I'm just going to dump all my stories as quickly as possible. Life changes are under way, and I don't anticipate I'll post for a while. All of these stories are fictional/fantasy. Any resemblance to any persons, real or fictional, are coincidental. I do not condone any harm to anybody. If you plan on hurting yourself or others, please do not, and seek help. I enjoy feedback, so if you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment below!
I could not believe my eyes.
I thought back to how long I had been assigned this gig for the military. Two months I had been here, working 12 hour shifts at a time, and I was beginning to burn out. Maybe it was from the boredom. But it was the same old shit. Again and again. Prisoner after prisoner. Men, really. Almost all of them. Occasionally I'd have my fun with a women, but they tended to be older. I had interrogated dozens of them. And yes, I had the green light to use the most gruesome of methods. It was war, after all. And we were in the middle of a city on ledge. The enemy had at times threatened control of the city, and sometime we did. But it was a tenuous situation. And so I had to do my job. Which was to extract information from people, really at all costs. Many of these people were later executed. So really the whole art of torturing without making a mark was lost in our job these days. If I had to remove an eyeball, so be it. If I had to break every bone in a body, I did it. I got good at my job, but I was getting tired.
And then I looked at my sheet that day, of who I was assigned to now. I had been assigned a prisoner, and I could hardly believe my eyes.
Name: Sandra. Gender: Female. Age: 11.
Instantly, I was hooked. I read her file briefly. She was suspected of being a messenger and a spy for the enemy. And she reported to some fairly important officers within the enemy ranks. Those who had captured her were certain that she knew where nearly all of the sniper nests were at within the eastern bloc of the city. It was of great importance to our commanders that we limit the sniper presence in the city. It wasn't just to kills that they made that worried our central command. It was the psychological terror of being killed at any moment. That nobody was safe. And they targeted officers. High level commanders. So we knew they had spies. And apparently, this little girl was one of them. She would identify our officers, and report back to her friends where each of them routinely visited. It was thought that at any given time, she was aware of dozens of sniper positions, and answered to a good handful of enemy captains. After all, who on our side would suspect that an innocent, pretty little girl was working for the enemy? And our officers liked little girls from the civilian population. Even if it wasn't for perverse obsessions, they often used little girls to run errands, buy things from the store. It was better to send a local girl to shop for groceries than to go yourself, and expose yourself to targeted assassinations. So this is what Sandra did. But somehow, somewhere, she got caught. And ended up in my hands.
Use any method to obtain the information, my brief had read. And waste little time. The snipers were killing dozens of soldiers daily, and an officer every few days. This little girl knew names. And she knew where the snipers liked to roost. The faster I could obtain the information, the better. Every enemy sniper killed from my efforts will earn me a commendation, my brief read. I could get anything I wanted, if I succeeded admirably, it had informed of me. Anything? I seriously doubted that. This girl had be to very important. And they wanted me to work fast? Well, that would be harder. Men I had tortured in the past never took long to crack. So I had my tricks.
Really? I thought to myself. Anything I wanted?
I looked at the picture they had taken of her face at processing. It was flawless. She was a beauty indeed. She wasn't smiling in the picture (of course not), but I could picture her smiling. She had shoulder length hair, dark brown in color. Brown eyes. Peach-tan skin. This would be hard. The last thing I would want would be to tarnish her beauty. But I needed to know everything inside of her.
I opened the door to the interrogation room.
There she was. Strapped to a table. She was wearing the standard issue uniform for female prisoners. They had no sizes for children, so it looked rather large on her. I hoped they weren't too rough on her in processing.
"Hello there," I said in a calm voice.
She turned her head to the side, and looked at me briefly. It was a quick survey into what to expect. She obviously didn't like what she saw, and turned away almost as fast as she had turned to see me.
"I'm going to be honest with, little girl," I said. "I know you have information that we want, and we can do this the easy way, and you can tell me everything you know, or you can make this harder for yourself. We can find ways to get you to tell us everything, but it will hurt."
Sandra kept her head turned away. I wasn't entirely sure she was listening, but judging from the increase in her respiration rate, I suspected she could understand everything I was telling her. I could tell she was scared. Her chest rose quickly, and I could see the vibrations of her pulse in her neck veins. Her heart was racing. For a moment there, I wondered if she was going to tell me everything I wanted to know right then and there. That would be great, wouldn't it? But then again, it wouldn't. I wanted to have some fun first.
I didn't want to make this too easy for me. I decided to add some challenge to my day. No little girl was going to get involved in a war unless something very close to her had been taken away. I wanted to draw on that strength. I wanted a fight from her.
"This war has taken something from all of us," I said to her,"No doubt something very special has been taken from you. I imagine you must be fighting for something you very strongly believe in. Know this. Every sniper you have helped has killed one of our soldiers. Your role in this war has been crucial. Do you know how important you are to our commanders? They seem to think that you hold the very key to our success in the war."
I was lying, of course. She was important, but not THAT important. I wanted her to feel special, of course.
"If I can't get the information I want from you, then maybe your fight will have been worthwhile, don't you think? But if I can, then everything you will have fought for will have been in vain."
I was playing mind games. At this point, I wanted to see her fight.
I was trying to make the field harder for me. It wasn't fair. I had broken my fair share of soldiers. I had broken my fair share of men and a few women. Surprisingly, women were easier to break, contrary to popular belief. Men were weirded out by rape, but women really took it to the next level. Raping them was like the end of the world. And so with that fear, (and that experience) many of them folded much easier.
My victims had mostly been adults. So many of them had experienced pain, and knew at least somewhat what to expect. The women knew they were going to be raped. The men knew they were going to get a Medieval style torture. But given that she was only 11, it was unlikely she had experienced THAT much pain, much less even known about what happens to be people when they get captured and tortured. It was a different scenario, certainly. And so, I didn't have a lot of faith in her pain tolerance, or her will to struggle.
So I tipped the scales in her favor. Just to have more fun. It was a 12 hour shift after all. And I had just had a cup of coffee.
"I want to know," I said. "Why do you fight? Most little girls are at home with their families. Some of them are still going to school, even in this terrible war. Very few of them are involved in the war. Why do you fight?"
I waited for a few seconds. Of course she wasn't going to respond. I had hoped she was going to stay silent. My first task then, was to get her to talk. About anything.
"What is your name, then?" I asked.
Still no response. I poked my head to the other side of the table. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth tightly pursed.
"Very good then. If you won't talk, then I have ways to make you talk."
Now this was exciting. My first task , it would seem, would be to get this little girl to talk. Easy enough, I thought to myself. I'd start slow, of course.
I knew that stripping her nude would probably do nothing. If anything, she had already experienced the shame of processing. They probably took her clothes, washed her off with a hose, and doused her with delousing powder, then forced her to wear some smelly uniform from a long dead prisoner.
And so I took out my knife, and I cut her shirt off. Sure enough, some of the white anti-parasitic powder still clung to her skin, now a tad sticky from the perspiration she was starting to produce. This was a little gross, I thought to myself. Not to mention, if I get any of this crap in my eyes, I'll start to get irritated as well. So I used my knife to cut off her pants too. They didn't give her any underwear, I laughed to myself. Of course not. Usually we have some short trousers to give to the men and women for some version of underwear. I think she was probably too small.
I yanked off her cut clothes. I then pulled from the wall a rubber hose, turned on the cold water, and started to rinse her body off. As the water flowed down her body, I could not help but admire how smooth and sleek her skin was. This here before me was truly an angel. Not only was she 11 years old, but she was a beautiful 11 year old. She was fit, but not too muscular. You could tell she was a fairly active girl. And her skin was flawless. Save for a few scrapes on her knees and elbows, there was not a blemish in site.
She was starting to look like a woman, but not quite. Her vulva (I spent many years as a medic in the army, so pardon my tendency to want to be anatomically correct) was smooth and puffy. I took a closer look at her prepubescent mound. Wow, I thought to myself. What a pretty pussy. You could still see just the labia majora. No labia minora. Her pussy hadn't developed enough where the inner lips were poking out. And though I could appreciate a layer of downy hairs that started to line her vulval lips, she really had no hair at all. I rinsed the area a little more thoroughly with my hose.
I parted her two pussy lips, and peered closer on the inside.
Her clit was actually a little larger, comparitively speaking, to an adult's clit. It looked more tender. The inner lips were pink and smooth. No folds or wrinkles.
I took the hose and rinsed the area out. I could hear an audible gasp and then a moan from the girl as I ran the cool water through her lips. Already I could feel myself getting significantly aroused. I wondered if I was going to cum during this shift or not. It would be fairly unprofessional to cum. Certainly this early. Can you imagine what my superiors would say if I just started out raping this girl? What was your game plan, they might ask. Did you take this seriously? Do you really expect us to believe that you weren't just horny and decided to fuck the first pretty little girl you saw? Yeah. No. I couldn't fuck her. Yet. I needed to work on her.
I looked at her face. Her eyes were still shut. A fairly large frown had formed on her face. I smiled. I took my index finger on my right hand, and I rubbed it in between her slit. I did this while watching her face, and savoring the feel of her young slit around my finger. God it felt good. It was so soft and tender. And slick.
I could see that she started to squirm. And not long after that she started to moan and grunt, turning her head from side to side. She squeezed her legs together, but despite this maneuver, she could not protect her slit from my finger. She bucked her hips and swayed them from side to side, and using this method, she did fairly well in disrupting my finger from violating her girlhood.
I tightened the ropes holding her ankles down, and pulled them even wider apart. God, she looked so beautifully obscene. Little girl, legs held wide apart, contracting her thigh muscles to pull them together, but unsuccessfully so. Naked, glistening with cold water.
And just for good measure, to add yet another element of helplessness, I pulled the ropes holding her wrists down, and pulled them high above her head. A little bit of tension to prevent her from squirming too much, but not so much that one couldn't see how much she was squirming. God it was such a sexy picture. It was like she was dancing at a cabaret. Bucking and swaying her hips. Twisting her torso, wriggling her toes and fingers in utter discomfort.
"Oh god!" She cried, "Please stop! Please stop. Oh god, please!"
And so I did.
I was a little sad.
I had wanted to do more.
But if I were in her shoes, I'd be pretty distressed as well. I doubt anybody had ever touched her down there. It's possible she had (many girls start masturbating at ten), but many don't. Being captured, being stripped naked, hosed down, and processed was one thing. But having some strange man touch you down there. While you were naked. Vulnerable. Tied up. God it had to be the strangest of all feelings. Very invasive. Very uncomfortable. And a little painful I might add. I don't imagine that area to be very resilient at all. After all, I did have some callouses on my finger.
I had to be careful not to move too quickly.
"OK, so now the little girl talks," I taunted.
"Let's start with your name. Can you give me that?"
"It's Sandra," she sobbed.
"Very good, Sandra, and what about your last name?"
I let my gaze drift down her face, to her shoulders, perfectly round. I let my eyes wander to her flat chest and tits, eyeing hungrily at her nipples, which were a light brown in complexion. I parted her pussy with my fingers again, and stared at the pink inner lips. Her anatomy was perfect. Her skin was still a creamy peach-white.
"Sandra Monroe, then. How old are you?"
"I'm eleven years old."
And then something happened. She must have snapped out of a trance.
"Please, sir. I'm only eleven. I'm just a girl. Please, sir, I'm innocent. I'm just a girl, and I'm scared!"
Interesting, I thought to myself. Suddenly she was this brave, quiet soul, who would remain silent in the face of armageddon. And then for a moment, it looked as if I had gotten her to cooperate for a bit. But then, bam! Again, in another instant she had change dagin. I could see the wheels turn in her brain. Her strategy had shifted. She was trying to play the 'I'm a little girl' card. I was fairly impressed. She was more clever than she looked. But I didn't believe her for one second. This was going to be good.
I slapped her hard in the face.
"I asked you, you little cunt, how old you were. I didn't ask you to beg for your life."
I grabbed her face, and thrust it in my direction.
"Don't get smart with me, or there will be consequences."
I grabbed her right nipple in between my fingers, pinched, and twisted. Sandra yelped in pain.
I decided to make things more interesting. I started to caress her body. It was a heavenly experience. I ran my hands up and down her chest and belly. I carressed her ass and thighs. She was starting to develop a womanly form, especially in the hips, but her chest was still flat. Her nipples were budding, ever so slightly. I knew at this stage, they were particularly sensitive.
Then I decided to spice things up a bit more. I used my finger to find her puckered anus.
"Ohhhh, please no!" she cried, as I flicked my finger up and down for a few seconds over her hole.
And as I wiggled the end of my finger, I started to slowly push my finger up inside her anus. I met quite a bit of resistance. I wasn't using any lube. Just water. And I quickly discovered that water was a fairly poor lubricator. I didn't want this to be pleasant, so I just kept pushing harder. It didn't help also that her asshole was probably a few sizes smaller than an adult anus.
Sandra howled in both pain and I'm sure shame. It must have been unpleasant as hell.
And so I kept wiggling my finger and pushing. Wiggling and pushing. And she kept squirming and screaming. God it was such a loud scream. It was annoying actually. I didn't know what I was doing. If I wanted her to talk to me, I needed her to stop screaming. But I was just so horny. I kept pushing, until my finger was in through to the knuckle. My hand was actually starting to hurt because her butt cheeks had squeezed down on them so hard, she was actually causing me a bit of pain myself.
I let her scream for a little while longer, but I kept my finger motionless inside her butt.
It took only a few seconds before she realized that the wiggling and the entry into her butt had gone no further. I am sure it was mighty uncomfortable to have my finger lodged deep inside her butt, but the pain was surely beginning to subside. I could see that she was started to relax her butt cheeks too, as her mind and body were slowly starting to get used to the idea of a foreign object inside of her rectum.
Her screaming turned into a soft sob. At this moment, I'm sure a great deal of self-pity was washing over her. How many little girls did she know are currently tied up naked on a table, with a strange man's finger inside their butthole? How awful was this?
"Now I don't want you to scream." I said quietly. "If you scream, things will get worse. I want you to answer my questions honestly, and calmly. If I am unhappy with an answer, I'll cause more pain in your bottom. If I am happy, I'll leave things as they are, and maybe even make the situation better."
"So, eleven year old, Sandra Monroe, when is your birthday?"
She looked a puzzled. She was about to tell a man with a finger up her anus when her birthday was.
And I wasn't planning on giving her a present.
"September twenty second," she responded in between sobs and hiccups.
"Where are you parents?"
She paused. More tears seemed to well up in her eyes.
Ah, I thought to myself. Now we're on to something.
"How did they die?"
"People like you killed them."
Excellent I thought to myself. Time to draw on that strength, little girl.
"That may be so. And what about others in your family? Do you have any siblings?"
"I have. Had. A little brother."
"Did he die in the war too?"
She did not answer.
I wiggled my finger, taking care to twist it to the left and right as well. She howled.
"Yes!" She cried in agony. "Yes, he died in the war too!"
"And did we kill him too?"
"Yes!" She screamed. "Yes you did!"
"Do you have anybody left in your family?"
She shook her head, and her sobs renewed.
Very good, I thought to myself. Making good progress. Only half an hour had elapsed. Man, time flies when you are having fun. Eleven and a half more hours to go. If I gotten her to tell me where all of the snipers were, I wondered if I could request to keep her. Could you imagine? Having a perfect little 11 year old girl all to yourself? I lived deep in the woods when I wasn't working. I had a basement. I could keep her down there. And to have my government fully support this. Wow. It hadn't been heard of. But most of these people who came through me ended up dead or disappeared anyways. How farfetched would it be to just call this girl 'expired,' and let me keep her?
It was possible.
I couldn't mess her up too badly then. I thought she was so beautiful, so pretty. Such a great face, such great skin. I wanted her badly as my pet. This would be a challenge then. No skinning. No ripping off of fingernails or toenails. No hot oil down the rectum. No mercury inside the scalp. This was going to be tough. She wasn't just a pretty face and a hot bod. In half an hour, she had shown some will, and some fight. And don't forget some cleverness as well.
"I understand why you fight, little girl. But you can't fight me. I want you to tell me how you are involved in this war. What you do. Everything you do. Don't lie to me. Every lie will be severely punished."
I continued, "I'll start by taking my finger out of your ass. But I expect you to lick it clean with your mouth. If you don't, the price of that will be a finger up your pussy."
I was curious.
Obviously this little girl had no idea what kinds of horrors would be available to be used on her, even if I was handicapped on what kinds of devices I could use to torture her. But this was an interesting predicament for me to place her in.
It had to be the first time anything had gone up her butt. And it had to be awful. And it sure sounded painful too. I removed my finger from her asshole. It was, as expected, covered in shit, but there was no blood. I was relieved. If she bled from a finger, then my options for keeping her intact were certainly limited.
I then brought it close to her face, and had her smell her own shit. She had a look of horror and disgust when the smell hit her. It had to be a dilemma. As awful as eating your own shit had to be, it had to be pretty unappealing to have that same finger up her pussy too. As sensitive as little girls are to having things pushed up their ass, it was possibly more sensitive to have things pushed up their little vaginas too. She was eleven, so while sex with an adult male was possible, she still had not gone through enough puberty to have a fully matured vagina, with thick durable walls, ruggated and tough. She was also potentially unable to create any of her own lubrication.
Little girl vaginas are, I'm told, very sensitive. But she didn't know that. Yet.
I gave her a minute or two to deliberate.
I then realized the predicament I had placed myself in.
She could stay silent forever. I did not give her an option for what would happen if she just never responded.
Damn, I thought to myself. I was too careless with that.
"Fine then," I said, "If you can't decide, then while I think of a punishment for indecision, I will put my finger back where it came from."
I pushed my shit-stained finger back in, eliciting this time a brief cry of discomfort, but no yell, scream or sob. It went in actually fairly easily, as the shit probably lubed it up for the second entry. It was much less painful this time around too, I'm sure. I really didn't like poop that much, so I wasn't going to keep up this charade for much longer.
Finally, I had decided to just go for it. I didn't want to start off this fast, but I just couldn't wait Nipple clamps it was, then.
I pulled my finger out, and using my left hand, I rummaged through the desk of torture devices and instruments at the desk at the end of the room. There were countless more instruments on the wall, but the room was dimly lit. I wonder if she saw these earlier, and how they made her feel. Probably not very good. Most of the instruments on the wall you could find at a local hardware store too, so you had to be pretty imaginative to really see how these devices were used on humans. And I doubt she imagined how they would be used on her. Unless she was really not as innocent as I had imagined.
I found the two nipple clamps. Wow, I thought to myself. This was going to hurt.
"Alright, little Sandra," I said.
"I'm going to put some clamps on your nipples. I imagine this will hurt you more than others who have felt these clamps, because your nipples are budding and still developing."
I rubbed her tiny nipple buds. She kept her eyes shut, and said nothing. I then placed a clamp on her left nipple, which initially did not elicit any response. Only a second later did the pain probably rush in, and she moaned softly, pushing the air out of her lungs in a pained exhale.
I clamped her right nipple, and elicited a similar response. Her chest now rose and fell deeply. You could tell she was starting to suffer. I pushed my finger back into her anus. I was starting to have fun.
"Once again, I suggest that you respond. If you fail to respond, the nipple clamps will remain, and I will add more clamps to your body. In places, of course, that are very sensitive to pain."
And to my great delight, she remained silent, huffing and puffing her chest, to try to bear the pain, which I am sure was quite novel and severe for her. Still silent, huh? Well then. I pulled my finger back out of her anus, and went to my desk to grab two more clamps, and a clothespin.
The clamps I was afraid would be too severe for the last spot I was planning on using them on. I didn't want to cause any permanent damage, after all. And they were pretty strong clamps too. I had used them on many of my previous victims, and the common consensus is that they hurt worst in the initial minutes, but the pain does die down after a while, as the nipples get used to the clamp. It does hurt when you agitate the clamps, but the worst pain is when you first put them on, and immediately when you take them off. I suspect they do cause some brief damage to the inner tissue, because the soreness they tell me lasts for days afterwards.
And I did not want to risk excessive damage just yet. The clothespin, while painful, is not as tight.
Pushing my finger back in her anus, I then with my left hand opened up the clamp, using the ends of the clamp parted her left labia from the right, and applied the clamp to a good meaty chunk of her left vulvar lip. Ouch, I thought to myself. This is going to hurt.
Sandra could immediately feel the pain, and unlike the clamps on her nipples, she cried out loudly in pain. But only for a second or two, after which she resumed her heavy breathing. Fantastic, I thought to myself. This girl is a little tougher than I expected. I love that.
I grabbed the other clamp, and applied it to her right pussy lip. I was a little clumsy, not being left-handed and all, and also not having the help of my right hand, whose finger was lodged in her ass. But I got it on, also taking a fairly large bite out of her girl flesh. Looked pretty symmetrical too. I was a little proud.
Sandra let out a fairly extended moan. She seemed to be getting frustrated with the pain that was no doubt building up in her genitals. At this point, the pain was still probably peaking in her nipples.
I then grabbed the clothespin with my left hand. I wanted this in before she could give in. I knew she was close to breaking.
I fumbled around with my left hand, but it was hard to part both of her lips with just my left hand and get the clothespin in securely around her clit. So I removed my right finger momentarily, parted her lips open with my thumb and ring finger, eyeballed my target, opened the clothespin, and clamped it down securely and firmly down onto her entire clit. And before she could feel the pain from her smashed clit shooting into her brain, I pushed my shit stained finger back into her anus and wiggling, twisting, and fucking her with my finger as the pain from her clit shot to her brain.
Boy, she screamed. So. Loudly.
"Oh god!" She yelled, "God please stop! God please stop. It hurts so much, please God, take it off, take it out! I'll tell you what you want to hear, please, God it hurts!"
And just like that. I had broken her, just a little.
I didn't even do anything.
She's tough, but c'mon. Most women would have pushed through at least through this. She was just a child, after all, I thought to myself.
But I wasn't going to give it to her easy. I wanted to know more. About other things.
"I know, little one. I know you'll tell me everything. But that's not what I had asked," I said, as I removed my finger from her ass, and walked toward my tools.
"I wanted to know if you had decided on whether you wanted to lick my finger clean, or if you wanted me to put my finger in your pussy," I said. "But because I'm a little angry you had me waiting, I've upped the ante. And if you're too young to know what 'ante' means, it means I've changed my mind. It's either you lick the shit clean off my finger, or I put this up your little vagina."
I reached into my drawer to grab a fairly realistic looking mold of a penis. I walked quickly over to her to wave my finger in front of her nose again, reminding her of the stink. And then with my left hand I waved the dildo in front of her face. Its rubber form, wobbled obscenely in front of her face, as it brushed against her mouth a few times. I didn't want to damage her, so it was normal sized dildo. But it was going to hurt like hell, I'm sure, because I'm pretty sure eleven year old girls aren't supposed to fuck an adult sized dildo on their first penetration. God I wish I could have fucked her, but I couldn't cum this early, or I'd lose my inspiration. And it would be unprofessional, of course.
"Take your time to decide, little girl," I taunted. "Those clamps are going to stay. And if you think you can handle them now, wait till I add some electricty to them. Then you'll dance for me."
I could see the wheels turn in horror in her brain. Of course she didn't want to lick my finger. Of course she didn't want to taste shit. Actually, a finger in her vagina might not have been bad, but now this monstrosity? It was huge. I'm sure it was incomprehensible. I doubt that she could even know what it meant. I realized that I had kept referring to her vagina and pussy. She should probably know what a vagina is, but maybe not a pussy. And if she didn't know what a pussy was, she sure as hell did now.
And then something else dawned on me. Did she even know she had a hole down there? Did she even know there was an orifice down there other than her pee hole and her poop hole, to push stuff into?
Hm. Maybe not.
And so I was asking her to decide between something extremely disgusting and awful, (but at least she kind of knew what to expect), versus pushing something the size of a large poop up a hole she had never even known to exist. This I was beginning to realize, was quite the dilemma.
I was beginning to wonder to myself whether this was similar to some strange man asking me to decide between tasting shit and having him cut a hole in my leg to push a large cucumber into. And sure enough, she came to the same conclusion as any rational person under increasing duress came to.
"I'll lick your finger! Please! I'll lick your finger. Please just stop hurting me. I'll do it, sir, please."
Take the route the you know is bad, but at least you know what to expect, I thought to myself. I'd have done it myself. Interesting. So she's quite logical.
"Gahhh!" she exclaimed as I removed the clothespin from her clit.
It hadn't been there long, so it really hadn't peaked in the amount of pain it could deliver. Plus, I didn't even get a chance to twist it, or run a current through it. The pain of the blood returning had to be there, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Lucky, I thought to myself.
She cried out in fresh pain as I removed the rest of her clamps. I waited a minute for her to recover. I wanted her to feel what it was like to not experience really any pain at all. I wanted her to catch her breath.
"Alright, I said to her. "Lick it clean, or the clamps go back on. Open wide. Open. Your mouth. Good, good girl. Now close your mouth. Good girl. And suck. I want you to suck it all off-"
And then suddenly, I felt a sharp pain.
And in an instant I knew where I had gone wrong.
The little bitch was trying to bite my finger off.
I yelled in pain as the bitch bit down hard on my finger. I pulled my finger away, but she wouldn't let go. I panicked.
"Let go you bitch, let go now!" I shouted.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I fucked up.
I really fucked up.
Ouch, to the fucking ouch.
I panicked. I reached down with my left hand and grabbed her neck. I squeezed as hard as I could, but I realized I really couldn't properly choke her with just one hand. So yeah, fuck, it didn't work. Oh shit, my finger hurt. I then used my hand to push her cheeks into her molars as hard as I could, hoping to push some of her cheek tissue into her teeth, and maybe then she would unclamp her jaw. That didn't fucking work.
And then I screamed into her face as loud as I could.
"You fucking bitch, you let go right this instant, or I swear to God I will gouge out your eyes, and pour hot fucking oil down your sockets while you scream in pain. You let go right this instant!"
I used my left hand to push down into her right eye ball, and I started to apply pressure. I was in so much pain, I really couldn't tell whether I was being gentle or not, or if I was starting to scoop out her eye. And then I felt her release. I pulled my hand back to safety.
Holy shit. She had bit me right through the flesh on both sides. Not quite to the bone though. And right in between the joints. I was lucky. If she had bit me on the joint, she could have taken my finger right off. It hurt like hell, but I could move my finger. Good. My tendons were intact. But holy shit, she could have cut right through my tendons too. I bet she did cut into most of them. I immediately rinsed my finger under water, and knowing that my greatest risk was infection, I pushed myself to rinse the area as good as I could with soap and water.
She didn't bite through any arteries, so the bleeding was minimal.
I rinsed the area for five more minutes.
Soap and water. Soap and water. Holy shit. What the hell happened. That was really stupid of me.
I dressed the area with antibiotic ointment, and wrapped it with gauze. I placed an order for antibiotics on my medication order sheet, and entered it into my PDA. Off the order went, into our intranet. Usually this was intended for my victims. But this time, it was for me. In just a few minutes, the in house pharmacy slipped my meds down through the tiny opening at the bottom of my interrogation room's door.
Holy shit, I thought to myself.
That was close. And stupid. I tried to move my finger again. It was really swollen. Really hard to move too, but I could move it.
I looked at Sandra.
Holy. Shit. I really liked her now.
I don't know of anyone who had ever done that to me before. That being said, I've never been so stupid before. I've never had a man suck my finger. Why? I usually just dissected his testicles. But with this girl, I was just so sexually charged. I expected that she'd be different. But she wasn't. And I'm glad she wasn't.
What fight. I loved it. I think maybe I was wrong about her.
In a moment of panic I rush to her to check on her right eye. Hm. Not even red. No sign of swelling. I guess I didn't press down too hard after all. I was relieved.
Boy did I get lucky. A one eyed little girl was definitely lower on the scale of sexiness.
I'll never make this mistake again, I tell you that.
She'd tasted my blood. This could be bad, I thought to myself. No one has ever done that. No one has ever seen me vulnerable, or even yell out in pain. I felt exposed. Vulnerable, myself. Hm, I thought. If there was ever anything to give this girl more fight, it might be this. I could use this to my advantage. Tasting my blood. But then again, I thought to myself, she'd had a taste of her own shit too.
Today was certainly not a ho hum sort of day.
I looked at the little girl strapped to the table. Helpless. Naked. Vulberable. And then I looked at my bandaged finger. I bet my finger felt a little bit like her at this time.
I had thought she had given up. I had truly thought I had broken her, at least a little bit. But if I had, she clearly had second thoughts. And they were in the form of a renewed fight. Tied up. Bound. And fighting. Amazing.
I walked over to the head of the cold steel frame she was strapped to. I'll admit. I was a little afraid. This little creature had caused me significant harm, and I'll admit, I kind of respected that. I'm surprised I was able to get her to let go of her bite. I got lucky, for sure.
I stared at her face. Her breathing had slowed. She seemed to be at greater peace with her situation. I wonder if she had felt slightly less powerless. Though all of her limbs were stretched outwards, and though she was naked, she could still hurt her enemy. If I were her, I'd be feeling pretty darn confident. Like I said, I was impressed.
I caught her glance at me. I could detect some fear in her eyes, which caused her to look away after a brief second, but I could also detect some defiance as well, which is why she was able to look at me for as long as she did.
I was going to punish her for this. But not now. I don't know why. I just didn't think it was going to take us anywhere.
"I'm not going to punish you for what you did," I said, "At least not now. What you did was wrong, and certainly you are going to receive a punishment for it, but what I need from you right now is information," I said.
"You're still going to have to eat shit. There's no way around that. That's what you chose, and that's what you're going to get."
I grabbed the dildo originally intended to go into her pussy and I showed it to Sandra.
"This, is going up your ass."
I know what you're thinking. I'm supposed to extract information from her. Shouldn't I be asking her where all the snipers are located at and what her role is on the enemy? Shouldn't I be taking names now? And only if she refuses giving me the information should I then torture her?
But in my experience, it didn't usually take too much to get a person to crack.
I didn't want to make it too easy for myself. I wanted some challenge. I wanted to show her just how much she could take, and then get ready for the fight. So I was going to teach her about rape. Anal style.
I licked my lips. Could her tiny asshole even take a dildo? It was around eight inches long to the base (most of it probably wasn't going to go in), and about one and a half inches in diameter. And I certainly wasn't going to lube it.
I pressed the tip on her ass.
It was too flimsy to push in from the base.
So I gripped the middle of the rubber dong and pushed even harder. If I hadn't warmed up her hole with my finger earlier, and if the rim wasn't coated with a thin layer of her poop, I don't think this would have worked, but after a good amount of pressure, the tip did finally pop in, through the sphincter, which gripped the dildo very tightly.
I could hear Sandra grunt as the tip entered, and I could see her clench her butt cheeks tightly. I could see that her position, laying down flat on her back, with her lower back arched and her butt cheeks clenched, that it was going to be fairly difficult to really make any progress if I was going to push this thing past her internal sphincter, which should be much tighter than her external.
So I released her right leg, and pulled it towards the upper right post of the metal frame she laid on. I did the same with her left leg, so that both of her ankles were adjacent to her ears. Bent this way, her bottom and asshole were fully exposed to me and whatever I wanted to do.
"Do you know what rape is, little girl?" I asked her.
Sandra made the briefest of contact with her eyes to mine. I could tell she did not know. But I could also tell she was worried, given how quickly she shut her eyes.
"Well. You're about to find out."
I pushed the tip of the dildo in again, which went in easier than the first time.
I knew that if I pushed too hard too quickly, that I might damage her rectum. I certainly didn't want any permanent damage. There would be some temporary damage though. Her sphincter had never been stretched like this before, and for as long as I was going to stretch it either. If anything, I was probably going to strain her sphincter muscle. Over and over again. And I accepted the possibility that she was going to be somewhat incontinent for the foreseeable future. If I had to have her wear a diaper, so be it.
So I applied pressure. Constant pressure, as I twisted the dildo slowly. And I could tell she was clenching. Squeezing not just her butt cheeks, but also squeezing her sphincter. Resisting me. That she was fighting me was making this struggle all the more interesting.
But it was only a matter of time. The tip of the dildo would inevitably push through the external and internal sphincters, and the friction that her sphincters were providing would eventually give, given my constant twisting and pushing.
People often mistakenly think that the rectum is a hollow straight tube. But this couldn't be further from the truth. Once you push past the sphincters, there are several more barriers to transverse: the transverse rectal folds. And there would be about three of them until I would reach the rectosigmoid junction, pretty much the stop sign in anybody's rectum. At that point her intestines would take a sharp 90 degree turn to the left, and only the flimsiest of dildos at that point (and I had a few in my desk) could make that turn. This rubber dildo I was holding wasn't one of them (oh well). In any case, I wanted this thing to go in as deep as it could. So I applied constant pressure, twisting along the way, and maneuvering the tip a little bit in every direction, so I could nudge past each rectal fold.
I knew that this was going to hurt. I wanted it to hurt. And as I pushed, I could hear Sanda's grunts, and moans of displeasure as I'm sure every inch deeper the dilo went in was a novel feeling of violation and perversity unbeknownst to her.
I was ambitious. I mean, this was her first experience of rape. I wanted it to be everything that she had never imagined. I didn't want it to be just an act of violation against her will. I already did that with my finger. I wanted her to be violated, powerless to stop it, and I wanted her to not just feel shame and disgust, but I wanted her to feel pain in ways she had never known before. And I wanted it to happen. Over. And over. And over again. I wanted it to last long enough for her to get over the initial shock of the penetration, to feel the repetitive thrusts, to dread the next thrust. To wonder when it was going to stop. I wanted to give her time to think about why she was here, what was happening to her, and what she could do to make it end sooner. And then to realize that she wouldn't be able to make it end sooner. That she was impotent. At my full mercy.
For a 70 pound, four and a half foot girl, you can't expect her to have as large a rectum as an adult. So I didn't force the dildo in too deep. I pushed as deep as I could until I met some fairly stiff resistance. Bingo. I had hit the part where her rectum ended. I could tell this little girl was bravely holding back a visceral scream. A pitiful moan, interrupted by gasps of air, was all that I heard from her. There was no hiding it. She was in a great deal of pain. And to top it off, we weren't using any lube. Think about that. This wasn't fun at all for her. I bet that she was feeling a slow burn from the friction of the dildo on her anus, a sharp tearing pain from the stretch of her sphincter, and a dull ache from the deep penetration.
Six inches I pushed it in. Wow. Not bad. For a little girl. There was still two more inches left to the base of the dildo. I don't imagine that I could have gotten six inches if this was a more rigid dildo, but it was fairly rubbery and flexible, so I suppose it was bending slightly at the rectosigmoid junction.
At this point I started to pull the dildo back out, but her anus was so tightly wrapped around the dildo, I could see that her anus began to evert ever so slightly. I laughed to myself. This was going to be so unpleasant for her. I would be suprised if she didn't leave this anal rape session with multiple tiny fissures in her anus. And what more fun those would create. Anything going up her ass would hurt like hell after that, and to top it off, they would swell a little too, making her hole that much tighter.
It took a full ten seconds to pull the dildo fully out. I looked at the dildo. It had some poop on it, and a little blood.
I smiled to myself, as I began the process to push the dildo back in.
The first few thrusts were slow, but I got quicker and quicker as her hole began to open up and dilate. Each time I fully removed the dildo. I wanted her hole to relax as much as possible before accepting the full girth of the dildo each thrust.
"Oh god," she cried out, "Please stop! Oh god please it hurts so much. I can't take it, please!"
She begged and begged. I paid no attention. I noticed that she never offered to tell me anything. I liked that.
At first she only moaned and groaned, and paused only to beg some more.
But then after the first minute, I could see her start to cry, and continue to beg.
But I kept going.
The dildo was now going in fairly easily, so I could speed up now. I desperately wanted to fuck her, but shit, I knew that I couldn't. Not yet at least.
And so, picture this. A crying, begging little girl, taking an adult sized dildo deep up her ass. Dildo covered in shit and blood at this point. But I kept going. I kept pulling the dildo out completely and pushing it as deep as it could go. I kept doing this. Ten minutes into the rape Sandra had stopped begging. You know what that meant to me? It meant she no longer felt like she had the power to persuade me to stop. It was an acceptance of her fate. Her fate of pain and humiliation.
I kept going.
When my arm became sore and tired, I switched arms. And when the other arm got sore and tired I switched back. I fucked her for so long that both of my arms were tired, burning from the repetitive motion, and sore. If my arms were hurting, I bet the center of her ass was on fire.
Twenty five minutes into the rape Sanda had stopped sobbing. The shit had dried up. Fresh blood still streaking the dildo, keeping her passage semi-lubed.
Forty minutes into the rape she had stopped sobbing and was doing that weird thing where if you cry too much you start to sound like you're having PTSD mixed with hiccups.
I had pretty much turned her into a toddler at this point.
I bet she couldn't remember the last time she cried this long this hard.
But it could get oh so much worse. If you've ever heard a newborn cry, now those guys CRY. They cry like its the end of the world. They cry so loud, they sound like they're screaming and crying at the same time. It's a cry filled with horror, despair, and fear. Newborns do that. And adults that go through me do that too. And I will remind you, I had yet to make Sandra do that. I didn't want to totally break her just yet.
I fucked her for a good hour.
When I pulled out, her anus was a gaping hole, and the dildo was crusted with wet on dried feces and streaked with a layer of blood. Now was my chance to pounce.
"Now you tell me, little girl, everything you know. I want to know what you do with the enemy, what your job is. I want to know all the names of everybody you work with. I want to know the positions of all the soldiers you help. Everything. And if you don't tell me, I'm going to have you lick the shit and blood off this dildo."
Sandra was exhausted.
I was just getting amped.
She looked at me with despair, but surprisingly, she didn't say a word.
I bet she was wondering how I was going to get her to lick this filthy dildo clean. I set it aside. It was only going to get harder as all of the shit around it dried.
"Fine then, little girl. Suit yourself. I actually prefer you not to say anything. It makes it more fun for me."
I reached into my drawer to pull out several long needles. These were no ordinary needles. They were as thick as sewing needles. Thick sewing needles. So they were going to hurt. I quickly steriled a whole set of them with alcohol. I grabbed a piece of cork from my drawer as well.
I then showed her the needle.
"My child," I creepily asked,"How are you with needles?"
The little girl looked horrifed. Obviously nobody liked needles, but it appeared as if this one hated them more than the average person.
"Well this needle is going straight into you nipple. And I think it goes without saying that it's going to hurt like hell."
She looked at me again. Abject fear, but still an ounce of defiance that kept her trembling lips together, and her vocal cords motionless.
I grabbed the cork, and buttressing one side of her nipple with the cork, I began a very slow push of the needle into her nipple.
And what a delicious shrill and prolonged shriek did I elicit from her as I began to slowly push. Now I was getting her to shriek and cry like a newborn. It was music to my ears. For now. But damn it was loud. I did get the needle through.
I repeated the same ritual on her other nipple, and was once again treated to a symphony of shrieks as it punctured her prepubescent buds.
I laughed to myself.
"And do you know where the next one is going?" I asked her.
I lowered my hands down to her groin region. And then I saw it. She had given up.
It was that easy. Damn.
"I'll you everything," she blabbered in a panicked haze, "Please whatever you do, don't use that needle down there on me. Please oh god don't. Please sir. I'll tell you everything."
Too soon. Well. We'll see what she had to say.
"So then, girl, what is that you do? Spill it now, or I'll make another hole in your cunt."
I'll bet a feeling of dread washed over her at that imagery.
"I spot for the snipers," she sobbed.
"Go on," I said.
"I report to the snipers the daily routines of enemy patrols, and officers. I tell them when and where to expect their targets to be on any given day."
"Go on," I said.
And so she went on to explain in detail, pausing only to stifle a sob, a hiccup, or a gasp of breath.
She was a spotter. Duh.
There were many like her, but what surprised me was how much access she had to our high ranking officers. I'll bet it was because she was so pretty. And something else that I found interesting. Apparently it was her that planted the bomb at last month's officer ceremony that killed twenty soldiers and wounded dozens more. Holy shit. This little girl had planted one of the deadliest bombs in recent months. And, she seemed to be bragging about it? To me? Maybe she wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. She was in no situation to taunt. She would have to be taught a lesson, surely. Only 11 years old, I had to remind myself.
She then gave me locations of where all of the snipers were. The names of all her comrades.
But there was something off. I had listened to enough confessions to have my suspicions of what information was true and what was false. I knew that it was she that planted the bomb. That part sounded truthful. Maybe even proud of what she did. And I knew she had to suffer for that. But when she gave the names I could hear her hesitations. She was fabricating many of the names. And when she gave the positions of the snipers, I could tell that she was just leading me on.
And internally, I rejoiced.
It looked like I was still going to get to have some more fun with her.
We were only about three or four hours into her interrogation, and I felt like we had reached an ending point.
I was a little upset. I had seven to eight more hours to go.
I sent a message on my PDA to my superiors, reporting to them my findings. I did warn them of false intel. And so off that message went. It would only probably take a day for them to corroborate her story.
In the meantime. I was going to have some fun.
"So Sandra. I do appreciate you telling me that information. And if the information is correct, then you are correct in assuming that the pain ends. But in the meantime, we still have eight more hours with each other. And I intend to punish you for biting my finger."
"First things first, is I'm going to give you a couple of permanent nipple rings."
And yes, this was going to hurt too. But probably not as much as the needles going in.
I fastened the blunt ends of the needle to the end of a medium sized hoop ring, and pulled on through, until the ring passed through the needle. Suprisingly, no blood. The ring's thickness was large enough to cause enough internal pressure to staunch any bleeding. But of course, the trade off was probably more significant discomfort and pain.
Sandra was too tired to make a huge fuss.
She whimpered, but that was about it.
I repeated the same process for her other nipple.
Then I pulled out a long aluminum rod, about six feet long and two inched in diameter. I placed it on top of two small pillars, forming a small horizontal rack.
Just to be safe, because I untied her wrists, and her legs, I forced a ball gag into her mouth. I didn't want to get bitten again.
For a brief moment, after I untied her arms and legs, she was entirely unsecured, lying flat on the table. This was a test, of course. She was tired, yes, but really she hadn't been doing anything all day, except lie on her back. And sure enough, she began her mad bolt towards the door, while I just stood and watched, as this naked ball-gagged little girl made one wrong decision after another.
She made her move first by rolling off the table. Her legs wobbly from inactivity, she then stumbled clumsily towards the door, which was of course locked. I walked slowly over to her, and watched her turn around, back facing the door, front facing me. Now terrified and wondering what else she had left to do.
If I were her, I'd have gone straight for the tools, and found something sharp enough to try to kill me with. But I think in an instant, the door was much more appealing.
I could see her trembling, knees knocking against each other as I approached, looking rather angry.
She raised up her hands towards me as I got closer. I could see the piss running down her legs. I could see the shit oozing out of her ass, oozing like lava slowly down her inner thigh. It was simultaneously such a pathetic and sexy sight. She could barely look at me as I grabbed her hair and pulled. If I were her right now, I'd be trying to kick my groin. But she wasn't. She was pulling away, trying not to go where I wanted her to go.
I dragged her tiny frame towards the horizontal bar. I handcuffed each wrist to the opposite upper arm, making it so that her hands could not extend past her mid-back. Grabbing her right foot, I hoisted it over the horizontal frame. I cuffed her ankles too, in the interim.
I then advanced the height of the horizontal frame, so that it pushed up into her groin, hoping to split her throughher child cunt. I could tell that she knew where it was going, because she had shifted most of her weight on her left foot, making it so that she was misaligned, and the bar actually ran into the fold where her inner thigh met her pelvis. That would be OK for now, actually.
I then attached some ropes to her nipple clamps, and attached these ropes to the front of the bar, which would not only keep her torso straight and aligned, it would prevent her from leaning back on the bar. This way, the weight would always be squarely focused on her sensitive slit. I pulled up on ropes until there was tension, and the rings pulled painfully at her nipples. I could tell this was hurting her significantly, because her winces turned into heavy breathing and groaning.
Sandra appeared to be mentally elsewhere now. The pain in her groin was probably growing stronger and stronger. I've had some of my female victims tell me that the pain grows to be stronger and more unrelenting than childbirth, and certainly more intense and focused. In any case, based off the growing intensity of her moans, I could tell she was really starting to feel the pain now. It was at this point now that I attached a spreader bar to her ankles, pushing them wide apart.
And little by little I adjusted the bar upwards, all the while picking her up by the hips to make sure that she was perfecty aligned with the bar, so that all of her body weight now rested squarely on her lovely crotch, specifically her clit, which was now being crushed, slowly. I could have left her there. Sure. But I didn't want her to suffer permanent damage to her clit, which needed blood supply from time to time to avoid any significant damage.
So I made sure that she wasn't lifted to high off the air that her toes couldn't reach the ground. But just her toes. I didn't want her to have any more support than that. Of course, the spreader bar was there to prevent her from bringing her legs together to support any more of her weight. It wouldn't take long at all before she would feel significant strain in the muscles in her buttocks, thighs, and calves. I expected her to start cramping within the half hour.
I pulled the ropes attached to her nipple rings again, making sure they were quite taut. This would keep her torso upright and straight. And her hands were bound in such a way they could not reach the bar she was straddling. I also attached her wrists to a rope that was attached to the back of the bar, so she could not fall forward. She was lucky. Adult women would have their clits crushed with more than a hundred pounds of weight. She was still a growing girl, so her clit was mercifully only feeling the effect of 75 pounds.
Ah, the advantages of youth.
She was perfectly balanced, and forced to lean just a little bit forward at all times. It was a sight of pure beauty. Her labia were parted perfectly. Her genitals bearing the full brunt of a very old, very effective torture.
And so I would have her remain in this position for the next six hours.
But first. I needed her to eat shit. And I had just the way to motivate her to do so.
I attached to her metallic nipple rings two alligator clamps, which were themselves attached to an electrical box. And viola. She was ready.
This box was specifically programed for torture. It had every setting, every frequency, every intensity, you name it. We all had to go through a fairly lengthy training session on how to use this box. Of course, some people you tortured you wouldn't want to make any marks on, so you had to know when tissue damage was risked (which would take shape in the form of burns, and pretty deep ones were certainly possible).
You can make a person feel any intensity of pain as you like. That is what the current is for. The stronger the current, the more pain the person feels. It doesn't take much current to activate pretty much every nerve in the nipple, especially if it was pierced, because they would significantly reduce any resistance unopened skin would give.
And by every nerve, I mean every nerve. The ones for sharp pain. The ones for dull pain. The ones for burning pain, and the ones for cold pain. Odd nerves designed to only sense vibration, or tell location. Even the nerves that are responsible for pleasure are activated. It's a very funny and strange feeling, I'm sure, to be tortured with electricity. Even though some pleasure nerves are affected, the overall experience (based on how my victims have howled in agony in the past), is likely overwhelmingly negative.
And then there's the voltage, which controls how far the pain travels. Current travels in many paths, but it typically spreads from its point of contact. The greater the voltage, the further the current travels. And it does get weaker as it travels farther. It is theorized that electricity can give you a heart attack in the chest, if used improperly. While it is certainly possible, the amount of electricy used to maximize pain in the skin and external muscle (the heart is encased in a compartment of its own in the chest) is much smaller than the amount of electricity used in a defibrillator. Not to mention, the defibrillator uses a shit ton of voltage to reach the heart. And we're not using that much voltage, ladies and gents.
But I digress. Back to our little victim, sitting pretty on her increasingly aching cunt.
So, yes. I wanted to torture her nipples. I wanted to bathe her little girl tits (which were non-existent, really) in so much pain. I was actually extremely estatic I got a female with breast buds, which by default were already sore. So yes, add that to a steady flow of searing electrons that were going to wreak havoc on the little nerve endings in her tits. Boy was this going to suck for little Sandra.
On yes, and I wanted the pattern of shocks to mimic the frequency of a machine gun. There's something about a constant throb that jolts you at the frequency of an automatic weapon. It felt forceful. Like an assault. An unrelenting, merciless assault of pain on her immature buds. And it was a good frequency. Despite how fast it jolted the victim, it still provided just enough time for the neurons to reset, so she wouldn't become desensitized to the pain too quickly.
And here was game. I explained the rules to her.
"I know you're in a lot of pain right now, so I understand it will be difficult to pay attention to me. But if you don't, you will be in a world of more hurt. I want you to lick this shit covered dildo clean. The one that was just in your ass. I'm going to give you fifteen seconds to clean, and fifteen seconds of electricity to remind you of what will happen if there is still a speck of shit on the dildo. When the dildo is spotless, and I mean, absolutely fucking spotless, then this game of electricity will stop. Now understand, the current you will experience is about moderate intensity. So if you feel like you've been to hell and back with the pain, understand that hell can get twice as worse. Trust me, little girl, you've never felt anything like this before."
Even though she was starting to struggle with the bar that was crushing her genitals (I could see already that her legs were wobbling trying to support her weight despite the cramps that were probably already starting to set in), I think she did get most of what I said.
"Your fifteen seconds starts now."
And as expected, she did nothing. Just stared at the dildo as I brought it to her mouth. I taunted her to open up. I pushed the tip of the dildo against her lips. Nothing. Fifteen seconds elapsed. And so I started the current. And true to my promise, I knew she had never felt anything like this before. This isn't your average S&M electricity play, folks. This is torture. And medium strength current for torture on the nipples I'm told by my former victims feels like you're getting your nipples ripped off by pliers. And on the highest setting, imagine now that the pliers are white hot.
The first fifteen seconds she didn't even scream. The pain was so intense that she just clamped down and grunted. I could see her abdomen tighten, her shoulders scrunch up towards her ears, and her face bear down in a bitter grimace. She was tensing up so hard that I could even see some of her neck veins pop out. It was a cold room, but her chest glistened now with fresh perspiration, as her entire body trembled from the horror she was experiencing.
I'm sure when she looked at the shit covered dildo she had second thoughts. But this girl seemed to really not like poop. So fifteen more seconds elapsed, and I subjected her nipples to the high frequency burn once again. I was pretty impressed. I would have thought she would start lapping away after the first session. But she didn't. I don't know if she did the math or not, but toughing it out through one session was something. If she didn't start licking, there would be potentially hundreds of these sessions. And I was going to up the ante. I turned the current on maximum power. I knew this was impossible to keep up. I wondered how long it would take her to figure this out.
"Actually," I said to the girl, "We're going to change things up a bit. I'm going to turn on the current for a full minute now. I really don't think fifteen seconds is going to cut it."
And so we went for a full minute. On maximum power.
I watched as her screamed her lungs out. A nice, big bellowing scream that nearly blew my ear drums out. I don't believe she had ever felt pain like this before.
A full minute of it, and really just fifteen seconds after that to lick her way to respite. But this was enough to convince her to open her mouth. And with little hesitation, I pushed the dildo towards her reticent tongue, which lapped shyly at the dry dildo at first, coated with bitter excrement and metallic-tasting blood.
After a fairly tame attempt at cleaning the dildo, I doubled the time to a full two minutes of electricity. I told her I was going to add a minute to each subsequent cycle.
And after two full minutes of electricity searing her nipples, she licked more ferociously the second time.
But before she could finish another round of current coursed through her nipples.
It took her five more cycles to suck the dildo spotless. The last cycle tore through her nipples for a full eight minutes. I could tell that these torturous sessions of electricity had started to wear her out too, and that as motivated as she was to lick her own shit and blood off the dildo, when it came time for her fifteen seconds to shine, she was starting to get sloppy and uncoordinated with her efforts. But she finally finished. Much to my disappointment, the dildo was actually pretty darn spotless.
And I kept my promise.
The electricity ended. And then her ordeal went from bearing a sharp burning searing pain in her nipples to now enduring the dull, throbbing, heavy pain likely still growing in intensity and focus in between her legs, concentrating on her tiny little sex.
And let's not forget how tired her legs already were trying to hold up as much weight as they could, doing the half-splits, and pushing out from her toes. They had to be cramping and burning by now. And she was less than an hour into her torture. She had five more hours to go.
Five. More. Hours.
I wasn't going to bother watching her for all five hours. After all. I had a ton of paperwork to finish. So I dropped by every hour.
Two hours in. I could tell she was in a world of hurt already. Her legs were quivering from exhaustion. I doubted that they were providing much of any support by now, and probably would contribute next to nothing indefinitely. I figure that at this point I should probably prevent too much injury to her genitals by lowering the bar for a a few minutes. And boy, did she howl in agony as the blood flowed back into her clit. I gave it a few minutes, and I pushed the bar back up, which once again forced another scream from her. One more hour until my neck recheck.
Three hours in. She was begging me now. She was begging me to stop. To let her down. To let her go. She'd tell me anything. Anything. But you've already told me everything, I said. There it nothing more to discuss. This is for biting my finger, I said. You have two more hours to go, I told her. She begged and begged. She would do anything for me to stop. I knew that. But after allowing the blood to flow back into her crotch once more, I pushed the bar back up and split her cunt lips once again, crushing her feminine core.
Four hours in. She was a blubbering mess. Incoherent. Drowsy with pain and suffering. Moaning like a dying animal. She didn't even bother begging me this time.
And then finally. The last and final hour. She wasn't even moving anymore. She was motionless, her chest rose slowly up and down. If there was ever a picture of complete and utter exhaustion, this was it. I don't believe her mind could really suffer from much more pain. Or at least, I'll bet that's what it believed. It could, though. Suffer much more pain, that is.
I let her down from the bar. She gave one last moan as the blood rushed back into her crotch, this time for good.
It was at this moment that the time was right for my last and final act.
I removed the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. I left her collar on, to remind her what she was from this point on. I picked her up easily, and carried her to the far end of the room, and unfolded a tiny padded mat. I placed her naked body on top of the mat.
And then I had my fun, with this tiny, helpless, exhausted little girl.
The first thing I did was grab her jaw and kiss her on the lips. She made little effort to resist me. I pushed her cheeks in with my fingers and forced her to open her mouth as I explored the inside of her mouth deeply with my tongue, making lascvicious contact with hers. I took the risk. She could bite me now, sure. But I had never French-kissed a little girl before. I wanted this to be the time. She was exhausted. I took my chances. I know I said I wouldn't put myself at risk again, but I was too fucking horny. I stuck my tongue deep inside her and I sucked hard, forcing her tongue out, and sucked on her tongue for a good minute or two.
I then licked her face, which was deliciously salty, and had been coated with dried sweat and tears. I was slow. Deliberate. I wanted this to last. I wanted it to be perfectly enjoyable for me, but also wholesomely degrading for her. I licked and sucked her from head to toe, until she was no longer salty, until there was no part of her body that had not been explored by my tongue and lips. I was so ready for this. I nearly came during this process, and my dick had yet to touch anything yet.
And then it came to licking her pussy. I must have French-kissed and deep-tongued that soft, delicate flower of an organ for a good half hour. I explored every nook and cranny. Every crevice. I sucked hard. I sucked her clit like a thirsty newborn on its mother's tits. It tasted heavenly. And then for the final act, I fucked her. My dick was so hard and oozing with so much precum that I had no trouble breaking her hymen on my first thrust, bloodying my dick. Yes, it was unprofessional. But who cared. I fucked her good and hard. I came immediately, of course. But I was so turned on, that I just kept going, and after 30 minutes of some pretty savage pumping, I came again. I grabbed her throat as I came, and choked her, stared into her eyes, as I exerted my complete and utter dominance over this powerless life form. She was my fuck doll for the night.
I was so fucking horny that I wanted one more round. I got on my back, and pulled her on top of me, her back touching my stomach. I managed to get my dick hard enough, but this time pushed it deep inside her ass. I left my dick inside her for a good ten minutes, until it got hard again. I was pretty fucking tired, so I spent the next half hour just pumping her slowly, really letting my dick feel every fucking square inch of her tight anus. And then in one final hurrah I fucked her hard for another thirty minutes. I kept myself in pretty good shape, so I went full marathon on this one. I thrust and pumped her until my heart was beating like it did on a good jog. I fucked her as my chest pulled in lung-fulls of air and my breath was hot and vapored. The sound of skin slapping on skin was all that could be heard in that room. I grunted as I fucked her, chasing that third mythical orgasm. I used my third and fourth fingers on my right hand to penetrate her pussy and grip her crotch for better leverage, and I used my left hand to grip her throat. I pumped and I pumped, as our sweaty bodies grinded and rubbed intimately against each other, skin sliding over slick skin.
I grunted like an animal, while she whimpered softly, exhausted, too weak to fight back or resist. And when I came, I held her tightly to my body.
I rested for a while, with her body lying on top of mine. I held her close to my chest. And after a while I got up, leaving her limp lifeless body on the mat. She looked like she was sleeping. I looked down at my dick. Covered in blood, of course. I looked at her. You could see a little bit of blood oozing from both her pussy and asshole. I probably tore her up. What was an hour and a half of pure ecstasy for me was probably just another hour and a half of raw pussy and ass pain, coupled with the total lack of power to stop it.
But I could not let her sleep. Unfortunately, as exhausted as she was, this first night was to offer her little respite.
I dragged her exhausted little body to the center of the room again, and I attached a cuff on her right ankle, and hoisted her ankle up in the air from a rope attached to the ceiling, so that her knee was bent, and she resembled a dog about to take a piss. I tied her hands behind her back. And to prevent her from falling down, to keep her standing on just one leg, I tied her damp matted head into a pony tail, and secured her ponytail to a rope from the ceiling. And that's where I left her for the night. She would have to spend the night standing on one foot. Tired as she was, she was going to get even more tired.
I packed my things up. I put on my jacket, and I left for home, to return eight hours later, for my next session with her, if needed. And I suspected that I would need it.
I walked into the office that morning and read my brief.
Great job on identifying her as the bomber, my PDA read. Unforunately, the intel she provided was false. No snipers were located at the locations she described, and most of the names were falsified. Most. Of course. I could tell.
They did manage to rope in a few minor players. Civilians who were either spying for the enemy or secretly assisting the enemy soldiers. A few of them were pretty young actually. Sandra was more useful that I had thought. There was one other girl in the lot. Not quite as young as Sandra, but definitely pretty. She might come useful in a little bit.
So then I merrily made my way back to her cell, where she had been standing on one leg through the night. I looked at the leg holding her up, her thigh was covered with feces, forming a small pile just next to her foot. A puddle of urine had gathered next to her foot as well. I suspected that she was somewhat incontinent, as all of the ass fucking and violent dilation had probably rendered her anla sphincters non-functioning, so I did not entirely blame her for shitting herself. Her anal sphincter would take days to weeks to recover, at least.
Well. At least I had an idea of what her breakfast was going to be.
I scooped up all of her excrement and urine and collected it in a bucket. I then opened up a large can of wet dog food and dropped it in the bucket as well. And I had a surprise as well. I've been collecting the semen from some of the male guards regularly now. Many of them enjoy the idea of some of the female prisoners being forced to eat their cum, so a few of them regularly provide me with frozen cupfuls of jizz they've gathered over a period of weeks. Yeah, there are plenty of sick disgusting bastards that work here. We are an interrogation facility, after all.
I had told them to freeze it each time, so they wouldn't spoil. And so I've defrosted a cup of one of their semen, and dumped that in her bucket as well. I put on a pair of gloves, and mixed it thoroughly with my hands. The result: a putrid, disgusting, mush of brown human excrement, semen, urine, and actually highly nutritious but tasteless dog food that she was going to have to finish. Today. All of it. Or at least try. And I needed to get her to try.
It was safe to eat. But I imaging it had to taste awful. The shit in it was probably bitter and rotten tasting. The cum bitter too. Maybe the piss added some saltiness to it. The dog food. That was tasteless. So all in all, imagine a wet, mushy, bitter, somewhat salty, putrid tasting meal. She would have to drink a lot of water though. Taking this stuff in without plenty of water might be unsafe.
And because she had given us the wrong information, she had to eat all of it. For punishment.
"Alright," I said, "The information you gave us yesterday was bullshit. None of the identities were accurate. None of the positions held any snipers. So naturally, I am going to have to punish you."
I saw her glance wearily at the brown mixture in the bucket. Calorie-wise, it didn't add up to too much after all, and given how many calories she had already spent yesterday (and will spend today), it was certainly below her caloric requirement. But it was a fairly sizeable volume of mush, for one meal.
"You might be asking yourself how you're going to eat all of that. That's right. It's poop. Your poop. Your piss. And that white stuff I mixed in earlier. That's called semen. The rest is dog food, which if good for you, actually. Do you know what semen is?"
Sandra stared blankly ahead. She seemed too tired to really even process what was going on. I tried to picture in my head what she was feeling by now. Her left leg must be sore and fatigued from standing on one leg all night. She must be dead tired herself. Probably the last time she slept was over twenty four hours ago.
I bet her pussy was still sore from resting on a metal bar for hours. Her ass must be sore too. Both holes must still hurt like hell from the brutal rapes she endured yesterday. She had been crying all night. I could see dried up trails of snot down her lips and chin from her nose.
But there would be no rest for the weary.
I needed to hurt her some more.
"Do you know what semen is?" I asked her again.
For a fleeting moment she made eye contact with me. I had her back for a brief moment.
"Semen, believe it or not. Is where babies come from. It comes from the male penis. And when it goes inside a woman, it mixes up inside of her, and voila! A baby pops out nine months later. But you're a girl, not a woman yet. So that semen I pumped into you last night, well, that doensn't turn into a baby."
She looked at me with a blank stare. More like disinterest, mixed with, fear, I suppose?
"Yesterday, we had gone through what rape was. Somebody forcing an object inside one of your holes, typically your pussy or your asshole, and in your case yesterday, you got a taste of both holes being violated, over and over again, against your will. That's rape. How did it feel?"
"Unpleasant I bet. Painful, probably. Well, that's really just the beginning. We can do a lot of things to you here. Rape was just the start, but there's a few more things we have in store for you. I'd like to express my displeasure again, if I already haven't, for giving me inaccurate information yesterday. You made me look like an asshole to my superiors. Can you imagine? I need to give them information they can use. And so today, I will expect you to give me all of that information. But first, I have to punish you for giving me false information. And one of the parts of your punishment, is you will have to eat your shit, taste your piss, and swallow probably a month's worth of another man's semen."
Well damn. I just gave myself a tall order. She needed to be punished for false intel. Of course. But this was going to be hard. It's one thing to tie someone up and whip them bloody. They don't have a choice. But it's another thing to accept a punishment by eating shit-flavored dog food. That would take some serious convincing.
What have I done. Fuck.
I left the room to ponder for a moment. I didn't want her to witness me in deep thought.
My options were somewhat limited. I couldn't permanently damage her. I considered threatening forcing my fist inside her ass, I which I doubted was even possible without causing a fairly deep rip through her anal ring into her vagina. But I couldn't do that. I needed a threat I could make good on.
I decided to take a gamble.
We had in circulation a few other prisoners who had yet to be processed. One of them was the young girl that Sandra has assisted us in capturing. They had to have known each other, but in what capacity, it was still a mystery.
So I grabbed her.
She wasn't as young and delectable as Sandra, but she was still pretty. Her name was Jessica. Jessica was probably in her mid-teens. Jessica, like Sandra, was not an enemy combatant. A secretary of sorts. She knew a few things, but certainly nothing of any high value. She mailed letters. She connected calls. She got coffee. I'll bet Jessica was a dick to Sandra one day. I'll bet that's why she had her name ratted out to us. Well, I guess I didn't really care. We were going to find out how much Sandra really disliked Jessica, if at all.
And so I brought Jessica into our little room of horrors.
I stripped her down, of course, and tied her wrists to a rope from the ceiling. She was a pretty slender looking girl. Dirty blonde. Blue eyes. Small perky tits. And a hairless pussy. Interesting. She must have shaved or waxed that off. It also meant she wasn't sexually innocent, like dear Sandra.
Just to get things rolling quickly, I also put on a spreader bar on her ankles. And I lifted her up so that she had to stay on her tippy toes. Here was a body I could break. While Jessica was quite beautiful herself, with her, I gave myself permission to break her body down. I wanted it to be brutal. To be visually and viscerally gut-wrenchingly awful.
"Hello Jessica," I said to this quivering mass of female flesh.
"Please sir, I don't know anything. I've already told the man before you everything I know. I don't know anything else!"
"That's not what you are here for, Jessica," I said devilishly.
"Jessica, I want you to meet Sandra."
Jessica looked at Sandra. I'm sure she noticed as soon as she walked into the room that a child girl was tied up, naked, one leg hoisted up waist-level, head slumped over her chest. I'm sure she thought to herself. Now I'm fucked. If they're torturing children, then surely I'm fucked.
For a moment there was recognition between the two. Sandra could not look Jessica in the eyes. But Jessica knew.
"So who is this girl to you, anyways, Jessica?" I asked. I didn't think Jessica would hesistate to tell me whatever I wanted to know.
"She's the errand girl. I might have met her, once or twice? Maybe? I barely know her name. Pleae, sir, please whatever you're going to do to me, please don't. I'll do whatever you want!" Jessica pleaded.
And guess what? I believed every word. There was no reason for Jessica to lie. I almost cared what the relationship was between the two. But clearly, it was just a passing relationship. Maybe Jessica was mean to Sandra one day, and thought nothing of it. Maybe she dated a boy Sandra liked. Or maybe in a haze of pain and delirium Sandra gave the first name she could think of, and Jessica was the poor girl who she thought of. It didn't matter to me. Jessica was fucked.
"What you don't know, Jessica, is that unlike you, Sandra here, has not told us what we wanted to hear. You've been a good girl, Jessica. But Sandra has not."
I took a knife and cut Sandra down, who slumped to the floor.
I emptied the contents of the bucket into a large dog bowl, and placed it a few feet away from Sandra's face. I left her arms tied behind her back. I tied her right leg to a rope in the ceiling, so that her area of movement was restricted to just a few feet in the center of the room. It was the most freedom of movement she has had yet in this room.
"Sandra," I said, "I want you to eat this bowl of dog food, shit, piss, and cum. I want you to eat all of it. I don't care how long it takes for you to eat it. But eat it you shall. The longer you take, the longer this poor girl Jessica will have to suffer. I don't care if you like or, dislike her, if you're close to her, or barely know her. Jessica will suffer if you don't eat it all. If you vomit, I want you to vomit in the bowl, because if you vomit on the floor, you will have to lick everything back up from the floor. If there is one single speck of this brown mush that is not inside your belly, then young Jessica here will continue to hurt. I don't believe I can make myself any clearer than that. You may begin. Now, of course."
And so I began my little experiment.
I could do anything to Jessica. Oh god. This was fun.
The first thing I was really craving to do was to push my fist up this poor girl. But I wanted to soften her up first. So I started slapping her. Hard. Across the face. Over and over again until her cheeks were beet red, and the ferocity of the slaps were spryaing her tears across the room.
When I had Jessica sobbing, I threw a few hard slaps across her breasts. They weren't big breasts, by any means, but they were perfectly shaped. Perky. And tight. Actually I went to town on her breasts. After slapping them around, getting them bright red, I began to throw punches and uppercuts. I wanted her breasts to be beaten to a bloody pulp. A couple of jabs to the stomach really added some variety to my beat down too. And for good measure, I threw a few punches into her pussy too. I hit her hard. You could hear a sick thud as my fist landed smack dab in the center of her pussy.
I looked back at Sandra. I could see her crawl towards the dog bowl.
I had opened a pretty large can of dog food. She was going to be quite full after this. I doubted that she could even do this, but I was going to let her try.
My next order of business involved a big fat cane. I began to cane her entire body. Man, that bitch screamed and screamed. She really sang. And already, I could start to see Sandra slowly pushing the food into her mouth and swallowing. This little girl was doing it, I tell you that. She was really doing it. I'll admit, I wasn't entirely certain Sandra was going to try to eat that stuff.
But it didn't take long for Sandra to throw it all back up. And of course, she missed the dog bowl.
So I kept hurting Jessica.
I decide to get a little more extreme. By now, Jessica was already laced with red streaks. Some of the streaks were bleeding. I flipped her upside down, legs still spread, and hung her from the ceiling by her legs. And I began caning the shit out of her pussy. I really hammered that thing. I would bring my cane up above my head, and in a whizzing whoosh I would bring it down hard on Jessica's cunt lips.
More screams filled the room. They were deafening. Was this chick an opera singer or what? I had to put on some ear plugs so I wouldn't go deaf. Sandra would get no such luxury.
And I could see, Sandra kept trying. She didn't bother lapping up her vomit. She just kept on eating the mush from the dog bowl.
I watched with fascination as Jessica's pussy went from skin colored to red. From red to dark red. From dark red to purple. From dark purple to swollen dark purple. From swollen dark purple to swollen dark purple, oozing blood from busted vessels. I swung so hard that towards the end, I would send aerosolized blood misting up into the air with every blow to her bloodied cunt.
I thought to myself. Now would be the time to fist her.
I wanted to see if I could do it without any lube.
The first thing I did was use two fingers from both hands to pull apart her pussy. Ouch, right? That sounded painful already. How many fingers could I fit in there with one hand? I could actually get three in, right off the bat. Her pussy was a little bigger and more developed than Sandra's. She was, of course, probably almost done with puberty. Estrogen had bathed her sex organs long enough to give them that ruggated texture, that thickness. Ready for childbirth, I suppose. And ready for my fist.
Boy was she tight. And dry. Fuck this was going to hurt. My hands. I was kind of worried about my hands. I used three fingers with both hands now to pull apart her pussy. Really with all my strength. I wasn't at all concerned about her safety.
And actually I think it opened up quite a bit, especially after I ripped open her posterior fourchette.
With a bit of blood lubing my fist, I pushed my right fist in. With. All. My. Strength.
And I got it in too. But not as I watched literally the entire external entrance of her vaginal canal invert and suck inwards as my fist pushed deep into her sex canal.
I think by now she had lost her voice, from screaming so much, because she was now fairly hoarse.
I thoroughly explored her semi-wet, semi-dry female inside with what little room my fingers had to maneuver. And I pulled out. Rapidly.
I turned my head to look over at Sandra. I could see that she actually finished about half of her meal.
Her face was covered in the brown shit-mixture.
I could see a valiant effort in trying to hold back yet another upchuck of stomach contents. But she was unsuccessful, and threw up not only all over herself, but all over the floor again.
And so I went back to town on Jessica. And instead of fisting her pussy, I fisted her ass. Which proved to be more difficult, I tell you. I had to pull apart her anus again, and like her pussy, rip the opening up larger to accomodate my first. The tear in her flesh connected through her perineum with the vaginal tear, and with the two joining together, I had successfully created a fairly extensive recto-vaginal fisuta in the poor girl. But that mattered little, as I forced my fist in deep in her rectum. With my fist up her rectum, I began to wonder. Just. How. Far. How far could I go?
So I pushed and I pushed. And to my surprise, I was able to follow the bend in her colon (some of it I didn't follow, so I'm pretty sure I ripped a few internal connections in the process), and push my fist pretty fucking far up her colon. I pushed and pushed. I used all my freaking might. And to her horror, (but to my delight), I pushed my fist all the way into half her large intestine, stopping short at my elbow. Relishing this unique position, I wiggled my arm and fingers wildly, eliciting a wonderfully active response from the tortured teen. Jessica, still hoarsely screaming, went berserk. It's amazing what the human body can take before it dies. Ane Jessica was far from dead.
I pulled out. I wanted Sandra to watch this. This was important.
I cut Jessica down from ceiling, who, curled into a fetal position, oozing blood from her ass and pussy. I hogtied her, and I pulled her close to Sandra's bowl, which really, she was back at square one, having thrown up her food several times already.
I demonstrated for her. Close up. Just exactly what I was doing to this innocent victim, who was suffering at the hands of stubborn little Sandra.
I fucked Jessica in the ass again with my fist. And I pushed it all the way to the elbow. And flipping her over so that her belly was facing Sandra's face, I ordered Sandra to watch, as I pushed my hand outwards from inside her belly, so that Sandra could witness the horror of my first making obscene outward protrusions inside this poor girl's belly, right through her intestine. It was at this point (and I'm surprised she made it this far) that Jessica began to violently vomit as well. I reminded Sandra that if only she could finish her food would this all stop. And I would let innocent Jessica go. I whispered softly in Sandra's ear, encouraging her to keep on trying, whilst playing with Jessica's insides through her intestines, forcing her belly to protrude and tent with swirls of movement from my fist.
With my arm still lodged inside the girl, I watched as Sandra desperately tried to finish the remainder of the food inside her dog bowl (which she did), and began to work on slurping up the rest of her vomited contents up from the cold linoleum floor. It was an utter mess, as I watched her vomit once again, but at least, this time in the bowl. She was going to make another effort at it. But I knew now. This was likely an impossible task for her. It was probably too much food to fit inside her little stomach in one go. And to make matters worse, it wasn't exactly a burger and fries. You can't fill your stomch to over-capacity on foul smelling bitter and acrid mush.
I pulled my arm out of Jessica. And as Sandra bravely tried again and again to ingest the stinking, now sour, gastric acid coated mess of shit and piss into her body, I grabbed my hooks, and impaled Jessica's breasts on them, hoisting her up through the air, with her full weight on her painfully stretched tits.
I then grabbed a pair of locking forceps, and pushed them deeply into her womb, locking them onto the meat of her cervix. And attaching five-pound weight after five-pound weight to the base of the forceps, I slowly everted her vagina, and forced a uterine prolapse.
I think something clicked inside Sandra's heard at this point. I think she realized poor Jessica wasn't going to get out of this thing alive anymore. So the little girl stopped. Covered in her own shit, piss, and half digested dog food, she just, gave up. And watched. I'd have closed my eyes at this point, if I were her, but I wonder if she was punishing herself for not succeeding. You have to give this girl credit. She tried pretty hard.
So I finished the job.
I hung weights around Jessica's ankles until the hooks ripped through her breasts.
At this point, Jessica was fairly spent. She no longer screamed. She just, moaned and made guttural noises, like a helpless wild animal. I began to pity the creature. This had gone on for far too long. A little extreme, for my tastes. And a waste of a perfectly beautiful teen, who in any other situation, I would have been very happy to slowly torture, instead of waste her so quickly, like I did today. But today was special. Today, I needed intel.
I twisted a wire around Jessica's neck, and began twisting it around on the back of her neck. The more I twisted, the tighter it got. I then cut Sandra and freed her wrists from bondage. I invited her to finish the job. You will be forgiven after this, I said, of your error in providing false intel. Tighten the wire around her neck. Twist it. Strangle her, I said. And you will be forgiven. All will be forgiven.
I watched as Sandra stared at the moaning and groaning pile of what was left of the bloodied teen, her uterus hanging out of her body, both breasts ripped coarsely in half, thighs covered in shit and blood. Still breathing. Wishing for death, no doubt.
I became inpatient. So I grabbed a blowtorch. And I went to town.
First I started roasting her uterus and her everted cunt. I even managed to bring out fresh squirms of agony and wails of suffering.
I in an act of bravery I now came to expect from this little girl, I could see Sandra reaching for the wire, and began twisting it. And as the smell of burnt meat filled the room, I watched solemnly as Sandra slowly strangulated Jessica, ending her misery.
And then I gambled. I made my threat. Even if I did not plan on going through with it. I was counting on the fact that she could not tell.
"This, little, girl," I said to her softly, "Is what will happen to you if you do not tell me everything I want to know. Except it won't be fast, like it was for poor Jessica. I will take my time. I will use you, and torture you for days, weeks, if need be. It's going to be fucking medieval. But I'll have the benefit of modern technology. I can keep you alive for however long I want. I'll replace your blood. I'll stitch you up. You will see the insides of your cunt, your intestines. I will rip your little tits to shreds, sew them back up, and rip them up again. I will skin you, slowly. Little by little. And I will burn your skin off slowly with acid, but not before I beat you bloody, and replace all of the blood you've lost, and then beat you again. You think whatever happened to Jessica was terrible. It wasn't. It's not even the tip of the iceberg. You will tell me everything I need to know, and maybe, just maybe, I will consider sparing you this terrible fate."
And I could see it finally.
I had broken her. I had broken this little girl. She was a tough one. Probably a kind and warm-hearted person, with lots of conviction and passion. And she fought admirably. Held up to a lot of pain and didn't give in. So I had to tip my hat to her. But in the end, they always lose. In the end, they all break.
She told me everything. Every name, place, and sniper nest that she could remember. With stunning detail. It's as if she was desperate not to get anything wrong. God forbid she made a mistake and had to endure another day of torture.
We hadn't even eclipsed half my shift yet. I wired the information to my superiors, and soon troops were mobilized to act on the intel. Within hours, our secret police made their moves, and captured a good handful of middle-tier leadership within enemy ranks. And with startling speed and precision, had captured or assassinated nearly every sniper in the eastern bloc of the city that were picking off our troops.
Congratulations, my PDA read. Congratulations.
It was nearing the end of my shift, and Sandra was still secured by one ankle at the center of the room. She was so exhausted that she was sleeping soundly, in a wet pile of regurgitated mush. I didn't blame her.
But now I wanted what I felt I deserved.
I noticed a message appear in my PDA. What did I want, it asked?
A promotion? A bonus? How about an extended vacation?
I asked for none of that.
I responded back if I could keep the girl. Of course, we would list her as MIA or KIA. Maybe say she died of influenza while in captivity. All I requested was that I take her home with me, and that would be that. No questions asked.
I waited for what seemed like ages. It was a hell of a gamble. A tad unprofessional.
And the response?
And they would take care of all the paperwork.
I was in pure joy. Imagine how lucky I felt! To take home a naked little eleven year old girl with me. And in relatively good condition too (physically, at least).
I went right to work. I hosed her down with water, rubbed soap all over her hair and body, and hosed her down again. And just to get her skin softened up for her next chapter in her life, I rubbed baby oil all over her body, until she glistened like an angel. If you didn't know what she had to endure in the past forty eight hours, you might have thought she had been untouched. Except I kept her collar on. And I kept her nipple rings on.
And just before we left, as one final act to symbolize her eternal servitude to me as my slave and property, I heated up a hot iron with my initials on it (don't ask me why I had this already pMg, Mf, pedo, snuff, tort, viol, abduct, anal, bdsm, rape, sad, fist, oral, piercing, piss, scatrepared), and I branded her mons.
I then tied her up, wrapping her into a hogtied position, and slapped on a fresh layer of duct tape around her mouth to reduce the amount of noise she could make. Not like I needed to hide her, but imagine how weird it would be to pull a screaming girl out of the office and put her in my trunk.
And yes, I grabbed all seventy pounds of her, lifted her up and placed her into a large duffel bag. I hoisted the bag, with the girl inside the bag, up onto my back, and trotted out into the night, placed her in my truck, and drove out to my secluded manor out in the woods, where I would keep her, for as long as I liked.
Yep. She was all mine, now.
You had this written up and you were just sitting on it? What the hell, man?
On behalf of myself and the lurkers, we wish you well through and after these life changes. It's been a pleasure having you with us, so don't hesitate to ask us for a letter of recommendation.