribbled down her face. When she did reply her voice so quiet that Captain Otuba had to lean forward to her what she was saying. ‘P-payment for d-d-d-diamonds…uncut diamonds from the m-mines in the North. G-g-gave me diamonds and I passed them on…in return I gave him p-payment in dollar bills.’ She laughed bitterly, ‘He s-said that he didn’t trust the l-local c-c-c-currency.’  

There was total silence for over ten seconds and Carol Hansen felt the first small flicker of hope that they believed her story. Then the flicker of hope died as she saw the broad smile on the captain’s face. ‘Oh very good, very good indeed, Mrs Hansen. Illegal but not political…how clever.’

Then his hand smashed into her cheek with a noise like a shot. ‘LIES…ALL LIES!’

‘ARRRGH! NO!…Please, you’ve got to believe me…IT’S THE TRUTH!’

He leaned forward his face inches from hers. ‘I forgot to tell you Winnie Kipengi was sitting in that chair only a few hours ago and that bitch Onawayo is in a cell down the corridor. They tell a very different story so let’s forget this crap about diamonds and you can tell me what you were really doing with the ex minister!’

‘Oh God, poor Jenny! But it WAS true…I’ve told you, please…please…I won’t say anything…even about the caning…honest…please just let me go…I can’t help you…you must believe me…’

‘But I don’t…not one word…but you will tell me what I want to know…sooner or later.’ He looked across at the two men. ‘We’re wasting time, get her ready.’

‘No…no…no you can’t…stop…stop…NOOOOOOOO! NA…”

Carol Hansen twisted and arched forwards in an effort to stop the men strapping her down her to the torture chair. It just made them laugh. A clenched fist slammed into her stomach and she collapsed, her cries cut off with s single gasp of agony as the air was driven out of her. They waited, grinning and exchanging comments, as she slumped, chest heaving and her body held up only by her arms hooked over the back rail of the chair while she dragged great whooping gulps of air into her lungs. There was crude laughter from the men behind the lights at her feeble attempts to resist.

One of them fiddled with a catch on the upright behind her and Carol Hansen screamed as she was tilted backwards until her upper body was lying at an angle and she was staring up into the full glare of the lights above her. She arched up, trying to relieve the extra strain on her shoulders with her arms now pulled down and behind her even more painfully. She squirmed when the men grabbed a foot apiece and clicked metal cuffs round her ankles. When they let her feet go there the short chains attached to each cuff rattled and clinked against the bare concrete.

The captain smiled. ‘Better, now get your legs apart Mrs Hansen, wide apart’

‘Wa…nooo…please…C-can’t pleeese! I’ve told you what you want! Pleeeeese!’

‘No, Mrs Hansen…you’ve told me nothing but a pack of lies. Now get your legs apart…see those rings in the floor?’ He pointed at the thick iron rings set into the concrete on either side of the chair. ‘Well, I want you to try and touch those rings with your toes. Try and be stupid and my men will break your legs first then we’ll do it anyway…it’s up to you.’

Carol Hansen shuddered, her eyes flicking between the two grinning thugs on either side then she craned her head from side to side looking for the rings the sadistic captain had pointed at.

‘W-where…which ones…what do you mean?’

‘The ones you can see perfectly well…now get your legs apart or…’

…He didn’t have to finish the threat. The cuff chains scraped and jingled as she stretched out one leg then the other, very slowly. More crude comments and chuckles came from the darkness as the watchers saw that the American woman was trying to twist her hips so as conceal her cunt and anus from their view. But her efforts were in vain. One of the soldiers grabbed her left ankle and wrenched it sideways while the other clipped the snap link on the length of chain onto the ring in the floor.

Carol Hansen fought them, struggling to bring her other leg across to stop them attaching the other clip. There was another burst of crude laugher and obscene comments from the men watching in the shadows as the guards grabbed her right leg. They used their brute strength to stretch her legs apart into a taut, shallow vee until they could click the snap link onto the other ring.

Carol Hansen was helpless, arms pulled down behind her back, her body arched up so her breasts were pushed out and upwards and her thighs splayed apart, legs outstretched The watchers now had an uninterrupted view of her cunt and the tight rosette of her anus. Under the harsh lights they could see every detail including the marks on the plump outer lips from her earlier caning. The caning had made lips swell so they were parted letting watchers see the delicate inner folds and the jutting hood of flesh guarding little nub of her clitoris. The lights also revealed the gleam of wetness on those inner folds and the smears of whitish cream along the rim of her cunt slit.

Tied as she was, the American woman was quite unable to shield or protect herself in any way. But Captain Otuba wanted a few more finishing touches. Another strap, wider this time was fastened across her abdomen just above her hips then the two men straightened up and waited as their officer looked at her.

He frowned. ‘She’ll move too much like that, I want the arms together…’ One of them walked over to a table and picked up another short leather strap. ‘Just above the elbows…’ Carol arched back, mouth opening in a thin wail of protest and pain as her arms were pulled together forcing her shoulders back and making her breasts jut forward even more. ‘Try one more hole,’ the captain said, watching the woman’s movements as she struggled against her bonds. ‘Don’t waste your strength, Mrs Hansen, my men know their job.’

He walked round the bound figure in the torture chair until he was behind her. He twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back. ‘Last chance, Mrs Hansen…is there something you’d like to tell me about Jonas Matanga?’

‘T-t-told you… we had an affair and I helped him with selling some d-diamo…Aaaah!’

‘No! I want the truth…now!’

‘I’ve told you…I don’t know anything!’

He let her hair go and put his left hand on her shoulder. His fingers slid down across the swell of her breast, tracing the thin red lines left by the split bamboo.

He leaned closer as she jerked and twisted in the chair, breath hissing between clenched teeth as she tried to ride the pain. ‘Such a pity they’re so sore already,’ his fingers moved again until he could play with the taut peak between forefinger and thumb. ‘Nicely swollen too…that makes the next bit easier.’ The Captain smiled as she craned her head forwards, watching his finger playing with her nipple, ‘easier for us I mean.’

They all did that, he thought, she’s waiting for me to hurt her. Now, as I move lower she’ll try and close her legs. He smiled again as he saw the muscles of her thighs and abdomen tense and bulge as she strained to prevent his fingers touching the lips of her cunt. ‘Lesson one,’ he said quietly, ‘there’s nothing you can do to stop us…nothing at all.’ He stroked the sore outer lips with his nails, letting her fight the cuffs and thin chains that held her apart. Playing with her so she understood exactly how open and vulnerable she was.

One fingertip grazed across the little vee at the top of her slit, the touch making her jerk even more violently. He waited for a moment then touched her again, his finger circling her hooded clitoris so she bucked and gasped through clenched teeth. ‘We’ll start with your breasts of course, then, just when you think it can’t get any worse we’ll move down here.’ His finger continued to circle. ‘Just think how it will feel as a needle is slowly pushed right up inside your clit…’ His finger slid deeper, stroking the entrance of her vagina before touching the tight rosette of her anus. ‘Or perhaps here…so many ways to hurt you…as you will find out.’

He straightened up and took a few moments to light a cigarette. ‘We’ll try the simple way first. So, tell me about Jonas Matanga…’ He leaned forward again and very gently touched the tip of his cigarette to the outer swell of her left breast.

‘N-NNNNuh-aaah!’

He took another slow pull on the cigarette and brought the tip down again, this time right on the edge of her aureole where the ring of darker skin began. There was a soft ‘zzzzzst’ noise as he held it there for a second or so.

‘HUH…HUH…Naaah. P-p-pleeese”

‘You’re not really trying,’ he said and took another pull on his cigarette. The slow torture went on as the captain carefully applied a series of small burns around the edge of her left areole. By the time he’d got half way round he was using his other hand to cup the weight of her breast to hold it still as she jerked and twisted in her agony. Her pleas became louder and more intense as the pain built up with each new touch of the glowing tip.

When he stopped and straightened up, flicking the cigarette end on to the floor to stub it out she shuddered with relief, her head lolling sideways, her flanks heaving as she fought to drag air into her lungs. Captain Otuba strolled across to where the watchers were sitting, talking in low tone to someone in the dimness behind the lights.

For a brief moment Carol thought her ordeal was over…but that relief was short lived as the sadistic captain moved behind the chair and she heard the flick of his lighter. ‘Time to start on the other side,’ he said and she started screaming as he cupped her right breast even before he brought the tip of the freshly lit cigarette down to touch the edge of the dark pink circle.

‘NAAAAAAAAAARRRRGH!’

The second circle took twenty more agonising minutes. Finally, Captain Otuba let her breast go and walked back to the desk and picked up a file. Carol Hansen’s head lolled slack on one side, wet blonde hair pasted to her face, little moaning noises coming from her mouth and her whole body shivering from the first bout of torture.

‘I’m getting tired of asking this…what were the Americans and Matanga planning?’

‘Tol you…don no wha Jonas was planning…didn’t tell me any plas…tol you…Please stop…pleeese!’

‘No, Mrs Hansen, you’ve had your chance.’ He snapped his fingers and one of the men pushed a little trolley next to her. There was a black metal box on the bottom shelf with a smaller box on the top with a jumble of wires and connections. The man walked away to the side of the room unrolling a black cable. He bent down, fumbled with something and Carol Hansen heard a click. A single red light glowed on the side of the box on the bottom of the trolley and she thought she could hear a low hum coming from it.

‘This comes next, Mrs Hansen, very simple, very effective…just a couple of wires and this controller,’ he picked up the small box. ‘No marks, well,’ he paused and smiled down at her, ‘nothing important.’ He cupped his fingers around the crest of her right breast fingers pinching until her eyes widened at the sudden pain. Determined to resist she managed not to cry out loud but gave a hiss of breath through clenched teeth. The Captain put the box down, making quite sure that it was where she could see it and untangled the jumble of wires and connections

‘Nothing else to tell you…you fucking animal, nothi…Gaaaaaaaaah!’

Her words dissolved into a gasping scream as he turned round and dug his nails into the peak of her breast and twisted hard. After a couple more vicious twists he let go, moved behind her then leaned over to grip the tips of both breasts between forefinger and thumb of each hand. He pinched down hard, lifting at the same time. Another scream echoed round the fetid underground room. He whispered in her ear.

‘Oh dear, did I catch those burns?’ He jerked his hands up and down so her breasts bounced and jiggled. ‘Now, remember I told you the swelling made things easier? Watch carefully…after all we don’t want the clips coming off before we finish do we.’ He rolled his thumbs over her nipples, deliberately working the already taut skin to make them jut up even harder. Satisfied that they were and hard and erect as possible he let them go and reached across to the trolley. Captain Otuba held up a wire to let Mrs Hansen see the brass crocodile clip attached to the end of it.

He brought it closer then deliberately opened so she could see the sharp triangular teeth lining the jaws. ‘Left first, I think…we’ll try lengthways…’ Carol Hansen stared down at her own body, eyes fixed on the captain’s hand holding the open clip. The teeth of the tapered jaws grazed the blunt spike of her nipple. He grinned down at her, waited for just a moment then relaxed his grip.

‘F-F-Fuck-fuck-fuck…n-n-n-haaaaaah!’ He waited until she’d finished swearing then pressed the jaws together. ‘GAAAAAAAH!’ Carol Hansen arched back shaking her upper body in a wild effort to dislodge the teeth biting into her nipple so hard that little beads of blood showed against the tarnished brass.

Behind the lights there was a shuffling and heavy breathing as the watchers craned forwards in excitement. Captain Otuba let the American woman wait for long seconds; letting her feel the fierce, throbbing grip of the electrode, allowing her to anticipate what it would feel like when the other one was clipped on.

She stared wide-eyed at her right breast as he took his time positioning the other crocodile clip. Again she strained back biting her lip as the clip dug in then screamed out as he pinched the jaws shut. ‘Better check they’re secure,’ the captain said smiling with pleasure as he took hold of both clips, waited for the blonde American to look down at him then, very slowly, increased the pressure of his fingers squeezing the toothed clips shut on the sensitive peaks. 

Drops of sweat flew as she shook her head and screamed, body jolting up and down rapidly as she tried to cope with the blazing pain in her nipples. There were more comments and crude laughter from the darkness because it looked as though the American woman was in the throes of a wild orgasm as she jerked and bucked against the straps holding her down. Finally Captain Otuba nodded and let go leaving a brass electrode bobbing from the tip of each breast like some obscene piece of jewellery.

The guard checked the connections where the two wires plugged into the back of the control box. The captain held up three fingers. He grinned, twisted the dial until the pointer was on three and then picked up the box with his thumb resting on the silver button next to the dial. He licked his lips and smiled at the woman knowing exactly what was going to happen he pressed it. Carol Hansen bent her head forwards, mouth open and panting slightly as she stared at the brass clips on her nipples. Her eyes followed the wires down across the floor to where they were plugged into the control box. Her head shook as though she was denying what was about to happen or that her struggles would make any difference.

‘Watch the button Mrs Hansen.’ The captain spoke softly, one hand stroking her shoulder at the surge of sexual pleasure he always felt at this point in a torture session.

The woman, for him it was usually a woman, bound open and helpless, those exciting little whimpers and pleas as she tried somehow to prevent that handle from moving. But they never had any idea…couldn’t begin to understand what the electricity would feel like scorching through their tits. Of course they would scream, again and again, but they would also offer anything, anything at all if they would only stop what they were doing to her.

He smiled again, letting the wait increase the American’s terror.

Naturally they would do what she wanted, eventually…then watch her suffer additional agony as the circulation returned and the little scorch marks started to burn and throb. He eased the hard length of his penis inside his trousers. Then that delicious moment of shock as the woman suddenly realised that taking the clips off her nipples was only so that her torturers could put them somewhere else. He just loved the sexual pleasure of using his fingers to show her exactly where the clips would be attached next. First gently probing her anus then fondling the wet folds of her labia…tormenting and stimulating her cunt until her clitoris stood out proud and swollen...ready for his very special attention.

Captain Otuba was a man who loved his work.

He took his hand off the blonde’s shoulder and nodded to the guard the controller. Before the man had a chance to press the button the captain stopped him. ‘No, get me a ring…don’t want any unnecessary injuries do we?’ The second guard pawed through the litter of things on the bench before finding a well-used ring gag with black nylon straps. ‘Open wide, Mrs Hansen.’

Carol Hansen clenched her teeth as the man tried to get the black plastic ring between them. Instantly, Captain Otuba dug his fingers viciously into the hinge points of on either side of her jaw, the intense pain on the nerve centres forcing her to open her mouth. The plastic ring was pushed over her front teeth holding her mouth wide open. With the ring in place it was only a matter of moments to pass the nylon straps round her head and then pull them tight so her lips were stretched back to leave the blonde American drooling and making wet gobbling noises in her efforts to speak.

‘Lets see,’ Captain Otuba pushed his forefinger into the hole in the gag and wriggled it round. ‘No use, Mrs Hansen, your tongue can’t hurt me,’ he joked as he felt it flexing and moving against his finger, ‘but it will feel good licking my cock.’ The men joined in his laughter knowing that they would get their turn later once the woman had talked.

He took his finger out and stood back watching the pinioned woman staring down at the electrodes clamped to her nipples. Thin strings of saliva drooled from her mouth as her tongue moved like a fat, pink worm inside the black ring. ‘He smiled, ‘remember what I told you, watch the button…’

The guard by the machine grinned and rubbed the hard bulge in his trousers. He watched the Captain’s face, saw that brief nod and his thumb moved. There was a soft buzzing sound but, for a few moments, Mrs Hansen didn’t react at all. Suddenly she arched up violently against the straps tendons showing white beneath her tanned skin as she strained in spasm, locked in agony with the current fizzing through her tits.

‘OOOOOOOOGGGGGGGG!’

Mrs Hansen’s wild scream was distorted into a cow-like lowing by the ring holding her mouth wide open. Drools of saliva hung from her mouth and a bubbling trail of mucus slid from her nostrils onto the wet slopes her breasts.

The man lifted his thumb from the button and she flopped back into the chair making little gasping noises as she fought for breath.

‘Again’

Another tiny click as he pressed the button again and the woman’s body snapped up into that arch of agony, flesh bulging over the straps, muscles shivering with tension. Moments later another bubbling scream filled the air.  Long second later he released the button and the woman flopped back, her animal screams replaced by wet gasping sounds as she tried to cope with the aftermath of the electric shock. Her head lolled forward, rocking form side to side as though she was trying to see which one of the brass electrodes biting into her nipples was hurting her the most. But she was not allowed to rest.

‘Again’

Just the single, quiet word and Carol Hansen’s world exploded into agony once more. Twenty more times the button clicked softly in the hot stinking chamber and each time Carol Hanson’s body jerked and strained so hard against the leather straps and cuffs pinning her down that it seemed that she would strip the flesh from her own wrists and ankles in her efforts to break free. And each time the current was cut off all that could be heard, once the screams had ceased, was that harsh, desperate gasping for breath. The tanned body gleamed with moisture under the hot lights and drops of sweat trickled down the slopes of her body onto the stained concrete. 

Captain Otuba stood to one side, listening intently to the noises the woman was making as the current burned and fizzed through her nipples. He knew that she wouldn’t break immediately but he was enjoying this first session anyway. He grabbed a handful of lank blonde hair and pulled Carol Hansen’s head back. ‘Matanga, Jonas Matanga…what was he planning?’

‘Goonk kooo…gohin…heees, Hol hu…OHIN…HEEES!’

‘Don’t know isn’t the right answer, Mrs Hansen…lets see if we can stimulate your memory another way.’ He flicked his fingers. ‘Take them off.’ The guard put the control box down and pressed the ends of the crocodile clips to release them from the American’s nipples. Carol Hansen twisted against the straps, struggling to ride the extra thudding pain of circulation returning to the swollen tips of her breasts. Each nipple was swollen like a stubby purple finger, the flesh taut and shiny, marked with little dots of blood where the metal teeth had cut into the skin.

Captain Otuba nodded with satisfaction bringing another scream from the pinioned woman as he rolled the tip of her left breast slowly to and fro between finger and thumb. ‘Tell me what I want to know…or shall I ask them to begin again?’

‘Ko…leees Ko ore...LEEES!’

‘No, they’re very sore aren’t they?’ He nodded again in mock sympathy then watched the woman’s fear and desperation growing in her eyes as his hand moved lower, fingers sliding over the wet skin to the splayed vee of her thighs. He shook his head in mock disapproval as she jerked and strained uselessly to close her legs. ‘No. Mrs Hansen, you can’t stop me.’

His fingers played with the wet lips for a few moments. Each touch brought another jerking spasm as he tickled the red, raw weals from the caning she’d endured. Then he let one fingertip feather across the nub of her clitoris. The pinioned woman bucked wildly at the thrill of sensation. Captain Otuba ran his tongue across his lips toying with her. He traced his nail delicately round the hooded peak watching the expressions on her face change as she tried not to react to the sweet stimulation that was slowing overtaking the raw burning pain in her breasts.

There were coarse remarks and laughter from the men in the room as they watched the gleaming tanned figure twisting and straining almost as violently as she had under torture. The laughter grew louder as they watched her bucking movements and heard the gradual change in the sounds coming from the chair as the Captain masturbated the woman with the touch of an experienced lover.

Changing his assault the Captain slid two fingers up inside the woman’s cunt, pumping them in and out with a slow relentless rhythm while using the ball of his thumb to continue working on her clitoris.

‘HUUUUUH! OUGH! HAAAAA! GLOOOO…HAAAAAAAAAAH!’

She was jerking up and down now, riding the black fingers, eyes staring wide as she hooted and slobbered on the brink of cumming.

That was the moment Captain Otuba straightened up and wiped his sodden fingers casually across her tortured nipples and chuckled. ‘Oh no, not yet, Mrs Hansen... Remember what else I promised we would do to you if you didn’t co-operate?’ The guard moved forwards grinning with a clip in either hand. ‘Not those you fucking idiot…’ He pointed to the clutter on the top of the small trolley. ‘Those…the needle and that one…now!’

The man fumbled through the tangle of wires to find the two attached to the fittings the captain wanted. After a minute or so he was able to separate them. He held them up with the two electrodes dangling from the wires. Carol Hansen gobbled and dribbled through her gag, head threshing from side to side as she saw what the guard was holding. She knew exactly what one of the things dangling on the end of a wire was because someone had made the shiny metal cock look very realistic with a network of raised veins around the shaft and a big domed head. ‘Remind you of someone,’ Captain Otuba chuckled. Swinging on the end of the other wire was a three-inch long needle fixed into an old wine cork.

The Captain held out his hand. ‘These are my special toys, Mrs Hansen. Some friends from South America gave me this.’ He held up the metal cock. ‘Front or back is equally effective…it goes right up inside, and this plastic collar round the handle means that I don’t get any of the shocks when I fuck you with it...’

‘…OOOOG…HEEEEG! OOL HOOO…HEEEEEEG! HI HOANT HO! EEEEGH!’

‘…I know, you keep telling me don’t know anything…the trouble is that I just don’t believe you.’ He held up the wine cork so Carol could have a good look at the thin gleaming needle jutting from the end. ‘But this is something we invented here…a little persuader for the most stubborn ladies.’ One fingertip grazed the swollen tip of Carl Hansen’s clitoris so she arched and bubbled in terror at what was coming.

‘Let’s get you ready for some needlework.’ Carol Hansen’s head whipped round as the Captain put down the cork and picked up the thick, curved rod. He pushed the now slippery dome against the opening of her vagina.

‘GOOOO…PLEEG…HAAAAAH!’

‘No? Well, all right but it’s your choice, Mrs Hansen.’ There was a ripple of laughter as he slid the metal phallus up and down the wet folds. ‘If you’re one of those who prefer anal sex…’ The domed head touched the tight rosette of the American’s anus. Carol Hansen’s mouth opened wide in shock and horror. In the dimness the men could see the pink worm of her tongue wriggling and flexing as she tried to say something…

But before she could do so Captain Otuba had twisted his hand and pushed the shaft into her. She resisted for long seconds. Without warning, the captain brought his free hand down on her unprotected abdomen with a slap like a pistol shot shot. Carol Hansen jerked then, as she relaxed, he twisted his wrist the other way, pushed harder and the bulbous metal head slid through her anal ring into her rectum.

‘HAAAAAAAAAAAG! GEEEEEEEEOOOGH! GAAAGH!’

Captain Otuba grinned happily and waited for the gobbled protests to die down. He could take his time now and give the others a little entertainment, sliding the thick rod in before withdrawing it until everyone could see the enlarged helmet stretching her anus again. Hold it, then a tormenting pause…and another long slow thrust. Each one going a little deeper inside, slowly twisting and sliding the nine inch shaft up inside the warm, slippery sheath of outstretched American woman’s back passage.

Carol Hansen arched and bucked with each movement, muscles bunching and straining, head twisting from side to side with long drooling strings of saliva coating her cheeks while snot bubbled from her nostrils as she hooted and babbled at each fresh insertion of the metal invader. Captain Otuba pushed the last little bit of the shaft inside the woman so that the plastic collar was tight against her anus and then straightened up.

Looking at the pinioned figure the watchers could see every detail of her genitals displayed under the fierce spotlights of the interrogation room. The swollen outer lips marked with red and purple weals from the caning; the inner folds, dark pink and glistening with the woman’s own juices and. where the lips joined, the little pouting fold with the paler, rounded tip of her clitoris peeping out. Below that in the tight vee of her buttocks was a small black disc with the short protruding stump of the handle. From the base of the handle a red wire curled down onto the concrete floor and up to a connection on the little control box. They waited, enjoying the view and the sadistic sexual anticipation of what was coming next, while the guard disentangled the other wire and plugged one end into the other terminal on the controller.

Captain Otuba pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves then picked up the cork and held it up. ‘Last chance, Mrs Hansen.’

Her head threshed from side to side once more and saliva spattered across the concrete. ‘GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’

The watching officers leaned forwards on their chairs even more. In the backwash of light from the spots their faces gleamed with the heat, mouths slack with lust and sadistic excitement. Using only forefinger and thumb of his left hand the captain eased the fleshy hood away to reveal her clitoris more fully. Exactly as he had intended it was still engorged and stiff from his earlier attentions.

‘Very foolish, Mrs Hansen, very foolish indeed…see this?’ He held it up so she could stare at the long, silvery needle. ‘First, this is going into your clitoris…all the way up.’ The noises from the other end became even more frantic. ‘Then we’ll start using the machine again.’ He smiled with sadistic pleasure and touched the point of the needle to the pearl-like tip of her clitoris.

Carol Hansen reared up forcing her head forwards as far as the cruel bondage would allow staring down between her breasts in horror at the captain’s latex covered hand and the innocent looking wine cork held between fingers and thumb. She jerked as the needle touched her, head again shaking in sheer disbelief at what these men were doing to her. For a moment there was just the sound of her rapid, panting breaths then Captain Otuba twisted the cork in his fingers and pushed the shiny steel very slowly into the meat of her clitoris.

Every muscle showed in stark relief as the American woman strained and squealed in agony. To the watchers it looked as thought she was fucking some invisible cock. She arched up against the straps; her body vibrating and her breasts jiggling wildly as her wild, bubbling noises filled the room. Captain Otuba paused, waited for her to pause for breath, then pushed the needle a little further in. The second, squeal of agony was even louder as he moved his fingers very gently so the buried tip worked against the nerve endings. When he stopped she flopped back with her head lolling, saliva drooling from the black hole where the gag held her mouth open and with sweat droplets running down her breasts and flanks.

‘Two’ was all he said, watching the guard twist the control knob just a little until the pointer was where he wanted. He looked down, smiled and nodded once. Two things happened. The guard pressed the button on the controller and Carol Hansen arched up against the straps and chains so violently that it looked for a moment as though she was going to dislocate her shoulders.

‘HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOGH!’

Captain Otuba nodded again and the guard took his thumb off the button.

She slapped back down onto the chair frame, outstretched legs shivering violently. Nothing was said, then the captain nodded once more.

‘HAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAH!’

Another tiny signal between the two men and the current was cut once again and the room was filled with harsh, frantic breaths as the sweat-soaked figure heaved and gasped in desperate efforts to ride the fizzing torment of the electric shocks added to the sharp, biting agony of the needle probing into the nerve centres deep inside her clitoris.

It was when the grinning guard pressed the button for the fourth time that she broke, babbling and gobbling through the ring gag as she tried to speak, desperate to give him names…any names as long as the pain stopped.  Captain Otuba pulled the needle free and looked down at the lolling figure. ‘Throw some water over the bitch and get that fucking gag off her…she’s trying to say something but I can’t make it out.’

With the gag removed it took another ten minutes before Carol Hansen was making any kind of understandable sounds. Every time she paused or hesitated Captain Otuba leaned over her, ‘Go on…tell me everything about that bastard Matanga… Then he would smile, holding up his hand so she could see the point of the needle catching the light, ‘or perhaps another session with my little persuader would help?’

Finally he was satisfied. Most of the names were useless, old contacts, ones who’d left the country or died, or Americans safe in the protection of the US mission and Consulate. But there were a number who needed talking to, especially the students and not just the two who had been mentioned on the sex recording.

Captain smiled even more widely. He loved working with students…they were almost always so young and attractive…and female. He straightened up and caressed the woman’s left breast. ‘There, Carol, that wasn’t so hard was it?’ He looked down at her body, blotched and covered with welts and bruises. The cruel bondage held her pinioned fast, arms behind her back, breasts thrust out and her legs spread wide. Her skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat highlighting the definition of her muscles and revealing every twitch and tremor.

He looked out into the dimness beyond the lights. ‘Now all we need to do is check this story and the names you’ve given us.’

‘Oh God…Please let me go! H-hurts…STOPPPP! PLEEEESE!’

‘Oh no, Mrs Hansen, you’ve put us to a lot of trouble and there’s a penalty for that.’ He looked round. ‘Gentlemen, we don’t need to talk to Mrs Hansen again for an hour or so and after all that excitement I expect you are in need of some relief.’ Carol Hansen craned forward as she saw male figures moving behind the glare.

‘But I’m sure you understand their need for privacy.’ He flicked his fingers and her world went black as a piece of gaffer tape was stuck across her eyes. More tape was wound round and round her head, carefully positioned to leave her ears, nose and mouth free. She needed to hear their commands and breathe…and of course they would want to use her mouth as well as her cunt!

For a few minutes Carol Hansen could only make out a jumble of noises, soft, unintelligible conversations, laugher and the rustle of clothing. Then there were fingers on her breasts, stroking her skin and. She screamed and threshed from side to side as much as she could before thick, hot hands gripped her head and twisted it to one side holding it still. An unknown voice whispered, ‘Open your mouth…use your teeth and we’ll shove that needle back in your clit!’ She gagged as a thick, rubbery cock head was pushed between her lips and into her throat.

She tried to let it slide in, working her tongue over the hot meat. Then there were more hands touching her thighs and the touch of someone else between her thighs. Carol Hansen arched up, bubbling in protest around the thick black cock filling her mouth, as a second cock probed the sore, swollen lips of her cunt. For a moment the man paused, grinning at his companions gathered round the pinioned figure then leaned over, grabbed her abused breasts and slammed his hips forwards so that nine inches of thick, African cock rammed up into Carol Hansen’s vagina.

 

Out side the room Captain Otuba paused as a wild, wet but oddly muffled scream sounded down the corridor. He smiled, that was the first two but of course she didn’t know there were eight more…Mrs Hansen was going to have a very hard and painful time making sure all of them were properly satisfied.

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