Disclaimer

I have no idea how this horrific main character could spring from my mind. I’m not sure I’d even technically call this BDSM, even though it has many BDSM features.

It all started with me wanting to explore the life and mind-set of a professional torturer. Not as an evil character, but rather as the typical “good guy” protagonist. The main character is, believe it or not, based on a woman I know who annoys me infinitely. She isn’t nice, she just thinks she is. I liked the idea of somebody being the most vicious of evil mutilators and rapists and not only justifying their crimes to themselves, but also feel like they are the victims.

The reason why I wouldn’t call this BDSM is because rather than turning me on, it terrified me. The night after the first draft I dreamt nightmares about the main character and the story. The fact that anything as this can spring from my own mind is probably the worst bit.

You have been warned.

I’m dedicating this story to all women who’ve ever been abused, if they’ll have it, of course. And please take your time to make a review. Especially if you didn’t like it. A cruel one is better than no review. I’m not doing this to win a popularity contest. I’m posting this because I want to become a better writer, and I need your help.

Number Four

  First night

  She carried herself with a pride and grace he wasn’t used to. Women who came here weren’t supposed to be like that. He came across plenty of women on the job and no woman before her had come even close to having such an impact on him. And this is before taking into account her beauty, her amazing breathtaking beauty. Just her beauty alone would have been enough to make the toughest of guards lose their cool. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The first time he heard her mentioned he had no reason to think she would be any different than the rest.

-         The girls in cells two and six have been transferred out, ten is still empty and we have a new one in four. A pretty one.  

  Ollie, one of his two guard assistants gave him the roster update for the evening as was the routine at the start of every shift. His only reaction to this was to refill his big coffee cup in anticipation of the first cup he just downed to take effect. 

He had only taken the night shift because he wanted the promotion that came with running his own team. In spite of his long military career he wasn’t in any way prepared for how rough it would be for him to always be up at night, all night and every night. Not to mention how rough it had been on his wife and kids. Even though he met them every day, which is far from what can be expected for a man with a military career, it pained him always to have to leave them alone in that big house every night after he’d put them to sleep. Not feeling his wife’s warmth against his when sleeping was a sacrifice he was not happy about. But he was first and foremost a committed and dutiful soldier and now it was time to put all those thoughts aside and get the job done.

-         Ok, boys. Let’s take the new one first. We all know how introductions can get messy and be stressful. I don’t think we have any reason to expect any trouble from any of the others.  

-         Yea, Sir.

Ollie’s answer was everything but the snappy military salute he was entitled to, but he had never been diligent about observing military greeting protocols when he was in charge. Above all it was far too late in the night to make an issue of it, so as always when it was just them, he let it slide.

As all the new prisoners she came delivered to the cell naked, hands tied behind her back and with a tight plain, leather hood over her head. The filthy mattress she was on was covered in old blood stains and various bodily fluids that where hard to identify. Although she was lying down her body was far too rigid for her to be asleep. He could see the muscles play under the skin of her well toned back. He didn’t think he ever would get used to the stench that reached his nostrils, each time he entered the first cell for the night. Like a praying mantis she twitched around, trying to sit up on the mattress, as if to see who was entering. But the hood was devoid of any orifice, preventing her from seeing anything. The one naked light bulb above casting shadows down her body and over the filthy concrete floor. Just like in a horror movie, but this time he was the monster. He noticed that her slim and athletic body was completely devoid of bruises, which meant that she hadn’t been interrogated yet. This was apparently her first encounter with the forces of justice here at the facility. “I hope she won’t struggle too much”, he thought to himself.

A big part of the fun of this was to see the expression of terror on his victims face and hear their begging and whimpering. The hood prevented this, which was a shame. But this first day at the facility the new inmates had a bad tendency to sometimes be aggressive and angry rather than in fear. Just for peace of mind, he liked keeping it on until the second day   

  He thought he might as well start with the introductions and nodded to Ollie. Ollie took aim and brought down his truncheon hard on her well toned beautifully sun tanned thigh. She didn’t scream or move out of position. Her only reaction was to start trembling. It was as if she knew there was no point in trying to pull away. As if she knew she was between four closed walls and she knew that there was no escape from him or his two assistants. He started slowly and deliberately stressing every syllable.   

  -         While you’re here at this facility, I’ll be the best friend you could possibly hope for. I don’t care why you are here and I am not your interrogator. My job is to make sure that your nights here are as uncomfortable as possible. If you cooperate you might even enjoy yourself. Stand up!

  It took a while for her to struggle to her feet. And once she was up his two assistants grabbed her and forced her to bend over the trestle in the room. He inspected her gorgeous body. It was completely devoid of even the slightest visible flaw. “That ass was perfect”, he thought and grinned to himself. He took out his cock and wanked it hard while smearing lube around and in her ass. He laughed out,

-         To us, you are nothing but a hole to fuck and you will willingly subject yourself to any punishment or torture any of my boys feel like. 

There was no answer or reaction from inside the leather hood. He pushed his fat cock up her rectum with a powerful thrust, and this time she screamed out in pain. All though significantly muffled by the hood it still cut through his soul and warmed his heart. This was just the reaction he had been aiming for. She did everything she could to break free of his men’s grip, but they had her in a firm grip. He kept going with thrust after thrust and her sobbing and screaming was music to his ears. When he was done he slapped her bottom  

  -         You where a very good girl tonight. I’m proud of you. If you’re a lucky girl I might let you have some more of my cock tomorrow. But now it’s time to share the joys of your tight little ass.

His two assistants now took turns on her, mercilessly fucking both her holes. When they were done they let her drop to the mattress with a thump. Her chest was heaving and he could hear her panting as they left her alone in the dark, marching on to the next cell to continue their rounds. There was something about the woman in cell number four that disturbed him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But he tried to get her out of his mind and got busy with torturing the other women on the cell-block. He did have a job to do, and did not have the time to have his mind lingering on specific inmates.

Number Four

  The second night

   Next day he found himself hoping that she hadn’t been transferred out. He still didn’t understand what it was he found so intriguing about her but he wanted to figure it out. To his great joy Ollie’s list did not include any updates regarding cell number 4, so she was still here. He couldn’t wait to visit her and put her first on the list for that nights round.

This time he found her sleeping in a foetal position on the filth-bedraggled mattress; now without a hood, her face in her hands. Apart from Ollie’s truncheon bruise on her thigh she had red welts from a cane all over her back and legs. It was the work of the day crew. He couldn’t help but be awed by her beautiful body. “Such a shame to violate such beauty” he thought quietly to himself while smiling a broad hearty smile.

All inmates here get the same treatment, interrogation during the day, and torture during the night. The idea is that the lack of sleep and the round the clock torture will eventually break the inmates and make them start talking.

This time her reaction from Ollie’s truncheon was a lot different. The shock of the impact on her thigh caused her to instantly push away with her legs. It was with such power that she hit the wall with her back, in a single leap. All three of them stood momentarily frozen in shock from her display of agility. It was now he caught her eyes, locked on to his for the first time. Truly magical eyes, bottomless pits of icy blue, endless beauty. He was transfixed. If she hadn’t had her hands tied behind her back he would have interpreted her stance as if she was preparing to lunge at his throat. She looked like a cornered animal getting ready for the last stand. It wasn’t just her eyes that were beautiful, but everything about her. He had never before encountered such raw animal beauty.

He knew he was losing initiative and tried to blink and swallow a few times, and quavered out in a meek voice.

  -         We’re here to rape your ass again.

His boys managed to snicker, but he had far from the presence to even as much as sneer. She was now looking around as if trying to find somewhere to escape to. There was nothing but dirty brick walls and the locked barred steel door. Once this fact seemed to have sunk in she went back to staring straight at him. He felt he was losing the initiative and stammered out

  -         My name is “Sir” and your name is “Dirty filthy whore”.

There was no reaction. Ollie took a few steps forward at a leisurely gait and when he was next to her, he let his truncheon smash down on her thigh in one quick strike. She collapsed on the floor from the pain, face in a grimace, but she didn’t utter a sound. He was starting to sweat and panic was welling up from inside, but he knew he had a job to perform.

-         That’s no way to behave when your master has spoken to you, is it? What do you say when your Master gives you an order?

   She sat up and went back to staring at him. In a perfectly clear, proud and loud voice she said

  -         Yes, Sir.

The power of her voice forced him to take a step back He felt like she was staring at the back of his head, drilling a hole out the other side. Almost at a whisper he uttered

  -         Stand up cunt. Bend over that trestle.

-         Yes, Sir.

  She answered just as proudly as before and obediently went and bent over the trestle. Her anus was bluish red and badly swollen today. She had probably been raped more times than by his team yesterday. She reared back in pain even from just applying the lube and the powerful scream of pain as he pushed his fat cock inside her was deafening. By the time all three of them were done filling her every hole with their cum she was hoarse from the screaming and crying. As they turned to leave he found himself compelled by an invisible force, to catch another glimpse of her before exiting the door. She was still clutching the trestle and now letting out a wheezing howl of pain. It was as if her pain was being transferred to him and stabbing him in his stomach. If his assistants hadn’t grabbed him and pulled him out at that point he might have stood there staring for an eternity.

After his shift and once he was home in bed, he found himself not being able to erase prisoner number 4 from his mind. Her eyes boring into his head kept him awake all day. By the time his wife got home for a shared dinner he was a complete wreck. His wife knew better than to ask him about his day at work, because she was well aware of the top secret nature of his military work. She settled for giving him a massage that didn’t do much to alleviate the pain. He was lucky to have such a loving wife, and he knew better than to assume it wouldn’t need repaying with equal devotion. He just didn’t have it in him tonight.

Number Four

  The third night

  At the beginning of his shift that night, he found himself praying that number Four had been transferred out, but he was out of luck. He just couldn’t bear the thought of having her eyes bore into his again, and hoped it would get better as he was more tired later. He put her cell off as long as he could by raping the women in the other cells first. As the number of cells to go was dropping off he had to face the realities of his job. As if in panic he blurted out to his assistants,

  -         I’m taking a break, boys. I’m off to the men’s wing for an errand. I’ll be right back. Hang tight.  

-         Yeah, sah…

  After clearing the massive steel exit door to the ward he started running, as if on the run from number Four or even his own skin. He didn’t calm down until reaching the men’s wing. Roger was his best friend at the facility and had been since he started working there, and they now had similar positions. He interrupted Roger in his rounds and talked him into taking a quick break because of a pressing issue. Loyal as ever Roger agreed.

-         Have you ever felt attracted to an inmate?

-         Yeah, happens all the time. That’s one of the perks of this job.

-         No, I mean like in love?

-         You haven’t talked to any of them have you? You know it’s forbidden.

-         No, it’s just her eyes. How she carries herself…and…. You can hear, can’t you? I’m a mess.

-         Listen, all you need to do is break her. Once her spirit is gone and the magic in the eyes will disappear. Trust me. It sounds to me as if you’ve been too nice to her. Don’t be. All inmates here are scum anyway. Criminals. You know that. They all have it coming to them. Give her your worst.

-         Thanks, Roger. How’s your boyfriend?

-         It’s just super between us and thanks for asking. I really should get back now. I was planning on ducking out a bit early tonight. I’m here if you ever need me again. You know that. Give my greetings to the family.

Although Roger’s words lifted some of the weight off his shoulders, it didn’t solve his immediate concern. He still had to deal with exorcising those cold blue eyes firmly burned into the back of his head. At least he could think a little clearer now. He straightened his shirt and told himself he had a job to do and there was no running from his duties.

He took a deep breath before nodding to his men to follow him into cell number four. Just as they had found her yesterday she was fast asleep. “Quite amazing how she managed to sleep considering the amount of screaming the women in the other cells had done”, he thought to himself. The welts on her back, bottom and legs were now in deep crimson and blue hues and floated together into a huge bruised mass. Her reaction to Ollie’s truncheon was this time was sluggish and didn’t even get her off the mattress. She sat up staring at him with her still cold blue eyes, now bloodshot from all the tears and lack of sleep. As always she didn’t utter a word, just fixed her eyes on him and silently waited. The weight Roger had helped him remove was back on his shoulders.

-         Before raping your ass tonight I think we’re going to have some fun. Go and sit by the trestle and lean against it.

-         Yes, sir.

  She still had her proud voice. Although was quite hoarse now it bugged him to no end. His assistants chained her hands to the trestle with restraints. He knew he wasn’t first since her tits were already badly bruised. She still kept her head up, radiating pride with eyes ever fixed on him. His words were stuck in his throat and as he tried to shake it off he dropped his truncheon, clattering on the floor. His assistants had now turned their eyes on to him rather than their torture subject, which they rarely did. The added pair of eyes did not make this any easier. He gave up trying to be the master of the situation and realised he had to leave it to his assistants.

-         Let her tits have it, boys.

They both drew their truncheons. Number Four knew what was coming well before the first impact and her face distorted to a pained grimace. They let hell rain down mercilessly on her soft and round breasts. She was out of scream by now and all she could utter was a hoarse wheezing. Tears and drool streamed down her once so beautiful face. She never once took her eyes off him and no matter how much he tried to look away he kept finding himself being drawn in by her still powerful gaze. Usually the fact that two tits were bouncing back and forward in front of his eyes would have an unbreakable hypnotic effect. The fact that it was truncheons beating them that caused the breast to do the bouncing should have had an even stronger effect. But nothing could break the pull of her eyes. He was powerless to them. 

Coming home that morning he felt worse than ever before. He was so high strung he managed to got into a pointless argument with his wife and he didn’t quite know how to deal with it. Number Four was so under his skin now that blowing out his brains with his side arm was starting to feel like a balanced way of dealing with his nerves. After apologising to his wife he downed half a bottle of whiskey and was fast asleep.

Number Four

  The fourth night.

  -         …bla bla bla and yada yada. Basically it says that the brass wants us to step up the torture and lean on Number Four as much as we can. He he. Today they even finnish it off with: “It is very important for national security that she talks. Your nation is counting on you.” Ha ha, Boss, we’re the heroes of our nation now. HA HA.

  Ollie threw the note on the table and added,

-         I wonder what she did that was so bad.

His other assistant broke his usual dumb founded silence,

-         It’s probably not her, but some illegal organisation or boyfriend they’re after. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s innocent. …and who cares anyway. We’ve got a job to do and let’s do it right. I’d rather have my ass in here than anywhere it could get shot.

Ollie slapped his second assistant’s ass and blew him a kiss.

-         No, we wouldn’t want that purty little tush to get dented, would we?

He didn’t bother to check the note himself; he had no reason to disbelieve it. This was truly his worst nightmare. He wanted to be around Number Four as little as possible and now his bosses had ordered him to do pretty much nothing else. He felt insanity creeping up from inside. He stuck on a smile and rubbed his hands together as cheerily as he could muster, which wasn’t a lot

  -         Let’s get to work lads.

It didn’t seem to matter how bruised or tired Number Four was, her eyes were still unwavering and her silence was still compact. He had to yell to drown out his own thoughts about her.

  -         Just get over to the fucking trestle bitch.

-         Yes, Sir,

  she voiced silently. All the screaming had robbed her voice. It took her quite a while to reach her feet and her whole body was quavering from pain. He knew that the day shift interrogators had a big fondness for beating the soles of the feet, so he knew this would be very painful for her. She hobbled over to the trestle, bent over to the side as if defying gravity and propelled by invisible wires. It was an awkward dance. Amazingly enough, seeing her like this didn’t give him any pleasure at all. What had she done to him?!? This wasn’t him at all, and he wanted to get back to his old cheery self. God, he hated her now. He scratched the side of his face digging his nails in. He felt like tearing the skin off his face to quell the panic.

His assistants tied her down. He was now hiding his panic in fury.

-         Ollie, grab her fucking hair and pull her head back. Keep her head steady.

He could see her eyes trying to look past her nose at him. He spat out in fury.

  -         Now you keep your mouth open like a good girl. 

Her head was restrained as to forbid her from moving her lips in any intelligible way. He pulled his trousers down and let his ass hover over her face. Success. He could see her squirming to get away. He was finally getting to her. Ollie beat her shin with his truncheon and yelled in his ever slack yawed manner.

-         Keep your head still bitch.

He could see the panic in her body was total now. It took a while but eventually he relaxed his sphincter enough to have his shit slide down and hit her face. He tried to aim for her mouth but it was hard. She was howling now completely out of control, in total hysterics. She was coughing and gagging on his shit now. He didn’t get it all out at once. But little at a time he managed to empty his system completely. His two assistants were laughing heartily now cracking jokes. When he was done he turned around to watch his work.

Her mouth was wide open and now totally still. It was full to the brim with his shit. The familiar stench rose from her face and hit his nostrils. Some of the shit had landed on her lip and some of it had dribbled down her cheek and onto her neck and breasts. Her eyes were dead now, staring straight up into nothingness. “Finally”, he thought to himself. The result of his work caused warmth to spread through his body. He felt he was calming down and getting his strength back.

-         What a mess you’ve done, you filthy little whore. Good girls finish their dinner don’t they? Eat!

  She didn’t answer, just sat there with her shit filled mouth wide open. Her body was now completely collapsed against the trestle. Her posture was gone. Not until Ollie had his truncheon smash down onto her thigh repeatedly did she start chewing and swallowing. It was quite a lot and took a while. Now and again she stopped and started shaking and crying hysterically, but Ollie’s truncheon got her back on the job. When she was done swallowing the shit in her mouth he added 

-         Don’t forget the shit around your mouth, whore. You don’t want to make the chef think you didn’t enjoy his dinner do you?

  Her eyes where still dead. She started foraging around the side of her mouth with her tongue, lapping up every piece she could find. Once she was done she stopped again.

-         Good girl. But you missed a bit there…

  and he tapped her jaw with his boot. She obediently went to work. After this they got the hose out and cleaned her up with freezing cold water before raping her again. But now she was broken. Her gaze was dead and focussed into nothingness. God, he felt good about himself now. He felt a wave of relaxation hit him and wash all the tension from the muscles away. For the first time in days he could finally enjoy raping a prisoner’s ass. Just as ordered most of that night was spent torturing and raping her. It was such a release to fuck her holes while telling jokes about her with his boys.

The fifth night

  When he came to work that night and approached the break room he found two guards outside. Inside was a general.

-         I wanted to catch you before I went home for the night, and thank you in person. I don’t know what you did, but it did the trick. She blabbered like a baby in the morning. Gave us even more than we had expected her to. She was a good catch. I’d be honoured to have you and your wife over for dinner some evening and if I’m lucky you might share with me your secrets. I’ll ask my orderly to arrange something with you. 

With this the general shook his hand and took off. Ollie just looked pleased and nodded.

-         You’re one creative devil, boss. I’ll give you that. Number Four is still around. I’m not sure why she wasn’t transferred out but there are no new instructions regarding her tonight.

When they reached her cell she was lying as still as she’d always done when they came to her cell. This time Ollie’s truncheon gave no response, and he kicked her over and he could see her still open eyes starting straight up into the ceiling. He found it hard to reconcile the thought that those eyes had him so spell bound, eyes now so dead and unthreatening. She didn’t have any pulse. “Such a shame, with such a beautiful woman”, he thought to himself while strolling along to the next cell on his round, with his ever faithful “boys” behind him. 

The End