Iran

Iran


It was day 1,276, about three and a half years since the Iranians  kidnapped my
husband from a power plant in a small town in Egypt where  he was an advisor.
Three and a half years of not once hearing a word from him or the kidnappers.
Three and a half years of hearing the White House contact simply giving me and
Jim's parents optimistic but unfounded encouragement that everything would be
alright. We knew with everything going on in the Middle East neither
administration would risk any bad diplomacy for one American citizen. He wasn't
important to the country, to any military efforts nor to anyone but some Iranian
factions that needed his skills. He knew how to restart an electrical plant that
was damaged in their war with Iraq.

Three and a half years without a man to love. Yes,...yes, I did have sex on a
few occasions. After all three and a half years ago when they snatched Jimmy I
was in my mid twenties and at first was as loyal and dedicated as anyone to her 
marriage but this not knowing if he was even alive or not. Not knowing if we'd
ever see each other again. I think Jimmy would understand.

It was Friday when I picked up the pile of mail from the post office  that the
letter was there. At first it looked like one of a hundred  such envelopes I've
received with words of encouragement from religious groups and support
organizations in the early months but it had been some time since one came and
this one had no international postage. Instead it had an Iranian stamp without
cancellation. I quickly open it. I ignored  the letter for almost fifteen
minutes as I studies the picture of Jim which was inside.

It was him alright. He had a beard like the one he sported when we lived  in
Nevada only now it was long and shaggy. He looked as if he lost weight, at least
twenty to twenty-five pounds. But the best thing was seeing him. Finally I sat
down and read the letter. I read it three times, carefully trying  to comprehend
each line.

My initial impulse to contact the agent assigned to Jimmy's case files  as I'd
been instructed since day one if I ever were to received any contact but this
impulse faded as I read the threat for the fourth time. I had but one chance to
comply, quickly and totally. If I didn't they assured me that I'd never again
receive any further contact and Jimmy would suffer for my disobedience. There
was no way, I would risk informing the State Department right now. With the
phone perhaps tapped by whomever this was and the possibility of being tailed, I
decided to play by their rules. I put the rest of my things away before sitting
down one more time with the letter.

The instructions were clear but caused a hell of a lot of apprehension. I was to
wear a particular style and color outfit. If I didn't, contact would not be
made. The instructions specified that I was to be pleasant to any or all who
approached but if I didn't hear the words "Praise be Allah." within ten minutes
of any conversation then I was to get rid of the person sniffing me. The type of
clothing and term sniffing me made me very concern about the person or people I
would be meeting, but it was the first, the very first contact about my husband 
in the entire three and a half years. I would do everything and anything asked
of me.

Friday night. Happy hour night in most any American city. Men and women out for
a good time. Looking for fun. Looking to connect. I sat at the bar as
instructed. I wore the red dress, thin (actually it was really a slip I added
rhinestones to because I couldn't fine a dress sheer enough dress to allow my
figure to show through as the instructions directed) with heels, black stocking
and without a bra or panty. Strange indeed. Suspicious indeed for a contact
about one's kidnapped husband but the letter stated clearly what the contact
would be looking for. If I didn't completely, completely underlined, comply  no
contact would be made. I sat at the bar in the thin nylon slip that was never
designed as public outer wear. When I stood, the light shown though the material
as if only to add a hue to my form under it. My body, my naked pussy, the
obviousness of my braless breasts displayed clearly. I sat and waited. Dozens of
men approached. Each was given ten minutes of friendly conversation but when the
words I sought did not come from them, they were dismissed so my contact would
have free access. After the first four hours I knew what this meant. I was the
cock teaser in the bar. The bitch who enticed men to approach but after
encouraging them pushed them away. I had to stay there until midnight. Anytime
from 4 p.m. till midnight was my contact instructions. I continued to allure man
after man then snubbed them off. At nearly midnight yet another man came to my
side. I smiled and greeted the man who had to have been the twenty bulging pants
man. He handed me a note and left before I could react.    I was to return again
next week. Same dress only the note writer was disappointed with the mid thigh
length. The skirt was to be half the length and my contact promised to be there
between 4 and midnight this time. He had to make sure I was obedient and
trustworthy but the note again stated that if I didn't completely comply there
would never be the chance of hearing from my husband.

A week takes forever to pass. The slip, now daring dress was already short. It
originally came a few inches above my knees but to cut it in half as the note
clearly stated would make it really too short. Considering how transparent it
was already, I couldn't figure what they wanted from me other than assuring my
obedience. Along with the cutting of the hem this time I was to greet any man
who approached with a smile and accept any suggestion or idea or to dance or
accept a drink. Only the males in Iran are respected and my willingness to show
this admiration to all men would play heavily when I'd be contacted by the right
man. I was to engage in friendly conversation for no less than fifteen minutes
(the fifteen minutes was underlines and would be timed by some observer) before
waiting for the key phrase of "Praise be Allah" but there was one other thing. I
was to make contact with each male's cock who talked to me. It had to be with my
fingers so the act would not be misinterpreted. I was assured that this time if
I followed these instructions again, I'd be able to talk with those who knew of
my husband's whereabouts. It was just as clearly assured if I didn't my contact
would not approach me. My obedience was my key to contact.

Sure I briefly considered the possibility that someone might be using my
desperate situation to take advantage of me but there was the picture of Jim
from the letter and the fact there was a chance. But it didn't lessen my
concerns that it all seemed so bizarre to just humiliate and expose me like this
in public if they were real. Then as if they knew I would have such doubts or to
insure my participation, on Tuesday another envelope came with another picture
of Jimmy. He looked tired simply sitting on a bare wood floor. The clothing he
wore was gray and dirty. There was a chain on his ankle attached to a radiator.
It was his only bondage but the thickness of the links indicated it was enough
to keep one in place. I noticed too his ankles were red. He probably was often
chain like he was. It made my heart pour out to him. Thinking of my husband
chained like an animal and here I was thinking how hard it would be for me to
comply this time as directed.

I went to work with my scissors and thread on the slip. I really didn't know
what embarrassing me in a bar and exposing me in the sheer and now scanty dress
was for but if they had to verify obedience, I'd vowed it by first cutting off
more than half of the slips bottom. It was now barely a skating skirt length and
being red nylon the parts of me the fine material still covered was still
silhouetted in a red form. When I finished, I held the slip up by the spaghetti
straps. I had lingerie that covers more of me yet I was eager for Friday night.

I entered the lounge. Not a male's eye missed my walk across the dance floor to
the table along the wall. Who ever wrote the two instruction letters knew just
how difficult it would be for a woman to present herself as I was now. The red
high heel shoes and stockings only started the look. Because of the skirt's
shortness the entire stocking tops with an inch of garter belt was uncovered.
The first letter was clear not to wear American pantyhose. The garter belt and
stocking straps served more purpose than simply holding up nylons. It confirmed
that one could see it through the red nylon material whenever the slip clung up
to my body and it also confirmed there wasn't even a vague outline below the
garter belt where a panty would be except for my trimmed triangle patch. I had
to sit perched on the high table stool like willing bate for sharks.

The first came in for the kill early upon my arrival. I was fairly sure he
wasn't an Iranian contact because of his blond hair and suffer look but my
instructions were clear. I was to make contact with every man who approached and
I was being judged. So when he started out with an offer to buy me a drink, I
agreed. I had to agree but at that moment I wanted a drink anyway. I checked my
watch. It was 4:10. He had until 4:25 to say the magic phrase. He was a fast
mover. Then again dressed as I was I was offering myself as blatantly as if I
wore a sign. "OPEN FOR BUSINESS".

My first reaction to his hand on my naked thigh between the stocking tops and
short hem was to push him off. But that was what I was being judged for.
Honoring men. My breath quicken as his initial assault went unchallenged. I knew
allowing him such clearly shameless liberties would be interrupted by him as if
I was some kind of wanton slut. He continued with a grin on his face. "Slow
down." was all I could come out with. His hand only a fraction of an inch from
my pussy stopped. I looked at him and he into my eyes. He flicked his finger up
touching my bush before pulling back. He smiled with his assurance that this
slut was indeed uncovered and ready for what he hoped would be a wild night.                    
"Your married ?" he asked looking at my ring. I nodded when I looked at it too.
"Bastard husband, hu ? I didn't know how to respond. "You're one hell of a wild
chick." he told me moving in closer and putting his arm around me. The reality
of getting rid of each man I allowed this much freedom came to me. Last week I
was there as the lounge stuck up visual dream. This week I would have to be the
cock teaser of all time. His fingers played with my thin shoulder strap. It
lifted my breast with his pull. My nipples went hard and poked into the thin
material. I had another nine minute to put up with him but what I was really
beginning to realize was how difficult the night would go. I was panicky about
what was happening to me. Physically allowing my body to be explored but also
how hot it was making me.

The waitress brought our drinks. The guy told her to start a tab but I told him
I really had to meet someone tonight. He laughed it off and said something like
was I meeting my husband. He had no idea how close he was. Not being able to
shield my body because of the explicit instructions left me to my physical
appearance which was shameless near exposure. What could I expect of any man who
made contact that night. I sat there tempting and exposed. My verbal greeting
invited and my lack or resistance hindered nothing until their time ran out. I
was openly pinched, touched, and felt everywhere from my breast to fingers
impaled within my uncovered pussy. The longer I endured the more I believed the
men's comments about me being a no good slut, whore and tease before I finally
pushed them away after fifteen minute.

It was quarter to nine when the ninth man approached. He spoke little other than
saying how he watched other enjoy my body and I didn't refuse them. He wasn't
the least bit subtle but rather groped me under the short skirt from the start.
I tried to talk and perhaps slow him down but he enjoyed his unbridled time
until he had me responding from his touch. "Please no." was all I could utter.
"Come American bitch whore. Come for the glory of Allah. Praise be Allah." I
heard just before I did explode right there. Right there with probably all the
guys looking who I lead on then sent them away. They really had me playing the
lowliest of sluts and this wrenching out of control orgasm had me feeling just
the part.

"Excuse me but I'm the manager and I'd like you to leave." a voice announced. My
eyes were closed and I never saw him approach. The dark hair man who was sitting
to my right said something like he wanted to take a bitch like me to a hotel
anyway. I hardly remember walking out with him. At the door was another man with
thick wavy hair, a white mustache and very strong stern features. He wore a dark
three piece suit with gold chain running from vest pocket to vest pocket. Around
his neck a camera hung. He said something to his friend in a foreign language.
"You will come with us?" the man who approached me at the table half stated and
half asked.

"Can you help me contact my husband ?" I asked. He said he had the means to send
a message to Jimmy. I came this far. I got in the car without any further
questions.

The gray hair man sat in back with me. I felt very uncomfortable as part of my
bare upper thigh that were neither covered with stocking nor short skirt touched
the cold leather in the air conditioned car. As thin as the nylon slip material
was, my whole ass felt like it too was naked. I felt very naked especially
sitting in a car going somewhere I had no idea. Sitting next to a man dressed
like a banker. I was indeed a slut in their presents.

We drove but fifteen minutes when the car turned into the parking lot of a
discount store. We remained way on a far end. My heart began to pound.

Again the gray hair man spoke. I assumed in Iranian. He sounded gruff in his
tone. The man in front quickly lean over and open the glove compartment then
handed him a couple of items. The silver handcuffs I recognized immediately and
really made my breath quicken. I must have looked really scared or the man
already calculated everything out. He spoke to me for the very first time. "You
may put these on yourself if you wish or you are free to leave right now. The
choice is yours. We have reason to take precautions as to where we are going.
You're government is very irrational with those of us who are here to help the
people."

My hands were shaking as I held the open pair of cuffs and a pair of wrap around
sunglasses. "What about my husband ? You're note said if I did everything you
asked. Dressed like I am you'd help me talk with him."

The man's eyes showed neither pity nor feeling for me. He matter of factly
responded. "The note said if you fully and completely cooperate we would assist
you in sending a message to your fool husband. We will do this but it is still
your choice. You can put on the glasses and lock your wrists behind your back,
or you may leave the car right now."

I wanted more reassurance. I wanted to ask more but his tone was snip with me
too. I put on the glasses. They weren't ordinary sunglasses because behind the
mirror fronts was total blackness. It was a high fashion blindfold. When I
scooted up to lock the cuffs behind my back, I felt my bare ass slide from under
the little remaining allusion of skirt. Even with the car's engine and air
conditioner still running, the clicking of the cuffs seem to echo in the
vehicle. It was done. I chose but for some reason I had to reassure myself I had
done right. "Would you really have let me leave." I asked looking at blackness.

"Yes." The man seated next to me immediately responded. "Your fate probably
wouldn't have been much better. We are in National City. In a ghetto area. A
cunt dressed like you and without a cent would have to seek help to get home. I
doubt you'd make it past the first apartment complex before you'd get dragged in
and raped. Perhaps repeatedly before someone did something worse to the a
wandering whore. Your government and your governor created these ghettos. They
let these people live like this as they are trying to do to Iran. "Yes, we would
have set you free." he chuckled.                We drove for another ten
minutes. I sat blinded and cuffed. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I felt
like I was sticking my chest out to them. The dress' hem was just barely
covering my bush. I could imagine what I looked like to the truckers that I
occasionally heard along side of the car. My stocking legs and garter straps
clear displayed what a driver might only suppose. That woman's skirt was all the
way up her thighs.

When the car turned off the highway into slower traffic, I had no idea which way
we headed but I did feel the man next to me place a blanket or cloth behind me.
I figured to cover the hand cuffs because it wasn't to cover my front. Just the
opposite. As we slowly moved in a stop and go pace, his hand raised the
remainder of the slips hem from over my pussy. I tried to remain calm. We were
either at a toll booth or gate or something. We stopped briefly and I could hear
voices then the car speed up and we continued on our way. Twenty minutes later
we were on a bumpy dirt road or driveway then stopped. I felt myself panting
once again as I waited until they came to my door. One on each arm, I was
blindly guided along. The ground was dirt and rocky and jagged until we reached
a spot where I heard one of them with keys.

As I stood outside, blinded with the two men holding my arms tightly between
them, I thought to myself; "Oh hell what am I doing?" I realized just how
utterly vulnerable I allowed my situation to spiral into. I had told no one of
my contact with whomever these men were and what did I do? I rendered myself
completely helpless somewhere with two strangers. What a fucken fool I was.

The sound of the door and my heels on the floor indicated the place was big and
empty. I was partially correct. It was a large building with few things about
but not enough to deafen the hollow sound. Once the glasses were removed from my
eyes I looked around as I stood with the two in the center of a huge room.

In a corner to my right was what looked like a bar and tables. There was a
camera and lights set up in front of it. In a space not far from this a set up
that looked like a bed with end tables, lamps and carpeting and to the left of
this something that looked like an office just out of nowhere. In an even
farther area stood a frame and several wooden contraptions. Standing in such a
big area still handcuffed and in my scanty dress, I never felt so disposed to
the wills of these two. I didn't know what they wanted, where I was or what
would happen to me, but I was here now in cuffs I locked upon my own wrists. For
the hundredth time I wrestled with the steel cuffs in a kind of test to see if I
could free my captured wrists.

The driver came over and indicated that I should go to the bar area. I followed
him. He unlocked my wrists once we reached the spot. At first I didn't notice
the similarity but then realized it looked like the same general layout as the
place we came from including a TV with a baseball game on. The man said before I
could send my taped message to my husband, Mr. Ahiem wanted his own souvenir
tape for the risks he was taking to do this for my husband and myself.

"Please, I've done everything you've asked of me up to now." I said. "You said I
could get word to Jimmy. Please.." The lights went on in the section of the room
where we stood with an echoing switch sound.

"Exactly why, I figured you'd want to satisfy Mr. Ahiem's amateur filming
fantasies and then get on with taping your message to your husband. I realized
it was useless to argue. They had a one track mind and plan. I finally agreed.
"Go sit at that table next to the bar." I did as directed. What looked like a
glass of wine was brought over to the table where I sat. The driver took up a
place next to me. "Mr. Ahiem wishes to boast to his friends how easily he has
picked up American women. I will introduce you to him and you will allow him
privileges. You are to make it look as if you enjoy every touch of his." the
driver explained. Before I could say anything else, the man's hand was up my
skirt like it had been in the lounge where he first gave me the code words. He
rambled something about if I climax for him I should meet his friend. I saw the
red light of the camera. It made me sick to think this Mr. Ahiem and his friends
would enjoy seeing this act. At least< I hoped, all his friend's were assholes I
in Iran. The gray hair man entered the scene. They exchanged greetings in their
language. Then the phony introduction to me. "This is Mr. Ahiem. He is a very
important man in my country and an Ambassador to Mexico. Would you like to fuck
him ?" he asked in the stupidest, most unbelievable way. I didn't answer but
simply looked at where the camera was positioned. Would his so called friends
really believe American women allow themselves to be picked up and fondled in
public so easily. Even dressed as I was, a hooker has more common sense. One
hand went up my dress totally exposing my pussy to the camera while the other
pulled the thin straps off my shoulder nearly uncovering my breast as he
squeezed and mashed them with his hand. How I hated to see just how erect my
nipples were. He noticed too. His lips went to them through the material and
nipped on the aroused buds. I neither acted passionate for his home movie nor
could I completely remain aloof to where and how he was touching me. Even though
his hand was just mechanically shoved in and out of my pussy it was pumping me
and often rubbing across my clit. I found myself pushing my hips toward him
without even realizing what I was doing. Also his squeezing of my breasts began
to join in with what he was doing below.

It was all so stupid of a scene but was finally over after twenty minutes when
we pretended to leave for a motel. The bastard never did get me off and actually
seemed miffed by my natural need.

Hence the bedroom scene was set. Before they set it up and told me what I had to
do, the driver told me that I wasn't showing the horny desire for Mr. Ahiem that
he wanted me to. I don't know where I got the boldness but I said something like
it's hard to fake desire for an overweight, smelly breath slob. I had the need
to lash out at something considering the hours of frustration and humiliation in
the lounge on the two night and then making me do this for the bastard's kicks.
"I wish to show you something that will help you with desiring to do better."

I came with him all the way to the furthest section of the building into the
small partitioned office where Mr. Ahiem was seated before several pieces of
video equipment on tables along with a couple of monitors. The driver ignored
what Mr. Ahiem was doing but rather picked up a tape and inserted it into yet
another recorder over a small TV. Instantly the picture came on. There was Jimmy
being forced by two men into a chair. He looked scared as if he knew already
what they would do. They strapped his arms and legs with straps already attached
to the chair then ripped open his shirt. An ugly looking man with scares on his
face and teeth missing held two clips with wires. He made them spark. Then he
touched them to Jimmy' chest. The shock must have been terrible by the way he
screamed and bolted in the chair. I screamed at the TV as if it would stop what
was already recorded. Sweat instantly began to cover his body. They showed me
this then told me about the next scene. "If you do not show passion and
excitement in bed with Mr. Ahiem, next week your husband will feel those probes
on his testicles. He is a strong stubborn man but everyone has their weak link."
the driver explained. I thought he was talking about how much pain Jimmy could
take while he knew torture in contrast to conquering one's mind was more
powerful.

The bedroom scene started with Ahiem sitting in the chair. He asked what my name
was and why I wanted to fuck him. They already told me how to answer. "I'm
Debbie, Mr. Ahiem. I've been a whore now for over a year to support myself but
I'd be willing to fuck a great Arabian stud like you for nothing." I said the
ridiculous lines. "You will first pay tribute to my cock." he replied after you
strip for me. It wasn't a very lengthy strip because they wanted me to keep the
heels and stocking on. All I had to do was pull the slip off me and remove the
garter belt. Then I knelt between his legs and open his pants. The driver
brought the camera in for close ups of my sucking on his cock. His hygiene was
terrible. His body smelled like he hadn't showered in days. Unfortunately his
cock and balls were worse and I had my lips over them. I was sucking him clean.
All I tried to think about was the fact I was helping my husband.

Ahiem's dick swelled. He was big and he kept his hand behind my head to assure
he shoved his 9 inches all the way into my mouth. I had to be careful not to
choke. I had to time my breaths along with keeping his cock happy. Just as he
began to pick up the rhythm and I felt his hot cock throb all the more, he
pushed me off sending me onto my ass. It was degrading knowing others would see
this and think I was simply accepting all this shit. Even if I never would see
those who enjoy his home video, I felt humiliated just waiting for him.

"Get on the bed, Debbie slut." he said. "And get ready for my cock." I open my
legs while he took off his clothes. His hairy dark body had rolls of fat. It was
much easier to pretend when he had some clothes on but now I had to act. I
smiled and accepted a kiss from him. He slapped my face then smiled as I looked
stunned. Without fanfare he took his already hard cock and shoved it into me. I
grunted out of natural reaction as he stuffed his turgid dick deep into me. I
then tried to maintain an act of desire for the disgusting man as his flabby
body pounded down upon me.

I will admit the son of a bitch did have staying power which by then was my only
pleasurable relief from what I was doing. Just like when he pushed my mouth off
of his cock, Ahiem abruptly stopped his pumping of my wet pussy. I was panting
as I watched him look up at the camera. "Only American slut like Debbie allow
themselves to be fucked in the ass. Turn over slut." My heart sank. I knew it
was useless to fight or protest. He'd either do it to me anyway or threaten to
have my husband hurt later for lack of enthusiasm. I turned over. He positioned
my ass where he wanted me then I felt his hands on my butt cheeks. The driver
with the camera took shots of my face with an obvious anxious expression as I
thought about the size of his cock. I was afraid he'd tear me apart. Mr. Ahiem
was not gentle. He didn't plan to be. They wanted my cries, moans and shrieks as
he burrowed into my ass. I no longer cared about the camera or his kinky home
made film. He was reaming my ass so hard that all I could so was endure.

The last degradation took place after he came all over my back then tossed me a
nickel. They had told me before we started that I was to give it back to him and
beg just to be fucked by him anytime for his pleasure. Like a bad dream the
lights were turned off and I was left with just the driver who tossed me a
towel. "Clean yourself off." he commanded.

Both men were busy within the office where I saw the video equipment and Jimmy's
tape. I figured they were review their most recent movie. I remained on the bed.
I no longer had my slip dress as it was taken after I stripped it off. I saw the
office brighten up and heard Mr. Ahiem speaking. I figured, correctly, they were
filming his introductions and comments about the tape they just made. I was just
glad to be left alone. I had less options now than only a few hours ago. I was
convinced I wouldn't flee for both my husband's safety as well as the fact I
didn't even have the sheer dress and I had no idea what kind of neighborhood I
was in.

The driver came out after almost an hour later. "Come with me." he ordered. "Put
these back on first." They were the handcuffs. His nod told me not in front but
behind my back but before I once again delivered myself totally at their mercy I
insisted on knowing when I could contact my husband. "This has gone far enough."
I boldly said standing bare ass and breasts sticking out at a man slightly
taller but probably stronger than I.

He told me that we'd be making the message to my husband now if I'd cuff my
wrists. "Why do I have to cuff myself?" I suspiciously asked. "Where is my 
dress ?"

The man told me I had a choice. Do what I was told and come into the office so
they could begin taping or leave. I screamed that I didn't want to tape a
message to my husband while I was nude. He shrugged his shoulders and went into
the office. Quickly I got up and began looking around for something to cover
myself with. I was convinced they weren't about to allow me a real message to my
captive husband. There were no sheets or covers on the bed where I was fucked.
There was nothing at the bar area. I went to where all the wooden contraptions
were. They were more than contraptions, they had straps, cuffs and rings on
them. There were whips and other ropes on tables nearby. There were metal
instruments I didn't know nor wanted to know how they'd be used. I took off the
heels as they made a lot of noise as I crossed the floor. The door was bolted
but locked on the inside. The single cuff that I'd already locked on my right
wrist clanked against the metal door moments before the louder sound of the
sliding bolt echoes in the open building but the door open. It was dark out. The
building was in an area with wire fence surrounding it about 3-400 feet away. It
was dark enough to cross the open area without my nakedness being too well seen
but what then ? There was a road, more building and I was a naked woman. I
figured maybe if I hid, Mr. Ahiem and the driver might think I was nuts enough
to go for help in spite of my condition. They might get scared that I'd bring
back the police or something. They might flee. Maybe even leave the tape. That
part was a long shot but what the hell. I put my shoes back on and kept close to
the building looking for somewhere to hide. After rounding the building's corner
I spotted what looked like a storage shed and made my way in the darker shadows
to it. There was no door but it was nearly pitch black within. It probably goes
without saying, considering my dilemma and total exposure, but I felt paranoid
about stepping into the darkness without knowledge of what was within but I
heard the metal door of the big warehouse open so I nearly jumped inside.            
My panic move was neither right nor wrong. I was doomed from the moment I got
into the car back at the lounge. As I ducked into the shed, I tripped. I
stumbled over a body and fell among several others. They were Mexican worker in
the shed who made their home on the company's sight. My presents and conditioned
was well received by the men I fell upon. I screamed first from fright then from
the nearly instant molestation of those in the shed. Hands grabbed, pinched,
squeezed and shoved up into me. Struggling was pathetic at best and still one of
them discovered the handcuff dangling from my wrist and used it to further
render me more vulnerable with a simple clicking on my other wrist behind me. If
any of them spoke English they ignored my pleas and frantic explanation of my
situation and need for help. Then I heard voices outside. In Spanish the driver
shouted something and I felt myself being lifted up then pushed out the door and
hit the dirt ground at his feet. "Gracias, Juan. Ella estara ustedes, mas
reiente." he said. I know enough Spanish that he said she will be yours. The mas
reiente I discovered simply meant afterwards.

"I don't want to pose for anymore pictures or anything else." I said as he
pulled me along by one of my cuffed arms.

"It's too late for choices now, Debbie. Mr. Ahiem is ready to show you the first
section of your message to your husband before beginning the second part.
Besides I don't think it would be wise for a cunt like you to be running around
Tijuana naked." When he said that I noticed the words on the building and those
on a sign across the street. They were all in Spanish. I'd been taken out of the
country with my own help. When he began pulling me back I tried desperately
began struggling and screaming. The driver called out to the shed where the
Mexican were drinking. The one he called Juan and another came out. My Spanish
isn't good enough to catch more than a couple of words. Quedar-to fit,
gustamos-we like and apretar-to be tight. It didn't matter what I verbally
understood because in a matter of minutes I pretty well physically comprehended.
Besides the cuffs now my arms were tied from my elbows up with what felt like
eight to ten coils of course rope. It really hurt my shoulders and wrenched my
back and made me arch outward. Dirty bandannas were stuffed into my mouth and
tied tightly in place.

Not that I didn't know I was helpless before without clothes and hand cuffed but
now I felt totally defeated. As if testing their work, one pinched my nipple and
twisted it. It hurt to even flex from the abuse so I stopped and remained as
motionless as I could positioned as if offering my breasts for his play. The
driver was satisfied and began walking me back inside. I obediently walked along
side hearing the two Mexicans returning to the others in the shed laughing and
boasting. I could only imagine what.

Mr. Ahiem didn't look surprised or angry about my attempted escape nor my
present condition. He pointed to a chair where the driver pushed me down. I sat
hurting while the two of them discussed something, then pushed a few buttons and
finally Ahiem smiled and sat back. He said something else to the driver who
produced a pair of large steel cuffs. These he locked on my ankles. They had but
three links of chain between cuffs. I would not be going anywhere in them for
sure. "Debbie you've wanted to send a message to your husband. We too want very
much for him to get the message. What you are about to see is the first video
your husband will see within a week. As a back up we will be video taping a
second message which you probably won't enjoy as much as my fucking you. We no
longer need you to act. Your spontaneous reactions to the torment and pain will
be enough." I felt myself breathing laboriously once again. What this was all
about was still unclear but sitting on the wooden seat, brutal bound and now
knowing that they meant to torture me. Mr. Ahiem turned on a recorder. After a
few seconds a picture of him in a suit behind a desk came on.

"Hello, Jimmy. I am sending you this tape from my short visit to your homeland.
You know the country that has all but forgotten about you. Now I know you
haven't believed me in the past when I said your CIA and government have written
you off because it is a hard thing to loose hope. However this tape will prove
that your American government has not only forgotten you but has left your wife
Debbie to fend for herself. Yes, Jimmy I know torturing a man as stubborn as you
has failed but perhaps when you see how bad things have gotten for you wife in
the past three years maybe you'll consider showing our technicians how to work
the Rubidium Oscillators and you'll be free to come home and take care of your
wife once more." I squirmed on my bare ass. I didn't have to see anymore to know
what they'd been doing with me however secured as I was all I could do was
watch. Even my protests were muffled sounds. "I had been told that since last
year when your wife was laid off she'd been earning money anyway she could. It
was one of our men a month ago who discovered just how she'd been earning her
money." The scene switched. I saw myself at the lounge from a week ago. They had
to have taken the pictures when no one made contact. What was being shown was
when I was told to be friendly with every man who approached. It would obviously
look as if I was trying to find a trick. Mr. Ahiem's voice came on over the
video. "We had our man take these pictures to make sure this was your wife
Debbie. If you will notice in the back ground, the TV has the evening news.
Please note the date." The date had to have been fixed for it indicated that it
was nearly a month earlier. "If you remember, Jimmy, I visited you near that
time and asked you questions about places you and your wife use to go. Isn't
that the lounge you mentioned to me ? I assure you it is. Your wife is becoming
a very popular item there as you can plainly see." I screamed at those words but
with so much clothed in my mouth it only was a loud hum. The scene came back to
the office and Mr. Ahiem. "When you refused my advice to cooperate that day I
figured I'd get additional proof you are needed at home. I also decided I'd get
a piece of what she was offering in the process." The tape showed what appeared
to be a break then came back on. They had made the quality look different but
there I was at the lounge from a few hours ago. Where they had the camera I
could see right up the short skirt and made out the fact that I was pantiless.
They zoomed in and showed how thin the nylon was and how little my clothing was
left to the imagination. I had obeyed their instructional letter and even
accommodatingly went beyond in hopes whomever was contacting me just wanted a
good time before helping me contact my husband. It was a first rate scam working
well. Mr. Ahiem's voice noted that the World Series game was on the TV behind
me, indicating a month had gone by. I watched man after man who came up to me
tonight. I always smiled and as I was told it was evident just how receptive I
appeared to each and every man. "They said they wouldn't make contact." I kept
telling myself as I watched the slut on the screen and considered what most
anyone else would have derived from those wanton actions. The camera clearly
caught me reaching for the men's cocks as I was told I had to do with the time
limit. It was also very clear that I didn't inhibit anyone from touching and
fondling me. Again my detailed instructions set me up perfectly. Finally the
seen where the driver approached me came on. I watched my own reaction to his
hand up my skirt and how my facial expression and body convulsions related my
orgasm. Tears fell from my eyes as I considered what Jimmy would think of me.
They left little to the imagination.

Again, Mr. Ahiem's narrative came on. "You recognize Kayan, the man who you spat
on after hours of his tortures. He negotiated price with your slut wife but made
a bet with her. He said if she didn't get the best fucking she'd ever
experienced from his boss then she could name her price. She agreed." Then Ahiem
came into the picture. The scene where he grabbed at me and we got up supposedly
to go to the motel was clearer than before. I hoped Jimmy would see this too.

The picture came back to Mr. Ahiem at the desk. What you are about to see Jimmy
was very pleasurable for me. As much as you have been a problem and
uncooperative with us, it gave me great delight to fuck your wife in her cunt
and ass and have her worship my cock with her lips. I hope you enjoy watching
this as much as I had fucking her.

The scenes followed suit. I remained the forcible audience at my own premiere
but barely could see through my tear filled eyes. When the picture finally
turned blue and the sound level hummed, Mr. Ahiem smiled. "Your husband Debbie
has not been cooperative in training some of our own engineers in his specialty.
He has been holding on to thoughts of you and resisting us. This video should
dash hopes of any man. It will be better for him in the long run. But we have
decided to take precautions. A back up plan if you will. If seeing how his
wife's life has changed her into a slut doesn't convince him, perhaps watching
you suffer because of his stubbornness might.

I must have looked scared. Hell I was. They told me I could scream into the ball
gag now locked into my mouth replacing the bandannas but it will prevent me from
saying anything clearly to him. They didn't want me encouraging him or giving
him any hint of how this came about.

"Take her to the wheel." he told the driver, Kayan. "The camera is already set
up and ready." Struggling only hurt my arms and chest. It was also dealt with
cruelly. There was no longer a need to pretend what they wanted from me and now
it was just to scream and react to pain so Jimmy could watch. They placed me up
against what appeared to be an extremely large wooden barrel that was on an
axial. Imbedded around the barrel were rings that soon locked my wrists up and
back onto the curve drum then slowly Kayan turned a crank and as the barrel
rotated backwards my feet lifted off the floor. My back arched and molded to the
curved surface. He stopped turning the cylinder when I was completely off the
ground. I felt more ropes being tied to my ankles then pulled tight. My legs
were drawn down around the curved wood until my body was stretched tightly in a
backwards arched form on the surface of the wooden barrel. Tied spread eagled
and bowed, I felt like all tits and pussy. Mr. Ahiem turned the barrel and me
until I was positioned like a figure head of a ship tits jutting out at him. He
signaled with his hand, the driver to lock the wheel in position. "We're going
to give you something as a reminder of tonight." he said pulling my right nipple
way out from my chest with his finger and thumb then with his other hand he held
up a gold ring. I instantly realized the possibility. Fighting the wheel and my
out stretched bondage was completely useless. I hung from my arms yet with my
ankles curled under the barrel I had no way to thrust or buck. He looked at the
driver. "You should have had the camera on already." he shouted in English then
followed up in Arabic. The man instantly turned on the lights and camera.

Mr. Ahiem took two ice cubes and sandwiched the nipple between them. He waited a
few moments. The ice began to melt from the lights and my body's heat. Then he
dropped the ice and picked up a long silver needle. I shivered knowing what was
next and couldn't even move but a few inches left or right as he once again
stretched out the breast's end. I didn't want to watch but I did as he placed
the sharp point at the base of the nipple. I barely whimpered before he shoved
it right through the rosy ending. I jerked and cried but remained easily at his
disposal when he withdrew the needle and slowly worked the open gold ring
through the flesh he just pierced. I felt the metal going into my breast's
sensitive end then the slight vibration as he snapped it closed. The exact
sequence was repeated on my left nipple. He used more ice and a cold wet towel
to stop any bleeding. My nipples were ringed but as of yet not permanently. They
turned the wheel more raising my legs up in back and lowing my head and chest
toward the floor. There was a block of wood under the wheel and my breasts hung
from my body. Mr. Ahiem positioned the first nipple and ring on the block. There
was a kind of small pin he placed in a hole where the ring clasped. Using metal
tool to position the tip directly on the hole he gave a quick hit with a hammer.
I screamed as I felt the vibration in my breast. He split the pin inside the
rings. They filled the holes completely and flared so they couldn't be open
again. Mr. Ahiem seem to take delight in telling me and the camera that the
rings are a harden metal that can not be cut but have to be torched off and he
doubted I could stand the heat of the torch.

When both nipples now had their irremovable rings I thought he was through but I
was wrong. I tried to kick and fought as much as I could when he now positioned
me by rotating my pussy before him and the camera. I felt his hands between my
legs. He moved aside curly pubic to get to the place he wanted. I couldn't help
but moan when his fingers made contact with my clit but what good feelings there
was instantly changed when he used something to grab my clit's shroud. Laying
nearly on my back now I tried to pull away but all I could do was shake my hips.
I felt the pin piercing the tender skin of my clit's crown. When the much
smaller ring was pushed through the hole it made me quake in small climaxes. The
feel of the metal touched off my clit. The pain melted into sensations beyond
belief. This time because of the smaller ring he only had to use pliers to weld
the ring shut. This too took me very close to climaxing and I was beginning to
realize just about any contact or action with the ring through my clit's veil
would set off the stimulation button.

My feelings are so diverse. It felt so unfair to be stretched open and so easily
stimulated yet that same helplessness, the vulnerability, and even some of the
sensations of the pain had me feeling fantastically tender and so aroused.
Either way there was nothing, absolutely not a thing I could do for or about
whatever they wanted to do to me.

They turned off the camera. "I'm going to give you an hour to think and let
those holes heal up a little before making you scream a lot more."

I hung from the wheel. I could only see the two new rings crowning my nipples.
They stood out about an inch just waiting to be pulled and used. My breasts now
had handles, rings for ease of abuse. I felt my clit still swollen and wondered
with the small metal ring between my legs if it would ever not be stimulated.
While just thinking about this I felt the ring and it made me want something
inside of me. I couldn't close my legs or rub myself. It was driving me crazy.

When they returned I knew I'd be in for a bad time. Each man held a whip. They
were short multi-silk stranded whips that bit like hell but didn't cut. The
driver unlocked the wheel then engaged a switch which turned the sphere-like
frame to slowly rotate by mechanical means. My body descended until I was facing
the floor. This brought up my legs behind the rotating drum. The camera was
turned on once more and just as the spiral had me upside down, I felt the lashes
from Kayan directly on my open and inverted pussy. I screamed but the ball gag
kept my cry within reasonable levels. The turning now brought my chest within
range of the driver's whip. He lashed out at them. Being turned as I was the
backside of the rotation presented me upside down to his whip and the tender
undersides of my breasts. I didn't have time to recover from this when Mr.
Ahiem's first stoked caught my wide open thighs. Several of the silk straps
severed into my pussy's lips. As my body came over into his side for an instant
I caught the camera set up, the lights and his swing of the whip once more
slashing my breasts from the top. I was already dripping with sweat and felt it
cascading over every curve. The silk thongs seem to slash into my flesh with
individual pain and burned long enough until the next lash was delivered.

My throat hurt but I couldn't stop screaming. It seemed to go on for hours
before Ahiem finally ordered the wheel to stop. "Now my friend," he spoke to the
camera, "your wife has only started to feel the pain from your stubbornness." I
was predisposed arched over the apex of the device facing up. The camera was
directly on my flaming red inner thighs and pussy. I felt something on my
breasts then a pulling from the new nipple rings. A moment later something was
attached to my clit ring. It too pulled but with less tug. "Your slut wife will
turn for an hour. The weights attached to her nipples and cunt will constantly
torment her as they fall and tug on her tits and cunt. Each tit has five pounds
of lead, Jimmy and the cunt has three. Watch the video and see her suffer each
time the weighted balls are  pulled up by your wife's own tits and cunt then
drop over the other side. Think about how this hurts her and then think again
the next time we ask for your assistance and you refuse, we'll add weights to
each of the areas until you give in or we tear her apart." Ahiem signaled for
the driver to start the wheel. As my body came over the crest, I first felt the
clit weight swinging and dangling free. Then as he described the lead balls
rolled down from between my breasts and yanked on my nipples. I moan. The
turning slowly continued. The clit weight pulled directly downward as my crotch
was parallel with the floor. The weights on my breasts hung down and swayed
drawing my tits from the nipple rings down to nearly touching the floor. Then
the smaller weight attached to my clit's shroud pulled back the opposite way,
completely holding back the skin from my swelling clit. In seconds my breasts
too were being pulled up my chest painfully jerking and swaying constantly. The
cycle repeated. First the clit weight rolled and yanked down as it fell followed
soon by the same torture to my breasts. The simple rotation of the drum with me
secured upon it and the weights was perpetual punish to my most sensitive areas.
They left me to the pain and the camera. I tried not to cry out too much for I
knew the camera was my husband watching me but moans continued to escape me.
"One cycle every thirty seconds." Mr. Ahiem noted. "To pay for your refusal in
helping our country, she will pay one rotation for everyday you have not
cooperated." In reality it would be over ten hours on the damn drum but even the
actual hour that they let me suffer felt like an eternity. My nipples were sore
from their recent piercing, the whipping and an hour of torture. I sank to the
floor when they unhooked my wrists and ankles. As much as I wanted to reach for
the weights on my breasts I resisted thinking they'd probably make me pay for
the act.

They weren't through abusing me yet. I stumbled as then pulled me over to a
wooden bar that hung from chains. Any chance of holding the weighted breast
weights was lost when my wrists were once again cuffed wide apart and up to the
bar. Both men grabbed an ankle and pulled my leg behind me until I hung in
nearly a thirty degree plain over the floor. This left the breast and clit
weights pulling down with their usual proficiency. The driver rolled the table
with all the instruments that scared the hell out of me earlier upon it. His
grin was grisly as he fingered a knobby plug and some clips.

Mr. Ahiem interpreted his mental torment. "You have served your purpose well,
Debbie. I'm sure as promised your husband will get the message you have provided
us in these videos. Since a man in my position can not be associated with a
whore like you I'll have to leave now and we can't afford you running to the
authorities even though they probably wouldn't believe you. Therefore, I'm
giving you to the men you met outside earlier. They have been paid to keep you
entertained until morning before bringing you back to the border. Try to enjoy
yourself." I screamed as loud as I could at him. He must have understood the
humming sounds of you bastard because he laughed. The out burst only made the
weights sway and jerk from their rings pieced through me. I knew he was going to
get away with this and I'd still be paying throughout the night and early
morning.

I hung spread wide with the weights pulling on my breasts and clit fold. I felt
like some kind kinky wind chime or mobile silently and helpless awaiting what
was next. It didn't take long before the opening of the metal door once again
echoed thought the large room. My leather cuffs squeaked. One, two, three men
came in grinning about their good fortune given them by the Iranian man who even
paid them money for everything for all the kinky things he told them to do to
the American before releasing her. The door opened once again and three more men
were greeted by the original trio. They figured they had time to do all he
wanted and still enjoy fucking the whore he brought across the border. What the
hell, he told them I was paid for all the way till nine and besides it would be
best to get me out of the industrial area before workers in the area spotted the
a slut. The police might want their turns at convincing an American whore to
keep her trade in her country.

The half dozen men looked fairly similar. They all had gray mixed in with the
jet black greasy hair. They were all only a couple of inches taller than myself.
Three had mustaches, while only one had a beard. They each looked like they had
slept in their clothing which they probably did. They all smelled strongly of
liquor. A few had yellowing smiles and showed lost teeth. A rough skin hand
touched my left elongated breast. His skin was so weathered and dry that it felt
like wood or rock on my breast. I tried to pull away by lifting up with my arms
on the bar but as tired as I was from the evening I could only maintain this for
a few seconds. He lifted the weight on the short chain and let it go. They
laughed at how my tit pulled and snapped back like a liquid filled balloon.
Suddenly I screamed into my gag as one of the other men's examination of the
weight from my clit ring caused a sharp pain as her lifted it up. There is no
mercy as they laugh harder from my shaking and panting respond. I obviously
don't know what Mr. Ahiem told these men about me but instead of showing concern
for the anguish they are imposing on my body, they appear to be curious about
watching my contortions. Several times they lift both nipple weights and drop
them. I scream and screamed and my head jerked back. Then like kids testing out
a new toy they grabbed all three weights and they count before dropping them
together. Then my real fear came alive as they see the things on the table
before me. They seem even more confused about all the purpose instruments than I
but there are a few that are obvious.

Unceremoniously but with all watching they worked a large butt plug into my ass.
They were not careful nor concern about my gagged screams. I barely felt the
weights swaying and jerking as they shoved the plug into me. I couldn't stop a
thing nor even help much. I tried to relax but stretched hanging with all the
other things didn't make this easy. None the less they stuffed the full length
of the plug into me. I felt so stretched, sore and full. It just amplified
everything from the pain of the jerking weight to the humiliation I felt from
being exposed used and abused by the men who enjoyed shoving a large plug up my
ass.

One of the men picked up a candle. He said something about matches. I knew that
word in Spanish and handed another candle to his friend. My breast weights were
unclipped but it didn't mean a break in molest my tits. Each used a nipple ring
to pull a breast out toward them then they began dripping hot melting wax onto
my tits from the base of my areola to the tip of the nipples. They cared little
about my muffled moans as the hot molten liquid stung then quickly molded over
the flesh that it covered. A third man positioned a string from under my breasts
through the nipple rings up and out. The molding wax soon held the string in
place. I wasn't sure what it's purpose was for but at the moment my concern
became the heat that the wax transferred to my nipple rings and thus into my
breasts. Although the wax cooled quickly the metal rings retained the burning
heat longer but I couldn't avoid any of this. When they seemed to be done, my
entire nipples were covered thick with wax. The rings too were covered so they
no longer appeared to be anything more than a glob of wax from my breasts ends.

They then looked at the ball gag and some things on the table. One of the men
began taking his pants off. I assumed rape but instead he took off a dingy pair
of underwear. All three men pissed on it and they began laughing. Not knowing
what they were talking about or planning was in a way good and bad.

When they finally let me down and retied me the way they wanted, I had but a few
seconds to try and communicate. My Spanish is poor but I kept repeating what I'd
try to say. "Por favor, no, mas, por favor." It was all I got out before they
shoved the piss soaked shorts into my mouth and forced a wooden bar with straps
that kept everything in place like a horse bit. Pleading wasn't going to do any
good. They weren't about to miss out on this opportunity. They had themselves a
helpless American bitch delivered to them and were getting paid to do things
they'd never get a whore to accept. Again I thought whatever they were told
about me, they showed no concern about the simple plea.

How does a woman explain her anxiety and humiliation which I was feeling. Like a
trapped animal I wanted to bolt for the door to escape this pack of coyote but
as a rational thinking human I knew I had no chance of escape since my arms were
being tied once more behind my back and cutting leather straps wrenched my arms
even further back. I knew an attempted escape would end in seconds since they
taped my high heels on my feet and made the possibility of running very
difficult. I knew I might be able to surprise the men and break out from them
but there was the entire building to cross and of course a door to open without
hands or arms. And outside a dark yard and fence. I knew escape would gain me
more pain than they were already planning and had no hope of success. So being
rational in an utterly bizarre situation I submissively waited for more. How
does a woman explain her anxiety and humiliation of simply standing before six
men who with each passing moment were making my naked body more vulnerable and
obscene.

Instead of ropes for breast bondage they had plastic straps like the police use
as handcuffs in riot situations. They placed the quarter inch strap nooses
around each breast and cinched them extremely tight and cut off the excess
plastic. Again my breasts ballooned out from my chest but didn't have ropes
wrapped like before. They soon turned from red to dark scarlet with the wax tips
fluttering as I took small short breaths that hurt just the same. I tried to
breath through my nose to avoid the rancid piss dampen rag in my mouth. They
still had a few things more. From the ends of the wooden rod through my mouth
were clipped a chains with lead balls on the ends. These balls had pin sharp
points protruding from them in many angles and directions. When they let the
spiked balls down they hung directly upon each bloated tit, pricking the turgid
breasts as they shifted and rolled over the tight pair. Even when I keep my head
up and back slightly, the dangling pointed balls poke across my upper chest. I
had little way of preventing all of the pierces but had some direction as to
where my punishment would occur.

So there I stood. Naked without arms or hands for protection. My ass was filled
with a plug and my tits jiggled out from my body like inflated balloons that
didn't burst despite the pins that would stick into them from the gag balls.

Two of them took hold of my arm. They walked me to where they wanted me because
I was more concern about my tits bouncing upward and the damn leaded spikes
bouncing down upon them than watching where I was going. It was pure torture
just to walk and that didn't even take into consideration the reaming of my ass
by the thick rubber plug.

They forced me to walk quicker as we crossed the room. My bound tits sprang
about as if they enjoyed the pain from the wild attacks of the pin sharp points.
Tiny droplet covered the tops and sides of my dark flush melons. As before my
moans and muffled cries did nothing to stop them. They lead me through a back
door into an enclosed courtyard about fifty feet square. I was afraid of what I
saw. The yard was some kind of man made course. A course made for me. The man
who merciless worked the plug into my ass clipped a budgie type cord to my clit
ring. I wasn't totally sure what they had planned but I already began shaking my
head. It did no good because the man with the cord began to trot. I had to
follow or have my clit's shroud ripped from between my legs. My tits instantly
sprang to life flopping about. Running in heels with my arms and elbows tied
behind me and the plug in my ass, my body saunter in an exaggerate sway. The
spiked balls on the end of the chains from the gag bit slashed on, over and
between my breasts but I had to keep up and accept the torture and had to keep
myself from falling upon those piercing gauntlets.

Considering the condition they put me in, the course was cruel in itself. It had
inclines, low board to jump or step over, mud puddles and even a narrow board
bridge that I had to balance across. They laughed continually at my first go
around just to see me struggle. Then I discovered the terrible truth about the
wax and string melted on my nipples. They lit the new candle ends which were a
part of me. I didn't have to understand the language to know they wanted me to
run the course alone with my nipple candles burning and the flame continually
threatening closer to my nipples and tits. I only hoped they'd put out the fire
when I completed the course. After all I saw no options. I forced myself to run
through the course once more but with twine burning wicks fluttering so close to
my skin.

I didn't make it across the final board before the flame touched and heated up
my nipple ring. The pain was too much. I must have fainted.

I was so sore when I awoke. My nipples hurt, my tits looked like pin cushions
and my arms felt like they'd fallen off. But I was free of bonds and I was cold.
The dress and shoes and heels I wore the night before were next to me. I was
naked, dirty in a field. But finally free.

I had cum all over my face and some leaking from my pussy. It was the least of
my concerns.

It took me most of the day to make my way, safely without being raped, to the
boarder. From there I got a cab and paid him after getting into the house with
the hidden key over the door. I ran to the bath room and sat in the tub for an
hour.

I'm not sure how long the phone had been ringing before I finally got out of the
tub. I saw my battered and now ringed body in the full length mirror as I stood
with the portable phone. It was the State Department. The agent said they'd been
trying to get a hold of me all evening yesterday and through out the night. They
wanted me to hear the details from them before the press started to swarm. My
husband escaped 15 hours ago. Seems there was a mix up on who was suppose to
meet a car he was being transferred in and they left him in the running car
alone only three miles from the boarder. The press was going to make a big thing
of how he just drove out of Iran as soon as they were sure he was well secured
on a military base in Italy. It would be one of the Iranians biggest
embarrassments and served them right.

My mind raced, I was near faint from shock, surprise and emotional. The most
ironic possibility was being related as truth. If this agent knew just what I'd
gone through in hopes of doing nothing more than get a message to him and then
to receive a call saying he just drove out of captivity. My heart leaped
thinking, Jimmy would never see that video or at least we could talk and I could
explain everything rather than seeing it with only their propaganda. We would
have to talk soon though, I thought as I acknowledged my still very sore and
very stiff ringed nipples. Would they ever be unaroused with those rings through
them ? Would Jimmy seek someone to cut them off me ?

This was secondary. I had to get dressed quickly. The State Department was
sending someone over within the hour and I would fly me to Europe to greet him
home for the first time in years.                                              
------------

This all took place six weeks ago. In those six hectic six weeks life for us was
unbelievable. We went to State dinners, Jimmy was welcomed home in various
parties and events, we were on three different TV shows as well as Jimmy
receiving an offer to co-author a book on his captivity and escape. As far as my
three rings and my that night's pearls, my husband totally accepted my story. He
knew how they operated first hand. He said he probably would have been surprised
by the video but eventually realized the truth. As for the rings, he asked that
I keep them. To have endured the piercing and anguish for him made him proud. He
said instead of them haunting me of his captivity as they would have wanted the
gold bands to have done, they would be our secrete icons of love.

Life is just now beginning to return to normal. Jimmy has been in New York with
a publisher and a New York paper's writer. He called me on his stop over in
Denver. His plane would arrive gate 18 at 9:15. I told him I'd be there to pick
him up and expect a surprise. I never could keep surprises really well. I told
him I wanted to be his sexual slut slave tonight and I'd give him a choice. He
could either find me in his now favorite sexy short red see through dress at one
of the airport's bars or find me naked and cuffed in the car awaiting my
husband's kinkiest pleasures.

Like usual he made me make the decision. He still wanted the element of surprise
so I was suppose to choose and he'd just have to find his slave slut. I made
sure I had his flight and arrival time once more. When he hung up I heard that
familiar second click. I made a note next to the phone to call the State
Department on Monday. They probably still had the phone tap on. Then I began
getting everything ready. It was now 6:30. I had plenty of time but decided to
go way beyond the surprise I told Jimmy. I'd shock him if I could. Since he'd
been freed we had little time to ourselves. I wanted to devise one of those
evenings when we use to make love all night long. True most of those times
involved me pushing the erotic side of both of us and usually merited me some
sort of bondage and in some form of disciplinary predicament but that was just
fine with me now. I wanted him to focus on me physically so he could forget all
the mental shit he's been going through. My gold rings would come in hand. Never
before had he had these three enslavement advantages.

I was again preparing myself to venture outside of our house as a slut, a
willing wanton slut for my husband for the third time in two months but this was
for him personally.

I considered my choices. The bar scene wouldn't be as personal although probably
riskier. I knew how to achieve both. I left the message at the information
counter. Exactly at 9:30, and just in case of a delay again at 10 p.m., she was
to page Jimmy. The envelope I left with her to give to him would have the keys
to the trunk and my note of love and surrender. As one last precaution, just in
case he came early or missed the message I was leaving him another note at home
telling him if he is reading this, he's left his bound naked wife in the trunk
of their car back at the airport.

I took a bag of things we had along with me because I still wasn't sure how far
I wanted to take this.

Once in the airport parking area, in the somewhat serenity of the back lot used
mainly by long term patrons, I considered just how bold I'd attempt. I could
cuff myself naked in the back seat. There would be little chance that anyone
would come to the cars parked anywhere near to where I had parked yet to be
naked in the car without recourse would be risky indeed. Still I wanted to be
more physically restrained and I just couldn't see myself adding anything else
if I was in the open back seat of a car. The trunk was my answer. I've enjoyed
lengthy evenings in hog-ties and if I went to the information counter now, gave
the keys and note to the girl with the car's location, I'd probably be in the
trunk in my self imposed hog-tie for over an hour before his plane even arrived.
I knew I'd be as hot of a slut as he could handle.

The girl at the counter turned out to be a guy. I told him I had this envelope
for my husband, arriving at 9:15 on flight # 69. I made up an excuse that I
couldn't wait around but it was very important that he get the message and the
envelope. The man typed up the fight number on the computer. It was still on
schedule. He then had me fill out a page request. Because I didn't want the page
at the moment he said he had to place it in the computer to flag him when to
page. I thought I understood. After typing it in and entering, he squinted at
the tube. "One moment." he said and picked up the phone. All I heard was my
husband's name and he said he understood. I asked if there was a problem.
Knowing what I was planning made me fidgety. "No nothing, really." he said in a
not too convincing voice. "I ah.., I just wanted to make sure your husband had
boarded the flight, after all you said that this envelope was very important." I
asked if he was on the flight. The man told me he was, then his attention was
diverted to someone behind me. I turned but only saw a mother with two grappling
kids, an old woman making her way in a walker, two sailors half asleep in
uncomfortable chairs and a business man checking something in his brief case.

"Is there a problem ?" I asked. The dark complexion information man looked at me
and shook his head. I handed him the envelope with the car's trunk key and my
note to my husband. I felt there was something strange yet I couldn't figure
what. When I looked back everything seemed as normal as any other time I've come
to the airport. People who were late for flights were hurrying while those with
time to kill seemed to be in slow motion.

I smiled thinking how glad I was that I had gotten through with my business at
the information desk because the rambunctious brats were running around the
thing as their mother waited behind the business man. Just as the counter person
handed him something, one of the kids tipped the sand filled ash tray all over
the business man's shoes. The escalator carried me down before I could see his
reaction.

The closer I got to the lot the more anxious I became. I was also getting wetter
and more excited about doing this. Because I parked in the back lot I ran into
fewer and fewer people. I kept looking around. There was a man in a suit
carrying a suitcase or bag way behind me but when I turned right and walked down
Aisle EE and checked back, he walked to the left and disappeared.

I had left the trunk and a rear door unlocked but closed since I didn't have the
key now. It was decision time. I had on a wrap around dress that I could easily
get out of. I figured I could tie my ankles together once I was in the trunk.
Take the rope running between my ankles and lock them to my hand cuffs. Both the
lock and cuff keys were in the glove compartment. Once I locked them, I'd be
genuinely bound and trapped. I still had to make my final decisions. Gag or no
gag. Blindfold or not. Would I take off the dress in the back seat and hurry
into the trunk exposed or take it off inside ? Did I want to present his bound
slut naked or in the lingerie I had on ?

I took a little from column A,B and C. I decided, taking off the dress in the
back seat and then hid it under the seat. Jimmy would wonder how the hell I
drove to the airport like I was. I took off the waist cincher but left both the
black crotchless panty and half cup bra on. Neither covered anything but made me
feel even sexier. Heels and stocking wouldn't be a choice. Jimmy loves them so
they remained.

Next I looked at the ball gag I bought on my way here. Stopping at an adult
novelty store was embarrassing enough but purchasing a ball gag was totally
humiliation. Now I had it and wasn't sure about using it. What if something goes
wrong ? Would I have to scream for help ? Would I considering how I'd be ? I
took care of that with my note at home. I open my mouth and had to flatten the
ball with my fingers whiled working my head about until the rubber popped in. My
jaws felt like they would snap until the moment the rubber passed my teeth. As I
sat there in non-concealing lingerie and this thing in my mouth, I looked out
the back window for probably the tenth time since taking off the dress. It was
now dark and nothing was moving. The orange lot lights made things look creepy.
I got my attention back to my task at hand. Why did this ball even have a strap?
The damn thing was trapped in my mouth so good that I'd need fingers help me
pull it out. Just the same I buckled under my hair, behind my neck. The rope,
lock and cuffs were already in the trunk. I put down the blindfold. I figured it
would be dark enough inside the trunk then just as I slowly open the back door,
I grabbed the padded blinders and took it with me.

The night is warm but going the five or six feet to the back of the car nearly
naked made me shiver. I'd forgotten about the trunk light. It frighten me as I
stood the few seconds in it's light. It also made me climb in without any
further hesitation. I thought I saw someone way off to the left but I wasn't
about to expose myself to check. The trunk lock clicked. They couldn't get at me
now if there was anyone.

Damn I discovered just how little room there was inside a closed trunk and how
rough the rubber matting was on flesh scooting upon it. It took me awhile after
tying my ankles to get ready for the cuffs and lock. I put on the blind fold.
For whatever reason it made things darker and scarier. First the cuffs snapped
behind my back. I slid the safeties so they wouldn't get any tighter. Then I had
to work myself to my side. I wanted to be facing outward when he open the trunk.
Turning to the side, I felt something snag the frilly panty. I wiggled but
couldn't free it but I did hear a small ripping sound. At the moment the
snagging had pulled the material between my pussy lips. I decided, It would be
fun to enjoy the pulling and pressure between my wet lips. If it ripped so what.
I locked the lock from my ankles to the short cuff chain. When I finally relaxed
and rolled completely onto my side. The panty snapped. One whole side ripped
from my hips. I hoped it looked sexy torn as if I was captured. I was a captive
for sure. In the hog-tie I couldn't kick or squirm much. I had no way of getting
out of steel cuffs or locks. The locked lid was imprisoning enough but all the
self bondage was real now. I began to sense my body. I had been panting in
excitement up to now. I felt my naked flesh on the rubber mat from the top of my
stocking thighs to my head. I felt trickles of perspiration arouse the areas it
cascaded across. I made myself as comfortable as possible. The roar of a plane
could be heard taking off or landing about every five to ten minutes.
Occasionally a car or bus honked it's horn somewhere near the terminal. I
waited. Excuse the pun, but I was bound to wait now.

Unfortunately, the wait didn't seem long enough. True the sense of time is lost
in darken bondage but when I heard the slow moving vehicle's tires crunching
stones as it slowly became louder I was glad I chose to lock myself in the
trunk. I figured, it might be a security vehicle or something and if I was
sitting or laying in the back seat like I planned right now I'd be one hell of a
sight. When the sound of doors opening and footsteps seemed much too close I
began to worry. My self bondage held secure and I kept telling myself not to
move so the car wouldn't shake and cause attention. Suddenly I heard the key in
the trunk's lock and felt the rushing cool air over my perspiring nakedness. The
apparent evidence that this wasn't my husband claiming his prize was when I felt
two sets of hands lifting me out of my imprisoning dwelling.

How I fought and hurt my cuffed wrists and sore arms when I heard the same
language that only weeks ago exploited me. Somehow, once more I had assisted in
my own enslavement to these men. The blindfold was pulled from my eyes the
second the van door slammed shut. With me in the back of the van was the
business man I saw in the airport near the information desk. Next to him was the
driver named Kayan from my Mexico torment. There was another driver and a man
holding one of those guns one sees in the spy movies with a silencer. Why in
heaven's name did they want me? Why guns and all this?

At the moment my wonderment was impinged by mine and their presence at hand. A
rope was tied around my neck and I was hoisted onto my knees since I was still
bound in my own hog-tie. In an unstable moving van it was nearly impossible to
maintain my balance. I kept choking myself as I lean forward then back. I could
feel the blood rushing to my head as the rope kept a strangle hold on me. Unlike
the previous encounter with the Iranians they did not contemplate stages of
actions nor seemed the least bit interested in any sexuality. The hand that went
to my half cup bra tore it off me not caring that it dug into my skin as it
ripped free nor that the act made me choke all the more. The remains of the
panty went much easier. The rope that held my ankles to my cuffed wrists was
cut. The lock I used remained in place on the cuff's chain. There was a sense of
urgency in their tasks but not of my physical well being. My arms were taped
closer and closer with reinforced packing tape. It stuck to my bare skin as well
as making an ideal arm binder that forced my upper arms together behind my back.

The van stopped. The neck rope became a leash. Someone cut my ankle ropes so I
could walk. I stumbled out surrounded by men as if I was a dangerous criminal or
extremely important political personality. We were still at the airport but in a
big building on it's own. There was a box. It's intent didn't look good. It had
a jagged shaft in the center of it and rings bolted to it. There was more things
on the table near it. The driver finally spoke to me in English. "America whore,
we will take one more video of you here before shipping you to Iran. Your
husband's plane will arrive about the same time as you will take off. You will
be out of American air space before he even hears the first page and finds his
slut wife is gone. You will suffer for his mistake in escaping. Your suffering
will increase and be related to him until he stops his lies he intends to write
in stories in the papers. Even when he does stop this will not stop your
suffering. He will be watched by American CIA but he will eventually return to
us on his own. You will be my country's public American whore. Your only purpose
from now on is to suffer and be fucked by any Iranian man who wished to sick his
cock into your holes. You will be trained to accept everything. I tell you all
this only because it will make your painful journey to our country that much
more distressful."

I kept shaking my head and trying to plant my feet on the floor as if pleading
or my feeble physical attempts would do any good. Two men crudely and roughly
pulled my knees as wide apart as thighs could be spread while lifting me up on
bent legs. I felt the large shaft at my open pussy. With my arms so tightly
bundled behind my back and legs useless to even kick my only outward protest
kept coming from my head shaking, no. I grunted as the metal tip spread open my
already moist hot hollow. The fucking bastards used me to lubricate the device.
In short quick cycles they pumped my pussy onto about two inches of the metal
phallus until it became slick with my own juices. I hated the fact that I could
do nothing about my pussy's cooperation or it's reaction to this unceremonious
fucking. My head shot back and I let out a loud groan when they finally lowered
me entirely onto the rod impaling me to the hilt. It filled me, spread my
opening so wide I was afraid I'd split down there. And once my pussy channel
surround the massive shaft the impact of the jagged edges became apparent with
the slightest shift or movement. It felt as if dozens of spikes were spread wide
inside my cunt ready to tear at my insides.

The driver once again spoke to both clarify and trigger further anguish within
me. "You will fly all the way to Iran with that metal cock inside your slutty
whore cunt but you will not be able to enjoy the fucking or you will tear
yourself apart. Only Mr. Ahiem has the key to release latch and springs that
controls the points. You will suffer and be fucked but must force yourself to
stay positioned." He said something to the men and they approached the wooden
platform of the box like wolves pouncing on captive prey. Leather straps were
placed around my upper and lower calves then screwed into the flooring of the
box. I was secured in a kneeling position upon the spiked phallus, packaged for
shipment. Then what looked like a small size car battery was also placed in the
box and strapped in place. The driver's grin was so maniacal that I began to
pant as I began ascertaining the fact that I was not only the wife of the man
who's escaped embarrassed a nation but I symbolizing what means of venting the
hate they had for America.    A thick black wire was attached to the base of the
metal cock I was perched upon then another man sized up my upper body's height
in relationship to the box. He screwed two eye bolts into the wall in front of
me then they attached two lines to my nipple rings and the eye bolts. Hands from
behind me pulled my shoulders and upper body back causing my tits and nipples to
be pulled and stretched out. Something was attached to the nipple lines that
tugged even more on my nipples. They worked quickly to finish their objective.
When they were done the driver once more explained everything. The panic of my
up coming journey struck me as he signaled for the box's wooden top.

There were weights hanging from the cords they tied to my nipple rings and the
box. These weights hung a scant inch above metal plates in the flooring. If I
did not continue to pull on my own tits and nipples those weights would touch
the plate and a charge went into the phallus. Besides the points being shape
inside my cunt they were also wire ends that delivered a shocking charge to my
pussy. I would have to torture my own breasts in order to save my pussy and this
he told me would last throughout my trip as long as Mr. Ahiem wanted it to be
so. He had control of some kind of radio signal that could turn on or off the
device from his office in Iran anytime he wanted during the 12 hour flight.

They laughed at my tears and muffled cries of frantic protest when the lid
finally came overhead to seal my fate.

It was the very worse 12 hours of my life. The metal cock within my cunt
prevented me from any rest and when the power was turned on to the torturing
device, my physical fatigue assured multiple times I punished myself with the
shocking jolts or overly jerked backward pulling on my nipples painfully. At
what points I fainted I'm not sure but it could only be when the power was
turned off because even in this state the jolts felt within my loins were enough
to awaken me.

The arrival in Iran was unceremonious. I had to be carried because cramped legs
and physically exhaustion. I was dumped upon a blanket inside a security type
locker at the airport. Two guards remained all night long as it was already the
following evening because of time changes. I slept the entire time.

When they did open the locker up I was still sound asleep. A soft touch awoke
me. The woman looked young and spoke perfect English. She also was obviously not
Arabic. Even with the heavy black head covering I could make out that she had
blond hair. She was Swedish, a wife of an Iranian official. She was there to see
that I got fed and cleaned and ironically made up. However not dressed. She
spoke little but pitifully confirmed that my purpose was solely for the purpose
of Iranian officials to save face. I would be beaten and photographed. I'd be
grossly humiliated and degraded and video taped. The photos and tapes would be
sent throughout the world. My name here was America. In a little while from now
I was to be paraded naked through the streets. America would be exposed. America
would be spat upon. America would feel common people's saplings lashes and
fucked by some commoners. Everyday that the New York paper published lies
written about my husband's escape the more sever the punishments would be for
me. She said they had put a metal post shaped like a T on a 45 degree angle in
the downtown section where each day I would spend no less than three hours with
my ankles chained to one side of the T's base and my tit rings pulled down to
the other side. My ass would be available for whipping or fucking. It was
forbidden sex in Iran except to America's ass.

Things happen as she said. My nakedness was manifested 100 fold because of the
extreme cloaking of the women of the country. Many whipped me because of my
nakedness which I had no control. Others scorn me in other ways. I just wondered
if the U.S. State Department would write off my existence and torture as an
embarrassment or do as little as they did for my husband while he was in
captivity.

It took two months before Navy Seals got to me. By then I have had well over a
thousand cocks stuffed inside of my mouth, cunt or asshole. My flesh was so raw
from beatings that it would take month to heal. My nipples are now an inch and a
half in length but I lived however I need to be beaten or feel pain to climax.
My husband even had to other to assist in my needs.

The End

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