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In Cruel Hands. Part Two
by Cortez. All rights reserved
Posted February March 5th, 2004
Thirty five year old American reporter Helen Sinclair has been arrested at the airport as she tries to leave the Sultanate of Mantok and taken to a government villa rather than a police station so she can be interrogated under torture. To increase her terror Helen has been forced to watch the punishment and torture of Anna Tam, the nineteen-year-old student who gave her the documents to support her story about the despotism, corruption and brutality of the Sultan’s regime. Now it is her turn…
Guards hurried out of the dimness, cut the cords and half-dragged, half-carried the unconscious girl out of the room. In all the movement no-one bothered with the cry of relief from Helen Sinclair as the guard who’d stripped her undid the rope and she was able to bring her arms down and stand properly at last. She circled her shoulders and rubbed her wrists as best she could. She lifted her bound hands in an automatic gesture of modesty to try and cover the pink tips of her breasts. Covering her own growing terror, she tried to bluster, lifting her head and squinting across the room into the glare of the lights.
‘My turn now I suppose, you fucking sadist… told you there’s nothing to find, no letter… nothing…’ She trembled uncontrollably; fear overcoming defiance and her voice broke and faltered so the final, ‘so you can go fuck yourself!’ died away in a series of snivelling sobs.
Helen’s terrified trembling increased as the guard gripped her left arm, turning her before undoing the cuffs. She didn’t have a chance; Anak was much too experienced in preparing women for torture in this room. He twisted her round, grabbed her other wrist and re-cuffed her hands behind her back before she’d even thought about striking out or resisting. The other two guards laughed as he pushed her towards the bar then made her stumble and jerk upright again as he slapped her across the bottom with the flat of his hand.
‘Yes, you’re right, it’s your turn… go on, do as you’re told, Miss Sinclair… stand between the posts, you know the position.’ Captain Tran and his men watched as the thirty five year old blonde was guided slowly and unsteadily across to the horizontal bar; ‘very good… now, you know what to do… feet apart against the uprights.’
For a moment Helen’s face froze and she opened her mouth to say something. But the words died as she saw the grinning, sadistic faces just waiting for their chance. Taking a deep breath she moved her feet apart, shuffling wider and wider astride, her legs trembling despite her efforts to appear calm and in control, until the sides of her feet were pressed hard against the rough wood of the uprights.
‘Use the straps, they’ll hold her in position better,’ Captain Tran said casually; Helen cried out as two men knelt to grip her legs. No cords for her…the men used soft leather straps to secure her ankles. Then, before she really realised what was happening they were buckling more straps just below each knee, spreading her thighs even wider and forcing her legs apart against the uprights so she was held in a painful half squat that exposed her cunt and anus even more dreadfully.
The blonde American’s brief show of bravado vanished completely. She was crying openly; heaving, terrified sobs that racked her body. With her hands behind her back she was forced to lean forwards over the bar so her breasts swung and bounced with every little movement. Selim’s thick fingers nipped and pinched the pink teats so she jerked and twitched continually. There was more crude laughter as her nipples reacted to his attentions, rousing and stiffening until they stuck out like little pink spikes. Other fingers started fumbling with her arms above her elbows.
‘Aaaah, ah p-please d-don’t…m-my shoulders, please they won’t g-go back aaaaah!’
Helen Sinclair’s protests were in vain as someone cinched another strap tighter and tighter round her upper arms, dragging her elbows together and straining her shoulders back so her jutting breasts were pushed out even more prominently. Selim, laughing openly, held her by the nipples while one of the others tied another long rope to her wrist cuffs. There was a brief pause while the man flicked the rest of the rope over one of the ceiling hooks in front of the bar. Selim let her teats go, took the tail of rope and waited until he was sure that the American was watching him; anticipating the pain as he pulled her arms up behind her back.
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‘No… Noooo I can’t…..nooooooo!’
Her struggles were quite useless and the improvised strappado hoisted the blonde American’s arms up easily, bowing her body forwards over the wooden bar. Selim watched the play of her muscles as the tension increased, carefully judging the point of maximum pain; stretching her arms and twisting her shoulder joints almost to the point of dislocation. After a moment or two he let the rope slacken a little and Helen gasped in relief. Selim grinned unpleasantly as he let the rope slacken a little more bringing another fervent gasp of relief from the twisted figure in front of him.
Of course, Helen didn’t realise that the apparent kindness was just to provide a little opportunity for movement so her torturers could have more fun watching her frantic struggles with each new application of pain.
Captain Tran watched the preparations closely. He loved this part of an interrogation, especially when an attractive western woman was the subject. Those breasts; those delightful pink teats, the blonde hair and sun tan marks that always made them look even more obviously naked that the local women. He adjusted the hard, uncomfortable bulge of his own erection within the confines of his uniform trousers; suddenly aroused at the thought of what those breasts would look like in a few minutes time with the brass electrodes gripping her nipples.
The men gathered round her, laughing and joking at the sight of the gleaming tanned body now curved forward and held half-squatting between the uprights. Helen Sinclair sobbed in vain while her big breasts bounced and jiggled enticingly with every panting breath. She looked up as she heard a noise and saw Captain’s Tran’s cruel face through the glare, lit by the flare of his lighter and then the red glow as he took a long pull on his cigarette. She stopped struggling, aware that the guards had moved back a little leaving her alone in the lights. The captain’s shoes clicked on the tiles as he strolled round to stand beside her.
‘You can’t treat me like this, you bastard! I’m an American…I’ve got rights…Just wait till the embassy hears what yo….Gaaaaaaaahh!’ The captain halted the flow of words by grabbing her blond hair and wrenching her head back so she was staring up into his pitiless eyes.
‘Wrong, Miss Sinclair,’ he blew a stream of smoke into her face. ‘I can do anything…because you are no longer in this country.’ His lips parted in a thin smile. ‘A little rearrangement of the paperwork, a couple of changes to some lists and files and…,’ the sinister smile broadened, ‘Miss Helen Sinclair changed her booking and flew from Mantok to Jakarta where she said she was visiting as a tourist.’
‘No, no they’ll check…my paper will want to know where I am!’
‘But you don’t work for the Daily Press anymore, do you? You walked out and said you were going freelance. No Miss Sinclair, if anyone looks…which I doubt…they will look elsewhere, not in Mantok.’ He took another slow pull on his cigarette and examined the red tip. ‘Now, about the letter…’ Without any warning he pressed the end of his cigarette into the exposed hollow of her right armpit.
There was a soft ‘pssst’ as the heat seared the moist skin and Helen arched and twisted in agony against the straps and his hand clenched in her hair.
‘Oh God! Haaaaaah…aaah-aah…you fucking bastar…GAAAAAH!’
The second gasping cry became a scream as Captain Tran again pressed the cigarette tip against the sensitive flesh of her underarm a few inches away from the first circular burn.
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He drew the cigarette back to a red glow. ‘You see…a little heat, correctly applied can be so persuasive,’ his hand moved down and Helen Sinclair shuddered and panted as she felt the heat against the dangling bulb of her right breast. ‘Look carefully, Miss Sinclair.’ He let her head fall forwards and crouched beside her, left hand cradling the weight of her breast; holding it steady as he brought the cigarette up and gently touched the tip against the pink rim of her aureole…
‘…Oh…oh…oh…naaaaaaaah!’
‘Such a noise…and I’ve hardly started yet…and there’s so many sensitive places…’ he waited until her spasms had passed and she was staring down at her own breasts in horror as he tapped the ash off and carefully brought the cigarette up to graze the tip of her nipple.
‘Naaarrrggh…Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Please….please…Aaaaaaah… Noooooo, please…Nooooooooo!’
This time he didn’t press the red-hot end against her skin. He used it like a brush, searing the whole surface of the sensitive peak so the flesh swelled and blistered…and the agony made her scream and plead like a mad thing.
He straightened and casually stubbed the remains out in the cleft of her buttocks and waited for the fresh scream of outrage to subside. ‘Anything to say?’
‘Aiiiiiiiiihhh! No…T-told you n-no letter so f-fuck off!’
He nodded and lit another cigarette. This time he didn’t bother with her armpit but crouched and touched the burning end to the outer edge of the pink disc of her other aureole. Holding her breast still he delicately added another five blistered dots round the rim, each time waiting for the jerk of agony to subside before moving on. Determined not to break, Helen writhed and hissed frantically; jaws clamped tight as she tried to ride each new scalding pain.
He laughed knowing exactly what she was trying to do and drew the cigarette to a bright glow. Carefully tapping off the ash he began stroking the red hot end along the length of her left nipple; working all the way round until she was screaming properly.
Then he stood up once more and pulled her head back.
He waited for the screams to become snivelling sobs. ‘Let me tell you what happens next, Miss Sinclair…we’ll play with these,’ his finger flicked the raw tip so she bucked and squealed at the extra pain, ‘a little more and then,’ the captain shook her head from side to side. ‘Then I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse and worse…for you that is.’ He rocked her head again, ‘but don’t worry…my men always enjoy the show.’ With that he let her head go and snapped his fingers for one of the guards to bring him the plastic chair from the side of the room
‘Now, for the last time…where’s the letter?’ Captain Tran waited a moment, ‘I see, then we must move on to harsher methods.’ He sat down and one of the guards immediately wheeled the little trolley across from the side of the desk. ‘Guess where these are going, Miss Sinclair…,’ he said quietly holding up the wires so the crocodile clips swung and clicked together
Helen lifted her head and peered through the matted tangle of damp hair hanging over her face. Tear leaked from her eyes as she saw the electrodes and the trolley with its wires and transformer. ‘Oh no, no…please… please don’t hurt me again…please…’
‘The envelope?’
She didn’t say anything, just a single shake of her head and a stare of abject fear as Selim took the clips and crouched beside her. No pause, no playing around, he just held the toothed jaws open, gripped the bulge of her breast with his other hand and then let the clip close across the raw, weeping stub of her left nipple.
‘Oh God! Aaaah…hah…haa-ah,’ the words forced out in a hiss of agony as she bucked upwards, shoulders straining as she tried to lift her torso in a vain attempt to avoid the man’s fingers only to feel the metal teeth biting into the ruined and blistered peak of her breast.
Selim dropped her breast and reached across for the next clip. Helen jerked frantically but her torturer again used one hand to steady the dangling bulb while the other positioned the clip with the skill of long practice.
‘Naaarrrggh!’
Helen Sinclair’s scream was louder this time as Selim deliberately pressed the jaws together, squeezing her right nipple so pinpoints of blood showed along the line of teeth where they gripped the wet, flayed stub.
In the darkness, one of the others uncoiled the cable and there was the click of a switch. On the bottom shelf of the trolley the transformer started humming softly and a small indicator lamp glowed red. Anak handed the captain the little controller. For a few moments there was almost silence in the stinking, smoky heat of the torture room. The only noises were those coming from the transformer and the rapid panting of the woman bent over the bar.
Captain Tran allowed himself a few moments to relish the sight of those dangling breasts; the sensitive pink tips now clamped so firmly by jaws of the brass electrodes. They swayed and jiggled with every little movement of the woman’s body…making the brass clips glitter and wink like exotic jewellery in the glare of the powerful lights.
The sharp ‘click!’ of the switch broke the silence. Helen Sinclair tensed and held her breath as a soft buzzing came from the electrodes attached to her nipples. An instant later she was arched back in spasm; every muscle showing in cruel relief as the electricity seared through her breasts. With her head thrown back everyone could see the blonde American’s agony-distorted features… but for a few seconds there was no sound, then a single, agonised scream ripped through the foetid air.
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‘Yaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggghhhh!’
The Captain’s thumb moved on the controller, although the click of the switch was lost in the sounds of Helen’s torment. She flopped forwards, head dangling; her breasts slapping together as the current was cut off. The screams were replaced by the sound of shuddering gasps as she fought to breathe. No questions but Tran took time to light another cigarette then his hand moved and Helen Sinclair’s body snapped back in a straining bow as the current seared her nipples.
Again and again the American woman’s demented screams rang out, her body bucking and straining against the skilfully placed straps as the torture went on and on. After twenty minutes, Captain Tran got up and walked over to the torture posts. He crouched down and peered at the clip attached to her left nipple.
‘Still nothing to tell me…’ he didn’t really bother to listen to the mumbled pleas for pity; they all did that as the pain grew worse and worse. But there was still that spark of defiance in the way she refused to answer, ‘very well… let’s see how you like being fucked by my little machine shall we…Selim!’
The big guard hurried forwards to unclip the electrodes from her nipples. ‘Try the lips first…let’s see if frying her cunt will change her mind…’
He moved the chair close to Helen’s head and settled himself, leaning forwards so he could look at her and whisper in her ear as Selim followed his commands.
‘Pleeeeeesse, p-p-p-please it hurts soooo much!’
‘Oh yes, Miss Sinclair, I know, I understand…but they don’t…the machine just goes on and on and it gets worse and worse…’ He smiled as she suddenly jerked; her eyes bulging wide, mouth open in shock. ‘Oh, yes Miss Sinclair…can you feel Selim touching your cunt. He’s going to put those clips on your cunt lips…unless you’ve remembered…?’
‘Aaaah! Please, no, no you can’t not there…you’ll kill me!’
‘Oh no, no that’s the last thing I want to do…Don’t worry Miss Sinclair…we’ll keep you alive so you can feel everything.’
Selim attached one of the clips right at the top of her slit, the teeth gripping the plump outer lip. The other was carefully attached to the other side of her cunt slit near the opening of her vagina. He squeezed and tugged the brass electrodes; checking to ensure that they were both secure and there was no possibility of a short circuit. With every contact she cried out; her buttocks twitched and shivered and the naked whorl of her anus clenched and flexed. He looked over the woman’s back and nodded at the captain.
‘Watch the switch, Miss Sinclair.’ He showed her the little control box…then clicked the silver on-off switch to ‘on’.
‘Naaaaaaaarrrggh!’
This time the scream was a single yell of pure agony. As she threshed and bucked under the surge of the current, the Captain grinned at his chief torturer as both of them heard a soft noise, like muffled clapping, as her flailing breasts slapped and bounced under the frenzy of her agony. Ten seconds…then the captain flicked the switch to ‘off’
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Behind the desperate, rasping breathing there was the sound of liquid dripping onto the tiles. ‘She’s wet herself, sir,’ Selim reported slashing her across the bottom with the flat of his hand, ‘filthy American cow.’
‘Tell me where the letter is,’ Captain Tran said softly. Helen moaned, her head still shaking as she fought the pain and exhaustion. ‘Ah well, just a little more then…’ His finger moved and Helen’s head arched backwards, her mouth gaping wide as the screams ripped from her throat.
Half a dozen shocks later and Helen was still squealing and shrieking although the sound was rougher; broken and hoarse, her vocal cords strained by giving voice to the unbearable agony in her cunt. He body was blotched and soaked with sweat, her wrists and knees raw where she’d rubbed the flesh away in her frenzied struggles.
‘Pleeeese…take them off…pleeeese…they’re hurting me….’
‘Yes, yes … there, can you feel Selim taking them off?’ His voice was coaxing, but his eyes flickered across to the trolley. Knowing exactly what the captain wanted to do, Selim busied himself removing the brass clips and attaching differently shaped electrodes to the two wires in their place. The first was a polished copper rod, finger thick and six inches long. One end swelled into a small egg-shaped bulb; the other, where the wire was connected, formed a black insulated handle. The other electrode was about the same length but only the thickness of a pencil, the end curved like a half-crooked finger. It was completely cased in black rubber except for the rounded tip that had been stripped to reveal the bare copper core.
The sadistic little Captain brushed the matted hair away from Helen Sinclair’s ear and leaned closer. ‘The machine’s waiting…’ As he spoke, Selim squeezed a clear gel onto the copper bulb and pressed it against the American’s anus.
‘NOOOOO! No, you said you’d take them off…no…no, you bastard no…please aaah-aaah!’
She cried and bucked as the domed head stretched her anal ring then suddenly slid up into her rectum. Selim grinned happily as he watched her anus gripped the shaft, her own muscles now holding the electrode securely inside her body. ‘No, I promised Selim would take the clips off, you really must listen carefully, Miss Sinclair. Now Selim’s got another little toy for you…this one’s his favourite, show her, Selim.’
The big guard held the thin, curved rod so the terrified woman could see it. ‘In a moment he’s going to slide it right up inside you then we’ll turn the machine on…Last chance Miss Sinclair…well?’
‘Oh God! No…no, pleeeese…pleeeese I’ll tell you…please… I put it in the mailbox as I left the hotel….please…I sent it to myself…to my home…please, you must believe me please!’
‘Oh dear, such a wasted effort…it’s going to mean so much more pain for you…and such a stupid lie. We checked the mail immediately you left the hotel…’
‘Noooooooooooooooo!’
Captain Tran looked at the big guard and jabbed the air with a single finger. Selim grinned and inserted the curved rod into the opening of the blonde American’s vagina, sliding it gently further and further inside until he was satisfied. He nodded at the captain who moved the control knob from ‘two’ to ‘three’ and clicked the switch to ‘on’.
Niiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaagh! Yaaaaaagh…aaaaaah…yiiiiiiiiiiaaaah!’
This time her screams of agony rose and fell, peaking in single squeals of torment as Selim moved the slim rod, stroking the rounded copper tip against the inner walls of her cunt so the electricity scorched each part of her vagina. Like the captain, he was an expert; listening for those particularly intense squeals that told him where the copper probe was bringing her the sharpest agony, moving it so delicately and with the pitiless skill of a surgeon.
Suddenly, Helen Sinclair’s screams rose even higher as the probe touched one place on the front wall of her vagina, stroked across a nerve centre that convulsed her with blazing agony. Selim smiled happily as he listened to the shrieks…ah yes…that was the spot…just…there!
Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaahhh…h-h-h-aaaaaaah…aaaaaah…’
The scream died away as Helen Sinclair flopped over the bar and the wrist rope took the full weight of her torso. Captain Tran flicked the switch and wrenched her head back. ‘She’s out…but she’s near, very near. Right…put the big one up her cunt then, when she comes round I’ll have another chat and you can work on her anus and her clit.’
Both men laughed at the soft, sucking noise as Selim pulled the copper bulb out of the woman’s anus. Captain Tran slapped her face; three stinging blows that jerked Helen back to consciousness with a sudden convulsion. ‘Good, I wanted you awake so we can go on with our little game; Selim!’
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Oh God! W-what…what’s he do…aaaarrggh!’
Her eyes bulged, mouth wide in a circle of outrage as Selim pushed the copper bulb deep into her vagina, fucking her with it like some obscene metal cock. The outrage turned into another useless, gabbled plea for mercy as she saw the captain’s finger on the switch of the electrical controller… and felt the rounded tip of the other probe nuzzling the rosette of her anus…
For thirty five year old Helen Sinclair, alone and forgotten in a Mantok torture chamber, her journey into hell was only just beginning.