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Sexpionage III
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Torture in Tehran (6)
Classified Quds Force Detention Centre in Tehran, Iran
Cat stared straight ahead. Her eyes were glazed, lifeless, her vacant glare the gaze of one who cares no more …
Naked still, her denuded body shivered in the chill of the early March morning. When the beating of her feet had become too much, she begged them to stop.
They did. And she began to speak.
“Agent Catherine Lavigne,” she had confirmed.
“I am working for the British,” they already knew both these things.
“… and there are several other countries also sponsoring my mission,” she lied, “… but I have no idea who they are.” Cat added to the deceit.
“Your flash-memory stick, once it had despatched the wrong information back to London, placed a trojan on our main computer. So now we have to wipe the key drives or make sure we add nothing more them. It’s not a problem, more an inconvenience. But it is something that we need to punish you for.”
They then beat her soles for several more long, agonising minutes just because they could.
******
Not believing that Cat had no details anything about the supposed ‘other countries’ that were involved in sponsoring her mission, No-Neck and Unibrow had taken the beaten girl straight out of the cell in which she had suffered the bastinado, into the early morning of the desolate Tehran landscape …
… Which was where she now stood, wrists heavily bound before her, naked with a long thick length of hemp connecting her bound limbs to the back of a black SUV. They were going to pull her behind the vehicle, which in itself was bad enough, but the terrain underfoot, upon which her beaten soles now resided, was nothing but small sharp stones and gravel.
“Is it the Americans?” No-Neck shouted to her from his seat on a nearby rock.
“I … I really don’t know, please don’t do this.” Cat found herself pleading once more.
Why didn’t she just tell the truth? It wasn’t in her nature to submit totally … and so …
“Go,” was all that No-Neck yelled at the vehicle, whereupon Unibrow switched on the ignition and pulled slowly forward. Cat watched the length of rope stretch out and then yelped as she too was dragged along with it, moving quickly over the sharp stones underfoot.
Unibrow took the SUV sedately on but that didn’t stop Cat having to jog to keep up. The pain in her already beaten feet was agonising. It felt as though every small bone was breaking into a thousand pieces and then she sensed more throttle and felt her arms pulled hard.
"Fuckkkkk! Noooooo!" The captive Agent yelled as her footing slipped and she lost her balance.
For a several minutes Cat was dragged along the sharp, uneven ground. She had the presence of mind to close her mouth and eyes but she could feel the drag of the gravel against her naked flesh.
Barren Trees and glimpses of blue sky flashed by as the poor girl was pulled along at a pace. After what seemed an age, much to Cat's relief, the car slowed to a halt.
She lay gasping on the ground, her flesh covered in dirt and dust. Small surface scratches adorned her whole body from the small stones over which she had been dragged.
However, as her assailants approached, that was the least of the captive's problems. Cat screamed as she felt her hair grabbed tight and twisted forcing her up to her knees.
“Who else?”
Sobbing Cat simply shook her head, “I … I don’t know,” her mind was addled, her broken body screaming at her.
No-Neck laughed and threw the girl back to the floor. “She’s made me hard again. Tie her across the bonnet.” He ordered Unibrow who hurried from the driver’s seat to join his colleague.
Manhandled by Unibrow a virtually unconscious Agent Cat was untied and dragged to the bonnet of the car whereupon she was unceremoniously pushed breasts down onto the hood. Gasping for any kind of breath the girl felt her arms pulled out wide and rope secured her wrists to the hefty wing-mirrors, then she was pulled upwards by the rope until her head was almost at the windscreen. This took her feet away from the ground leaving her on the tips of her toes and allowed her ankles to be secured to the underneath of the bumper.
“Beautiful,” No-Neck grinned as he flipped his erect cock lose.
The heat from the hood was permeating through Cat’s sore skin, heightening the pain of the myriad cuts and scrapes that decorated her flesh. Then she felt her hips gripped and the swollen head of an erect cock pushing against her pliant lips … and then she was raped, again.
When No-Neck slipped away from her body, his cock dripping with residual semen, Cat fully expected Unibrow to take his place, but he did not. No-Neck and his colleague both opened the doors at the front of the SUV and got in.
“Please, don’t leave me here tied like this,” Cat was begging and pleading.
No-Neck looked at his captive through the glass of the windscreen and grinned.
“We have someone back at the detention block who wishes to meet you, Agent Lavigne.”
With that the car started up and set off with a screaming, naked Cat still tied to the hood …
This brings to an end PART II with Cat seemingly in a desperate position. What happens next? All will be revealed in PART III – Join us tomorrow for the beginning of “Iranian Captive” …
Classified Quds Force Detention Centre in Tehran, Iran
Cat stared straight ahead. Her eyes were glazed, lifeless, her vacant glare the gaze of one who cares no more …
Naked still, her denuded body shivered in the chill of the early March morning. When the beating of her feet had become too much, she begged them to stop.
They did. And she began to speak.
“Agent Catherine Lavigne,” she had confirmed.
“I am working for the British,” they already knew both these things.
“… and there are several other countries also sponsoring my mission,” she lied, “… but I have no idea who they are.” Cat added to the deceit.
“Your flash-memory stick, once it had despatched the wrong information back to London, placed a trojan on our main computer. So now we have to wipe the key drives or make sure we add nothing more them. It’s not a problem, more an inconvenience. But it is something that we need to punish you for.”
They then beat her soles for several more long, agonising minutes just because they could.
******
Not believing that Cat had no details anything about the supposed ‘other countries’ that were involved in sponsoring her mission, No-Neck and Unibrow had taken the beaten girl straight out of the cell in which she had suffered the bastinado, into the early morning of the desolate Tehran landscape …
… Which was where she now stood, wrists heavily bound before her, naked with a long thick length of hemp connecting her bound limbs to the back of a black SUV. They were going to pull her behind the vehicle, which in itself was bad enough, but the terrain underfoot, upon which her beaten soles now resided, was nothing but small sharp stones and gravel.
“Is it the Americans?” No-Neck shouted to her from his seat on a nearby rock.
“I … I really don’t know, please don’t do this.” Cat found herself pleading once more.
Why didn’t she just tell the truth? It wasn’t in her nature to submit totally … and so …
“Go,” was all that No-Neck yelled at the vehicle, whereupon Unibrow switched on the ignition and pulled slowly forward. Cat watched the length of rope stretch out and then yelped as she too was dragged along with it, moving quickly over the sharp stones underfoot.
Unibrow took the SUV sedately on but that didn’t stop Cat having to jog to keep up. The pain in her already beaten feet was agonising. It felt as though every small bone was breaking into a thousand pieces and then she sensed more throttle and felt her arms pulled hard.
"Fuckkkkk! Noooooo!" The captive Agent yelled as her footing slipped and she lost her balance.
For a several minutes Cat was dragged along the sharp, uneven ground. She had the presence of mind to close her mouth and eyes but she could feel the drag of the gravel against her naked flesh.
Barren Trees and glimpses of blue sky flashed by as the poor girl was pulled along at a pace. After what seemed an age, much to Cat's relief, the car slowed to a halt.
She lay gasping on the ground, her flesh covered in dirt and dust. Small surface scratches adorned her whole body from the small stones over which she had been dragged.
However, as her assailants approached, that was the least of the captive's problems. Cat screamed as she felt her hair grabbed tight and twisted forcing her up to her knees.
“Who else?”
Sobbing Cat simply shook her head, “I … I don’t know,” her mind was addled, her broken body screaming at her.
No-Neck laughed and threw the girl back to the floor. “She’s made me hard again. Tie her across the bonnet.” He ordered Unibrow who hurried from the driver’s seat to join his colleague.
Manhandled by Unibrow a virtually unconscious Agent Cat was untied and dragged to the bonnet of the car whereupon she was unceremoniously pushed breasts down onto the hood. Gasping for any kind of breath the girl felt her arms pulled out wide and rope secured her wrists to the hefty wing-mirrors, then she was pulled upwards by the rope until her head was almost at the windscreen. This took her feet away from the ground leaving her on the tips of her toes and allowed her ankles to be secured to the underneath of the bumper.
“Beautiful,” No-Neck grinned as he flipped his erect cock lose.
The heat from the hood was permeating through Cat’s sore skin, heightening the pain of the myriad cuts and scrapes that decorated her flesh. Then she felt her hips gripped and the swollen head of an erect cock pushing against her pliant lips … and then she was raped, again.
When No-Neck slipped away from her body, his cock dripping with residual semen, Cat fully expected Unibrow to take his place, but he did not. No-Neck and his colleague both opened the doors at the front of the SUV and got in.
“Please, don’t leave me here tied like this,” Cat was begging and pleading.
No-Neck looked at his captive through the glass of the windscreen and grinned.
“We have someone back at the detention block who wishes to meet you, Agent Lavigne.”
With that the car started up and set off with a screaming, naked Cat still tied to the hood …
This brings to an end PART II with Cat seemingly in a desperate position. What happens next? All will be revealed in PART III – Join us tomorrow for the beginning of “Iranian Captive” …
A
AliciaD
Guest
Wonderful story!!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Very cruel, Fossy, poor Ms Lavigne taken for a painful walk on her bastinadoed feet and then the inevitable rape.
You have left us eagerly waiting to find out who is waiting back at the Detention Block. Is it another torturer, or perhaps one of her MI6 colleagues being prepared for interrogation?
You have left us eagerly waiting to find out who is waiting back at the Detention Block. Is it another torturer, or perhaps one of her MI6 colleagues being prepared for interrogation?
Sharkman
Governor
It seems I just missed a few parts. But it's great, @Fossy. And welcome again to Cat, Lacey and Grace in a new 'Fossy-Story'. As @Lion said we still cannot wait for what's happening next. And yes, Dino Moore is back again in his role as sadistic lover ... as 'The Man with the Golden Gun (1974)'. Lacey, sure you will get soon a promotion by special performance, endurance and patience. Isn't Moore a crux lover? Maybe @Barb knows this ...
You didn't told us it is a black car in the sun. Sure you could cook eggs on it. Hope No-Neck's vulnerable balls didn't get in touch with the glowing bonnet. 'Thunderball (1965)' gets really another meaning.
Now you made me (us?) really curious ... again in Cell Block X? Or is there a replica of Punishment Room Number 3 of Torture Garden BDSM Club inside the block? I am sure you will tell us. We wait, sit down and relax.
You didn't told us it is a black car in the sun. Sure you could cook eggs on it. Hope No-Neck's vulnerable balls didn't get in touch with the glowing bonnet. 'Thunderball (1965)' gets really another meaning.
Now you made me (us?) really curious ... again in Cell Block X? Or is there a replica of Punishment Room Number 3 of Torture Garden BDSM Club inside the block? I am sure you will tell us. We wait, sit down and relax.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
OPEN SEASON PART III
Iranian Captive (1)
Briefing Room Number 1 – MI6 HQ, SIS Building Vauxhall, London
The intel had been good, clear and concise. Agent Catherine Lavigne was in Tehran, held by an Iranian Quds unit but about to be sold onto a larger unit in Shemshak. MI6 also had a name … Omid Nazari, a terrorist, trafficking monster already known to MI6
Grace’s undercover date with Omid Nazari had been set, and following him seeing her picture along with her name being ‘introduced’ to him as a front for a Southern European Trafficking Network, he was keen to meet her. He had made it clear that a very saleable asset was about to fall into his lap, and Grace, calling herself Stefani Grabowski, a German national with a Turkish background who spoke both fluent Altaic and Semitic languages (Grace’s Oxford degree was in Middle Eastern and Ancient languages – See Oxford, Spies and the Secret Service), made it clear that she was in the market for such an asset.
Major Jason Underwood called his team into Briefing Room Number 1 to brief them, and Grace, who sat fiddling with her phone, had to admit that she was a little bored as the Major went about assigning details of who would be out in Shemshak with Grace, along with who would be monitoring what, while she was being wined and dined by Nazari.
“We’re going to need to keep on our toes, people,” Underwood said. “Our target hasn’t told Special Agent Miller where he plans on taking her or what he plans on doing, so we’re going to have to stay mobile and flexible. We won’t be able to pre-scout any of his planned locations, so it’s going to be impossible to get bugs into them before …” His words were cut short as Grace spoke.
“Actually, it appears he’s taking me to the Cheragan Restaurant which is housed in the Shemshak Boutique Hotel, which happens to be where you guys have booked me in to stay,” Grace said as she swiped again at her phone.
“Oh. Okay, good,” Jason said. “Let’s get onto that team …”
“He’s got a regular table there,” Special Agent Miller added, “… Back corner, by the window. His favourite dish is the lobster ravioli.” Underwood’s glare turned more curious.
“Okay…”
“Then he plans to take me somewhere where he hopes he can show me what a proper Iranian good time actually is …”
Underwood blinked at Grace. “How do you know all this?” he asked.
She showed him the app that she had open on her phone.
“It’s all on his Facebook feed,” she said, I just friended him as Stefani and he accepted ..." This also told Grace that her full online back story was in place, "... The guy posts there constantly, his ego is huge so seducing him should be a sinch.”
The Major stared at the Special Agent, as though what she had just said was too complicated for his brain to comprehend.
“Facebook?” he muttered. “He’s on fucking FACEBOOK?” Underwood turned to his team, looking as though he might explode. “How did we not know this?” he hissed.
His team all looked at each other as if to imply that each one thought the other had checked Facebook.
“FUCK IT!” he yelled. “We are motherfucking MI6 and we don’t know our fucking target has a motherfucking Facebook page?” Even Grace’s eyes widened at Jase’s language.
“Apparently it’s a great source for trafficking targets too,” Grace added, continuing to flick through Nazari’s feed on her phone. “… given the number of girls he’s befriended.”
“Mother fucker.” Underwood stopped pacing and looked at his team as if to say what the fuck are you all still doing here. “Don’t just sit there, you fuckers, find a fucking computer and Facebook-the-shit out of this prize twat! Find out what other social networks he’s on! Start fucking monitoring them! MOVE!!!”
“Apparently, he tweets a lot as well!” Grace called out with a smirk, to the Analysts and Support Agents as they ran for the door, escaping Underwood’s wrath.
She watched Underwood as he paced back and forth, his face flushed with anger, his eyes wild. She hadn’t seen him so filled with passion and emotion since Kat’s death.
“I can’t believe we could miss something like that!” he sneered to himself. “I can’t fucking believe it!”
Grace got up and led him to sit in her chair, the entire time he was mumbling about rolling heads and firing someone … anyone …
She immediately went to work massaging his shoulders, which were wound tighter than steel cable. “Shhhhhhh …” Special Agent Miller said, trying to calm him. “It was just a little oversight, no big deal.”
“That little oversight would have fucked our entire strategy with Nazari if it wasn’t for you,” he continued to grumble.
“Stop,” I told him. “This isn’t your fault. We’re on it now. You don’t need to be upset.” She could sense his breathing start to slow down as she kept on kneading his shoulders. They were slowly loosening up under her soft touch. Poor guy. He was so not over Ekaterina, still so stressed out and angry.
“What the hell are you doing?” he looked at Grace.
“Trying to keep your head from exploding with rage,” she replied softly. “Would you like me to stop?”
Underwood remained silent, as though he felt like he should tell her to stop from both a professional and personal standpoint, but it felt way too good to do so. She took his silence for consent and kept working his shoulders.
“It was a stupid mistake,” he muttered. “We should have known to check his Social Media Accounts.”
“It’s not the end of the world, Jase,” Grace replied, her tone gentle.
“No, we have to be better than this,” said Underwood. “We can reposition satellites to see the hair on a man’s head in the middle of the desert, but we can’t be bothered to check fucking Facebook?”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I can’t afford not to be,” he said. “These bastards don’t have to be perfect, but we do. One mistake … just one, is all it takes to allow a mission to fail, and then people like you and others die. And then your blood is on our hands as much as theirs.”
“You can’t really believe that,” Grace said.
“It’s the truth,” he replied. “They may pull the trigger, but we’d be the ones to let it happen. It’s our job to stop them. It’s what we’re paid and entrusted to do. And if they succeed, it means we were asleep at the motherfucking wheel, and our carelessness has allowed them to win.”
His words washed over Grace, so full of pain and weariness. She could almost feel the burden he was carrying on his shoulders and it was so overwhelming it felt like it would crush her too beneath its weight. This man was a hero, a brave soldier, who had lost the love of his life. Here he was sacrificing everything, his body, his mind, his very soul, to protect the innocent people who would never know or care about what he was giving up for them. It was no wonder he was so angry and miserable most of the time. Grace felt that since Kat’s death he’d given up ever trying to be happy. Happiness would make him lazy. It would make him content. Happiness was what would prevent him from remembering Kat, how and why she died and what she stood for, and so even though he craved contentment, he couldn’t allow himself to experience it.
Grace moved around the Major, and straddled his lap, cupping his face in her hands and looking into his eyes. He looked back at Special Agent Miller, confused at what she was doing. Then she leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss.
To Be Continued …
Iranian Captive (1)
Briefing Room Number 1 – MI6 HQ, SIS Building Vauxhall, London
The intel had been good, clear and concise. Agent Catherine Lavigne was in Tehran, held by an Iranian Quds unit but about to be sold onto a larger unit in Shemshak. MI6 also had a name … Omid Nazari, a terrorist, trafficking monster already known to MI6
Grace’s undercover date with Omid Nazari had been set, and following him seeing her picture along with her name being ‘introduced’ to him as a front for a Southern European Trafficking Network, he was keen to meet her. He had made it clear that a very saleable asset was about to fall into his lap, and Grace, calling herself Stefani Grabowski, a German national with a Turkish background who spoke both fluent Altaic and Semitic languages (Grace’s Oxford degree was in Middle Eastern and Ancient languages – See Oxford, Spies and the Secret Service), made it clear that she was in the market for such an asset.
Major Jason Underwood called his team into Briefing Room Number 1 to brief them, and Grace, who sat fiddling with her phone, had to admit that she was a little bored as the Major went about assigning details of who would be out in Shemshak with Grace, along with who would be monitoring what, while she was being wined and dined by Nazari.
“We’re going to need to keep on our toes, people,” Underwood said. “Our target hasn’t told Special Agent Miller where he plans on taking her or what he plans on doing, so we’re going to have to stay mobile and flexible. We won’t be able to pre-scout any of his planned locations, so it’s going to be impossible to get bugs into them before …” His words were cut short as Grace spoke.
“Actually, it appears he’s taking me to the Cheragan Restaurant which is housed in the Shemshak Boutique Hotel, which happens to be where you guys have booked me in to stay,” Grace said as she swiped again at her phone.
“Oh. Okay, good,” Jason said. “Let’s get onto that team …”
“He’s got a regular table there,” Special Agent Miller added, “… Back corner, by the window. His favourite dish is the lobster ravioli.” Underwood’s glare turned more curious.
“Okay…”
“Then he plans to take me somewhere where he hopes he can show me what a proper Iranian good time actually is …”
Underwood blinked at Grace. “How do you know all this?” he asked.
She showed him the app that she had open on her phone.
“It’s all on his Facebook feed,” she said, I just friended him as Stefani and he accepted ..." This also told Grace that her full online back story was in place, "... The guy posts there constantly, his ego is huge so seducing him should be a sinch.”
The Major stared at the Special Agent, as though what she had just said was too complicated for his brain to comprehend.
“Facebook?” he muttered. “He’s on fucking FACEBOOK?” Underwood turned to his team, looking as though he might explode. “How did we not know this?” he hissed.
His team all looked at each other as if to imply that each one thought the other had checked Facebook.
“FUCK IT!” he yelled. “We are motherfucking MI6 and we don’t know our fucking target has a motherfucking Facebook page?” Even Grace’s eyes widened at Jase’s language.
“Apparently it’s a great source for trafficking targets too,” Grace added, continuing to flick through Nazari’s feed on her phone. “… given the number of girls he’s befriended.”
“Mother fucker.” Underwood stopped pacing and looked at his team as if to say what the fuck are you all still doing here. “Don’t just sit there, you fuckers, find a fucking computer and Facebook-the-shit out of this prize twat! Find out what other social networks he’s on! Start fucking monitoring them! MOVE!!!”
“Apparently, he tweets a lot as well!” Grace called out with a smirk, to the Analysts and Support Agents as they ran for the door, escaping Underwood’s wrath.
She watched Underwood as he paced back and forth, his face flushed with anger, his eyes wild. She hadn’t seen him so filled with passion and emotion since Kat’s death.
“I can’t believe we could miss something like that!” he sneered to himself. “I can’t fucking believe it!”
Grace got up and led him to sit in her chair, the entire time he was mumbling about rolling heads and firing someone … anyone …
She immediately went to work massaging his shoulders, which were wound tighter than steel cable. “Shhhhhhh …” Special Agent Miller said, trying to calm him. “It was just a little oversight, no big deal.”
“That little oversight would have fucked our entire strategy with Nazari if it wasn’t for you,” he continued to grumble.
“Stop,” I told him. “This isn’t your fault. We’re on it now. You don’t need to be upset.” She could sense his breathing start to slow down as she kept on kneading his shoulders. They were slowly loosening up under her soft touch. Poor guy. He was so not over Ekaterina, still so stressed out and angry.
“What the hell are you doing?” he looked at Grace.
“Trying to keep your head from exploding with rage,” she replied softly. “Would you like me to stop?”
Underwood remained silent, as though he felt like he should tell her to stop from both a professional and personal standpoint, but it felt way too good to do so. She took his silence for consent and kept working his shoulders.
“It was a stupid mistake,” he muttered. “We should have known to check his Social Media Accounts.”
“It’s not the end of the world, Jase,” Grace replied, her tone gentle.
“No, we have to be better than this,” said Underwood. “We can reposition satellites to see the hair on a man’s head in the middle of the desert, but we can’t be bothered to check fucking Facebook?”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I can’t afford not to be,” he said. “These bastards don’t have to be perfect, but we do. One mistake … just one, is all it takes to allow a mission to fail, and then people like you and others die. And then your blood is on our hands as much as theirs.”
“You can’t really believe that,” Grace said.
“It’s the truth,” he replied. “They may pull the trigger, but we’d be the ones to let it happen. It’s our job to stop them. It’s what we’re paid and entrusted to do. And if they succeed, it means we were asleep at the motherfucking wheel, and our carelessness has allowed them to win.”
His words washed over Grace, so full of pain and weariness. She could almost feel the burden he was carrying on his shoulders and it was so overwhelming it felt like it would crush her too beneath its weight. This man was a hero, a brave soldier, who had lost the love of his life. Here he was sacrificing everything, his body, his mind, his very soul, to protect the innocent people who would never know or care about what he was giving up for them. It was no wonder he was so angry and miserable most of the time. Grace felt that since Kat’s death he’d given up ever trying to be happy. Happiness would make him lazy. It would make him content. Happiness was what would prevent him from remembering Kat, how and why she died and what she stood for, and so even though he craved contentment, he couldn’t allow himself to experience it.
Grace moved around the Major, and straddled his lap, cupping his face in her hands and looking into his eyes. He looked back at Special Agent Miller, confused at what she was doing. Then she leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss.
To Be Continued …
Sharkman
Governor
Cat, don't be in fear. Keep your new Iranian friends on your holiday trip in mood. Cell Block X, interrogation room, fun with cars, ... one, two weeks or so. Not longer I think. Everything under control at HQ. They work hard on every detail. First steps learning about social media and create an own profile. No big thing. Grace seems to be a qualified caring trainer. Focused on her chief. @Lion, you are right ...
If no one else is anxious about this but I'm beginning slowly to be seriously concerned about Cat's physical condition. @Fossy, had you done a research before? What punishment is there for high treason in this country?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Iranian Captive (2)
Classified Quds Force Detention Centre in Tehran, Iran
All Cat knew was that back in the detention centre, after being raped over the hood of the SUV and driven back whilst still tied to it, she had been paraded before a small group of men who nodded and grinned whilst they touched her all over, both inside and out, as if assessing her body.
The MI6 Agent had then been thrown back into her cell again, and left alone in an exhausted heap.
She had been sold, of that she was fairly certain, but to whom, for how much and under what terms she had no idea. Did No-Neck and Unibrow not need to get anything more from her?
Cat had no idea who the buyers were.
Then, in a distance haze, as her addled mind drifted, the captive Agent heard the opening of her cell doors.
“Get up, lazy cunt!” Fingers ensnared Cat’s hair, to wrench her grazed cheek off the ground, pulling her from the reverie of memories more pleasant.
“Pl … please …” Her vision is hazy as, squinting one eye open, she quietly groans, the light from a single lantern feeling brighter than a blazing fire to her unadjusted vision.
Then the voice gets louder dragging her into the here and now.
“I said get up!” She sees the thick sole of a jackboot resting near to her face as the tension on her hair increases and Unibrow pulls the captive Agent to her feet … if not for his grip on her head, she would have fallen back down.
Everything is numb.
Her nose and lips, her feet and hands, her breasts … she can’t feel anything except the burn from the tugging on the roots of her hair. The pain is the only thing keeping her from fading away once more.
"Hands on head bitch ..."
Metal cuffs are cinched around her wrists, another set securing her ankles.
“`We’ve had enough of your bullshit, whore,” Unibrow states. “We know enough about who you are and what you’re doing and so now we have sold you to our colleagues in Shemshak, who will either use you and kill you or sell you on again. No one will find you ever again Agent Catherine Lavigne!”
He pulled on the chain binding her hands, causing Cat to stumble from her cell. A humiliating and painful slap lands on her ass after she had fallen to her knees, and then another. She tries to scurry away from his flattened palm and the stinging aftermath of his connection with her sore flesh, but with her wrists and ankles bound, she can only continue to stumble as she falls once more to the cold, hard ground.
“Get the fuck up, you worthless piece of shit!”
Tears sting her eyes at the helplessness she feels … worthless and vulnerable. Clenching her teeth, she pulls herself up on unsteady legs.
“Let’s go, they’re waiting.”
A push on Cat’s lower back has her toppling again, but she catches herself this time. Unibrow looks over his shoulder, his sneer degrading in itself. Her bare feet slap against the stone floor, each step painful still, from the bastinado, stiff toes not wanting to bend.
The bastard handles Cat roughly, tugging her up the winding stairs lit only by dull lights with bare bulbs, and in the gloomy glare the Agent gets a chance to look at her beaten body. She is covered in dirt and grime, and small cuts, her nails blackened and torn ...
Unibrow’s legs are so much longer than the bound Agent’s, and she trips on the chain linking her feet, falling hard to her hands and knees. She winces in pain as another solid smack lands on her exposed ass and she scrambles back to her feet as quickly as she can. Her captor lets out a sound of disgust and annoyance before jerking her forwards with a hard tug as Cat suppresses a groan.
They ascend onto an upper floor to be met by warmer air and a burning pain stings through her fingers and toes as blood begins to flow more normally and bodily feeling tries to restore itself. She winces with every step, but no longer falters. Keys are taken off Unibrow’s belt and he opens the padlock to the cell block exit before tugging Cat after him. She’s pulled through another block of lockups, and she tries to hold her head high as she is lead naked and chained into the main detention centre.
Their pace quickens as they wind through the corridors with small, high windows showing heavy grey clouds outside, hanging low in the sky, blocking the sun behind them. Cat is thrust through a set of large double doors, and shoved roughly down another short flight of stone steps. The stairs bite into her tender skin as she struggles down them one at a time, then she stumbles and falls, her elbow cracking on a stone edge. The captive Agent is bleeding and confused by the time she stops falling.
Once her head stops spinning, she opens her eyes to see the men staring down at her, all blatantly ogling her naked body making her want to cower and hide, to protect her nudity from their eyes, but she won’t give the evil bastards the satisfaction.
“Get the bitch outside.” Under curt orders she is pulled out into the courtyard and there, in the chilled air with her body trembling anew, her eyes drift from the men to an open backed truck, on the back of which is a cage, perfect for someone her size. Her eyes widen as she swallows hard.
“Ahh, I see you’ve noticed your ride for the morning,” says one of her ‘buyers’. She can hear him smirking through his words, gritting her teeth in response.
“Get in, bitch. It’s time to remind show the people of Iran what a helpless, worthless western whore looks like.”
To Be Continued …
Classified Quds Force Detention Centre in Tehran, Iran
All Cat knew was that back in the detention centre, after being raped over the hood of the SUV and driven back whilst still tied to it, she had been paraded before a small group of men who nodded and grinned whilst they touched her all over, both inside and out, as if assessing her body.
The MI6 Agent had then been thrown back into her cell again, and left alone in an exhausted heap.
She had been sold, of that she was fairly certain, but to whom, for how much and under what terms she had no idea. Did No-Neck and Unibrow not need to get anything more from her?
Cat had no idea who the buyers were.
Then, in a distance haze, as her addled mind drifted, the captive Agent heard the opening of her cell doors.
“Get up, lazy cunt!” Fingers ensnared Cat’s hair, to wrench her grazed cheek off the ground, pulling her from the reverie of memories more pleasant.
“Pl … please …” Her vision is hazy as, squinting one eye open, she quietly groans, the light from a single lantern feeling brighter than a blazing fire to her unadjusted vision.
Then the voice gets louder dragging her into the here and now.
“I said get up!” She sees the thick sole of a jackboot resting near to her face as the tension on her hair increases and Unibrow pulls the captive Agent to her feet … if not for his grip on her head, she would have fallen back down.
Everything is numb.
Her nose and lips, her feet and hands, her breasts … she can’t feel anything except the burn from the tugging on the roots of her hair. The pain is the only thing keeping her from fading away once more.
"Hands on head bitch ..."
Metal cuffs are cinched around her wrists, another set securing her ankles.
“`We’ve had enough of your bullshit, whore,” Unibrow states. “We know enough about who you are and what you’re doing and so now we have sold you to our colleagues in Shemshak, who will either use you and kill you or sell you on again. No one will find you ever again Agent Catherine Lavigne!”
He pulled on the chain binding her hands, causing Cat to stumble from her cell. A humiliating and painful slap lands on her ass after she had fallen to her knees, and then another. She tries to scurry away from his flattened palm and the stinging aftermath of his connection with her sore flesh, but with her wrists and ankles bound, she can only continue to stumble as she falls once more to the cold, hard ground.
“Get the fuck up, you worthless piece of shit!”
Tears sting her eyes at the helplessness she feels … worthless and vulnerable. Clenching her teeth, she pulls herself up on unsteady legs.
“Let’s go, they’re waiting.”
A push on Cat’s lower back has her toppling again, but she catches herself this time. Unibrow looks over his shoulder, his sneer degrading in itself. Her bare feet slap against the stone floor, each step painful still, from the bastinado, stiff toes not wanting to bend.
The bastard handles Cat roughly, tugging her up the winding stairs lit only by dull lights with bare bulbs, and in the gloomy glare the Agent gets a chance to look at her beaten body. She is covered in dirt and grime, and small cuts, her nails blackened and torn ...
Unibrow’s legs are so much longer than the bound Agent’s, and she trips on the chain linking her feet, falling hard to her hands and knees. She winces in pain as another solid smack lands on her exposed ass and she scrambles back to her feet as quickly as she can. Her captor lets out a sound of disgust and annoyance before jerking her forwards with a hard tug as Cat suppresses a groan.
They ascend onto an upper floor to be met by warmer air and a burning pain stings through her fingers and toes as blood begins to flow more normally and bodily feeling tries to restore itself. She winces with every step, but no longer falters. Keys are taken off Unibrow’s belt and he opens the padlock to the cell block exit before tugging Cat after him. She’s pulled through another block of lockups, and she tries to hold her head high as she is lead naked and chained into the main detention centre.
Their pace quickens as they wind through the corridors with small, high windows showing heavy grey clouds outside, hanging low in the sky, blocking the sun behind them. Cat is thrust through a set of large double doors, and shoved roughly down another short flight of stone steps. The stairs bite into her tender skin as she struggles down them one at a time, then she stumbles and falls, her elbow cracking on a stone edge. The captive Agent is bleeding and confused by the time she stops falling.
Once her head stops spinning, she opens her eyes to see the men staring down at her, all blatantly ogling her naked body making her want to cower and hide, to protect her nudity from their eyes, but she won’t give the evil bastards the satisfaction.
“Get the bitch outside.” Under curt orders she is pulled out into the courtyard and there, in the chilled air with her body trembling anew, her eyes drift from the men to an open backed truck, on the back of which is a cage, perfect for someone her size. Her eyes widen as she swallows hard.
“Ahh, I see you’ve noticed your ride for the morning,” says one of her ‘buyers’. She can hear him smirking through his words, gritting her teeth in response.
“Get in, bitch. It’s time to remind show the people of Iran what a helpless, worthless western whore looks like.”
To Be Continued …
Sharkman
Governor
Enough information ... sold ... dirty, filthy business. It's time to be concerned at HQ. Hope they get a first social media account running.
Shemshak seems to be a mountain region. Not so easy to reach. Is it a popular tourist destination? @Fossy, great idea. I like it ... Beirut 2.0? 'Casino Royale (2006)' gets an new attraction.
No no, I think you forgot the slavery part
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Iranian Captive (3)
The hill road from Tehran to Shemshak …
Pushed hard Agent Cat stumbles to the ground causing the guards to tug at her arms, pulling her up too fast. With her mind addled her vision swims and she staggers again, held upright only by their fingers digging into her soft skin. Slowly, they march her toward the vehicle, her legs trembling from exhaustion … the days stuck inside the dingy, dirty cell had sapped all the energy from her body.
A guard standing by the SUV opens the door to the cage as she approaches, and his eyes glimmer, fuelled by sadistic lust as he pulls her aboard and shoves her inside. The captive girl’s face slams against the hard iron bars at the rear of the small confine, bruising Cat’s cheek in the process. Taking the manacles in his grip, the guard pulls them high, cinching the chain onto a hook in the top bars, whereupon Cat’s ankles are secured to the sides, keeping her body stretched and spread for all to see.
The captive Agent swallowed down the lump in her throat, as she tries to contain her anxiety … Cat knew this was going to be humiliating, degrading and an undoubtedly very painful experience, whatever their ultimate intentions. To add to her misery, a cold rain begins to fall. Each droplet chilling her naked flesh, causing goosebumps to riddle her body, in turn making her nipples harden painfully. But Agent Cat stoically grits her teeth and bears it ... what choice does she have? These bastards may strip her of her clothes, deprive her of her dignity and torture her to the edge of sanity, but they can’t take away her will to survive. That is a feeling she holds tight inside, and, as the SUV pulls away, she shakes her head in a useless attempt to move the long blonde hairs now plastered to her face, covering her eyes and exposing her complete vulnerability.
******
As they trundle on over ridged roads and rough terrain, Cat is left alone in the open rear of the large vehicle, incarcerated, exposed to the open air and the lashing rain. The motion of the vehicle jolts her, but the bindings save her this time, as she is stretched so tight that her face doesn’t even come close to smashing into the bars of the cage.
It is hard to say how long they have been travelling when the vehicle begins to climb higher into the hills on the outskirts of Shemshak, but the fall in temperature is very evident and Cat begins to feel her nudity more keenly than ever.
As the vehicle climbs further, wooden homes come into view. Thatched roofs offer a smell of wet hay which creates a sense of time-stopping. It’s almost peaceful watching the tiny homes appear as the pitter-patter of rain turns to the soft, quiet sound of falling snow. If Cat wasn’t strung up and frozen, she might even enjoy the scene as it unfolds.
When the vehicle reaches a small square in the town, at the head of which is a larger building, it comes to a halt. Parked sideways on, Cat can see the square to one side and the steps leading into the larger house on the other. The door opens and a man, dressed in a large overcoat underneath which is a white button shirt and jeans, steps out. As he does so Cat notices for the first time the crowd that has already assembled in the square, and from first impressions it would seem that the man from the big house is also the main benefactor of this small mountain town on the outskirts of the city of Shemshak.
As the guards get out of the vehicle the patrician approaches them and speaks.
“Is this her?”
“It is,” comes the simple reply.
Cat looks at the small gathering of men and then to the still open door as another figure, this time female, emerges.
“Fuck …” The captive girl whispers to herself, as she recognises the girl as an MI6 Agent.
What’s going on …?
The man opens out an arm and welcomes the girl into them.
“This is Stefani Grabowski,” he introduces her to the other guards, she is here to see the captive with a view to purchasing her from us. But she is also aware that I need to make an example of her before the townsfolk here, and show them what a helpless Western whore looks like under the kiss of the Iranian lash. That’s right isn’t it, Stefani?”
As the girl nodded, the man, Omid Nazari, leaned in and kissed her. They appeared to be an item, or so it appeared to Cat.
What the actual fuck was going on?
And she was to be whipped!
In public …
Fuuuuuck!
The man, the guards and this woman move to look into the open back of the vehicle, and ogle the girl in the cage.
“Look at her!” Stefani Grabowski purrs, pointing, “… so lovely, tied and shackled.” Was this really an MI6 Agent?
The crowd closes in too. The women shy away from Cat’s nudity, but the men stare openly, their eyes hard and lust-filled.
Erected in the middle of the town’s square, seemingly unaltered by the passing centuries and surrounded by rows of wooden benches, is a pole. A wooden pole. There’s only one reason to have a pole built in the centre of a town like this, and, as the rows of benches fill up with the townsfolk, Cat knows that her impending flogging is about to commence.
To Be Continued …
The hill road from Tehran to Shemshak …
Pushed hard Agent Cat stumbles to the ground causing the guards to tug at her arms, pulling her up too fast. With her mind addled her vision swims and she staggers again, held upright only by their fingers digging into her soft skin. Slowly, they march her toward the vehicle, her legs trembling from exhaustion … the days stuck inside the dingy, dirty cell had sapped all the energy from her body.
A guard standing by the SUV opens the door to the cage as she approaches, and his eyes glimmer, fuelled by sadistic lust as he pulls her aboard and shoves her inside. The captive girl’s face slams against the hard iron bars at the rear of the small confine, bruising Cat’s cheek in the process. Taking the manacles in his grip, the guard pulls them high, cinching the chain onto a hook in the top bars, whereupon Cat’s ankles are secured to the sides, keeping her body stretched and spread for all to see.
The captive Agent swallowed down the lump in her throat, as she tries to contain her anxiety … Cat knew this was going to be humiliating, degrading and an undoubtedly very painful experience, whatever their ultimate intentions. To add to her misery, a cold rain begins to fall. Each droplet chilling her naked flesh, causing goosebumps to riddle her body, in turn making her nipples harden painfully. But Agent Cat stoically grits her teeth and bears it ... what choice does she have? These bastards may strip her of her clothes, deprive her of her dignity and torture her to the edge of sanity, but they can’t take away her will to survive. That is a feeling she holds tight inside, and, as the SUV pulls away, she shakes her head in a useless attempt to move the long blonde hairs now plastered to her face, covering her eyes and exposing her complete vulnerability.
******
As they trundle on over ridged roads and rough terrain, Cat is left alone in the open rear of the large vehicle, incarcerated, exposed to the open air and the lashing rain. The motion of the vehicle jolts her, but the bindings save her this time, as she is stretched so tight that her face doesn’t even come close to smashing into the bars of the cage.
It is hard to say how long they have been travelling when the vehicle begins to climb higher into the hills on the outskirts of Shemshak, but the fall in temperature is very evident and Cat begins to feel her nudity more keenly than ever.
As the vehicle climbs further, wooden homes come into view. Thatched roofs offer a smell of wet hay which creates a sense of time-stopping. It’s almost peaceful watching the tiny homes appear as the pitter-patter of rain turns to the soft, quiet sound of falling snow. If Cat wasn’t strung up and frozen, she might even enjoy the scene as it unfolds.
When the vehicle reaches a small square in the town, at the head of which is a larger building, it comes to a halt. Parked sideways on, Cat can see the square to one side and the steps leading into the larger house on the other. The door opens and a man, dressed in a large overcoat underneath which is a white button shirt and jeans, steps out. As he does so Cat notices for the first time the crowd that has already assembled in the square, and from first impressions it would seem that the man from the big house is also the main benefactor of this small mountain town on the outskirts of the city of Shemshak.
As the guards get out of the vehicle the patrician approaches them and speaks.
“Is this her?”
“It is,” comes the simple reply.
Cat looks at the small gathering of men and then to the still open door as another figure, this time female, emerges.
“Fuck …” The captive girl whispers to herself, as she recognises the girl as an MI6 Agent.
What’s going on …?
The man opens out an arm and welcomes the girl into them.
“This is Stefani Grabowski,” he introduces her to the other guards, she is here to see the captive with a view to purchasing her from us. But she is also aware that I need to make an example of her before the townsfolk here, and show them what a helpless Western whore looks like under the kiss of the Iranian lash. That’s right isn’t it, Stefani?”
As the girl nodded, the man, Omid Nazari, leaned in and kissed her. They appeared to be an item, or so it appeared to Cat.
What the actual fuck was going on?
And she was to be whipped!
In public …
Fuuuuuck!
The man, the guards and this woman move to look into the open back of the vehicle, and ogle the girl in the cage.
“Look at her!” Stefani Grabowski purrs, pointing, “… so lovely, tied and shackled.” Was this really an MI6 Agent?
The crowd closes in too. The women shy away from Cat’s nudity, but the men stare openly, their eyes hard and lust-filled.
Erected in the middle of the town’s square, seemingly unaltered by the passing centuries and surrounded by rows of wooden benches, is a pole. A wooden pole. There’s only one reason to have a pole built in the centre of a town like this, and, as the rows of benches fill up with the townsfolk, Cat knows that her impending flogging is about to commence.
To Be Continued …
The Man with the Golden Whip?
Why not both?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Iranian Captive (4)
Darbandsar, Rudbar-e Qasran District, Tehran, Iran
Not that Cat knew this at the time, but she was on the outskirts of Darbandsar, a small village that was two things. Primarily one of Iran’s premiere ski resorts, but a short distance away from the new developments and the slippery white slopes along with the hotels and houses of the rich, was the old town, which had changed little in the past three hundred years. This was where Cat had been taken. Omid Nazari had made his fortune from Crude Petroleum and, along with his brother, invested a lot of his profits into developing the resort. He was the main man in these parts, with a large house here in the old town along with several in the resort. It was also well known, but unproven, that the money he made from his investments went into two things; funding military and terrorist activity and human trafficking. Agent Catherine Lavigne had come here to stop the first and ended up being a victim of the second.
“Town’s people of Darbandsar, I have arranged this ‘demonstration’ for you so that you can see how Iran protects its citizens and its boundaries. This Western Whore was sent out here by the United Kingdom to infiltrate the plans of our government. She has not succeeded as you can see …” He paused to allow his words to sink in, before adding.
“In front of your eyes she will be lashed until she bleeds, and then taken away never to be seen again.”
Cat heard the words but was too exhausted to react other than attempt to catch the eyes of the girl, Stefani Grabowski, whom the caged Agent knew to be an MI6 Special Agent called Grace Miller. Was Miller about to save from this ordeal? It did not seem so …
The crowd’s response to Nazari’s words was mixed. Some cheered dutifully, other shivered as the snow fall became more intense, whilst many were bemused at what was happening.
Omid Nazari prowled towards the SUV, and more specifically the cage, where the shivering, naked girl was chained. As he walked, he fastened his overcoat … March snow in Darbandsar was not unheard of and although Cat did not know this detail, she knew only too well that it was getting colder.
The ice-cold flakes blurred her vision, and with her arms manacled and chained high on the bars she was unable to wipe the wet cold from her eye-lashes. Cat jerked her head to the left and then the right in a panic bordering on desperation, but to no avail.
There’s nothing she can do to change the course of what is about to happen.
From somewhere Nazari has gained a whip, a single-tail bull whip with a knotted end, and he grins as he struts towards the cage. His thick fingers wrap around the bars, and he lowers his voice, saying. “It’s time to make you bleed whore.”
Then he whirls away and snaps his fingers. A set of guards jump into action. Behind Cat, the door opens, and she is unhooked. However, before she can enjoy the relief in her shoulders from having her arms lowered, someone tosses her from the SUV and she falls with a thump, the wet ground chilling her flesh, causing her to shiver anew.
“Tie this bitch to the pole,” Nazari shouts, as a guard jerks Cat to her feet. Looking round the bound girl sees the woman calling herself Stefani Grabowski and her face is impassive. She does not seem to be taking pleasure from the scene being played out but neither is she doing anything to stop it.
The townsfolk stare with wide eyes as the shivering girl passes by, naked, bound, and helpless. But Cat keeps her head held as high as she can and stares right back at them. Despite being scared she wants them to see the fearlessness in her eyes. She wants them to see that she hasn’t given up in spite of the hopelessness of the situation.
Her audience sits shivering in the cold, waiting for the degrading and painful humiliation to begin.
They wait attentively because Omid Nazari is telling them to.
A kick to the back of Cat’s knees causes her to stumble with a grunt as a hand pushes between her shoulder blades, forcing her chest against the pole. The Agent’s arms are brought forward and tied around the thick wooden post, which has to be a foot in diameter. Her shoulders scream when her wrists are yanked up high, stretching her body, and tied to a hook up above her head, forcing the naked girl onto the tips of her toes.
The crack of the whip has her flinching, but this one doesn’t hit her. It’s to grab the attention of the people observing.
“Watch this bitch closely.” Nazari announces. “… I want all of your eyes fixed on her, to see how she suffers, how she submits to my might and my power …”
Then, as the snowfall continues unabated, without further warning, it begins …
The first lash strikes across her upper back. Cat jerks at the agonising burn but stifles the cry that so badly wants to emerge from her lips. A second lash stripes her lower back, followed quickly by a third. Heat from the whip’s kiss sears down her skin. His strikes are hard, filled with power … he’s not holding back one little bit.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
The lash cracks across her skin three more times and on the last one Cat cries out.
“See how the whore writhes for me …”
Crack!
“She is weak and I am strong!”
Crack!
He strikes at Cat now with frequent repetition, and her vision goes white, and a strange weightlessness begins to set in.
Again and again, the whip fillets her back into shreds. Blood pools around her feet, staining the white carpet of snow that is now beginning to lay. But she no longer feels the pain. Women in the audience weep softly at what they are witnessing.
Another strike. Cat don’t even respond anymore; her body numb from the vicious assault ... the sensation accentuated by the freezing cold.
The weightlessness grows, starting at her bare feet and moving slowly up her body. The bound and whipped Agent’s head feels light, like she is floating in the air. But Nazari doesn’t stop.
Crack!
“Look at her! Broken and weak!”
Crack!
“The Western whore!”
He strikes out in a frenzy now, lash after lash. Cat can hear the people shout as they are bathed in the spattering of her blood, which also lies in spattered crimson display against a canvas of the bright, white snow. The cries of agony grow muffled as the whipped Agent soars higher and higher floating away in her mind.
Nazari’s voice seems quieter, even though Cat knows he is still shouting.
The snow begins to falls harder, blanketing everything around in peaceful white, all except the red stained ground around the whipping post.
Cat opens her eyes, not realising she had even closed them as another strike tears at her back. She can feel herself fading. The blood loss combined with days in that small cell have broken her body. As the blackness rolls across her vision, the beaten Agent hears Nazari’s final mocking words sending her to hell …
To Be Continued …
Darbandsar, Rudbar-e Qasran District, Tehran, Iran
Not that Cat knew this at the time, but she was on the outskirts of Darbandsar, a small village that was two things. Primarily one of Iran’s premiere ski resorts, but a short distance away from the new developments and the slippery white slopes along with the hotels and houses of the rich, was the old town, which had changed little in the past three hundred years. This was where Cat had been taken. Omid Nazari had made his fortune from Crude Petroleum and, along with his brother, invested a lot of his profits into developing the resort. He was the main man in these parts, with a large house here in the old town along with several in the resort. It was also well known, but unproven, that the money he made from his investments went into two things; funding military and terrorist activity and human trafficking. Agent Catherine Lavigne had come here to stop the first and ended up being a victim of the second.
“Town’s people of Darbandsar, I have arranged this ‘demonstration’ for you so that you can see how Iran protects its citizens and its boundaries. This Western Whore was sent out here by the United Kingdom to infiltrate the plans of our government. She has not succeeded as you can see …” He paused to allow his words to sink in, before adding.
“In front of your eyes she will be lashed until she bleeds, and then taken away never to be seen again.”
Cat heard the words but was too exhausted to react other than attempt to catch the eyes of the girl, Stefani Grabowski, whom the caged Agent knew to be an MI6 Special Agent called Grace Miller. Was Miller about to save from this ordeal? It did not seem so …
The crowd’s response to Nazari’s words was mixed. Some cheered dutifully, other shivered as the snow fall became more intense, whilst many were bemused at what was happening.
Omid Nazari prowled towards the SUV, and more specifically the cage, where the shivering, naked girl was chained. As he walked, he fastened his overcoat … March snow in Darbandsar was not unheard of and although Cat did not know this detail, she knew only too well that it was getting colder.
The ice-cold flakes blurred her vision, and with her arms manacled and chained high on the bars she was unable to wipe the wet cold from her eye-lashes. Cat jerked her head to the left and then the right in a panic bordering on desperation, but to no avail.
There’s nothing she can do to change the course of what is about to happen.
From somewhere Nazari has gained a whip, a single-tail bull whip with a knotted end, and he grins as he struts towards the cage. His thick fingers wrap around the bars, and he lowers his voice, saying. “It’s time to make you bleed whore.”
Then he whirls away and snaps his fingers. A set of guards jump into action. Behind Cat, the door opens, and she is unhooked. However, before she can enjoy the relief in her shoulders from having her arms lowered, someone tosses her from the SUV and she falls with a thump, the wet ground chilling her flesh, causing her to shiver anew.
“Tie this bitch to the pole,” Nazari shouts, as a guard jerks Cat to her feet. Looking round the bound girl sees the woman calling herself Stefani Grabowski and her face is impassive. She does not seem to be taking pleasure from the scene being played out but neither is she doing anything to stop it.
The townsfolk stare with wide eyes as the shivering girl passes by, naked, bound, and helpless. But Cat keeps her head held as high as she can and stares right back at them. Despite being scared she wants them to see the fearlessness in her eyes. She wants them to see that she hasn’t given up in spite of the hopelessness of the situation.
Her audience sits shivering in the cold, waiting for the degrading and painful humiliation to begin.
They wait attentively because Omid Nazari is telling them to.
A kick to the back of Cat’s knees causes her to stumble with a grunt as a hand pushes between her shoulder blades, forcing her chest against the pole. The Agent’s arms are brought forward and tied around the thick wooden post, which has to be a foot in diameter. Her shoulders scream when her wrists are yanked up high, stretching her body, and tied to a hook up above her head, forcing the naked girl onto the tips of her toes.
The crack of the whip has her flinching, but this one doesn’t hit her. It’s to grab the attention of the people observing.
“Watch this bitch closely.” Nazari announces. “… I want all of your eyes fixed on her, to see how she suffers, how she submits to my might and my power …”
Then, as the snowfall continues unabated, without further warning, it begins …
The first lash strikes across her upper back. Cat jerks at the agonising burn but stifles the cry that so badly wants to emerge from her lips. A second lash stripes her lower back, followed quickly by a third. Heat from the whip’s kiss sears down her skin. His strikes are hard, filled with power … he’s not holding back one little bit.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
The lash cracks across her skin three more times and on the last one Cat cries out.
“See how the whore writhes for me …”
Crack!
“She is weak and I am strong!”
Crack!
He strikes at Cat now with frequent repetition, and her vision goes white, and a strange weightlessness begins to set in.
Again and again, the whip fillets her back into shreds. Blood pools around her feet, staining the white carpet of snow that is now beginning to lay. But she no longer feels the pain. Women in the audience weep softly at what they are witnessing.
Another strike. Cat don’t even respond anymore; her body numb from the vicious assault ... the sensation accentuated by the freezing cold.
The weightlessness grows, starting at her bare feet and moving slowly up her body. The bound and whipped Agent’s head feels light, like she is floating in the air. But Nazari doesn’t stop.
Crack!
“Look at her! Broken and weak!”
Crack!
“The Western whore!”
He strikes out in a frenzy now, lash after lash. Cat can hear the people shout as they are bathed in the spattering of her blood, which also lies in spattered crimson display against a canvas of the bright, white snow. The cries of agony grow muffled as the whipped Agent soars higher and higher floating away in her mind.
Nazari’s voice seems quieter, even though Cat knows he is still shouting.
The snow begins to falls harder, blanketing everything around in peaceful white, all except the red stained ground around the whipping post.
Cat opens her eyes, not realising she had even closed them as another strike tears at her back. She can feel herself fading. The blood loss combined with days in that small cell have broken her body. As the blackness rolls across her vision, the beaten Agent hears Nazari’s final mocking words sending her to hell …
To Be Continued …