In Cruel Hands. Part One
by Cortez. All rights reserved
Posted February 14th, 2004
‘The villa was private, set back from the road in a quiet, expensive part of town away from the bustle and noise of the centre behind high, white walls; nothing to mark it out from the neighbouring properties. In this area, home of many senior civil servants and military officers, even security cameras and guards at the gate were not uncommon. But, for all that the villa was avoided by those who knew of its existence… and who wished to remain in good health. It was definitely not a place that was mentioned in the guidebooks or included as a part of the regular tourist tours.
Of course there were a few unfortunate foreigners who paid a visit to the villa, among the steady stream of students, lawyers, journalists, nurses and others. Most were female, many were young and attractive, and all were taken there by force. Almost all of them had been foolish enough to believe that it couldn’t happen to them…until it did.
Thirty five year old freelance journalist, Helen Sinclair, didn’t know about the villa, but she knew that places like it existed. Huddled in the back of a taxi she bit her lip; nervous and frightened she felt the panic rising every time they passed a check point. She had her story, and the computer disc she mailed that morning contained all the proof she needed, now all she had to do was get out safely.
Despite her growing fears, Helen checked in for the flight without problems. After the final security check in Departures, she breathed a sigh of relief and just begun to relax a fraction when the three men in white shirts, black trousers and sunglasses approached her. Oh yes they were so skilful; no fuss…just a quiet murmur about a ‘routine check’, a hand on each arm and a polite ‘please come this way’.
Beyond the door all pretence stopped. As the door clicked shut a fist slammed into her midriff while other hands twisted in her hair, wrenching her head back and preventing her doubling over in agony. Before she could even breathe, let alone cry out, her hands were twisted behind her back and a hard thin band was jerked tight binding her wrists together. Still gasping and retching from the blow she tried to lift her head…and the world went dark…
Nineteen-year-old Anna Tam thought she knew the risks too… after all she’d joined the marches with the other students even though she’d never really got deeply involved. She’d seen how the police and soldiers had acted when breaking up their demonstrations; it was easy to believe the stories about people disappearing and being tortured when you’d seen them at work on the streets.
It was her room-mate, Lily, who was the firebrand, always doing things, protesting, marching and going to endless meetings. It was Lily who had volunteered to hand over the information to the blonde American reporter; until she told Anna she was being watched. So Lily persuaded Anna to go instead. Nothing to it, she said. Go to the hotel, second floor, room 28 and just knock. The description was clear. An American, short blonde hair, pretty with blue eyes, good figure and big breasts (Lily had made a point of telling her about the blonde hair and big breasts). When she shows you her passport, check the name and picture, give her the envelope and get out.
But Lily was working as a Secret Police informer; and they picked up Anna as she left the hotel whilst others shadowed the American to the airport…
…The room at the back of the villa was about eight feet square, a hot, foetid box with bare, cream- painted walls. The door was steel, painted a dull green with a covered spy hole at eye level. The single light fitting set flush with the ceiling, the bright glaring bulb concealed behind wire reinforced glass. There was no light switch. Furniture consisted of a battered metal-framed bed placed opposite the door; the thin mattress covered in green, washable plastic, and a sturdy wooden chair without arms. A three foot long rattan cane that had one end bound with black insulating tape lay across the chair’s slatted seat. The unbound end was wet; glistening with a sticky mixture of blood and perspiration.
The three people in the room were naked, clothes piled in a heap at one end of the bed. In the close, humid air their bodies gleamed with moisture the drops of sweat from their exertions beading their faces. The men were laughing and joking, enjoying the pleasures offered by the girl’s firm, young body
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After fifteen minutes bent naked over the chair and twenty five strokes of the cane across her bottom, she’d told them everything; the visit to the hotel, the American woman’s name and description, and the envelope. Of course, such co-operation hadn’t stopped the caning or the agony. The younger one had enjoyed holding her down for the next thirty strokes and all she’d been able to do was scream…and scream…and scream…
Anna Tam, kneeling astride on the tiled floor wasn’t screaming any longer. Not only because the big man had stopped caning her bottom, but also because the other, younger one’s thick, brown cock was stretching her lips into a wide ‘O’ and filling her mouth and throat. She was effectively gagged so her desperate pleas were reduced to a series of wet, gobbling noises as she sucked and licked the heavily veined shaft. Each thrust of the man’s hips forced the gleaming wet cock even deeper into her throat. The whites of her eyes showed vividly against her shiny brown skin as she tried desperately to avoid retching each time the head slid deep into her throat.
She couldn’t turn away or do anything to stop the slow deliberate oral fucking.
True, her hands were free to wriggle and wave, but they were useless because her elbows had been cinched together behind her back with plastic covered wire, pulled tight then twisted so by now it had bitten deep into her flesh. She couldn’t turn because his hands gripped her head, blunt, powerful fingers twined in her hair, thumbs pressing into her temples to hold her in position; moving her head to and fro to increase the stimulation from her mouth and tongue along the full nine inch length of his penis. At the end of each long, slow thrust Anna’s face pressed hard into the coarse mat of wiry hair at the base of his cock, hairs now slick and oily so she constantly inhaled a rank smelling mixture of sweat, saliva and the reek of stale semen.
Grunting with pleasure Anak pulled back once more to let her draw a few gasping breaths, watching her intently while she paid proper attention to the gleaming purple crest; her cheeks hollowing as her lips sucking the glans while her tongue flickered and lapped the sensitive rim before concentrating on the nerve centre beneath the head.
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‘Oh yeah, that’s it….yeah lick my cock there…’ Twenty two year old Anak jerked with each contact; his pleasure growing as he neared the brink of coming. ‘Oh you fucking bitch, suck it…suck it harder…harder…ahh!’ His hands tightened, pinching and pulling the girl’s hair and scalp as the stimulation became too much and he rammed his hips forwards, pulling her face onto his cock so she twisted and bucked; half-choked by the slippery shaft impaling her throat.
‘That’s it Anak, fuck her harder, man…let’s see you come all over the cow’s face this time…’
Selim, at the age of thirty the older of the two men, grinned as he watched the kneeling girl flapping and struggling for breath. Of course he’d taken her first, with Anak keeping her bent over the chair back as he fucked her hard and brutally. She’d screamed and wriggled wonderfully each time he slammed against the raw weals lacing her bottom. Selim’s own excitement grew once more as he watched the slim, muscular figure of his companion jerking faster and faster. Sweat drops flicked off Anak’s gleaming brown coppery skin as he fucked the girl’s face faster and faster. He shuffled his feet astride, legs bent at the knee as he tried to ram the full length of his cock down the girl’s throat with each rapid movement.
Selim leaned back, his own cock slowly rising and thickening as he became erect again, aroused by the girl’s struggles and the voyeuristic pleasure of watching another man on the brink of coming. Spreading his legs he caressed the slippery glistening head, running his fingers up the underside of the shaft that was still sticky with her cunt juices and the remains of his own semen. His cock reared back until the head touched the moist skin of his belly and he felt the prickle of the coarse hairs against the sensitive surface. Gradually, almost unconsciously, his hand moved faster, in time with his friend’s rapid movements as Anak grunted and gasped, his words a single chant of ‘fuckfuckfuckfuck!’.
‘Go on Anak… show me! Come all over her face!’
Enjoying the extra thrill of an audience, Anak yelled in triumph as he felt the first surge of pleasure tightening his balls. Letting go of the girl’s head with one hand, he wrapped his fingers round the slippery shaft of his cock as he pulled free, masturbating furiously as he did so. The grip of his other hand tightened, forcing the girl to bend her neck back, her face turned upwards so, as he came in a series of jerks and thrust, the thick, sticky cream spurted in warm jets across her face.
Deliberately adding to the performance for Selim’s benefit, Anak continued to hold her arched back while he milked his cock of the last drops before rubbing the slippery purple head across her cum-glazed face face. ‘Ooh yeees…go on you cow…lick it clean…aaaaah…yeeess, yes…that’s it…yesss!’
The big man sprawled on the bunk watched intently as the girl, eyes clenched shut and her face showing only terror and disgust, obeyed, her pink tongue lapping and swirling round her tormentor’s glistening penis as he stood strutted before her, occasionally twitching and jerking as the touch of her tongue became too much.
‘Heh man that’s good, the bitch’s a nice little cocksucker after all…’
Finally satisfied for the moment, Anak casually put one foot against her belly and pushed. The girl swayed backwards, smacking onto her side with a shrill cry, unable to use her hands to break the impact of her fall. Anak scratched his balls and stood grinning across to where his friend lolled at ease on the narrow prison bunk.
The big, six foot guard stretched, continuing to stroke the heavily veined shaft of his now-hard cock as he looked at the shuddering, sobbing figure on the floor. He reached forward to hook his fingers between her cruelly bound elbows. ‘Up you get.’
Urged by Selim’s strong arm Anna somehow scrambled to her knees. The two men grinned at the sight of her full heavy breasts bouncing and jiggling wildly with every struggling movement. ‘Let me help you…’ Anak leered; reached down and took a hard, pinching grip with the forefinger and thumb of each hand on her thick, black and very prominent nipples and pulled steadily.
Anna’s scream echoed into the corridor as she was hoisted unceremoniously to her feet between the two men. Anak wriggled his hands so her breasts bounced and stretched, his fingers adding a cruel twisting torture to the agony in her teats. ‘Tiptoe time…up you go, right up,’ he murmured in her ear and lifted his hands up to shoulder height, pulling her breasts up like two plump, black topped cones. Anna arched back, feet dancing uncontrollably as she tried to support herself on the very tips of her toes in a futile effort to relieve the burning pressure in her tits.
The sound of a telephone in the corridor interrupted the sport. Selim went to answer it only to return a few moments later. ‘Get dressed. That was the Captain; seems they finally picked up the American cow.’ He bent over Anna and untwisted the wire holding her arms. ‘He wants this one too…hope you got a good voice… he likes to hear the screams nice and loud…’
Anna didn’t pay attention, sobbing with the pain of returning circulation she threw herself onto the plastic-covered mattress sobbing and shivering as she rubbed the deep, angry marks encircling her arms.
In the main room of the villa, Captain Tran flicked a minute speck of lint from the immaculate sleeve of his uniform, placed his hat and a manilla file on the desk and sat down in the battered swivel chair. Opening a silver case he took his time selecting and lighting a cigarette. In the gloom his thin cruel features looked even more satanic as they were lit intermittently by the red glow from the tobacco. His hands moved in the pool of light thrown by the green shaded desk lamp, tapping the ash into a heavy glass ashtray before opening the buff file.
The desk was positioned just far enough from the wall to allow someone to tilt the swivel chair backwards to a more comfortable angle. The two spotlights mounted on tall stands on either side added to the cloying heat but their harsh glare revealed every detail of the main part of the room whilst leaving the desk area cloaked in shadow. Not that there was a great deal to see, a bare tiled floor and blank walls, the off-white plaster stained and crumbling with years of neglect. A waist high horizontal bar about three feet long was mounted between two thick posts fixed in the middle of the floor.
For furniture there was a wooden chair and a bare metal chair frame by the back wall; a battered table with a clutter of equipment on top of it and a tall, white and blue pottery jar holding a collection of canes, whips and rods of different thicknesses and lengths; all of which looked well used.
In the shadows beside the desk stood a little wheeled trolley; a grey electrical transformer filled the lower shelf, its power cable, unplugged at the moment, lying coiled loosely on the floor. Thinner wires connected the transformer to a small, palm-sized black box that was lying on the wooden top of the trolley. Two loosely coiled red wires were attached to terminals at the back of the control box; the other end of each wire ended in a battered brass crocodile clip. The controller had a single knob on the top circled by a scale marked from one to ten. Next to it was a simple on/off switch.
Captain Tran closed the file, took another long pull on his cigarette and sat back, smiling to himself as he heard the sound of footsteps and scuffling noises in the corridor outside.
Pushed from behind, Helen Sinclair stumbled onto her knees. Although her hands were cuffed in front of her she couldn’t stop herself and fell forwards, her long, elegant legs sprawled wide; the once-neat grey, executive-style skirt riding up to reveal the tanned naked curves of her buttocks and the glimpse of the thin string of her high riding white thong cutting deep in the cleft between the cheeks.
Her staring eyes, high colour and flared nostrils showed her shock and growing terror; no words, all her cries and screams reduced to a series of muffled mewing noises by the broad strip of silvery-grey duct tape pasted across her mouth. Scrabbling on the smooth tiles she managed to get up onto her knees before Selim hooked one big hand into her armpit and dragged her to her feet facing the desk. Helen winced and turned away, effectively blinded by the unshielded glare from the two spotlights.
Captain Tran snapped his fingers and held out his hand. One of the men who’d arrested her at the airport hurried forward with some travel documents and a passport. ‘And, what else?’
The man bent his head apologetically. ‘Nothing on her, in the room or in any of the bags, Captain…the men have been…most thorough. She was watched all the way to the airport. She saw no-one.’ Tran shuffled the documents for a moment then waved the man away in dismissal.
‘You have some papers I want. You put them somewhere probably in the post…I want to know where you sent them.’ He watched the stubborn, defiant expression; ‘very well, as you like playing games, let me show you some of the games we play with those who do not co-operate with the authorities.’ He flicked his hand, ‘tie her so she can see, then bring in the girl.’
Selim grinned in anticipation, reached up and seized the rope dangling from the ceiling beam; looped it through the American woman’s handcuffs and knotted it securely. Jerking his thumb upwards he stepped aside leaving the woman alone in the middle of the room.
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Helen Sinclair mumbled into the tape gagging her and took two stumbling paces forwards, arms stretched out as though she was trying to reach the desk. Suddenly, she staggered to a halt and her arms jerked over her head as two of the other guards hauled down on the far end of the rope. The mumblings became frantic, head-shaking gobbling noises as her arms were stretched higher and higher; her bare feet scrabbling in a wild tattoo on the tiles as she tried to keep her balance. But it was only when she was on full tiptoe; legs and arms at full stretch that Captain Tran nonchalantly lifted one nicotine-stained finger. The men ceased pulling and fastened the rope to one of the iron rings concreted into the far wall.
‘Before we begin playing with you, Mrs Sinclair…a little demonstration,’ the captain murmured, ‘you’ve met Anna already, I think.’ Anna Tam stumbled into the lights, whimpering at the pain in her breast as Anak pulled her into the room by the left nipple. Helen watched in growing horror as the two men pushed the young student against the bar with a series of shouted commands. She was slapped and kicked until she stood as they wanted, pressed against the bar with her legs astride, her feet straddled against the wooden posts. The men yelled again; their commands accompanied by more vicious slaps to her face and the heavy swaying globes of her breasts until she held out her arms.
‘You’ve been a naughty girl, Anna.’ Captain’s Tran’s voice was quiet, almost bored. ‘Very naughty…some people would call you a traitor…’ Anna shuddered, the tears flowing faster as the voice went on. ‘We know everything you did, the envelope, the hotel,’ Captain Tran paused for effect and nodded to the outstretched figure of Helen Sinclair, ‘meeting the American woman.’
‘Please, please it was only once, please…it was just a message…I didn’t know…please…I didn’t know it was political!’
‘But it was, Anna… and now you must persuade your American friend to co-operate,’ the nineteen year old moaned as the two guards gripped her upper arms. Captain Tran smiled to himself as he watched the girl shivering in terror; enjoying the way each movement made the swollen tips of her heavy breasts jiggle and bounce. Just the right height, he thought as he saw the tops of her thighs pressed against the polished bar almost hiding the plump split of her genitals. ‘Prepare her…’
Helen, her own body quivering with the pain of being forced to strain on tiptoe and unable to say anything to stop the horror could only watch as each man took one of Anna’s arms and tied a length of thin cord round her wrist leaving the long end of the cord dangling. Then, the big man gripped the back of her neck and pushed her down, forcing her to double her body over the wooden bar. ‘Hold your ankles, bitch,’ he said. It was only as the girl bent down that Helen saw the iron rings at the base of each post.
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It was only the work of moments for each of the guards to feed the cords through the rings then pull the girl’s wrists down against them. Two turns of cord round her ankles and back through each ring then knotted securely and Anna Tam was quite helpless; doubled over the bar so that the smooth swell of her buttocks and the long, taut length of each thigh was presented and exposed for her torturer’s attentions. Framed in the tender valley between those bottom cheeks was single, darker whorl of the girl’s anus; below that the split oval of the girl’s genitals bulged out, the outer lips parted by the straddle of her legs to expose the deep pink inner folds of her cunt and the prominent little nub of her clitoris.
Helen realised that Anna had already been tortured and raped. Her cunt was swollen and oily, streaked with wetness and the unmistakable traces of semen. The lacework of vicious, raised weals across the crest of each buttock and running down over the tender back skin at the back of each thigh showed how cruelly she’d been caned already. Helen could also see the way in which the girl’s muscles twitched and jerked, the cheeks of her bottom clenching and unclenching as she waited for her torment to begin again.
‘Before you tell me what I want to know, you will watch very carefully, Mrs Sinclair. Selim is going to give Anna here another session with the cane…’
‘Nooooo! Please…I tol you everything…pleeeeesssseee…no I told you everything, you can’t…please, please! They hurt me so much!’
Captain Tran paused, waiting until Anna Tam’s wild pleas sank to a series of helpless sobs. ‘I know…and now they’re going to hurt you even more. I want you to be an example, a lesson for our American guest.’ Anna screamed wildly as the captain looked at Selim and said, ‘twenty I think…to begin with…’ The rope creaked as Helen Sinclair threshed madly, her eyes popping with rage and fury as she fought to free herself. The captain studied her gyrations with the interested detachment of a scientist observing a new specimen.
The position of her arms had pulled Helen’s once crisp blouse free from the waistband of her skirt and her struggles had popped the rest of the buttons so it flapped open allowing Captain Tran to appreciate the sight of the American’s breasts straining and bouncing, barely constrained by the brief lacy cups of her bra, with each violent twisting movement of her torso. And, since no-one had bothered to pull her skirt down over her bottom, he could also enjoy the sight of those long, tanned legs quivering and straining to hold her in position. Not to mention the way her thong had ridden up to emphasise how the pouting bulge of her genitals was cupped by the taut, white fabric.
Indifferent to the American woman’s reactions Selim had strolled over to the ornamental pot holding the rods, canes and whips he used with such sadistic skill on tethered female flesh. He shared the Captain’s pleasure at the idea of whipping the girl first…it would make the session with the woman that much more…stimulating. Not a bamboo this time…not with her tied like that. Selim smiled as he pulled out a long, thin rattan…yes this one!
Walking back to the doubled figure on the bars he sliced the thin whippy rod through the air with a vicious ‘swick!’ When the American woman heard the noise and stared at him, he smiled back; slid one hand down the pale yellow rattan then gently bent the two ends round until it formed a perfect circle. He watched her growing horror then let the tip go so the rattan cane snapped straight with a second vicious ‘swick!’
‘Don’t worry Mrs Sinclair…it will be your turn soon enough.’ Captain Tran leaned back in his chair and rested one shoe on the edge of his desk. ‘Get on with it, first twenty across’
Selim steadied himself, tapped the thin rattan against the girl’s trembling buttocks a couple of times, and then brought the first stroke whirring in to slice across the out-thrust curves of Anna’s bottom with a single, vicious ‘swick!’ He waited for the sudden, spastic convulsion of the girl’s muscles to subside then placed the second stroke right next to the first. This time, Anna Tam barely managed to contain her whimpering grunt of agony as she jerked and bucked while the searing kiss of the cruelly thin rod blazed across skin already swollen and sore from her first caning.
She screamed aloud as the sixth stroke caught her right across one of the thickest weals from that earlier caning; the stroke left a trail of pin-point dots of blood across raw flesh. Captain Tran nodded approvingly as the girl’s screams began echoing round the room. By the tenth stroke, Anna was squealing continuously and jerking so hard against the cords holding her down that she’d rubbed the flesh away from both her wrists and her ankles.
A few feet away, the rope creaked and groaned under the strain as Helen Sinclair twisted uselessly in her bonds. Even if she’d wanted to look away, the grinning guard, Anak was at her side to turn her head back and ensure she didn’t miss anything of the nineteen year old’s slow, deliberate torture.
By the time Selim had laddered her bottom and thighs with twenty hard strokes, Anna Tam had been reduced to a shivering, mewing wreck. He stepped back, wiped the sweat from his brow and used a piece of cloth to clean the traces of blood and mucus from the rattan cane.
‘A simple disciplinary caning, that’s all Miss Sinclair…Now, where did you send the envelope Anna gave you?’
He watched the blonde American glaring at him, mumbling curses from behind the silver tape. He rested his elbows on the desk, ‘very well, strip her!’ he ordered and Helen Sinclair’s muffled cries rose to a new pitch of desperation as she felt the blade of the guard’s knife against her back. Material ripped, there was the soft, ‘snick’ of elastic and the ruins of Helen’s clothes hung forward in tatters. Grinning happily, the man moved round her cutting away the straps of her bra and the remains of her blouse and skirt until the wreckage fell onto the floor to leave her almost naked.
Keeping clear of her unbound feet, he slid the blade under the waistband of her panties at her left hip and jerked it upwards. There was another soft ‘thock’ as the cut ends snapped back against Helen’s skin. She shuddered as he ran the back of the blade across her abdomen, her stomach muscles fluttering as he walked round to cut the other side of the waistband; the brief white triangle of her thong flopped forward; held up only where the string was still wedged in the cleft of her buttocks.
There were growls of appreciation from the other guards behind the lights as the blonde American’s last protection was stripped away. Captain Tran smiled happily at the sight of her tanned and toned figure, the long legs, delightfully rounded bottom, slim waist and those high, pink-tipped breasts with their stiff upturned nipples. This one doesn’t sunbathe in the nude, he thought to himself, studying the two pale triangles framing each aureole and the third one emphasising the vee of her groin…and a natural blonde too. To the watchers the carefully trimmed strip of blonde hair down the centre of her mound only emphasised her nudity…and the deep inrolling slit of her cunt between the plump lips
Helen Sinclair stood quietly, eyes still fixed on Anna’s blood-smeared buttocks. Although she could still keep her feet together, her breasts were lifted and exposed by her position; the arched hollow of her ribs moving rapidly as she panted with the strain and her growing fear of the inevitable agony she would face when the Captain finished his sadistic little game.
Helen mumbled, there was a ripping sound and her scream of pain rang round the room as the guard reached up, hooked a fingernail under the edge of the tape and tore it off her face in a single, agonising pull.
‘Yuh…yuh….yu-you fucking perverted bastard…what the fucking hell do you think you’re doing! I demand to see t…Huuuuhhh!’
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The outraged yells ended with a noise like a wet towel hitting a table and a single whooshing gasp of air as the guard smashed his fist into the American’s unprotected belly.
‘That’s better…either keep quiet or he’ll do it again…he likes it as you can see,’ Captain Tran leaned backwards. ‘Once again, where did you put it?’ He rocked forwards. ‘Miss Sinclair, it is you who are causing Anna all this discomfort. Perhaps you don’t really understand why she’s bent over like that…there are other ways of applying that kind of cane to a female. Selim, show Miss Sinclair what I mean.’
Selim grinned and walked round until he was on the captain’s side of the bar facing the broad downward curve of Anna Tam’s back. The mess of black hair on the floor writhed like a nest of snakes as Anna shook her head frantically, suddenly understanding the full obscenity of what he was going to do to her. For a moment Helen Sinclair just stared, mouth agape and chest heaving as she tried to find the breath to say something. Then Selim lifted the cane high over his head and brought it slicing down into the cleft of Anna Tam’s bottom.
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Helen clearly saw the end of the thin, flexible cane whip round to snap unbearably against the exposed oval of the girl’s genitals with a horrible wet ‘thwick!’ For an instant there was total silence and every muscle of the bending girl’s body locked rigid as she strained against her bonds. Then, Anna shrieked like an animal and a thin stream of liquid arced out from her cunt to splash unheeded on the tiles as she lost control of her bladder in her agony.
‘Don’t look away, Miss Sinclair…tell me where it is or you will experience the same thing very soon.’
‘You perverted bastard! She’s nothing to do with this and you know it! The disc was in my case…if your tame thugs can’t find it then it’s not my fault.’
‘You’re making things very difficult for poor Anna…again!’
A deeper sound and a fine spray of moisture as the rod caught the line of her slit where the outer labia gaped a little and another demented scream filled the hot, sticky air of the torture chamber.
The same wet noise, but this time the rod sliced deeper into the girl’s unprotected cunt slit. Anna Tam retched and shrieked like a mad thing, the muscles of her legs and buttocks quivering and vibrating uncontrollably in her agony. Now her own body was making things worse because Helen could see that the girl’s labia were becoming puffed and swollen as the effects of those first three strokes built up; swollen so much that the naked split of her genitals was gaping wider and wider exposing the dark pink inner folds and the tip of her clit to the scalding kiss of the cruel rod.
Helen was able to see how the inner folds of Anna’s cunt flattened and vibrated as the next stroke whipped into that open slit searing a line of agony across her most sensitive flesh. She also saw the end of the rod whip round to hit the swollen nub of the girl’s clit. Anna arched back as far as she could, bending her neck so she could actually look up into the grinning face of her torturer. Her mouth gaped and a series of inarticulate noises bubbled in her throat. She held the straining pose for a few more seconds then suddenly slumped down to hang unconscious over the bar.
Selim clenched one hand in her wet hair and wrenched her head back. ‘She’s out, sir, shall we wake her up?’
‘No, get it out of here…I think it’s time to play with our other guest.’