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. Lisa 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 fifteen year old 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'm fifteen. 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 child'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 had 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."
She was forced to watch as 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 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. "If rape
is inevitable, lie back..." 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."
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