Kidnap

"You  know  that when you kidnap for ransom, you

have to be prepared, if they don't pay.  It's no

different when it's a political kidnaping.  If they

don't release the prisoners, bad things happen.  So

make the bad things happen, and video tape the

happenings, so they know they have to respond to

our demands.  Do it, now."

Z  went into the room where the girl was.  She lay,

crying, on the concrete floor, her hands and feet

bound, her school uniform soiled, for it had been

two days since she had been captured, and she had

not been allowed to the toilet.  The girl looked up at

Z. perhaps hopeful, as women aren't supposed to be

as cruel as men.  "You know," said Z, "that I don't

have anything against you, personally.  Your father

has refused our demands, and so your father must

be persuaded.  If you are hurt, it's your father's

fault."  The girl did not respond.

Two men, with scarves to conceal their faces, set up

lights and cameras.  Z put on a Halloween-type

mask, a George W. Bush mask.  Then she pulled a

rope with a hook down from above and placed the

hook over the ropes which bound the girl's hands.

At a sign from Z, the girl was hoisted up, until she

hung from her wrists with her feet several

centimeters off the floor.  Her eyes showed pain,

but she courageously kept quiet.

Without talking, Z removed  the clothing from the

girl.  The shoes and socks were easy.  Z cut the

shoulder straps of her uniform jumper and pulled it

down and off her.  Her white blouse almost hid the

soiled white panties.  Z started at the wrist and slit

each sleeve of the blouse.  Then she cut from the

arm pit horizontally toward the middle.  The blouse

fell away, revealing a white cotton bra.  "Your

father, and lots of other men, are going to see you

naked," said Z, enjoying the look of terror in the

girl's eyes as Z cut away the bra and exposed the

little breasts to the glare of the lights.  They were

low mounds with pink nipples, like a serving of

mashed potato  with a raspberry on top.  Z made

half circles with her thumbs and first fingers and

encircled the base of one breast.  Then she

squeezed, until it rounded out, like a scoop of ice

cream.  Z pinched the nipple, tugging on it, before

she let go and addressed the problem of the panties.

The smell was pretty bad, stale urine and the strong

odor from the brown smear in back.  Z took a

moment to clear the ruined clothes from the floor,

exposing a drain in the floor.  She cut the girl's

panties up each side, from leg hole to waist, so as

to avoid the nasty parts.  As the panties fell away, Z

almost gagged at the smell of  the mush between

the girls buttocks.  One of the men handed Z a hose

---  they had known they would want one --- and Z

began to hose off the girl, from the waist down,

adjusting the nozzle to get the hardest, most

concentrated stream of water.  The force of the

water made the girl rotate slowly as she hung there,

and Z directed the stream at the girl's virginal vulva

as well as her ass crack.  The girl tried to cross her

legs, to protect her genitals, but it didn't help much.

Z applied the hard stream of water to the girls

breasts, too, making them ripple and deform under

the impact of the cold water.  The nipples stood out.

The girl's jaw quivered, as she shivered in the cold.

One of the men readjusted a camera for close-ups

and when the shit was washed off  Z applied the

nozzle to the girl's anus, pressing hard against the

little raspberry and holding her other hand over

the girl's belly, so she couldn't escape the hose by

wriggling.  The girl screamed for the first time,

as the cold water stretched her bowels, and

she bicycled in the air with her legs.  Z

removed the nozzle and allowed the girl to expel a

stream of brown water.  Z repeated the treatment,

but she grew tired of having to restrain her victim.

As the water drained from the girl, Z stepped away,

off camera, to confer with one of the men.

Z tied ropes to each of the girl's ankles, and the

men pulled the ropes, which passed over hooks in

the roof trusses.  The girl's ankles were forced

upward and apart, until they were at shoulder height

and as far apart as they might go without

dislocating the girl's hips.  Her torso was now

closer to horizontal and her pelvis was  tipped, so

her vulva pointed upward and her labia, which had

concealed everything inside, now gaped open

slightly, showing a streak of pink.  The girl's pubic

hair, sparse curls, gleamed in the TV lights.  Z,

however, applied the hose to the girl's anus again.

Stretched as she was, the girl could not move to

evade the intruder, and Z raped her ass, shoving the

metal nozzle several centimeters into the girl's

distended rectum.  The victim screamed, and it

appeared her belly visibly swelled, before Z

released the water pressure and stepped back to

avoid the resulting shower, which washed the

residual shit down the drain in the floor.  This

torment was repeated six more times, filling the girl

like a balloon, then letting her "explode".  The

anus, thus repeatedly abused, began to lose muscle

tone and leak, even when the nozzle was inserted

full length.  Z took a cucumber and forced it

through the orifice until it was totally contained in

the girl's rectum.  Only a little spot of green, the

size of a coin, could be seen through the hole.

Now Z directed the water at the upturned vulva,

initially playing the stream over the whole pubic

area.  The girl, stretched tight as she was, could

move no more than a centimeter, as she writhed

under the assault of high pressure water.  Z began to

aim more carefully.  As the water forced the labia at

the bottom of the cleft, the girl's virginal vagina

was raped by a column of water which stretched it

and inflated the depths of her tunnel as she had

never experienced.  Aimed a little higher, the water

beat on the prepuce of the clitoris.  In spite of the

girl's protests, Z persisted, lifting the clitoral hood

with hydraulic pressure.  The girl screamed prayers

until, with a sigh, she went limp.  Z noted the blush

across the girl's chest and deduced that the

protesting girl had experienced a violent orgasm,

perhaps her first.

Taking advantage of the girl's temporary relaxation,

Z applied two greased clear plastic cups over the

girl's breasts, like rigid bra cups, but concealing

nothing.  Clear plastic tubing  led from the cups.  Z

flicked a switch, and the pocketa-pocketa of a

vacuum pump began to reduce the air pressure in

the cups.  "No, no," the girl moaned as her tender

tits were pulled into the vacuum, stretched, swollen

by the pressure of blood within.  The nipples stood

tall and seemed to visibly swell.  Z  left the girl to

look down at her pink, deformed breasts, the skin

burning from being stretched.  A second, smaller

vacuum cup was applied over the still concealed

clitoris, which was sucked up into the clear cup, a

little pink snail emerging form its shell, more and

more as the time went by.

Z signaled to the camera men and the lights went

out.  The girl was left in the dark to suffer.  Her

wrists and arms ached from supporting her weight.

Her hip joints and taut leg muscles hurt from being

stretched.  Her breasts burned as they were forced

to expand into the vacuum, and her clitoris seemed

on fire as it, too, was engorged with blood,

stretching erect like a hard penis.  The cucumber in

her rectum provided an uncomfortable pressure,

pressing on the anal muscles as if the girl were

constipated.  And there was no relief in sight.

Several hours later, the lights went on again.  The

girl was still alert, still in pain, though the character

of the pain had changed some.  The nerves of

wracked joints and stretched tissue cannot continue

to fire indefinitely.  The "fast" pain paths were

worn, exhausted, and the indefinite, chronic aches

were predominant.  "Well," said Z through her

George Bush mask, "the videos have been

broadcast.  Your father, and thousands more, have

seen the results of his obstinate refusal.  It's time to

escalate the war of nerves."  She made sure the

cameras documented the effects of hours of

vacuum, the swollen, puffy nipples, no longer little

pink pencil erasers, now like strawberries.  The

swollen, bright pink clitoris and its swollen hood

looked like a cherry.  Z removed the vacuum cups

and said, for the camera, "And now, something

different."

Z snapped a wooden ruler against a swollen nipple,

and the girl screamed.  The other nipple got the

same treatment and elicited another scream.  When

the wood slapped against the protruding clitoris, the

girl seemed beyond pain, almost in shock.

Z switched to a cat-o-nine-tails, a whip with nine

knotted leather tails.  She swept the handle down in

a arc which laid the lashes across the breasts,

eliciting a satisfying scream from her victim.

Methodically she whipped the girl, attacking her

breasts from both sides.  The knots did not break

the skin, but left little red bruises, broken blood

vessels, which would soon turn purple and last for

days.  Then, moving between the outstretched legs,

Z slashed down with the lashes, whipping the girl's

thighs, top and bottom, from her knees  almost to

the crease of her groin.  It was clearly painful, and

the tender skin was red with welts, but Z skillfully

preserved the genital area unmarked.  The abused

clitoris still peaked out between the labia.  The girl

stared in horror as her torturer took aim.  The nine

knotted leather lashes landed exactly on the girls

upturned vulva.  She shrieked and fainted.

The girl soon recovered.  "So far," said Z, "we have

done nothing which would cause permanent injury.

Still, your father is adamant.  Regrettably, girl, you

will never be the same after I am done with you.

Your father, I'm sure, hoped for a good marriage

for you.  When we are through, it may be no man

will want you, or it may be you will never want a

man to touch you.  Prepare yourself, girl, to lose

your mind.  But first, we have to get you ready."  Z

took a corkscrew and carefully screwed it into the

cucumber which was still accessible through the

dilated anus.  Then, with a steady pull, she slowly

withdrew it, stretching the anal orifice.  The girl

grunted and tried to expel the object, but Z

prolonged the torment, pushing and pulling a bit to

fuck the girl's ass, before she finally yanked the

vegetable out, leaving a gaping crater where once

had been a neat little rosebud.  She slipped a

tapered metal butt plug into the hole.  It had a

narrow base, so the anal sphincters would hold it in,

and a broader bottom, so it couldn't slip all the way

inside, as the cucumber had.

The men lowered the ropes and allowed the girl to

rest on the hard concrete.  She lay on her back, her

abused breasts and reddened thighs and crotch

exposed for the camera, as the ropes were tightened

to immobilize her.  Z applied some plaster to the

girl's lower body, covering her from navel to anus.

Gauze was incorporated into the plaster as extra

layers were applied, just like a bone-setter's plaster

cast.  "It burns," cried the girl, as the quick-setting

plaster, an exothermic chemical reaction, got hot.

Impulsively, Z used the rest of the plaster to cover

the girl's breasts.   "Maybe, we will use the plaster

molds to make  rubber replicas of your private

parts.  We can send models of your tits and cunt to

your father, and sell them on e-bay.  You are

already famous as your father's daughter.  In future,

a thousand frustrated boys can masturbate with your

rubber cunt."  When the plaster had set, it was

yanked away from the girl, taking all her pubic hair

with it.

The girl was stretched on the concrete, her legs

parted, almost as if on a medieval rack.   A camera

aimed at her now hairless crotch, bright red from

the whip and the plaster, a first degree burn.  Z took

a rubber bulb and slurped up a clear fluid.

"Absolute alcohol," she said.  "It burns, sucks the

moisture right out of your membranes."  She

inserted the tip of the bulb between the girl's labia,

down low, and injected the contents into her vagina.

She shrieked and struggled against her bondage, as

Z squirted more of the irritant on the swollen

clitoris and nipples.

There is a limit to the stress a torture victim can

take, so they gave her a sedative and allowed her to

sleep on a soft mat in a small cage.

The next day, the girl was in pretty good shape.

She had not eaten in days, but the water in her

bowels had kept her from severe dehydration.  Her

swollen breasts and clitoris had more or less

resumed their former size and shape, and the bright

red welts which covered her breasts, belly,  and

thighs had turned various shades of blue and purple.

When the girl was quite awake, she was taken to the

makeshift TV studio again, to be tortured on

camera.  "You know, I'll bet we could get rich

selling DVDs of this on the Internet," said Z as the

men dragged the girl toward a strange apparatus.

The girl, who was resigned to pain, realized that,

for the rest of her life, she would be known as the

girl who was debauched on TV.

They strapped her against a vertical support, with

her arms behind her, her little breasts thrust out.

There was a strap above her breasts, one below

them, and another just above her hips.  A metal stud

screwed  into a  hole in the base of the metal butt

plug she still wore, further immobilizing her.

Supports behind her knees supported her in a sitting

position, with straps across her thighs holding her in

contact with them.  Her bottom, but for the butt

plug, was entirely accessible.  Then the whole

structure was tipped backward, so the effect was

like a patient ready for a gynecological

examination.  The camera zoomed in for a close-up

between her legs.

"You came here a virginal girl.  You will leave here

something else," said Z, by way of increasing the

girl's anxiety.  She put small diameter vacuum cups

over the girl's nipples, stretching them, and then

bound the breasts with rubber cords.  The look in

the girl's eyes reflected her pain, and they let a

camera dwell on her face and her deformed breasts.

First, we're going to loosen up that vagina, so you

can never pass for a virgin, and then, ha ha, we'll

tighten it up again.  She showed the girl a metal

device, roughly the shape of a penis, but covered

with knobs.  A water hose and wires extended from

the base.  The "glans" of the penis was rubber.  Z

rubbed a little gel between the girl's inner labia.

"It's electrically conductive," she said.  Z inserted

the device in the girl's vagina, stretching it, as it

had never known anything bigger than a tampon.  A

rubber strap from the base to the belt at the hips

assured that it would not slide out.  The girl, on her

back with her legs spread and her vagina stuffed as

never before, was not in intense pain, though her

breasts hurt, but she cried tears of despair, realizing

that her "innocence", any claim to virginity, was not

just gone, but the loss would be displayed to the world,

for boys to lust over.

Step one involved letting water enter the device.  The

rubber tip swelled, like a balloon, displacing her

womb with pressure on the cervix.  She had never

been aware of her cervix before.  It pressed her

bladder and the roots of her clitoris which curved

around her pubic arch.  She had never heard of a G-

spot, but hers was being pressed by the expanding

rubber.  The hood of her clitoris retracted, though

she was not aware of that with so much going on

inside her.  The growth of her vagina put pressure

on her rectum, and she became very conscious of

the metal plug in her bottom.  She began gasping in

short breaths, as strange feelings, not all painful,

focused her attention on what lay behind her pubic

bones.  She was thinking that she could take no

more, the intense stimulation driving her crazy,

when a jet of water shot from the base of the device

and hit her exposed clitoris.   She screamed and

shuddered and nearly passed out.  It was not the

shock of pain; it was an intense orgasm which

flooded her brain with opiate-like endorphins.

Z smiled and released the water pressure.  The girl

lay there, on her back, the device distending her

vagina, breathing deeply.  Then Z repeated the

procedure, keeping the stream on the clitoris until

the girl was nearly unconscious from a continuous

series of orgasms.  Z thought to herself that the girl

could never be satisfied by a mere man, after

experiencing Z's tortures.  Again, the girl was raped

by the hydraulic device, and again she was reduced

to quivering ecstacy.

"So much for loosening you up," said Z, smiling at

the exhausted girl.  "Now we'll teach you to tighten

up."  The bulb on the end of the metal penis was

partially filled, not enough to trigger another

orgasm.  Z turned a control knob and pressed a

button, just for a second.  The girl grunted and

ground her teeth as every muscle between her navel

and her knees contracted violently.  When the

button was pressed, alternating current passed

between the metal butt plug and the metal penis.  It

only lasted for a second, but it left the girl

breathless.

"Quite an experience,  that," said Z maliciously.  It

will happen again, but you don't know when."  Z

could see the girl trying to relax, but anxious.

"When your vaginal muscles contracted, the water

pressure peaked rather nicely.  With practice, you

could become a skilled prostitute, able to milk the

deadest dick.  Let's see if you can do that again."

Two seconds passed, two seconds of terror for the

girl, before Z pressed the button again, holding it

down two seconds.

"Unnng!" screamed the girl, as her muscles knotted,

the sartorius along the inside of her thighs standing

out like a bowstring as she strained against the

straps which bound her.  There was a strong

burning sensation at her anus and the entrance of

her vagina, where the currents seemed strongest and

the muscles squeezed the metal.  The "electro-

convulsive therapy" continued, at irregular

intervals, until the girl was utterly exhausted.  The

fall in water pressure when her vagina contracted

bore testimony to the fatigue of the muscles. It was

time to stop.

They gave the girl an hour to recover, and then they

turned on the cameras again and repeated the

hydraulic exercises.  Z thought the girl must be

becoming conditioned to the enforced orgasms, and

she wondered what the result of daily practice

might be.  Possibly the girl would be conditioned

like Pavlov's dog, so the mere sight of the device

would trigger an orgasm, or, conversely, she might

become so accustomed to the "water torture" that

she would no longer have orgasms.  Too bad, they

probably wouldn't have time to perform that

experiment.

One of the camera men gave Z a note: Time is

running out.  We are going to broadcast real-time,

and we want you to burn her cunt so she'll never be

able to have sex again.

Z sighed.  She would have liked to play with this

girl and perfect her torture technique, but orders are

orders.  Z plugged in the electric heating coils and

placed the big soldering iron inside them.  Soon the

coils glowed bright red and the iron (actually it was

copper) became red hot.  Z checked that the

cameras were running and approached the girl,

holding up the glowing iron.  Sheer terror!  Z slowly

brought the iron down between the parted thighs

and barely touched the hood of the clitoris.  A puff of

steam arose.  There would probably be a painful

blister.  Z knew what she had to do next.  She used

her left hand to remove the device and spread the

labia, revealing the gleaming tunnel of a vagina

which had not had time to close entirely.  She

poised the hot iron, ready to plunge it into the

pinkness of the girl's sex.  With the scarring and

adhesions, she wouldn't be able to put a pencil in

there, never mind a prick.  Z paused for dramatic

effect.

"Wait," said a voice.  Z turned.  "We just heard.

Her father had the prisoners shot and the bodies

dumped on the cathedral steps!  She's worthless to

us now."

"Shove it up her twat all the way to her stomach.

We'll dump her body on the cathedral steps for

revenge." said another man.

"No," said Z, putting down the iron and turning off

the heating coils.  "She's innocent.  It's not her fault

that her father is a heartless bastard.  As long as we

could use her to get our people back, I could justify

hurting her.  With the prisoners dead, we don't have

that justification.  We don't want to be as criminal

as her father, killing unnecessarily.  We'll show our

moral superiority by releasing her uninjured, some

place public, like the cathedral steps."

Z wondered, as the men released the straps and set

the naked girl on her feet, would the girl recover

from her ordeal?  Would the torture unleash sexual

passion or lead to frigidity?  Z went to her and

murmured words of reassurance as she gently

pulled the metal plug from the girl's anus.

"Remember," she whispered, cupping one swollen

breast in her hand, "you can get over this.  It wasn't

your fault.  It doesn't make you a bad  person, that

you experienced things other girls haven't.  It's just

that you had to grow up too fast, but you will be

stronger for it.  When you marry, nothing your

husband does will surprise you, and when you go

into labor with your child, you will know you

survived much worse pain."