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Kidnap

Part 1

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."  


      


Review This Story || Author: Abe
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