Alice was watching through the chain link fence. She saw Juan approach the border in his fancy car. It had cost nearly a quarter million, but Juan could afford it. She watched as he was waved into an inspection bay by the customs officers. The trunk lid went up, and Juan was escorted into a low building. Alice could only wait.
Alice and Juan were going to get married. He was a friend of her father, and she had known him since she was a little girl. When she was seventeen, he asked her to marry him, and she said yes, but they would wait until she was eighteen and had finished high school. When her parents were killed, the Bureau of Child Welfare had placed her in a group home, and on her eighteenth birthday they kicked her out. Juan had said he would go immediately to get her. She said she would find a way to meet him at the border. Now he was in the U.S., but she couldn’t go to him; so near and yet so far! She watched and waited.
Then she saw Juan again. He came out of the building, handcuffed, and was put into a windowless van and driven away! Alice ran to the exit from the customs station and tried to get in.
“You can’t come in here, unless you are crossing the border.”
“You don’t understand. My fiance was in there, and they have taken him away. I’ve got to find him!”
After five minutes of arguing, she finally got into the building, where they checked her ID and asked all sorts of questions. They showed her a picture of Juan, and she identified him. “He was carrying a lot of money.”
“We are getting married and honeymooning in Las Vegas.”
“He’s being held incommunicado as a suspected terrorist. I’d advise you to go home and forget about him.”
“No way! He’s no terrorist. I love him, and we’re getting married. Besides, I’ve nowhere to go. I have no home, now.”
“How did you get here?”
“I took a bus from Houston and then a taxi to here.”
“There’s no one to take you home?”
“There’s no one who even knows I’m here.”
They left her alone in a room for a while. Then a man and woman, not in uniform, came in. “Last chance. Will you get lost and forget about Juan?”
“No! I’ll do anything I can to get him free.”
They handcuffed her, and led her to another windowless van. “Wait a minute! Am I under arrest?”
“You are a material witness, maybe an accomplice. If you cooperate with us, maybe it will help get your lover freed, well, deported instead of jailed for life.”
“I want to talk to a lawyer.”
The woman laughed. “No one knows we have you. If you don’t cooperate… well, it could go very badly for both of you.” They blindfolded her before she was taken from the van and led down some steps and though a maze of corridors. The blindfold was not removed until she was in a windowless room, actually, a kind of cellar, almost a dungeon. “Tell us what target your lover was going to bomb. We found explosives in the trunk of his car, underneath the spare tire.”
“You’re crazy. Juan’s no terrorist.”
“You won’t cooperate.”
“No, not to tell you lies.”
The woman sat on the edge of a desk. “Cigarette?”
She lit one, even though government buildings are supposed to be smoke-free. “Your lover-boy isn’t cooperating either. Now, under the civil forfeiture laws, we’re going to seize the money and the car, but it’s a lot cleaner if we have his confession. If you both cooperate, he probably won’t have to face a military tribunal, and possible death, as a terrorist. It may be he’ll just be deported, and you can join him abroad, if you want to. Now, the situation is very simple. The bleeding-heart civil libertarians insist that he be kept under 24-hour television surveillance, so that we can’t torture a confession out of him. However, no one knows you are here, so we can torture a confession out of you, if you don’t voluntarily incriminate him. All you have to do is tell us you will cooperate.”
The woman pressed a button, and two more men entered the room with lights and television equipment. The woman got on a phone. “Can the prisoner see the TV monitor outside his cell?” She paused for the answer. “And there’s no way the surveillance camera will show what he’s watching? …OK.” She put down the phone and pointed the camera at Alice. “OK, loser,” she said, “we’ve got your blonde girl friend. Either you cooperate and confess or we’ll make her confess. You can watch what happens. It won’t be nice to watch, if you really love her, but we’ll stop interrogating her as soon as you sign a confession. OK?”
Of course there was no reply. One of the men removed the handcuffs, leaving Alice standing there in front of a TV camera. “Alice, tell us how long you have known about your fiance’s being a terrorist.” Alice just shook her head. “Alice, take off your clothes. Show your lover your naked body.”
The woman nodded and the three men grabbed Alice by her arms and held her, while the woman cut the blouse from sleeves to collar and pulled it away, exposing Alice’s lacy bra. She undid the waist band of the skirt, and it fell away, revealing skimpy panties. “Must I go on, Alice? Just tell me you will cooperate.”
Alice said nothing. She was determined not to betray her fiance. It took only seconds to cut away the bra and panties, exposing Alice’s girlish breasts and wispy blonde pubic hair. “Are you a virgin, Alice?”
“Hey, loser, your fiancee says she’s a virgin. You don’t want that to change, do you, before you are married? No, of course not. Not yet. Don’t wait too long before you confess.” The men buckled padded leather cuffs on Alice’s wrists and ankles. Motors whirred and cables came down from the ceiling, which the men attached to the cuffs.
Alice was really frightened now, but she would not betray Juan. She watched as the woman pressed more buttons. The motors whirred, and Alice hung from her wrists. More whirring, and her feet were raised shoulder high and pulled apart until Alice felt as if her hips would dislocate. The TV camera was staring right at her exposed vulva. The woman picked up a black strap and showed it to the camera. Then, like a striking snake, it whipped down on Alice’s upturned labia. Alice shrieked in pain. “Are you going to cooperate?” Alice shook her head. Meanwhile, the men removed her shoes. “Loser.” the woman said to the camera. “We play by the same rules as the Spanish Inquisition. Don’t make ’em bleed or break ’em up to the point where they can’t be seen in public. You like your honey’s twat? That wispy blond hair? I think we’ll work on the twat a while, while you think about when you will confess.” She used the strap four more times, leaving Alice blubbering and her labia bright red. One of the men handed her a pan, and she showed it to the camera. “Hot wax, loser.” She poured the wax over Alice’s mons and vulva, while Alice gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. It was hot, but not blistering hot. They waited a while, as the wax cooled. Then Alice yelped, as the woman ripped the wax off, taking all the pubic hair with it. “Isn’t that pretty, loser? Like a little girl’s. Alice, have you ever been eaten out?” Alice shook her head. “Well, surely you masturbate.”
Again Alice shook her head. “My, loser, what an innocent creature she is…was.” The woman took a hose and played the stream of water over Alice’s naked labia. She aimed it at her vagina, and Alice screamed as the water pressure distended her very private place, where nothing bigger than a tampon had been before. Then she played the stream a little higher, letting the water impinge on Alice’s clitoral hood. “Ah, ah ,ah, oh, oh, please stop! Oh, ahhh, please! Ah, nooo!” vocalized Alice, as she jerked her legs and hips, trying to avoid the water.
The woman placed her hand on Alice’s mount of Venus, now hairless, and directed the stream between the labia so it ran like a river down a canyon. No matter how much Alice thrashed around, the end of the hose moved with her, and the water was relentless. “Ah! Oh! Oh, no! Oh, God! Ahhh!” cried Alice, as she went limp and hung quietly.
“Well, loser, it seems she’s a responsive little slut, don’t you think? Well, she’s not here to have fun.” The woman turned off the water and held up for the camera a vaguely dildo shaped device. “The old inquisitors called this the agony pear. See how it works” She twisted the shaft, and the other end opened out like the petals of an opening flower increasing in diameter three or four times. “I could use my fist,” she said, collapsing the device, “but this is so high-tech. Last chance, loser, to confess, before your virgin’s cunt gets stretched.”
“Noooo!” wailed Alice as the pear was pushed inside her. “Ahhh!” she screamed as it expanded inside her, pressing a stream of urine from her flattened bladder. “There, there, it doesn’t hurt that much, does it? You are just humiliated to know that your lover is watching, aren’t you, you cunt?” The woman pressed a similar device into Alice’s anus. Even lubricated, she had to push hard, and Alice screamed. “Oh, come on. It’s no bigger than shit.” When it was fully inserted, the woman expanded it. There was no way it would come out. Alice writhed with the discomfort of two swollen things in her pelvis, one pressing the back of her pubic arch, and causing strange, unfamiliar sensations in the G-spot she didn’t know she had, while the other was hard against her tail bone and seemingly locked against the one in her vagina. She wondered if she wasn’t being damaged, internally. Would she bleed, when they came out? “Last chance for a while, Alice, to agree to cooperate. OK, you’ll just have to hope that loser of a lover of yours says he’ll confess.” The woman pushed a third pear into Alice’s mouth and expanded it until Alice thought her jaw might break. She certainly couldn’t talk or breathe through her mouth, except for whistling gasps of air through the hollow core of the pear.
“Now, loser, comes the interesting part, what the inquisitors called the water torment. We’ve improved on it a bit, in that we can apply it at both ends.”
The woman inserted a hose into the pear in Alice’s rectum and another into the pear in her mouth, forcing her to breath through her nose. The hoses connected to water pumps, controlled by buttons on the desk. A man grabbed Alice’s hair and pulled her head back. The woman pushed a button, and water filled Alice’s mouth, cutting off her air! Desperately, Alice swallowed the cold water, until she could gasp for air. By now, however, cold water was flooding into her rectum.
She didn’t have long to reflect on that, however, because she was again choking on a mouth full of water, and it was all she could do to swallow fast enough to breathe at all. Again and again the water forced its way into her mouth, and she had to desperately swallow or drown. Her stomach rebelled, threatening to vomit the water back up her throat, where it would surely fill her lungs and kill her! Every swallow was desperate, and painful. Her stomach was distended, her belly visibly bulging outward.
At last there was a respite, a few seconds when she could breathe, though she couldn’t breath deeply as her swollen stomach forced her diaphragm upward, compressing her lungs. She was suddenly aware of the awful pains in her abdomen. The cold water from the other pump had forced its way higher and higher in her colon, contributing to the swelling of her belly, the disappearance of her waistline, it seemed. The cramping was incredible. “Loser, are you watching how your little honey is swelling up like a balloon? Plead guilty as charged, and we’ll stop.” The water in her guts continued to gurgle on its way toward her stomach, and the choking water in her mouth resumed the torment of forced swallowing and gasping. Something went wrong, and Alice felt the water entering her lungs, shortly before she lost consciousness.
When she awoke, she was hanging upside down from her ankles, with the sting of puke in her nasal passages. A mask and tracheal tube forced air into her lungs. The pears in her vagina and rectum had been removed, and the awful pain of stretched stomach and intestines was relieved. “She’s back among the living,” said the woman,” as she removed the mask. “Are you willing to sign a confession, how you and your lover conspired to assassinate the President with a bomb?”
With a groan, Alice replied: “No.” She could imagine what a military tribunal would do to Juan if they had such a confession. As she hung, upside down, the men put a sort of wide belt or narrow waist cincher around her middle and tightened it painfully until she again had to breathe with difficulty. The pressure forced the last of the fluid from her bowels; she could feel the warm stuff dribbling down the crack of her ass and dripping off her back. The men hooked her wrist cuffs to the back of the belt, pulled her elbows together with some sort of strap, and then lowered her to the hard, wet concrete floor. They hauled her to her feet and faced her toward the camera.
“Your bride to be is remarkably loyal, loser. She still won’t confess and implicate you. Of course. She’s not the bride you thought you were getting. It will be a while before her vagina tightens up again, but so far she’s still technically a virgin. You want her to stay that way, don’t you? Think about it. You are going to confess and plead guilty sooner or later. Shouldn’t you do it sooner, and spare her pain and suffering? While we wait, we’ll just prepare her for further interrogation.”
The men brought out a platform on casters with a sort of short vertical wall in the middle of it. They forced Alice to stand on the platform and hooked her ankle cuffs to rings at the ends of the wall, spreading her legs in a wide vee. Her arms, of course, were immobile, behind her back. The woman placed clamps and chains on Alice’s nipples and used them to pull the tearful victim forward.
Alice’s knees bumped into the wall, and she had to bend at the waist and double over as her stretched breasts were hauled down by the chains, which were ultimately fastened on the far side of the wall, roughly opposite her knees. That left Alice with her rump uppermost. With her thighs so widely spread, her anus and the puffy peach of her swollen labia, still red from their beating earlier, were fully exposed. The men turned the platform around so that the TV could get a good view, zooming in for a close-up. Alice could see, if she raised her head, a monitor which pictured her most private parts.
“Hey, loser, do you know what these are?” The woman, wearing gloves, held up a bunch of long, green plants which looked something like marijuana in the wild. “These are stinging nettles, better torture through chemistry. The stems, and to some extent the leaves, are covered with tiny silica needles, which are filled, under pressure, with a mixture of natural chemicals, histamine, which causes swelling and itching, and various neurotransmitters, which make the nerves much more sensitive. That way, the pain is greater, but the bruising is less. The needles, of course, can readily penetrate bare skin, and they break off inside, injecting the chemicals where they do the most harm, or good, from our point of view.” She dragged one of the stems between the labia and up the crack between the buttocks. Alice screamed, as a bright pink rash appeared. “Ready to cooperate, loser?” Methodically, she lashed the buttocks and inside the thighs, while Alice gritted her teeth and tried to stifle her groans. Her skin burned and stung and itched, all at the same time.
When the nettles were reduced to limp, smashed uselessness, the woman displayed the reddened skin of her victim and then began to beat the same areas, thighs and buttocks, with a long, whippy riding crop, a cane covered with leather. Each methodical blow left a red weal and evoked a cry of pain from Alice, who tried to be stoic but could not contain her anguish. The woman did not stop until the overlapping stripes made the entire area red. “Loser,” she said, “your bride to be, if you still want her, is really suffering on your behalf. Any time, she could have stopped her suffering by denouncing you. Alice, have you anything you would like to say to the man who has been watching you suffer?” Alice shook her head, no.
“Well,” said the woman, “if we beat her more, she’ll be bruised for days, and we don’t want her showing off her bruises, do we? Which one is going to break first?” The woman produced two metal rods, with silvery balls on one end and wires from the other. She held them up to the camera. “Here’s a device the inquisition didn’t have. It’s very good for ruining a girl without drawing blood.” She inserted one ball into Alice’s vagina and the other popped through the well stretched anus. Then she went to the desk and started pressing buttons.
“Ungh!” exclaimed Alice, as electricity coursed through the muscles in the walls of her vagina and rectum, making them contract more forcefully than they ever had before. Each succeeding shock made Alice scream involuntarily, as the organs of her pelvis contracted uncontrollably. The pain was frightening, but, to Alice’s surprise, the shocks triggered orgasms, flooding her brain with endorphins and feelings of pleasure. She stopped screaming and drifted into what is sometimes called sub-space, a sort of transcendental condition beyond pain.
Alice “woke up”, aware that the shocks had stopped, but her tortured muscles ached. “Last chance, loser, to marry a virgin,” said the woman. Just then, Alice felt a pressure on her anus. The wall prevented her from seeing her rapist, until she looked up at the television monitor. As her unresisting anus stretched, for the muscles were flaccid from fatigue after the electrical torture, she felt a monstrous penis penetrating her body, and she could watch it happening on the monitor. Really, she was past caring. What more could they do to her?
Her rapist ejaculated into her bowels and pulled out, dripping cum. The next man plunged his prod into her worn-out vagina, which provided no resistance at all. Alice was hardly aware of the internal friction, such as it was. The pressure of his balls against her chemically tortured labia caused more pain. It seemed to take a long time before the man dumped his load of semen in her well fucked cunt. Two more men had their way with her, humiliating her, making her wonder if Juan would ever want her after she was used goods, but she could not find it painful or pleasurable. They were just doing things to her body, and she was sort of detached, uncaring.
When the men were done, the woman raped her with a special strap-on dildo, huge, with all sorts of projections on it. Somehow, that tickled her nettle-sensitized clitoris, and Alice had a wild orgasm, actually losing consciousness. As she began to regain her senses, she heard a phone ringing.
“Yes,” said the woman, “he’s cooperating, then.” She turned to Alice and lifted her head by pulling on her hair. “See, you stupid slut, all that suffering and refusing to confess was for nothing. We got what we want from him.” She approached Alice with a big needle and syringe and injected her. Alice lost consciousness again.
Alice awoke, naked but covered by a sheet, on a bed in a grungy room. Juan was there beside her. “Where are we?” she said.
“In Mexico. We’re safe, but I don’t think either one of use had better return to the U.S., ever.”
“I’m sorry, Juan. They were able to use me to make you confess.”
“No, you were magnificent, my darling.”
“I’m not a virgin anymore. Do you still want me?”
“Yes, of course, more than ever. As soon as we can, we’ll get married.”
“How did we get here? Aren’t they prosecuting you for terrorism? Trying to assassinate the President?”
“No. They never had a case, not without a confession.”
“Then how is it we’re free?”
“I figured it out, finally, when I realized they must have planted the evidence themselves. Money talks, and, even in the U.S., government agents can be bought. As soon as my attorney delivered the cash, the case was dismissed and all the records were destroyed. Well, almost all.” Alice looked up at him questioningly. “If I am ever tempted to get tired of you, my love, or ever doubt how lucky I am to have you, I’ll have this to remind me.” He held up a tape cassette labeled, “Alice under torture.”
– The End –