Lisa and Brit

     The small plane took off from the grass strip and

left Lisa and Brit standing there, wondering why Dr.

Schmidt was not there to meet them.  They shouldered

their back packs and started toward the road which

should lead the village.  They had no sooner reached the

edge of the forest when they were surrounded by

soldiers carrying automatic rifles and dressed in

camouflage uniforms.  The soldiers took the back packs.

An officer approached them.

      "May I see your passports, please?"

He said in fairly good English.  "Yes, you are Lisa...and

you are Brit.  Strange name, that.  Is there a Saint Brit?"

     "No."

     "And what brings you here?"

     "I'm a free lance reporter.  I came to do a

magazine piece about the medical missionaries and how

they help the native peoples," said Lisa.

     "And Brit?"

     "She's my daughter.  She's only fifteen.  I

couldn't leave her behind."

     "Well, I'm afraid I've no choice but to put you

under arrest."  He took out some handcuffs.

     "Fuck, Mom!  What have you done now?"

     "Be quiet, Brit.  Let me do the talking."

     Soldiers held Brit's arms, as the officer cuffed

her wrists together in front of her, then did the same

with Lisa.  The soldiers hustled the women down the

road to a waiting truck and lifted them into the back,

while the officer sat in front.  They raised the women's

arms over their heads and fastened the handcuffs to the

bows which supported the canvas covering.  It was hot

and musty smelling.  The soldiers sat on benches along

the sides of the truck bed, while the truck lurched down

the road and the women swayed unsteadily, half hanging

from their cuffed wrists.  When the truck stopped, the

soldiers got out except for two, who groped the women's

breasts before releasing their  hands.

     "Stop that, you bastards!" shouted Brit, but the

soldiers just laughed, and one groped at the crotch of

Brit's jeans.  He stopped when the officer appeared.

The truck had stopped in the inner courtyard or patio of

a substantial stone and concrete building complex.  The

gates to the entry were closed, so the women had no idea

what lay without.  The officer led them into a sort of

office and removed the handcuffs.

      "You can't just arrest us for no reason.  What's

the charge?" said Lisa.

     The officer left them standing while he sat

behind a desk and lit a cigar.   "Oh, espionage will do,

and  assisting the communist rebels.  Those missionaries

are in rebel territory.  And slandering the government.

Our intelligence informed me you were coming.  You

also work for Amnesty International.  You planned to

report on 'human rights abuses', the use of torture by the

government forces.  You will, of course, learn a great

deal about our use of torture."  Two soldiers came in

with the back packs and started emptying them on the

floor.  "Lisa, Brit, take off your clothes."

     "NO!" said Lisa.  A soldier stepped behind Brit

and pulled her elbows behind her, as the second soldier

used his bayonet to begin to cut away Brit's T-shirt.

"OK!  Don't hurt my daughter.  We'll undress."

     The soldiers stepped back.  Lisa and Brit leaned

against a wall as they clumsily untied their hiking boots

and pulled them off,  and their socks.  Brit pulled her T-

shirt up over her head, revealing her bra, and then she

fumbled with the button at the waist of her jeans.  Lisa

wore  a simple blouse.  She undid the buttons and slid it

off over her shoulders.  Her bra, chosen for comfort in

the tropics, was a thin mesh, front-closure  affair; her

nipples were visible through the fabric.  She undid the

fastenings  and shrugged it off, too.  At 34, her figure

wasn't quite what it used to be, but she was still a size

14, and a good looking woman.  She looked at Brit, who

was inches taller than Lisa but couldn't have weighed

more than 110 pounds, with her slim limbs and flat

tummy. A soldier "helped" Brit with her bra, and

laughed as he turned it inside out to show it was padded.

Brit's firm little conical breasts contrasted with her

mother's slightly sagging C-cups.   Brit slid the jeans

down over her girlish hips, and stepped out of them,

dressed now in nothing but a pink string bikini.  The

waistband was low on her hips.  There was only a small,

pink triangle of cloth in front, and a narrow band up the

crack of her ass in back.  Lisa undid her belt and

dropped the baggy, many-pocketed khaki trousers she

had bought from a  catalog, which had called them safari

pants.   She stood there in her white cotton panties,

suddenly conscious of her somewhat convex belly and

well padded hips and tapered thighs, so much more

voluptuous than her daughter's bony figure.  Brit's

parallel-sided thighs were no bigger than her mother's

shapely calves.  The officer nodded at Lisa, and she

removed her last bit of covering, to stand there naked.  It

had been years since a man had seen her naked, and

never three men at once.  The soldiers busied

themselves searching the women's pockets and even

tearing out the padding in Brit's bra, in case it should

conceal spy paraphernalia.

     A middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform

entered the room and looked over the two prisoners.

She applied a stethoscope to Brit's chest and back,

instructing her to breath deeply.  She  repeated the

examination with Lisa.  The nurse said something in

Spanish, which Lisa understood to mean the prisoners

were healthy enough to withstand interrogation.  Lisa

shivered with fear, and was thankful that Brit probably

didn't understand.  "Squat", said the nurse, and Lisa

squatted on the floor.  The nurse pulled on a latex glove

and slipped a finger into Lisa's vagina, sweeping it

around.  "No contraband," she reported.  "I think she has

had a hysterectomy."  It was true, a treatment for

fibroids.  Lisa had a sub-dermal implant to provide

estrogen replacement.  She didn't mind that she could

never again get pregnant, and she was glad she no longer

had her monthly periods.  Her sex life should have been

better, except that she didn't have much a sex life.  She

wanted a long-term commitment, and that was difficult

when one traveled a lot.

     The nurse went over to Brit and made her squat.

It was easy to push  the pink cloth aside and insert a

finger into Brit's tight pussy.  Lisa stood and said, "Don't

hurt her!"  The nurse then inserted her finger into Brit's

anus.

     "Ow! Stop that," said Brit.

     The nurse withdrew her finger and helped Brit to

her feet.  "No matter," she said in English, "We'll have

to clean you both out, anyway.  Spies and drug

smugglers often swallow a capsule, thinking it won't be

detected, but we always find them.  It all comes out in

the end."

     The officer smiled.  "Before we continue with

the in-processing, shall we call it, have you anything to

say?"

     "Fuck you!" hissed Brit.

     "I'll take that under advisement," said the

officer, smiling, "though I'm sure you will be fucked

first."

     "She's totally innocent," said Lisa.  "She just

came along for the ride, because she couldn't stay with

her grandmother.  I'm innocent, too.  I don't know

anything about rebels and communists."

     "By your own admission, you were here to visit

them and to write propaganda in their favor."

     "It's not true."

     "You will confess soon enough.  So will Brit."

     "Confess to what?"

     "Anything we want.  Perhaps we'll have you

make a televised statement that you are a spy in the

employ of your CIA.  I'm sure Brit could convince

viewers that she was a mule, carrying illegal drugs."

     "But none of that's true!"

     "Whatever we decide is true, you will say it is so.

Whatever your will power, we can break you."

     "All right.  Suppose we have confessed. Then

what?"

     "Well, if you are very lucky, you will be

exchanged for some of our people, held by your country.

If you are not so lucky, we may keep you around for our

amusement.  The troops are so isolated here.  They don't

get to visit their wives and girl friends.  You two can be

their whores."  Lisa gasped at the thought.  "If your luck

runs out, or you are not cooperative enough, you will be

disappeared.  You will vanish without a trace.  You

doubt that?  We have only to take you on a one-way

plane ride, over the jungle or the ocean."

     "OK, I'll say whatever you like, as long as you

let Brit go, unharmed.  OK?"

     The officer just laughed.  "I don't have to

negotiate with you.  You are mine, to do with as I

please.  Let us enjoy your company for a while, a few

days, at least.  Time enough for confessions then."  He

gestured to the soldiers, who knew what to do, from long

practice, perhaps.  They marched the naked prisoners

across the sunny patio and into another, darker part of

the fortress prison.  There, was  a large room, a former

stable, perhaps, dimly lit by light through  high, slit-like

openings in the wall.  It had the look of a torture

chamber, with stocks and a pillory and various apparatus

which Lisa did not recognize.  Over a  drain in the

cobblestone floor was  a wooden frame, a sort of room

without walls, from which hung ropes and chains.  The

soldiers began to tie a rope around Lisa's wrist.

     The nurse said something to the officer, who

stopped the soldiers.  To Lisa, he said, "I am advised

that our initial efforts should not leave visible marks, as

you may have to appear on televison.  That is fortunate

for you, but be advised.  If you do not cooperate fully,

we can use stronger measures."  Lisa looked terrified.

"Amnesty International reported that we douched female

prisoners with hot oil and subjected their breasts to

terrible tortures.  It's all true, of course, as you may find

out for yourself."

     The nurse stepped forward and wrapped tape

around Lisa's wrists, and then Brit's.  Brit, ridiculous in

her tiny pink bikini panties, had the look of a child at an

amusement park, as if she were waiting in line for the

scariest roller coaster, not a sadistic torturer.  The officer

personally wrapped nylon straps around the wrists, over

the protecting tape, and attached the straps to ropes.  At

a nod, Brit and Lisa were hauled aloft, hanging from

their upraised arms, facing each other.  "Brit..." began

Lisa, unable to continue.

     "It's all right, Mom.  I'm not a child.  I'm tough.

Whatever these  ass holes do, I'll survive."

     "Ass hole, eh?" said the officer, with a chuckle.

"That reminds me.  You have one.  We must see what, if

anything, lies within.  But first..."

     The soldiers expertly put straps around Lisa and

Brit's ankles, and the women found their legs being

hauled up and apart, until they hung from the frame with

their legs in a wide vee, the pelvis lifted and tilted so

that their cunts and assholes were raised and fully

accessible.  Lis a found herself looking between her own

breasts at her upraised mons, with its bush of curly pubic

hair, and beyond that, she was looking directly at her

daughter's private parts, barely covered by thin pink

nylon.  The officer took hold of the back of Brit's

panties and pulled, so the pink fabric folded and sank

onto the crease of Brit's vulva until it half disappeared,

and Brit's puffy girlish labia were forced apart, to peep

out either side of the pink.  When he released his grip,

the thong rebounded, but the pink nylon stayed

embedded in Brit's vulva.  Brit was breathing hard and

trying to remain composed.  Lisa wondered how much

that hurt. Did it rub Brit's clitoris painfully?  The officer

again pulled down on the thong, and continued jerking,

until the embedded cloth was sodden and Brit was

groaning, "uh,uh" and struggling with each jerk of the

thong. The officer smiled as he stretched the pink nylon

even more, and Brit cried, "Aww!  Gaaawd!" and

relaxed.  With a final yank, the panties tore away,

revealing the red, tortured membranes of Brit's gaping

vulva, framed by her sparse, matted, brown pubic hair.   

      One of the soldiers  brought a black bag, like a

doctors satchel.  The officer took something from the

bag and with his other hand he pulled on Brit's left

nipple, which was about even with his chin.  He put a

spring clamp on it, not a little one, like the nipple

clamps in adult toy stores.  This one resembled the

clamps on the end of battery jumper cables, and Brit

yowled in pain.  He applied a clamp to the other nipple,

and then placed clamps on Lisa's somewhat bigger

nipples.  Lisa gritted her teeth and tried to breath deeply,

willing not to scream.  The beast obviously enjoyed

inflicting pain.  She wanted to deny him satisfaction.

Brit, seeing her mother's stoic resistance, tried to keep

quiet, too.  Perhaps it was the release of endorphins in

her brain, or a numbness from the restriction in blood

supply, but it seemed to Lisa as if the pain in her nipples

was the decreasing.  She hoped that was true for Brit,

also.  It wasn't fair for them to torture Brit.  The bastard

officer enjoyed it, and he knew it hurt Lisa to see Brit

suffer.

     The officer made a noose of stranded copper

wire and slid it over Lisa's left breast, pushing it as afar

as it would go toward her rib cage.  Lisa could imagine

what would happen if he tightened that noose; it could

slice her breast off!  The nurse said something and the

officer looked annoyed.  He removed the copper wire

and substituted a loop of rubber strap, which he fitted

around the base of Lisa's breast and then pulled tight.

The constricting strap almost pinched off her breast,

making it swell into a globe, which began to turn pink.

Veins which had been invisible swelled under the thin,

pale skin, and the pain in her nipple intensified until

Lisa could not help screaming.   Quickly, the officer

repeated the treatment on Lisa's right breast.  Her

beautiful breasts were being deformed and stretched

before her eyes.  Her eyes met Brit's.  Brit was staring in

disbelief.  Her little breasts, at least, could not be bound

like that.

     The nurse, meanwhile, showed up with a hose,

like a garden hose.  She pulled the little pink thong aside

and applied the nozzle to Brit's anus.  The officer took it

from her and said, "This one is mine.  I'll teach her

about ass holes."  He twisted the nozzle to increase the

flow and, as the water forced Brit's  little rosebud open,

he pushed the nozzle deep inside her, past her anal

sphincter muscles.  Brit bore the indignity, along with

the pain of the nipple clamps, but soon the pressure

inside her was too great to ignore.  Intestines have no

sense of pain, except for stretching, but they are very

sensitive to that.  As the water gurgled higher and higher

into Brit's colon, the pain became unbearable, and she

screamed obscenities as she writhed as much as her taut

suspension would allow.  Lisa cried, to see Brit's

torment, but she wouldn't speak, wouldn't give the

torturer the satisfaction.

     At last the nurse put her hand on the officer's

arm, and he yanked the nozzle from Brit's upturned

bottom.  A stream of brown water, with lumps of shit in

it, spewed from Brit's anus and splashed across her

mother.  In seconds, Brit hung limp and quiet.  The

officer stepped aside and looked down at the filthy floor,

looking for capsules of contraband, while the nurse,

somewhat more gently, flushed Brit's colon again and

again, until the water ran clear and it was obvious

nothing interesting would come out then.  "Poor Brit,"

she said.  "We will have to repeat this tomorrow.  Here,

drink this."  She held a squeeze bottle to Brit's lips and

forced her to drink.

     "Yahgh!" said Brit, "it tastes awful."

The nurse made Lisa drink, too.  It tasted like fish oil.     

           Then the nurse handed the hose to the officer, and

it was Lisa's turn to be flushed out.  The indignity, the

embarrassment of having her rectum invaded, was bad

enough, but the mounting pain as she felt the water

pressing deeper and deeper into her was so great it

distracted her from her swollen breasts.  When, at last,

the nozzle was removed, and the awful pressure in her

bowels was relieved, it was at the cost of her spewing

shit all over her own daughter.  The officer didn't stop.

He pushed the hose deeper and deeper into her bowels.

She could feel it, pushing around the corner from her

rectum to her colon, moving up her colon, even across

under her ribs, all the while water spewing from her

wretched stretched anus.  Finally, he let go of the hose

and Lisa felt is sliding out her, until the nozzle passed

her aching anus and fell on the floor.  The officer said

something in Spanish about changing his clothes and

left, taking the soldiers with him.

     The nurse went to Brit first, removing the nipple

clamps.  Brit writhed in pain or relief, Lisa wasn't sure,

and then hung limply as the nurse hosed the filth off her.

Then the nurse removed the clamps and the rubber

bindings from Lisa's breasts.  Yes, it hurt for a while, as

the more normal blood flow was restored, but Lisa was

reassured when her breasts seemed to rapidly assume

their normal shape.  At least they didn't seem to be

permanently injured.  The nurse hosed her off  and used

the hose to clean the floor, making sure the effluent

from the bowels ran down the drain.  The water, Lisa

realized, was almost body temperature, probably from a

tank on the roof, which had been warmed by the sun.

How much worse the ordeal would have been had the

water been really cold.

     "Now," said the nurse, "I realize you are

uncomfortable, but you are in no danger, for the

moment.  Had you been left hanging from your arms

alone, the blood would eventually pool in your legs, and

you might lose consciousness.  You won't starve, and

with all the water you have absorbed from your guts, you

won't dehydrate for a while.  Of course, the captain will

return to play his little games with you, but that may not

be before morning.  So, rest if you can.  I will check on

you, as a good nurse should, from time to time."

     When they were alone, Brit spoke first.  "Mom,

are you all right?"

     "Yes, I think so.  You?"

     "Yes.  At least he didn't do that thing to my

breasts.  I'll bet it hurt."

     "Yes, it did, and I worried that they'd be

permanently damaged."

     "He's doing this for his own pleasure, isn't

he?  He doesn't care if we confess or not.  He just enjoys

torturing us."

     "I'm afraid so, Brit.  I'm sorry I got you into

this."

     "It's not your fault, Mom.  I know that.  We'll

get through it, somehow."

     Time dragged.  The light from the windows

faded, leaving them in darkness.  The fluid they had

been forced to drink was a powerful laxative, castor oil

or such, and their almost empty bowels cramped and

dribbled.   Sometime in the night, the nurse returned,

with a lantern, and she flushed them out again, fairly

gently, and washed them and the floor.  As she was

about to go, she turned and put her hand on Lisa's thigh.

"One more thing, I think.  It may help you to sleep."       

         She turned the water on again and directed the

stream not to irrigate Lisa's rectum but to irrigate her

vagina.  The stream of water played over the entrance to

her tunnel like a lover, and from time to time, the stream

was directed toward Lisa's clitoris.  The hood fluttered

in the stream, and the sensitive glans, normally hidden

out of sight, was stimulated to the point where Lisa was

squirming and making incoherent noises.  "Uh, uh, uh,

Ohhhh!"  The tension mounted to a climax, and a mega-

orgasm washed through her, an orgasm like she hadn't

felt in years.

     The nurse now turned her attention, and the hose,

to Brit's pussy.  Lisa wondered how a teen-ager

would react.  In the almost darkness, she couldn't gage

Brit's reaction, until she heard, "Please, stop," and the

nurse left.  Lisa wondered, as she came down from her

high, if she should say anything to Brit.

     Brit spoke first.  "Mom, did you have an

orgasm?"

     "Yes, a good one.  I couldn't help it."

     "Me, too.  Several.  I enjoyed it."

     "I didn't know you knew about orgasms."

     "Mom, I've been masturbating for years."

     "What about boys?  Have boys given you

orgasms?"

     "Mom.  You shouldn't ask."

     "Are you a virgin?"

     "Technically, yes.  I don't want to get preggers.

But, I've let boys...you know, play with me.  Ron Russel,

when we were staying with Grandma, he made me

come, a couple of times."

     "I guess a mother is the last to know."

     "Mom...  Mom, do you think they will rape us?"

     "I'm pretty certain they will."

     "What if I get pregnant?"

     "You just finished your period.  You probably

won't be fertile for about a week.  Given the way that

jerk likes to inflict pain, I'd say pregnancy shouldn't be

very high on your list of things to worry about."

     "Is it true, Mom, what they say?  If  rape is

inevitable, lie back and enjoy it?"

     "I never used to say that, but under the

circumstances, it might be pretty good advice.  I'm

sorry, Brit.  You are only a child, and it's a shame you'll

never grow up normal after this."

     "I'm tough, Mom.  It's like being in an accident.

I'll get over it."

     "If we live through it."

     About dawn, the officer was back.  "Oh," he

said, "such nice upturned asses, with the skin taut and

pale and just waiting for some decoration".  He selected

a cane and administered ten strokes to each ass,

alternating between Lisa and Brit and leaving both of

them sobbing, with ugly red welts across their buttocks.

He stopped when the nurse came in.

     He glared at her, and she said nothing, just

watched, as he continued the torment.  First, he used the

hose again, but the women were used to that by now,

and they kept quiet even as the cramping pains wracked

their guts.  Their spew was barely colored and didn't

smell much.  The officer rinsed them and hosed down

the floor.

     "Gringas are always so concerned about their

asses and bowels.  Did that pretty much break your

spirit?  Not so proud now, eh?  After you've shit on each

other!"  Neither Lisa nor Brit replied.

     "Hey, Lisa, you like to see Brit get it, eh?"  Lisa

wondered if he had been drinking.  She did not reply.

He selected a tapered butt plug and pushed and twisted it

into Brit's ass hole, while her mother watched.  "Those

child-like little tits.  It's a shame to leave those alone."

He looked in several cabinets and returned with the

things he needed.

     First he rubbed Brit's tits with a smelly, greasy

stuff.  They became shiny and a bit pinker.  "Lisa, in

case you're wondering, that's a heat-rub, like they apply

to sore muscles.  Brit's little tits feel like they are on

fire, don't they?"  Brit remained quiet.  "Here, Lisa, you

can have some, too."  He rubbed Lisa's breasts with the

goo.  There was a lot more breast to rub, and, yes, it did

burn.  Strangely, Lisa found it sexually stimulating, even

as it hurt.  Had he continued rubbing her breasts, she

might have come.  "Lisa, you know what comes next?"

     He wheeled a sort of cart up behind Lisa.  He

took a pair of clear glass  cylinders, like bottles with the

bottom cut out, and he forced one over each greasy

breast.  Then he screwed a cap on each and connected a

tube from the cart to each cap.  He turned a crank, and

there was a pocketa-pocketa sound, the sound of a

pump.  Lisa's breasts  were sucked into the cylinders.

With Brit, he had to have the nurse hold the cylinders,

until there was enough vacuum to hold them against her

smaller breasts.  "I'll connect the hoses together, Lisa,

so the vacuum is the same for both of you.  That way

you'll know just what your innocent child is

experiencing.  Who knows, if we have time, she may

have C-cups like yours."  He laughed at that and turned

the crank some more.  Lisa felt her breasts being

stretched, and they turned pink again, as they had when

bound.  What concerned her more was Brit's breasts.

She could see them swelling with fluid, and turning

color. Too.  What would such stretching do to a girl's

delicate breasts?  With so little tissue to expand, would

she be deformed for life?  Would her breasts, perhaps,

sag on her chest like a used condom?

     "The best is yet to come, Lisa.  You are going

to fuck your own daughter.  How can you have any self

respect, after you've done that?"  He laughed again.  She

was sure he was drunk.  First, he released the straps

which held their ankles from the supports overhead, so

Lisa and Brit were  were hanging from their arms, the

straps still on their ankles.  Next, he dragged over a pipe

which he hung from a chain at the center so it could

pivot  just like the see-saw one can see in a child's

playground.   However, instead of having a broad seat,

the rider would be straddling a round object. "When a

male prisoner rides this, you can imagine what happens

to his testicles," the torturer remarked.  He lowered Lisa

until she stood, straddling the pipe.  He

took two shiny metal things, the size and shape of cigars,

and pushed  one into her rectum until it was out of sight

and the other into her vagina.  The one in her vagina was

a little long, so the last inch peeped out between her

labia.  There were wires attached to each cigar. He

lowered her arms some more, disconnected the straps

from above and retied them beneath the pipe, so she was

sitting on the see-saw, the pipe pressing the cigar in her

cunt, mashing her labia, spreading her thighs, and she could

not raise herself to relieve the pressure.

       On the other end of the pipe, he attached a knobby

rubber dildo, sticking up.  He lowered Brit until she was

impaled on it.  The nurse helped, guiding her so that the

dildo entered Brit's vagina without ripping anything.

"How's that feel, Brit?  Do you like having a cock in

your cunt?"

     Truthfully, Brit replied. "I've never had anything

so big inside me.  It feels as if  it will  rip me open and

I'll bleed to death."  The officer laughed.  He used the

straps on her ankles to fix her legs in front of her against

the pipe and then slackened the wrist straps, so her

whole weight was supported by the pipe and the dildo

between her legs.  "You will have to try to balance and

keep yourself upright. If you fall off, you will rip

yourself a new cunt."  Brit found that by pulling on the

straps still attached to her wrists, she could hold herself

upright.

     "Now," said the officer, "we come to the clever

part.  I'm really quite proud of myself for inventing

this."  He placed a sort of stool under the end of the pipe

behind Lisa, so the if she flexed her legs a bit, lowering

her end of the pipe,  the pipe would hit the stool and

stop moving abruptly. 

     "Before we go on, let's stretch those tits some

more."  He turned the pump crank a few more times,

until both Lisa and Brit screamed and pleaded with  him

to stop.  "Don't complain, Brit," he chided, "soon you'll

have B-cup tits."  When she looked down at them, they

certainly looked bigger.

     "Now we need the motor to make this go."  He

connected the wires from Lisa's "cigars" to a box, and

he placed an electrical switch, attached to the box,

between the pipe and its stop.  Lisa was heavier than

Brit, so if she did not support herself with her legs, her

end of the pipe would drop and compress the switch.

The torturer then lifted Lisa's end of the pipe and let it

drop.

     Lisa could not stop the drop stiff legged; she had

to bend her knees a bit, and the pipe hit the switch.  A

jolt of electricity raged through Lisa's body, contracting

every muscle, it seemed, below her navel.  Her vaginal

muscles clamped on the metal cigar, just as the impact

of the pipe drove it deeper into Lisa's cunt.  Her rectal

muscles did the same, as if to expel the rear electrode,

but, of course, they couldn't.  The gluteal muscles in her

ass contracted, too, extending her legs and propelling

her upward.  At least, as Lisa's feet left the ground, the

terrible electroshock stopped for a second or two, and

her muscles relaxed.  Again Lisa's end fell, and again the

electricity convulsed her cunt muscles and extended her

legs and bounced her aloft again.  And so it continued.

Entirely involuntarily, Lisa jumped up and down, while

her vaginal muscles spasmed painfully an instant after

her feet hit the floor.  So preoccupied she was with her

own painful predicament, that it took her a while to

realize what was happening to Brit.

     Every time the electricity made Lisa bound into

the air, Brit's end of the pipe dropped so quickly that the

dildo pulled out of Brit's cunt a fraction of an inch, and

every time Brit fell back upon the pipe, the rubber

invader was driven deep into her.  Given the knobby

texture of the rubber cock, Brit was fucked harder than

she could have imagined.  As Lisa screamed with pain

and frustration, fucking her own daughter even as Lisa's

vagina was clamping down on that metal cigar, Brit was

screaming with the sheer excitement of coming again

and again.  Her wild ride on the end of the pipe was

fucking her harder than any man could have done.

     Finally, the nurse put a stop to it.  The vacuum

was released from the tit suckers, leaving Lisa and Brit

with bright red circles on their chests, and breasts which

throbbed with pain.  When they lifted Brit off the dildo,

she was only semiconscious, fucked senseless.  Lisa fell

off the pipe exhausted, her vaginal and rectal muscles

aching from the accumulated lactic acid of anaerobic

exercise; the demands on them hand far exceeded their

oxygen supply.   "A minute more, and one or both of

them might have had a heart attack," the nurse observed.

"They need to rest."  She removed the "cigars" from

Lisa but left the butt plug in Brit.

     The officer insisted they be chained to the frame

by one ankle, so they couldn't escape.  When he had

gone, the nurse brought them juice to drink and a plastic

air mattress, so they could rest a bit.  With their bottoms

sore from the whip and the pipe, and their breasts very

tender, the only way to rest was on their sides, facing

each other on the narrow mattress.  They managed to

sleep.

     Too soon, the officer was back.  He yanked the

mattress from underneath them, dumping them on the

cobble floor as he cursed in Spanish.  "Get up!  You

have no time for sleep.  It's time to sign your

confessions."  He held out a clip board with a typed

statement on it, in Spanish and English.  "Lisa, sign

here, both copies."

     With new-found courage, she said, "No."

     He smiled, and walked to a rack on the wall,

where he selected a whip, a long, single-tailed whip.  He

snapped it twice in the air and then, expertly, cracked

the tip against Lisa's right breast.  She leaped back, to

the end of her chain, blood from a three-inch gash

dribbling off her nipple.  CRACK!  He marked her left

breast.  She turned and curled up on the floor, hugging

her breasts for protection.  Undaunted, the officer

lacerated each ass cheek.  "Sign it."

     "No."

     "You know I can easily cut you to ribbons with

this whip, and I'd enjoy doing it, but that can wait for

later.  Sign the confessions, or the next time I crack this

whip it will take off Brit's right nipple."

     "OK, I'll sign."  She did, and Brit followed her

example.

     "My men are impatient," he said.  "They had a

whore, but she died."  He showed them a large photo of

a naked Indian girl.  Her lips were pulled back in a

grimace, showing that her front teeth were missing.

"The better to suck cock," the officer said, pointing.

Her body, her breasts especially, bore several scars, like

the whip marks on Lisa.  Across her belly, below the

navel, in large letters, there was an ugly  brand,

"PUTA".  "I show you this, " he said, "to remind you

that resistance is futile."  He released the chains from

the frame and pointed to the door.  "Go."

     Lisa and Brit walked slowly toward the door,

their ankle chains clinking on the cobble stone floor.

They stepped outside, half blinded by the bright

sunlight.  Soldiers took their arms and led them toward

the center of the patio. There two saw horses had been

set up.  The officer directed the soldiers, as they used the

ankle and wrist straps to fasten down the women, facing

each other.  "Lisa," he said, as her wrists were fastened

to the legs of a horse, as her ankles were,  "I want you to

watch as Brit gets fucked by the entire garrison.  And

then it will be your turn."

     Lisa's heart pounded as she was forced to watch.

Brit was similarly strapped down, with her legs spread

and her ass upmost. Brit raised her head, caught her

mother's eyes, then let her head hang down.  The soldiers,

more than Lisa had seen before, formed a line behind Brit,

each in some stage of undress.  Most had removed their

shoes and trousers; a few were naked.  The officer removed

Brit's butt plug and gestured to the first soldier.  Lisa realized

that Brit could see each rapist, standing there behind her.

Lisa watched in horror as the man stroked his huge penis

a few times and then leaned hard against Brit's rump.

Lisa couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if in one thrust he

had buried that rod in her rump.  Brit went, "Ahhh!,"

and "Uh!, uh!" with each thrust.  Lisa cried to think of her

daughter being so abused, but through the tears, she saw Brit

look up and mouth the words --- if rape is inevitable....

     Lisa felt the officers hand between her legs.

Somehow, she sensed that he couldn't get an erection,

but she felt him slide his thumb into her vagina, still

flaccid and unresisting  after the electoshock, and his

forefinger rubbed her clit.  She saw the soldier withdraw

his slimy cock from Brit, and the next man took his

place, gyrating his hips as he stretched Brit's childish

pussy.  Lisa wondered if Brit was suffering or if she

might begin to enjoy it.

       Lisa realized that, even though she hated the

bastard, the officer was making her wet.  She shuddered,

as his thumb found her G-spot.

     Then there was the stutter of automatic weapons

fire, and a crushing weight on Lisa's back.  Blood

soaked her hair and ran down her cheek.  All was noise

and confusion.  Then silence.  The weight of the dead

officer was lifted from her, and she looked up to see a

dozen masked men in campesino dress, obviously the

rebels that the officer has spoken of.

     "I'm Dr. Schmidt," said a voice behind her.  "I

am sorry we have to meet under such circumstances, but

I must thank you and your daughter  for helping us.

Thanks to you, we caught the garrison with their pants

down."