A DIFFICULT SITUATION Himinez lit up a cigar using a lighter shaped like a small hand grenade. The jet of flame shot out of the tip like a blowtorch. Playing it across end of the tube, he sat back in his chair and puffed a few times, filling his mouth with the acrid fumes. He looked down at the typed notes on his desk, leafing through them in a perfunctory manner. Then he glanced up at the woman standing in front of him. She was young, yes, twenty-one according to the document, and quite beautiful. She had strong, black, shoulder-length hair and clear olive skin. She was naked, and presented a fine figure, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and firm, pert breasts tipped with dark, thick nipples. She had a solid, muscular abdomen and she reminded him of a dancer he had known when he was much younger. He felt a twinge of sadness as he remembered the relationship. What was her name? He could not recall. His youth belonged to that of a quite different man. He fixed his gaze on the girl's snatch, inspecting the dark, thick mound. He appreciated the contrast with the sliver links nestling on the black curls, which formed the chain between the handcuffs around the girl's wrists. The metal gripped her wrists securely, digging into her soft flesh, and her hands made tight fists. He looked up into her dusky eyes, which burned with hatred and defiance. It was all too rare that he received a subject with this one's qualities, he reflected. She was clearly a strong one, although the occasional quiver of her chest betrayed her fears. He looked again at his notes. Sonja Ramirez, student at the City University. Father a doctor, well-to-do. Good grades. Why did they get mixed up in politics, he wondered. Throwing their lives away. She was the second student brought in that day. Idealists. He tried to recall if he had had any ideals when he joined the police force as a young man. Again, it was all so long ago, a different lifetime. He took out his cigar and inspected it. Good brand, he thought. Yes, even now he could recall the exact occasion when his life had begun to turn in this direction. He had been with the police for five years and had never visited that wing of the station where the interrogations were conducted. It was not forbidden; rather he had shown no interest in it, or perhaps he had actively avoided it. Sure, he had made arrests and handed over prisoners to the guards but he had never ventured beyond the unremarkable grey door on the second floor which represented the only access to the wing from the main building. But that day, his supervisor had beckoned him over and asked him to accompany him. He was going to interview a prisoner and he wanted Himinez to observe. No problem, he had said, and soon he found himself opening that same door for his boss and following him through. As they waited for a guard to unlock an inner iron gate, he began to hear faint screams echoing through the walls. It was eerie to him and the screams did not sound as he had expected them. He wondered if they had animals in here too, for some reason. The noises became louder as the walked further into the block. His boss was in front of him, walking swiftly. They passed a door to the right with a circular window inset: glass and chickenwire. Himinez paused. Looking into the small room, he saw four figures. One, a woman, naked, was on her back on a wooden table. Two men held her arms and legs, forcing them apart and he could see her sex, rudely exposed. She was struggling hopelessly as a third, whom he recognised as Carlos, now his superior, worked on her with a large pair of pliers. He held her breast in one hand and was manipulating her nipple with the metal grip. She shook violently as he closed the jaws on her, howling so loudly that he felt the door vibrate. Then, he was at her mouth, wrenching it open and probing inside with his tools. Aside from his wife, Himinez had never seen a woman naked before. It was a different time then, he remembered with a wry chuckle. Despite the violence, which appalled him, he could not take her eyes off her quivering cunt. He heard his boss, who had returned to him, ask if he wanted to go inside. Yes, he heard himself saying without hesitation. Go on then, he was told. He felt light-headed as he entered the room. The men stopped their activities and turned to him. The only sound was the wailing of the girl, whom he saw was just a child, surely no more than sixteen or seventeen. Carlos smiled at him. "Nice piece of meat, huh?" he sniggered. Then he went back to his work. Himinez watched, feeling his cock swell in his pants. Despite five years on the streets, he was genuinely shocked at the cruelty he was witnessing. But when, the girl rendered almost unconscious, Carlos asked him if he wanted first go at her, he found himself unbuckling his belt. The men encouraged him as he pumped her and when he came it was the most powerful sensation he had ever experienced. His legs were trembling as he zipped himself up. When he returned home that night, he found his wife sitting passively watching TV. Without speaking, he grabbed her. Dragged her upstairs pulling off her clothes. Made love to her roughly, brutally, with a passion that he had never felt for her before. She told him later as they inspected her bruises that she had never known he had that in him and it troubled her. She had lain away from him that night. Later, however, she became accustomed to the treatment and did not even recoil as he came to her. He was drawn to the wing from then on, and found that he had a talent for interrogation. Carlos was just a brute and a sadist and had no particular interest in the supposed purpose of the abuse he meted out. Himinez, by contrast, bothered to understand the psychological motivation of his subjects. He had even picked up a book on the topic once. And in time he had become the station's most adept interrogator. Carlos, however, rose much faster through the ranks and now Himinez had to report to him, a man younger and more stupid than he. So it goes, he thought. Two more years and he would be out. He would have put his girls through school and he could afford to take it easy. It would have been a good career, he reflected. Despite the toll, the corrosive effect, on his soul of which he had become aware far too late. That was the only negative. It manifested in little things, like the way that he and his wife slept in separate beds and the fact that she would no longer touch him. Like the expression on the face of one of his past victims at a chance encounter in the supermarket. Funnily enough, he would never recognise them individually, just the expressions: the hatred and the fear. Sometimes there was something more, some connection, something deeper, which he could not fathom. But these were minor quibbles and, shaking himself out of this sentimental torpor, he put down his cigar and picked up his notes. Sonja stared at the fat man behind the desk, trying to adopt as confident and defiant an attitude as she could manage under the circumstances. Even yet, she could barely believe she was here, in the police station, standing bound and naked in front of complete strangers. In the Movement, there was of course the ever-present risk that the authorities would pick you up for questioning and worse. Indeed, she had been here before with her comrades, in a public room probably not far from this one, making enquiries about people who had disappeared. But she had never really expected it to happen to her. Perhaps her friends were here even now, asking after her. She could imagine Paolo, who had brought her into the Movement and was her boyfriend, angrily demanding to know where she had been taken. She could equally imagine the response from the desk clerk. That no, they had no information about a Miss Ramirez, that he should sit down and fill in a missing persons form. That they would look into it and, if anything turned up, they would contact him at the number which he should write down in this box. It was hard for Sonja to accept what was happening to her. Just two hours ago she had been walking back to her apartment from the library along the busy main street when she saw a police car pull up just ahead of her. She had looked round to see whom they were after. Two policemen jumped out and came towards her. She moved to one side, to make way, and then she was grabbed, dropping her bag on the pavement, and dragged towards the vehicle. People around her stopped and stared, and she cried out to them to help her. No one reacted. Then a hand was on her head forcing it down and she was in the back seat of the police car. Two men sat in front, separated from her by a metal grille, and another sat next to her on the back seat. She was in shock and for the moment was unable to speak. A policeman took out a pair of handcuffs from his side and she did not resist as he attached them to her wrists. She looked out of the window as the car pulled away from the kerb and watched the scene of everyday life pass by. She could feel it receding from her, as if she was rapidly detaching from normal life, from freedom. She had a terrible sense of foreboding. She looked at the man next to her. He was barely older than she. Embarrassed, he looked away, staring at the back of the driver's head. The radio crackled incessantly with instructions and she heard the third man pick up the receiver and speak her name into it. She put her head between her knees and started to pray. She saw the police station looming ahead. It was a large white building, right in the centre of the city, and it was infamous. Like everyone else, she had heard stories about what happened behind the barred windows on the second floor. People went in and often never come out. Those that did emerge were invariably broken, both physically and mentally. Once, when visiting her mother in hospital, she had seen a man they said had been inside. He would have looked quite normal had it not been for his hands, missing all the fingernails and gruesomely twisted, as if all the bones had been broken and re-set. And his eyes, which were as lifeless as if his brain behind had been destroyed. Lying on the hospital bed, he had held his knees with his mangled hands and rocked gently back and forth. Apparently no-one had managed to extract a word from him since he had been found, lying in the gutter somewhere in the suburbs. Her mother had told her that they had described him as a lucky one when he was first brought in but nobody said that anymore. Instead of driving up to the main reception, as she had expected, the car passed by the gates and turned the corner. She saw a large metal door being opened and the car drove in, the interior plunged into darkness as it entered. Then the doors were opened and she was pulled out and taken through a small side door into the building. One of the men had disappeared but the other two led her down corridor after corridor and she soon lost any sense of where in the building she was. Although she could hear voices, they met no-one as she was led deeper into the police station. Finally, they reached their destination, a small holding cell, and the young officer removed her hand-cuffs. Then the other policeman told her to take off her clothes. At this, the boy turned bright red and stepped back. She wondered what to do. Were they going to rape her? But the man had spoken in such a matter-of-fact way, as if he were asking for her identity card. "Come on" he continued "we don't have all day." One thing she knew was that if the police told you to do something, you had better cooperate and she began to undress. As she took off her shoes she felt the cold concrete floor under her feet. Unbuttoning her shirt, she became aware of the boy's eyes on her, and heard his breathing quicken as she got down to her underwear. Then she was stepping out of her panties and standing naked, covering herself as best she could with her hands. She was not self-conscious about her body but, stripped in front of these policemen, she felt as vulnerable as she ever had in her life. Receiving a nod from his superior, the boy approached her and took out the handcuffs. She even managed to smile a little as he clasped them around her wrists -he was shaking and clearly more nervous than she was. He would not meet her eyes. At that moment, the door was opened and the third man popped his head in. He started as he saw Sonja's nude body and stumbled with his words. "They're ready for her" he managed to say. She was led out by the three men. "OK" said the Himinez "you know why you're here. The grounds for your arrest this morning are membership of an illegal group." "Have I been arrested?" she asked. Ignoring her, he continued. "Let's begin with a name. I want you to give me a name. It doesn't matter which name we start with but I want you to give me a name now." Sonja muttered something under her breath and looked at the floor. "Speak up" he said "I can't hear what you're saying". Lifting her head, and putting on her toughest look, she repeated her words: "Fuck you". Himinez sighed. He motioned to one of the guards who grabbed the girl and dragged her over to the wall, flinging her against it. "Assume the position" barked the rough man. She had no idea what he meant and was numb with the shock of the force he had used. Holding her by the hair he grabbed the chain around her wrists and yanked her arms up in front of her, and she caught herself against the wall with her palms. Then he kicked her legs apart with his boot. She felt the weight of her breasts hanging down. Then she heard the sound of a machine gun being cocked and felt the cold barrel against the back of her head. Himinez stood up and put down his cigar in a silver ashtray. He walked over to the girl and stood next to her, casually resting one arm against the wall. Her knees were trembling slightly, which pleased him. "Look" he said. "Those games are over. You know where you are. And you know what my men will do to you if I give them half a chance. You, my dear, have been a very silly girl and now you are paying the price. We have serious business here and I don't have time to mess around. Now I'll ask you again, politely. Please give me the name of someone you would like to tell me about." Sonja stared at the peeling paintwork on the wall before her. She could do this, she thought. She could make it hard for this bastard. "Fuck you" she muttered again. She felt a blow across the back of her knees from some blunt metal object, causing her legs to buckle and she was on the floor. Then at once she was yanked up by the hair and thrown against the wall. She was told again to assume the position and she did so, shaking visibly. "Kids" said Hernandez to himself as he turned away. She was a bold one alright. A few years ago he'd have enjoyed the challenge. Fit girl like that. He'd have spent a few days with her, working her over. Strapped to an iron bed with wires taped to her tits and pussy, she'd make a fine sight. Tied face down over a wooden table to be raped, humiliated, broken. Yes, in better times he would have made a project out of her. But today he had a pile of paperwork waiting for him and a dinner engagement together with his wife who would give him hell if he picked her up late. He picked up the phone on his desk. "Bring him in" he ordered. Sonja looked over her shoulder as the door opened and several people entered. Her heart sank and her eyes filled with tears as she saw, between two guards, her boyfriend Paolo being led into the room. He too was naked, with hands cuffed in front of his body. She saw the look of shock and bewilderment on his face. He tried to call out to her "I love you" but he was cut off as a guard struck him with a steel baton, sending him to the ground. Dazed, he was picked up and dragged across the room. Sonja tried to turn around but the guard behind grabbed her by the hair and forced her head forwards. She was doubly upset by Paolo's stupid words. Didn't he realise that it was all over? She prayed that he could see it too, that he would control his emotions, otherwise it really would be the end for them. "Sonja" she heard him cry, and then the sound of fist on face. Then for some time she heard noises of metal against metal, footsteps, the shaking of some structure. Her head was yanked to one side and she was thrown down onto the floor. She had not time to look around as she was again picked up by the hair, onto her knees this time, while another man grabbed the chain between her wrists. There was an iron ring set into the floor near the middle of the room and, producing a small padlock, the man locked her chain into it. Then her legs were pulled back and she found herself kneeling like a dog. As the figure in front of her moved away she saw Paolo. On entering the room, she had not noticed that fixed to one wall was a metal lattice, similar to the wooden ones on which her mother would train roses. Paolo was spread-eagled against this structure, fixed by steel bands at his wrists and ankles. His naked body was taught, and as he breathed she watched his limp penis rise and fall. They had been together the previous night, and for a moment she remembered how he had felt as she kissed his chest, his stomach, his thighs, before taking his hard shaft in her mouth. He had been so alive then, but that was a life apart now. She tried not to look into his eyes: all was lost. They were through: together, separated, whatever. She fixed her eyes on the floor. Himinez put down his cigar. He picked up a stool and carried it over to the girl. Perching his frame on the small leather seat, he put one foot on a bar and picked up the girl's head by the hair. "He's a good-looking boy", he said to her. "I understand that the two of you had sex last night." He felt the girl shudder and saw the boy hang his head in shame. "I imagine the two of you made quite a pretty sight. I expect that you both are full of the joys of love. You do love him, don't you Sonja?" The girl did not reply and he let her head fall. "I'm sure you do, my dear. And from the look in his eyes I think he does too." He looked over at the middle-aged woman standing by a small sink and worktop on the far side of the room. "Doesn't it warm your heart?" She looked back at him harshly. "Now, you see, Sonja, this is what is going to take place. Your boy there is going to be tortured and I am going to make sure that you watch what we do to him." At this, the young man began to struggle violently against his restraints. "I want you both to know" continued Himinez, "that you Sonja are entirely responsible for this. All you have to do is tell me that you are ready to cooperate and I will stop things right away. I can do that. Do you want me to stop it now, Sonja?" "Yes, please don't hurt him", replied the girl, looking imploringly into his eyes. "It's not his fault." "Are you ready to talk to me, Sonja?", he asked. "Do you want to give me a name?" Sonja hung her head. This was just too terrible. She was in an impossible position. She could not bear the thought that they were going to hurt poor Paolo, whom she genuinely loved, but she knew too that if she gave them what they wanted many more of her comrades would end up here, or worse. Her mind was whirling and she couldn't speak. Instead, and for the first time since she was a child, she began to cry. "Well, it's your choice Sonja. What do you think about that, Paolo?". Paolo was staring at his girlfriend, hoping that she would raise her head and look at him. But he was to be disappointed. Gesticulating at one of the guards, Himinez called over "Get me a leash will you". Sonja looked up to see a man approach holding what looked like a dog collar with a short length of chain attached. She tried to raise her arms as he strapped the leather around her neck and she jerked at the ring in the floor. The collar was too tight and constricted her breathing. The guard handed the chain to his superior, who tugged it causing the girl to lift her head and arch her back, sticking out her bottom. Himinez felt his cock stirring in his loose pants. Sonja looked at Paolo. I'm so sorry, she was trying to say with her eyes. Paolo just looked back blankly at her, fear and incomprehension on his strong features. Sonja cast her eyes to the left to see the woman, perched against the worktop. From her position, she could not see what was on this surface. But she concluded correctly that the woman was a nurse. Obviously this was serious, if they had a nurse standing by in case of any injury, she thought with a shudder. To Paolo's other side, a thick-set guard nodded at the man holding her leash and began to take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves. He then put on a pair of black gloves and pulled something shiny from his pocket. He slipped the metal bands over his knuckles and flexed his fingers. "Right" said the fat man from above her. "Let's get on with it." The man walked up to Paolo and without hesitation punched him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He stood back. Paolo was strong and had good abdominal muscles. Clearly it had hurt but he managed to spit at his assailant. The latter responded by raining a whole series of blows against the poor man's stomach and chest. The lattice frame rattled with each strike as Paolo shook with the force of the impacts. The guard paused, wiped his forehead with his arm, and struck his victim across the jaw, spinning his head to the side. Then again, from the other side, and blood spurted from Paolo's broken nose. Sonja, in complete shock, tried to look away but the pressure on the leash around her neck kept her head up. She began to wail. Looking up at Himinez, she pleaded with him to stop it. But Himinez did not look down at her. Again and again the guard drove his fists into the boy's body. Then, drawing back for a final, massive blow, he rammed his right hand hard into Paolo's groin. The boy let out a high-pitched shriek, shook for a few seconds, his stomach muscles contracting to try to bring his upper body forward but held back by the restraints. Then he dropped his head forward and vomited. "Enough yet, my dear?" asked Himinez to Sonja, tugging on her collar. "For God's sake stop" she moaned, turning her head away from the sight of the boy who had been her lover, spasming on the frame. "You'll kill him." "No, I'm afraid, my dear. Not for a long while yet." he replied, without emotion. "How are your knuckles?" he called over to the boxer. "Sore" replied the other, with a laugh. "Alright" said Himinez "use the prod for a while." Sonja watched as the man took off the metal bands and his gloves. Then he walked over to where the nurse was standing. He picked up a baton, about two feet in length, with two small metal spikes protruding from the tip. He held it vertically, inspecting the tip, and then she saw a spark jump between the spikes with a loud crackle. She felt cold and her legs started to tremble. The man walked over to Paolo who, though beaten almost senseless, began to strain against his bonds. Sonja's view of him was blocked as the guard stood in front of him. The she heard the crackle and saw Paolo jump, his arms and legs becoming rigid, as if the blood had frozen in the veins. He shook uncontrollably as the guard played the baton across his naked, hairless torso. A hideous, strangulated scream was coming from his mouth. "Stand aside" shouted Himinez to the torturer. "Let the young lady have a good view." The guard released his thumb from the switch on the baton, causing Paolo to slump down against his bonds, his head lolling against his chest. The man stood to one side and Sonja saw that Paolo was drenched with sweat and that he was quivering slightly. Then the guard held up the baton, pressing the end into his victim's groin. "No, please" she shouted but he pressed the button anyway and Paolo shrieked in pain as the sparks snaked across his penis and testicles. She caught the smell of burning hair in her nostrils and retched. He was thrashing like an epileptic, violently shaking the metalwork, which creaked and clattered as it vibrated. The muscles on his neck stood out and white foam seeped from his clenched teeth. The sound of the electricity rang in her ears and she prayed for it to stop. "Enough" yelled Himinez and again the boy hung limp. "Now, Sonja" he said, yanking on her leash, "what is it to be?" Sonja merely tried to turn away from him and continued to sob quietly. He found her defiance arousing. Such a strong-willed woman would be an asset to any organisation and he was glad they had taken the decision to bring her into custody. He patted her gently on the buttocks, seeing her squirm in revulsion. "That's all right, my dear. Don't cry" he continued. "Do you see that lady over there? She's medically trained, you know". Thank God, thought Sonja at this. It was enough. No-one could take that kind of punishment and she herself was at breaking point. Himinez elaborated. "Now I am a very patient man but I'm afraid my dear that you have pushed me right to my limit". His voice was casual, almost playful. "I will now give you one last chance to respond to my questions. If you do not cooperate fully and answer every question I put to you directly and honestly, I shall instruct that lady to pick up a sharp scalpel and use it to castrate your boyfriend." Sonja felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. She gasped for air and began to see stars before her eyes. For this horror she had not prepared herself. She prayed for God to help them, for some miracle to transport them from this part of hell. She burst into tears and began to tremble uncontrollably. She heard Paolo cry out. He was calling to her, pleading with her, telling her to do what the man said. For him. "Don't let them do this to me" he was begging her. She screwed her eyes tight. What could she do? She had to save him -it would be monstrous to let this happen, even to an animal. And this was to a man she loved, had loved, she didn't know what. She heard the sound of running water and looked up to see the nurse washing her hands in the basin, then dry them and pull on a pair of surgical gloves. She had to do something to stop this. Yes, she would comply, there was no other way. She could not stop this, others would understand. They had been defeated, they were simply not strong enough. She foresaw that all her comrades would end up in here, one by one, even if she gave just a single name. No one could resist this kind of brutality, this inhuman cruelty. But she also saw that, whatever she did now she could not help Paolo or herself. That they would never leave this place. Her head was jerked up and she was held by her hair. The nurse was walking over to Paolo, the blade of the scalpel flashing in her hand. Paolo was hysterical, thrashing and bawling like a madman. Everything was happening terribly slowly, as if they were all submerged in syrup, and Sonja heard her heart beating loudly in her ears and her felt her breasts sway slowly as they dangled beneath her. Her ears were numb and the screams were muffled. What should she do? Whom should she save -Paolo, who was gone in any case, or her comrades, some of whom she hated anyway? She was paralysed with indecision and she knew that she was inches from insanity. She tried to look away but the hand on her hair held her fast. The nurse had taken Paolo's flaccid penis in her left hand, lifting it above his balls. She saw the flash of the scalpel. Then, the blood and the mad, high-pitched screams, the hoarse coughing, the weeping. The nurse had something in her hand and she walked back over to the worktop and dropped it into a wastebin. There was a dull thud as it hit the bottom. Sonja broke away, wrenching the hair from her scalp. She fell onto the floor and writhed, demented, digging her teeth into her forearm, wailing and sobbing. She saw the nurse return to the boy and spray his genitals with something that must have burned like fire, extracting more shrieks from the poor victim, before pressing up a towel against his groin, a red spot growing against the white cloth as she did. She held it there for some time. Sonja felt another pull on the chain and hands around her, holding her still. A voice whispered in her ear "You did this. You did this." She closed her eyes and screamed again. That's a tough woman, thought Himinez. He had rarely seen someone react like that in her position. They would almost invariably break at that point and become docile for as long as he needed them. He would probably do the same, in her position. But some of these idealists...it was incredible. He wondered what made them tick. "How is he?" he called over to the nurse. "He'll live" she replied, factually. Himinez sat back down in his chair, letting it tip back, and proceeded to light his cigar, which had gone out. He puffed on it as he surveyed the scene. The boy had been released from the bars and was lying on his side on the floor, hands cuffed and pressing a bloodstained towel into his groin. He was moaning softly. On the other side of the room lay the girl, hands chained to the ring in the floor. She was curled up awkwardly, in a tight ball, and was completely silent. Stupid children, he thought. He called over the burly guard and spoke to him. Gesturing to his partner, the guard walked over to the girl, unchained her wrists and removed her collar. As they dragged her across the room to the far wall she turned to look at him, her eyes begging to know what was to come next. She struggled hard as they chained her to the metal lattice but they were far too strong for her. Just like Paolo, she was held firm by metal shackles at her wrists and ankles, spread-eagling her against the metalwork. They added a pair of leather straps linked to thick chains locked to the iron bars, around her thighs, stretching them apart. The girl spat and cursed at them as they arranged her, causing them to laugh to each other. When she was firmly chained up, they picked up the prone naked man and dragged him across the floor, chaining his wrists to the iron ring in the floor where Sonja had previously been anchored. They strapped the collar round his neck. The bloody towel was left where it dropped in the middle of the room. Quite an appealing symmetry to this whole affair, Himinez reflected, somewhat proud of his aesthetic sensibilities. Putting down his cigar, he took up his place on the stool next to the naked man and picked up the chain of the leash. "On your knees, young man" he ordered and the figure shuffled into position, groaning, his arms and legs quivering under him. He hung his head. Blood trickled down his inner thighs but the quantity was not dangerous at the moment. Himinez said to him "Don't blame Sonja. I know she loves you. It's just that we put her in a very awkward position, didn't we?" He tugged on the leash playfully as he spoke. "Perhaps you can see the bigger picture and help us out rather better." Sonja, naked and chained up against the metalwork, was listening to these words. The guards and the woman were watching her. Both guards' tight trousers bulged at the crotch. She felt quite peculiar, as if she were on stage and expected to perform some act. Her thighs ached where they were held apart and she looked down. She could see blood and vomit on the floor at her feet. She regained her composure and tried to lean out against the restraints at her wrists. "Don't listen to him, Paolo" she called out. "You know what will happen to both of us if you talk." The fat man was talking quietly in his ear and she saw him start to sob again and drop his head. He could not look at her. With a pang of grief, she understood why. Then the man was saying that clearly Paolo needed some persuasion to get him started. Calling over to the thick-set guard, he boomed "Let's watch her dance for a while. You can use the ladies' model this time." Sonja had no idea what he meant but still felt her stomach muscles contract in anticipation. The guard walked over to the worktop and she saw on it the horrible scalpel, covered with blood. Several other instruments lay there too, including the prod and another black baton which looked quite similar. This he picked up and as he approached she could see that it had a curved end like a huge banana with no spikes but with four thin metallic rings around its girth. She was trying to understand its purpose when the guard activated the instrument, sending crackling sparks between the rings. Sonja started to thrash wildly against the steel shackles holding her in place, her breasts swinging and jerking. She darted her eyes towards Paolo whose head was held up by the leash. He looked at her sadly. Then the guard had one hand on her chest and, with the other, he pushed the tip of the baton horizontally between her legs. Taking his hand from her chest, he activated the device. Sparks jumped from the rings and ran along her labia, tearing into her clitoris. The trauma caused her entire body to shake violently and hideous pains shot up and down her insides. A scream, which began in her bowels and rose through her lungs was forced out through her clenched teeth and she could hear it echo in her ears and skull. Then, the sparks stopped and the pain faded. Sonja hung from the frame. She was sweating and panting as if she had just run a marathon. Her arms felt wrenched from their sockets and her genitals throbbed and stung. She lifted her head to look at the guard, who smiled a disgusting leer as he pressed the tip of the baton vertically against her vulva. She shook her head. "No" she said, under her breath, to herself more than the man in front of her. No, this could not be happening. She saw the guard's shoulder twitch and he thrust the baton deep inside her body. He yanked it several times until he was happy with the depth, each time pressing the tip hard against her cervix and she felt its girth stretching her vagina wide open. "Oh God, please..." she cried as he pressed the button. Pain exploded through her body. Her abdominal and vaginal muscles spasmed uncontrollably and her arms and thighs tensed so hard she felt her skin would break. Skewers were being driven up her bowels and her womb was on fire. Through pain-dulled senses, she felt her pelvic muscles collapse and her bladder empty down her thighs, heard the liquid spatter against the floor. The improved contact created by her urine magnified the pain even further and it felt to her as if her vagina was being torn apart. The guard was experienced in this kind of torture, and kept the current flowing for some time before releasing the button. He gave her three breaths, watching her chest rise and fall, her ribs contouring the skin stretched taught by her strained posture, and then pressed again. Her sweat-soaked body leapt and shook as he did, her breasts quivering and stomach pulsing. Eventually, recognising that she was becoming both exhausted and desensitised, he looked over his shoulder to his superior, who nodded and he released the button. He withdrew the shaft from the girl's quivering loins. Himinez motioned to the guard to come over and hand him the baton. Yanking up his subject using the chain, he held the baton close to the boy's face. The black surface glistened with the girl's juices and urine, which were running down the shaft and dripping off the end. "I think she enjoyed that, don't you?" he asked. "Does she get that wet when you go down on her?" The boy bucked his head and choked a negative response. "You know, I can't promise when you'll next have the opportunity to do that. Would you like to taste her cunt while you have the chance? Go on, I don't mind" he said, trying to sound helpful. The boy was weeping again and trying to look away but he held the baton against the trembling lips and ran it up and down. Then he dropped it onto the floor with a clatter. He looked over at the girl. She hung limp from the metal frame, matted hair covering her eyes. She really was a most attractive thing, all bronzed and covered with sweat. He liked the way it ran between her breasts and down onto her dark thatch where it would collect and drip onto the floor every now and then. She was breathing lightly and he watched her breasts rise and fall and her stomach swell and contract. He felt the blood rush to his cock. He yanked Paolo's leash, and bending down he started again. "I can see that you enjoyed that almost as much as I did, young man" he chuckled. "She really is a fine girl. You're very lucky." Changing his tone to a more serious one, he continued. "Tell me, you're an educated man, aren't you?" No response. "I'm sure you're aware of the practices of other cultures outside our own continent." Across the room, the girl raised her head. "Well, one that interests me takes place in some of the African lands. It's considered a gift to many a young girl in those parts. Are you following me?" Paolo swung his head: he was not. "I'm talking about circumcision, of course" Himinez continued, patting him on the backside. "The surgical removal of a young lady's outer labia and clitoris. They usually sew her up too. It's for the husband, mainly. So he can be sure she won't end up wayward." Paolo let out a low moan. Sonja, regaining her senses after the electrocution, began for the first time to fell genuine, unalloyed, white-hot panic. She watched the man bend lower towards Paolo's ear. "You know, in your...er...condition, you might appreciate that kind of precaution being taken on your young lady over there" he continued, looking up towards her and raising Paolo's head by the leash as he did. "Of course you won't be able to give her children, will you, and it's a funny thing when women get broody. They all do, by their mid-thirties at the latest, you know. She might find the temptation of a real man hard to resist with her, you know, female urges." "You fucking, fucking bastard" screamed Sonja. She cut herself off as Paolo looked up at her. What am I to do, he was asking with his eyes. She felt so sorry for him, for the both of them. "I see you agree with me. Very sensible, young man." Looking over towards the nurse, he continued. "Madam, would you perform the procedure for us?" Sonja watched, mouth agape, as the woman turned to the basin, turning on the tap. First she held the scalpel under the water, washing it clean of the blood which had dried on its blade. Then she picked up a towel and wiped it dry. She rinsed her hands, cleaning them thoroughly and drying them, and pulled on a new pair of surgical gloves. Sonja could hardly take her eyes off her, but she was distracted by a horrible gurgling sound and she looked back at Paolo who, with tears streaming from his eyes, was clawing at the floor with his fingernails. He began wailing. Sonja, stretching against her bonds, stiffened as the woman approached her. Their eyes met but there was no sign of pity or any other emotion in her eyes. In her right hand she held the scalpel and it glittered in the light. The woman bent over and she felt a hand between her legs and clammy, thick fingers manipulating her vulva. Her thighs twitched but she was unable to close them. She looked down at the woman's head. She had jet black hair, thinning slightly, with an ugly white line along the parting. Sonja felt her labia being spread and gripped tightly, her body pulled by the firmness of the grip. She looked at Paolo. He was shaking like a lunatic. She closed her eyes and felt the cold blade against her flesh, and prepared for the first cut. It was, she knew, the worst thing that could be done to a woman. She would be a cripple, mutilated, an amputee. But she knew that the end would come soon for her anyway and this was just the first part of her dismemberment. She prayed it would be over quickly. In my flesh...She felt a sharp prick between her loins and something trickle down her left thigh. Then, shouting, echoing through the chamber. It was Paolo. He had yanked himself away from the man and was straining against his wrists as if to pull his arms out of the sockets. "Stop" he was crying "stop for God's sake." The woman paused in her work. "I'll do it" he cried, "I'll tell you everything." The man motioned to the woman to stand back. "I love you, Sonja" he stammered. "No you bastard" screamed Sonja at Paolo. "It's over. We've had it, can't you see? Don't you dare..." Her voice was cut off as the guard pressed the two metal spikes of the prod against the side of her head and she immediately blacked out. Himinez walked back to his desk and sat down, pulling the typewriter towards him. The boy was looking at him desperately. Yes, he was ready to talk alright. He looked at his watch. It was 5:35. If he could get this out within the next hour, he thought, he could make it home on time.
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