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The Interrogation And Punishment Centre For Girls

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:confused::D:p
 
Eulalia said:
Allow a bit of sunshine in Eulalia's life,​
even a hint of romance!​
Click to expand...
Sure! Makes things way more interesting if it is a roller coaster of emotions.
I like this a lot.
 
3​

When she saw me naked, Barbara came for me like a wildcat – we'd cuddled and kissed and enjoyed a few tangles together in the damp, humid darkness during our night journeys through the forest, owls calling above us, but this was passion I'd never experienced, never imagined in man or woman, her legs pounding and trapping me, arms entwining, fingers exploring, probing, gripping, scratching, lips, tongue, teeth tasting every part of me with frantic gluttony, especially between my legs, on my breasts, and along every weal and scar and brand-mark my Torturers had left on my body. Though she was smaller in me in height and build, I could only submit to her conquest and allow myself to be driven, through minutes that seemed endless, to orgasm after orgasm erupting through every cell of my body.

At last we lay panting softly, streaming with sweat, still in each other's arms, and fell asleep – we hadn't exchanged a word, no words were needed nor could any express what we felt.

The next day, the woman at the computer – the Director, we called her – told us we could work separately from now on. I could take over most of Barbara's bases, she'd be responsible for some new ones that were being set up elsewhere in the forest. It was coincidence, I'm sure – we were disappointed not to be working, and romping, together in the darkness, we'd still be together in our cubicle most times we were back at the Depot. My cousins too were moving on to working separately, it felt good to know we were playing an important part in extending and strengthening the vital support systems of the Resistance.

As I moved through the forest on my nightly trips, I rarely saw or heard any sign of human activity, it's a very lonely, wild part of the border region. Occasionally I'd hear a shepherd's quad-byke or a forester's 4x4 in the distance, returning home late or setting out early, but I lay low and kept out of their way – they no doubt be friendly or at least neutral, but the fewer folk who know of our activities the better. Military vehicles on the few narrow roads, were those of the Elclud army, maintaining their presence on a border which was always on high alert – MSC commando raids against "terrorist bases" were a constant threat, helicopters passing low overhead weren't necessarily friendly, it was best to lie still and hope that, if they were spying with heat-detectors, I'd be no more conspicuous than a deer.

And there were other aircraft, some probably quite innocent, but quite a lot were military, I couldn't tell which side of the border they belonged to. And some were definitely sinister, ones that glided over quite low, making no sound, showing no lights, like strange flying reptiles – I felt instinctively they were scanning me, there's something in a girl's skin that knows when she's being watched! And far above them I knew very well, satellites – those of the Union of Civilised States, Elmeda couldn't afford such gadgetry, let alone Elclud, reporting back on everything that moves on earth, able to zoom in if they wanted and count the midgies on my neck.

Awareness of constant threat, my sense of being under surveillance, kept me alert, kept the adrenalin flowing – there was a thrill in being alone in this vast, dark wilderness, and fear was an emotion my education in the IPCG had beaten out of me. Even when I was battling through woodland tossed by violent gales, even in mighty thunderstorms – which were frequent – I felt happy, I was enjoying this. And journeying back from each base, there was the Depot to look forward to, and Barbara!

When I got to the bases, they would be deserted, well-hidden in lonely spots. Nearly always when I looked in I found evidence that Resistance fighters had called, taken what they needed, crossed off items on the list. Occasionally this hadn't happened, I had to report that when I got back to the Depot, but usually things were back to normal next time – the one occasion they weren't, Bridget and the Director were glum, it meant one squad had "gone missing".

And one time as I approached a base I saw men were there, taking stuff out, talking quietly. I froze and waited, Barbara had told me I should do this, she didn't say why but I assumed it was in case they turned out to be MSC Commandos, not Resistance.

But, as I knelt in deep undergrowth, I suddenly heard a twig crack behind me, and felt a gun-barrel on the back of my neck. "Blaeberries?" a male voice hissed "No, cowberries, crowdie –" "And cream," he completed the password dialogue we'd been taught, lucky I remembered it!

He hauled me up by my rucksack and led me down to his colleagues at the base. "We always check around when we're at a base," he explained, "Just to make sure. Hey comrades, here's our supplies girl!" The men, half a dozen or so, grinned through their camouflage-painted faces. "Well, that's a stroke of luck," said one who was probably the leader, "Is all clear?" "Yes, comrade, no ghoulies or ghosties, just this forest-elf!" "What's your name?" the leader asked me, "Eulalia, Sir." "Sir?!" he snarled in mock anger, "Comrade, if you don't mind!" "Er, sorry comrade." He laughed, "Well comrade Eulalia, it's good to meet you, the nice young woman who brings all our goodies. You just unload your pack, then I hope you'll join us for a little picnic down in valley?" I smiled and thanked him, and re-stocked the base with the help of his squad.

When we'd finished, we made our way down into a narrow gulley between high, shrub-hung cliffs. "We don't hang around the base longer than we can help," the man who'd caught me explained. We settled down in a space by a waterfall, on ground beaten flat by wild animals coming to drink there. The men opened up some of the food supplies they'd collected from the base and shared them around, I offered what was in my rucksack but they told me to keep it for later, "You're our guest, comrade!"

When we'd enjoyed the food and a can of beer each, we lay back on the turf, relaxing. I was thinking I'd better be starting my journey back, when the leader spoke up, "Now, comrade Eulalia, it's time to get your clothes off!"

I gasped, gobsmacked. Memories of the Stripping Room flooded back, all the gang rapes in the Torture Chambers, the Punishment Centre, the Club and beyond .... "M-must I Si- er, Comrade?" "What's the problem, comrade?" "W-well, comrade, I didn't think the Resistance did that kind of thing?" I sounded plaintive. He laughed. "We're Communists – from each according to her ability, to each according to his need – eh, comrades?" His men were highly amused. I sighed and slipped off my t-shirt, shorts, bra and briefs.

The guys weren't bad, fairly gentle, mostly vaginal, only the leader had a suck-off. I varied positions on request, my IPCG training had prepared me for anything. When they'd finished and got dressed, they offered me another drink, but I thanked them and said I'd better be going. "Take care, comrade Eulalia – you're one of us now, the A-team of the Resistance! Hope we'll meet again soon!" "Thanks, comrades," I replied, "You take care too, I'll look out for you!"

When I told Barbara back in the Depot what had happened she sniggered. "Oh dear, Lali, I suppose I ought to have warned you!" "Well it certainly wasn't what I was expecting - is that how Libertarian Resistance fighters generally behave?" She chuckled, "They're men, Lali, just sex-starved men. I know it's not quite what we were taught in Young Libertarians , but this is war, honey, it's life for real."

I lay back on my bunk and thought a bit. "Yeah, but it makes me wonder, who are these guys, what are they fighting for?" I turned to look at her. "And there's another thing, Babs, what's the stuff?" "What do you mean, stuff?" "In our packs. There's food and medical things and ammo – and stuff. What are those packets they always have at the bottom of the sack?" Babs just winked. "Oh, go on Babs, tell me – what's their game? Who are they, really?"

She smiled, but sadly. "They're crooks." "Crooks?" "Yeah. They weren't all crooks to begin with, a lot of them were bona fide politicos, naive idealists like we were. But the ones who knew how to survive, the ones who got organised, were crooks – smugglers mostly, they knew the border and ways to skip across, and what they could do when they were in Elmeda, they soon took the lead. The ones like you met are just the monkeys, the big brutes we'll never see, they're into everything – gun-running, money-laundering, sex, drugs, rock 'n roll, you name it. You've seen the slave market at Badegan?" "Mm" "They've got their fingers in that pie, big time."

I was confused. "But whose side are they on? What are they fighting for? Liberty?" She chuckled, "Well, you could call it that, I suppose! Look pet, there's no goodies in this game, just different kinds of baddies" "And us?" I asked. She shrugged, "We get screwed."

We were both silent for a few minutes, then she said, "Well, I guess it's a bit better working for these hoods than being in the IPCG?" I turned and grinned at my lover, "Oh yes, there are some advantages. Speaking of which ..."
 
Eulalia said:
Look pet, there's no goodies in this game, just different kinds of baddies" "And us?" I asked. She shrugged, "We get screwed."
..."
Click to expand...
:D :D :D
nice...
 
4​

The routine became established, I didn't often run into Resistance squads, but I knew what to expect if I did, there are worse things can happen to a girl, as I well knew. And although I was always alert to danger, I enjoyed the quiet loneliness of the forest, the glimpses of wild animals and birds, the lush, if often scratchy, undergrowth against my bare legs.

Things seemed to be going satisfactorily for the Resistance, whatever their mixed motives, my bases were regularly visited. We changed bases quite frequently, as squads changed their routes across the border, their patterns of operation, or to make it harder for UCS spy-planes to spot them.

One evening I was heading towards a new base location through a very dense, remote area of the forest that I hadn't been in before, finding my way along the narrowest of deer-tracks between tall bushes and high, ancient, overhanging trees.

Suddenly, "Swish!", something flew in front of my eyes faster than any falcon and lodged in a tree-trunk to my left. At once, I felt my arms seized, a cold blade pressed against my throat. A small, swarthy man came from the shadows on the right and stood in front of me, bright eyes and grinning teeth glinting in the low light. He was holding a crossbow.

These must be Nomari, I realised, indigenous tribal people. The MSC have deliberately destroyed their traditional hunting grounds across the border, they regard them as vermin. The local hill-farmers and foresters in Elclud don't mind them, though even here big timber corporations have no qualms about wrecking their habitat. So they keep out of sight, they don't welcome visitors.

They do carry guns, but they prefer the more-or-less silent crossbow for hunting, and their distinctively curved, razor-sharp knife, like the one now uncomfortably close to my windpipe. I froze, and felt my rucksack removed from my arms, then my wrists bound behind me with a tough kind of rope they weave from vegetable fibres.

Without a word, they pushed me to start walking, the one with the knife still holding it to my neck, the cross-bow man leading the way. I was pushed through even more imperceptible pathways for what seemed a couple of miles, till we came to a clearing where a great tree had fallen some while ago and saplings were springing up in the gap. A rising moon gave a glimmery light.

The leader put down his crossbow, another man put down my rucksack, while their two companions positioned me between a pair of young birches. My wrists were untied, then my arms spread wide. The other two men took hold of the saplings and bent them down towards me.

I guessed, with a gulp of horror, what was going to happen, but knew better than to resist, the knife was still close. They bound their green ropes on both my wrists, one of them speaking for the first time, in a low tone but excited. He was using their own language, but I could tell he was drawing his leader's attention to the deep ridges round my wrists left by the slave-shackles I'd worn so long in the IPCG. He looked at them, grinned, and made some remark which made the others smile.

But now I was ready, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The leader spoke a word and the two trees were released to spring back upright, tugging my arms fiercely so I was jerked off the ground, sharp pain piercing through my shoulders. My screech set off a cacophony of alarm calls from the dozing birds, a buck scampered off into the darkness.

The men watched me dangling in mid-air, commenting gleefully as I bobbed up and down, twisting and kicking helplessly, only a few inches from the ground, but unable to find any support or relief from the racking of my arms. I was howling like a cow who's lost her calf, but I knew I was far away from any humans who might save me, I could only hope these Nomari might tire of their game and cut me down – but why should they?

After they'd enjoyed the fun for a while in the gathering darkness, the leader and one of his men turned their attention to the contents of my rucksack, while a third got a fire going in the middle of the clearing in front of where I was hanging. I watched apprehensively, knowing the uses to which MSC Guards and Cadets have for fire when they've got crucified females at their mercy, but this fire was for light, warmth, and cooking some of the provisions they were delighted to excavate from my pack.

The fourth member of the group was given the job of stripping me. First he removed my trainers from my flailing feet, leaving me all the more helpless to defend myself by kicking. He took of my belt with great glee and handed it to the leader, who examined the gadgets I'd hung on it with interest. I kept my legs still while he slid down my denim shorts, those he tossed aside with contempt. Then, reaching up with his knife, he made short work of my shirt, bra and briefs.

So I hung naked in the fireglow, shadows leaping and lowering on my stretched skin, the wind blowing smoke and sparks from the fire into my sweat-damp face, my frightened eyes. Owls hooted, a distant fox barked.

The men were very pleased with the stuff I'd been carrying, the food and ammunition, and laughed raucously when they found what was in the packets at the bottom of the rucksack. Clearly this consignment wasn't going to reach its planned destination. After they'd enjoyed a good feast at the expense of the Resistance, they settled down, watching their victim still gyrating in the firelight, as they dozed off to sleep.

I hung trying to cope with the pain. I thought of my Mum, and all the other women and girls I'd seen crucified, I was experiencing something of the special agony, utter helplessness and total exposure that they must have suffered as they hung like I was now, stretched on their crosses. The trees creaked and groaned to accompany my panting and moaning, They were bowing little by little under my weight, my bare toes now sometimes brushed the thistles that were the tallest weeds growing beneath me. Insects explored my skin, tasted my flesh, inspected warm damp places for laying their eggs. A stream not far away tormented my raging thirst with its continual chuckling.

I certainly didn't sleep, but my head was swimming and I lurched between dark confusion and acute awareness of my pain. Te fire had sunk to glowing ashes, there were faint streaks of light in the sky, when the men sat up, stretched and made as if to move. A horror gripped my stomach, I yelled "No! No! Don't go! Don't leave me here! Please let me down!"

They looked at one another, exchanged a few quiet words, then the leader came and looked up and down my bare body. He was interested in the vivid brand-marks on my thighs, and the scars of torture – my "red bikini" – around my loins and across my breasts. He pointed these out to his companions, they seemed to find quite a lot to say about them.

Then he took his knife and lifted it to my right breast. I looked down, petrified – surely he isn't going to take it as a souvenir? But no, he just snicked a single sharp line across the aureole, just below my nipple, I winced and yelped, rich red blood oozed.

Next he gave the knife to his friend and held out his left hand, palm up. The man made a similar slice across his leader's palm, below the thumb. The tribesman took the wound without flinching.

He turned to me again, lifted his bleeding hand, saying, "You good girl." I watched intently, his bright eyes meeting my anxious gaze. He pressed his hand firmly against my breast, cut against cut. It was painful, but arousing – I gasped, my body wriggled instinctively. "You my sister now."

He withdrew his hand, his companions all murmured some words of approving sound. Fine, I thought to myself, that's all very nice, but am I going to get the hell out of this?

I soon got something of an answer, two of the men drew their knives, the other two bent the trees so I was lowered to stand on the ground, the bonds were quickly slashed away and I fell forward, hugging my aching chest and bleeding breast, utterly exhausted.

I wondered vaguely, are they going to rape me now? Every gang of men I'd encountered since I was brought to the IPCG had taken their pleasure with my body, surely these savages will be no different? But in a few minutes, they'd brought me water and offered me food from my pack. Having tortured me for hours, they now just seemed eager to give me care, comfort and nourishment – it was weird, like I'd been through some sort of test or initiation, and had evidently passed!

When I'd eaten and felt refreshed, though still aching, I pointed to the medical supplies pack, which they hadn't bothered to raid; they passed it to me and I found some swabs, disinfectant and a plaster to put over the cut on my breast – the leader looked quizzical. I offered to treat his hand, but he drew it back with a grunt of disgust. I then went and retrieved my shorts, the only clothing they hadn't sliced up, they watched amused as I pulled them back on. I knew they wouldn't part with the belt, so I used the twines they'd tied me up with to serve for a makeshift belt. I hoped I might get my trainers back, but they clung to those, I didn't press the point – I'd got used to bare feet slaving in the IPCG, and actually quite enjoy walking through the forest barefoot.

But walking through the forest was the worry preying on my mind. If they're going to let me go, how the hell will I find my way back to the Depot? I haven't the faintest idea where I am now. My GPS was lying on the ground with my belt, I pointed to it. The leader indicated I couldn't have it, but I was patient, trying to show I wanted at least to look at it. At last he held it up to me, though still grasping it tightly. I entered the location for the Depot, it gave me the bearing. That will have to do, I told myself , and I let him take it back, peering at it mystified as to why it was so important for me.

Now I pointed to the direction I wanted to take. They were evidently all ready to set off too, with the loot they'd gained from me packed back in the rucksack which one of them put on his back, much to the merriment of his companions. I thought we were going to part, but as I walked towards the edge of the clearing, the leader came along with me and the others followed.

They accompanied me through the forest, guiding me on narrow paths, leading me sometimes away from the direction I thought I should follow, but I realised they were avoiding steep cliffs and treacherous swamps that lay on the direct route. They evidently had a clear grasp of my bearing, and much more instinctive sense of direction than I have – though mine's not bad.

At last we crossed a ridge and I recognised a landscape that was relatively familiar, part of the forest where I had been before, hills on the horizon with a familiar profile. I smiled and showed I felt I could cope now, they got the message, and laughed with satisfaction at a job well done. The leader raised his hand and pressed my bare breast again, "Sister!" he grinned, "Brother!" I replied.

They vanished as swiftly and silently as they'd appeared, and I made my way, still aching, bitten alll over and shaky from my ordeal, yet feeling strangely exhilarated as I strode through the woodland clad only in my denim shorts that hugged my loins and rubbed pleasingly against my girl-parts with every step I took.
 
Well, I knew the Winnetou way of blood brotherhood, but that one is more "interesting" ;)
Nice...
 
5​


When I got back to the Depot, the Director was naturally angry to hear that my pack had been nicked by the Nomari, but commented, "Well, you're lucky to be alive – they don't usually keep the knife skinside of your windpipe!" When I told her how they'd treated me, she was all the more astonished, especially at the 'blood-brother/ sister' bit, "You must have made a good impression!" "It seemed to be my scars and brands and bondage-marks that made the difference," I explained, she nodded. "Yes, that would make them respect you – you wear them with pride!"

I asked if I should take another pack and try to get it to the new base tonight. Again she was surprised. "You don't mind going that way again? They might just help themselves to the goods again – and maybe change their minds about their blood-sister too!" "No, I trust them, I don't think they'll be any more trouble to me, if you send any of the others they're more likely to turn hostile. If that base is important, I'm your best hope of getting it stocked."

In truth I did feel a sense of dread at going through that vast, dark and unknown part of the forest again, but I felt pretty sure my Nomari friends wouldn't hurt me any more, they might even help. "Well," she said, "I'll have to tell h.q. what's happened and check what they want us to do – but what you've said will be appreciated, thanks."

The girls were entertained by my adventure, Carina and Julia made out they were jealous, "Hey, can we come with you tonight?" "You find your own Nomari," I chuckled, "They don't need three little pretty maids hanging in a row, they're not like the MSC!" Even the crucifixion of our mothers had become a kind of grim joke in our memories, it's the only way to cope with the unthinkable.

And Barbara as we cuddled in our cubicle whispered, "Those Nomari are right, your marks are beautiful, Lali – I just love to look at them and stroke them and lick them. I wish I had some too ... one day I'm sure I shall!" I hugged her and gave her a big kiss.

After I'd had a good sleep and was enjoying a meal, Bridget came along with news for me, "H.Q. says, if ye're willing to gie it another try, they want you to dae it – gettin' yon base stocked is important, it could open up a new line o' operations." So I kitted up with new clothes, equipment and pack and set off once again through the Nomari hunting woods.

I didn't see anything of them, or of any other human activity. When I got to the place where they'd ambushed me last night, my heart was thumping, I glanced around nervously, but everything was quiet, almost uncannily quiet. I checked GPS and compass and pressed on. There were moments when rustles in the bushes, twig-cracks, wind-whispers sounded slightly different from the usual forest-noises, perhaps not just the breeze, birds, other creatures ....? But it was probably just my imagination.

I located the new base, stocked it with the contents of my rucksack, found a sheltered hollow a few hundred metres back down my route, ate my snack and rested in the darkness. When dawn life began to stir, I set off back to the Depot, no hassle, mission accomplished.

After that, the job went on pretty quietly for some weeks, bar the occasional stimulating encounter with guys in the Resistance squads. I must have been back to the new base three or four times without seeing any more sign of the Nomari, they've probably moved on to different hunting territory, I thought, though I still sensed a kind of protective presence as I wove my way through that dense woodland.

But there were causes for anxiety. Aerial activity seemed to be increasing, the sinister spy-drones, helicopters prowling, Elclud military trucks and equipment on the few roads – which we avoided – even distant rattles of gunfire and sudden flashes in the depths of the night. We didn't get to hear any general news about what was going on along the Elclud/ Elmeda border, even if Bridget and the Director did, probably best that we didn't – we knew what we had to do, that was enough.

One evening as I was making my way through the Nomaris' wood to the new base, I was getting bothered by a helicopter patrolling back and forth across the part of the forest where I was heading, wondering whether I might need to lie low for a bit and pretend to be a sleeping doe in case I showed up on the heat-seeker.

Then suddenly my path was blocked, a small man, no two – I soon recognised, my Nomari blood-brother and one of his companions. He held up his right hand and put his left forefinger to his lips, then beckoned me to follow him off the track and deep into the bushes. They applied no force this time, but I felt no doubt I should obey.

When I was close to him he whispered, "Bad men." That was all, it was enough for me, I followed him and his friend through parts of the forest quite unknown to me, well away from my path to the base. From time to time we paused, the companion scouted ahead and returned after a few minutes with advice on where we should turn next, a complex, winding route.

I could get no idea of what was going on, who or where the "bad men" were, but we were getting away from where the helicopter was still hovering, hawk-like. Much further away, there were explosions and gunfire, and other aircraft hurtling across the night sky. At one point, we emerged on a ridge from where I could see flashes on the horizon, and I judged from the profiles of the hills that we were still approaching the base, but from a very different direction. My friends were evidently trying to help me fulfil my duties safely.

Quickly we descended into a sheltered glen, the companion went ahead again, but soon returned with company – seven or eight Nomari adults, mainly women, and some children too. They communicated with the leader in anxious-sounding whispers with much gesturing, he looked serious. One of the women pointed to her shoulder and indicated with her finger a zigzag line – aha, I thought, the shoulder-flashes of the MSC! It must be a commando raid. Others were showing fingers, indicating how many, the general estimate seemed to be about fifteen.

After a few moments, he raised his hand, they fell silent, he stood for a while evidently thinking deeply. He then turned to me. "Bad men," he said again, I nodded, he shook his head, "Too many. We go." He waved his hand vaguely to the east. "You go." He pointed back the way we'd just come, I was alarmed by that.

He spoke to his companion, and beckoned a young man from the group, I think one of those whom I'd met when I first encountered them. He indicated I should take off my rucksack, I wasn't happy with this, but thought I'd best co-operate – the young man took it and put it on. Then the leader held out his hand and touched my right breast once more, "Sister!" he said, grinning at last – the first time he'd smiled tonight – "Brother!" I responded.

The one who'd been acting as scout and the one now carrying my pack indicated I should come with them, they led me back up over the ridge, the rest of the tribe quickly vanished into the bushes.

All the while, the warlike noises and aerial activity were growing, it seemed all hell was breaking loose along the border. Clearly my Nomari friends had saved me from blundering into the clutches of MSC commandos, I was very thankful for that. And even if the leader hadn't told me to turn back, amount of disturbance now would have convinced me it was time to abandon my mission.

The two Nomari got me back onto my familiar track, I showed with a smile that I was happy to carry on alone, retrieved my rucksack, and hugged them to show thanks – something they evidently found disconcerting, not part of their usual intercourse, but they grinned and scampered off into the woods to rejoin their folk. I knew that would be the last I'd see of those good people, my eyes were suddenly tearful.

But the scream of jet fighter seemingly feet above my head warned me to hurry on back to the Depot. When I arrived, Bridget and the Director were waiting, obviously anxious, counting us back in. Most of the girls were back, Erica had had the nous to turn back, Carina came in soon after me, but Barbara and Julia were still to be accounted for.

"What's going on?" I asked, "Things seem to be going crazy out there."Bridget nodded, "It's hard tae get the picture – Elclud's ca'in it an invasion, at least 'a co-ordinated incursion', Elmeda's story is it's 'targeted action against terrorist bases'." "That means us?" asked Carina. Bridget nodded. "Aye, maybe – but we're well back from the border and well hidden. So far it looks like they're ettlin tae disrupt the Resistance cross-border gaits, maybe tak oot some o' oor bases if they've managed to locate them." "Good thing we came back then", commented Erica, "but I wish Babs and Juli would come through that door." Bridget frowned, "Aye, I dinna ken whaur Julia's gane tae, but I'm afeert there's been a lot gaeing on in the sector whaur Barbara is – ye were close to it too, Eulalia." I told them briefly how I'd been saved by the Nomari, again they were impressed at the way those tribals had taken me under their wing, but we were all the more worried about my Babs.

We sat together silent, eating with little appetite, hoping against hope that the last two girls would check back in. Deep underground, we couldn't hear what was going on outside, though two or three times tremors shook the lights and rattled our mugs on the table.

Suddenly, Bridget burst back into the common room with news. "God knaws what's happening noo," she declared, "there seems to hae been some sort o' a coup, or attempt at one - they're just saying on Radio Elclud there's been a terrorist attack on the Presidential Palace, but Radio Evrog's saying our President's resigned!" That sounded alarming, but a closer shadow still hung over us. "What about Julia and Babs?" I asked, "Has the fighting stopped?" Bridget shook her head glumly, "Nae sign o' that, I'm afeert, it's mayhem oot there – and, sorry, nae word aboot the twa lassies."
 
Tension is rising... ;)
Nice writing...
 
Chapter X​

The Colonel's Bedroom​


"Christ, what's happening?" A huge "thud" shook the entire Depot, the lights went, bits of masonry and plasterboard fell over our heads and bodies, lounging as we were, listless, anxious, unable to sleep with our worries about Barbara and Julia. Choking dust and an acrid hint of burning filled our nostrils.

Quickly we grabbed each other, ascertaining that all five of us were still okay. A dim light flickered on in the Director's room, we made our way along there, stumbling over debris. She'd managed to connect up reserve batteries, at least that gave minimal light and power to try to regain contact with the world outside, but all she could get was noise and a snow-covered screen.

"Shit!" Usually ice-cool, she was agitated, tapping away at her controls, calling again and again into the mike. "We must have taken a direct hit – a rocket of some kind. Last thing they were saying on Radio Elclud was "we're being invaded, the entire weight of Elmedan armed forces is being driven across the border .... hey, you two, there are torches on the shelf there, go along to the passage into the farmhouse and see what you find, but don't take any risks, just check and report."

Erica and I took two good flashlights and hurried to the heavy steel door at the entrance to the Depot. It was hard to open, felt that it had been distorted by the blast, but we tugged and it suddenly swung back. A cloud of thick, dusty smoke rolled towards us, we could see wreckage along the passageway towards the farm cellar, "Look,"Erica pointed, through the smoke there was a shaft of light from a gap in the passage roof, it must have collapsed.

We quickly slammed the steel door shut and returned to the Director. "Looks bad, very bad," we said, "certainly not safe to try to get out that way." There was a pause, the Director was still trying to make contact with h.q., or even just with the farm, but there was no signal.

We girls looked at one another anxiously, instinctively we were holding hands. As we stood, we heard frequent thuds, not so loud but not far away, the ground and the walls around us were shaken again and again, bits of building material were tumbling from the roof. I felt a sudden sense of panic, the thought that we could be trapped, buried alive in this underground warren. "We'd better try the exit tunnels," I said, failing to hide the tension in my voice.

The Director looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then replied, "Yes, you'd better see if you can get out and find somewhere to hide. I'm going to stay, I might be able to get back in contact with h.q. – and anyway, this is my post, but you take the torches and go – good luck!" "Good luck to you – and thanks!" we all said – it only occurred to me then we'd never known her name!

We set off along one of the routes out – we could have split and tried the different exits, but we all wanted to stay together. After we'd gone a couple of hundred metres, we froze – all of us had heard the sound we feared, approaching footsteps.

We turned and ran back, swerved into another way out, but soon heard the same sound. Desperately, we scuttled into a third passage, but then a flashlight suddenly blinded us, and a man's voiced boomed from behind us through the mine, "Stay where you are, hands above your heads!"

Armed men appeared from all three passageways. The bastards must have got a map of this place, I was thinking – how? We stood, our backs to the wall of the passage, our hands obediently raised. They turned us round, put our arms behind our backs and quickly clipped on plastic restraints, lightweight compared to slave-shackles, but effective, quite unbreakable. I felt the old sense of being defenceless surge back into my body.

As they turned us to march out, a sharp explosion nearly threw us to the floor, our captors were startled and immediately swung round, their various weapons ready. "Bugger!" snapped the Commander. He turned to me, "Who was still in there? Eh?" I refused to answer. He punched my face, I felt my teeth jolted in their sockets. "You'll pay for it, little bitch!" He grabbed my hair and crashed my head against the wall, venting his rage, but still getting no answer from me. They'll have to find out for themselves –the Director's done her duty, I'll do mine.

They forced us to run up to the entrance, hitting us with rifle butts and kicking us with booted feet. When we emerged, the night sky was like a firework display, aircraft and helicopters firing at each other and the ground, shells and rockets sweeping across in all directions, a cacophony of explosions and rattling gunfire in all directions.

They herded us down a route we knew better than they did to a forest track, where we turned and headed towards the farm. When we got there, we could see it was completely wrecked, the few bits of wall still standing enclosing a mass of burning collapsed rubble. I felt a sick awareness that Bridget, her mum and dad and probably a good many other people must have been killed.

An open-backed military truck was waiting, we were heaved up on to it, clambering in with difficulty with our hands bound behind us, we sat on the floor, backs to the sides, legs intertwined. The engine was already running, the commandos keen to get on with consolidating their grip on this quarter of Elclud territory, when a girl's shrill voice rang out of the shadows, "Hey, wait for me!"

A figure ran across the yard through a veil of smoke from the burning farm. "I'm coming with you!" she panted. A couple of the commandos ran across, grabbed her, dragged her to the truck and literally threw her in, she fell across our stretched-out legs.

"Julia!" She rolled over, sat up and squeezed between Carina and Erica. We looked at her astonished, and concerned, her face was covered in bruises, her shirt ripped and bloodstained, her legs torn, and she, like us, was wrist-manacled. As the truck rattled fast along a painfully potholed road, she got back her breath and gasped out her story.

Foolishly last night, she hadn't abandoned her mission to replenish her base, she'd pressed on in spite of the increasingly warlike noises. While she was there, emptying her pack, a squad of MSC Commandos had arrived and captured her. Even in the heat of their raid, they'd found time, as she said, to fuck her to blazes and beat her to pulp. Then they'd set off with her, presumably heading to some rendezvous with transport.

But they'd come under attack from Elclud forces, and during the firefight she'd managed to dodge away into the woods. She'd kept hidden and when the shooting died down she'd made her way, by guesswork or instinct, till she'd at last found her route back to the Depot, and turned up just in time to find the farm in flames and us about to be driven away.

"So, the hell with it," she thought, "My sisters are on that truck, and Laura, Faith and Lali – there's nothing for me here now, I'm going wherever they go!" Erica turned and kissed her bruised cheek. "You're great, Juli - I'm glad we're all together." she said, "When I was here and you were all the in the IPCG, although I was free – well, sort of! – and I knew you were in hell, I wanted to be there with you. I was seriously trying to figure out how I could get back across the border and give myself up to the MSP." She looked round at all of us. "You know only too well the sort of things these sadists are going to do to us, I can only guess. I don't pretend I'm not frightened – of course I'm scared shitless. But I'm glad it's happening this way, whatever they do, there'll do it to all of us!"
 
2​

The truck soon arrived at some open farmland where the MSC Commandos had set up a battlefield landing-pad. A huge transport helicopter was waiting, its twin rotors turning impatiently, there was gunfire and louder explosions in all directions, aircraft constantly crossing the sky. We were hustled aboard and in the air in seconds.

Sat on the cargo-hold floor, backs to a hard metal wall, our bare legs stretched out in front of us, eyed by a couple of rifle-wielding Guards. We could see through a loading hatch the forested border country below us in the grey light of dawn, and then the dark sheet of Houl Water.

"I wonder if they'll just chuck us out here?" whispered Carina, pressed up against my shoulder. She'd heard, like we all had while we were still schoolgirls, even before the coup, how the MSP got rid of "undesirables" when they'd finished torturing them. But "No such luck," I hissed back, "that would be much too quick a death for us!" I felt her quiver in response, we were all thinking the same.

We landed after a few more minutes at some Military base, and were quick-marched across to a hut where we lined up to identify ourselves. A woman in uniform clicked away on a computer as we gave our names, and those of us who'd already been in the IPCG, our numbers. No point in lying or playing dumb, in any case our numbers were still clearly legible as brand-marks down our thighs.

Again we were ordered to sit on the floor, backs to the wall, awaiting onward transport. Laura kept beside me all the time. She'd spoken, softly, mechanically, when the woman had demanded her name and number, the first words I'd heard my sister utter since we were exposed naked together on the Scaffold and flogged. I looked at her – she was pale, her remaining eye blank, expressionless. There was less sign of anxiety on her face than on Faith's, or indeed the other girls', all of whom showed a conflict between terror and resignation.

A smartly dressed Adjutant entered, evidently not come straight from the battlefield. He spoke curtly to the woman at the desk, then turned to us. "Eulalia Merida?" I jumped to my feet, "Here, Sir!" "Come with me!" I turned and gave my companions as much of an encouraging smile as I could manage in the moment, and accompanied him out of the hut.

I was directed into the back of a small black van, MSP, not ordinary Military I thought. He slammed the door, went round to the front compartment and we drove off. It was quite along, bumpy ride at high speed. I was in darkness, struggling to brace myself with my legs between the two sides of the van to avoid being tossed about by the bruising jolts.

Eventually we ground to a stop, tyres crunching on a gravelly surface. The door clanged open, I was hauled out, led up some steps into a building – judging from a brief glimpse, it was a wing or outbuilding of a very upmarket modern house, but I had no time to take it in.

I was stood in a long, narrow room in front of a big table. There were bright spotlights, mostly focused on where I was standing. And around the walls were several cages, tanks and aquariums. The place had the smell of a pet-shop or a display-house for smaller creatures in a zoo, there were small sounds of scuffling, especially from something just behind me, though I dared not turn to look – whoever lives here seems to be an animal-lover, I thought, though I wasn't much reassured by that.

I heard the Adjutant speak on his phone, "She's here, Sir." We waited. After quite a while, a door open, three men entered, took their seats at the table opposite me. The third, and evidently most senior, was all too familiar, an icy pain pierced my heart as I watched him take his place. Colonel Ioannides, head of the Military Security Police, the man whom I had to watch by video-link while I was in the hands of Dr. Sheng, supervising the torture of my sister, a man whom I'd known since I was a little girl, he was always there on official occasions, hovering in the background, supposedly responsible for our safety, but even as a child my instinct had told me otherwise – his cold stare seemed to pick me out, the way he'd look my legs, my body, my growing hips and breasts, assessing me like a spider inspecting his prey – oh, why had Dad trusted him?

And now I felt small, like that child again, as he looked me up and down in that same glacial way. Sweat was blotting the grubby little vest-top I was wearing, my fingers clutched nervously behind my back at the hems of my shorts. The creature in the cage behind me hissed softly.

"Miss Eulalia Merida," he said at last, quietly, coldly, "It is my pleasure to meet you, welcome to my humble home." I knew, his secret ranch up in the hills, with the room they call The Colonel's Bedroom. I was trembling, wanting to wee, but I just bowed my head, in resigned acknowledgement of his greeting. "You know the rules, of course," he continued. I nodded, "Yes, Sir." My voice was tiny, strained. "You'll tell us everything you can about the places you've been, the things you were doing to help the terrorist scum, all the whores and wankers you've met, since you slithered out of our grip – not that there's much we don't already know, not that we've much to fear from your friends now –" he paused, with a sneering smile, "but we like our records to be complete." He looked at me as if requiring a response. "Yes, Sir, I understand," I replied weakly. "And when we've squeezed every last drop out of you, that will be when the fun really begins."

He stood up and departed. One of the men who'd come in with him began questioning me, the second spoke little, but when he did mutter brief hints or queries to the Interrogator, I could tell from his accent that he wasn't Elmedan - he was from the UCS, no doubt where the string are being pulled!

Both of them had computers and were consulting their screens and typing in my answers. I was as co-operative as I could manage, Ioannides was sadly right, there was no point in trying to conceal anything. The Depot had been destroyed, the Director, Bridget and her parents were all dead, the bases and the Depot itself have no doubt all been located and thoroughly mapped by those spy-drones and satellites – they'd even known the underground plan of the Depot, they must have been fed intelligence from the UCS.

And of course, they knew about all the girls who'd been in the Depot, working for the Resistance – except Barbara – I still didn't know what had become of my darling, I kept quiet about her, they didn't press me for additional names. But there were a lot of questions I couldn't answer, the Director and Bridget had been careful to tell us girls only as much as we needed to know, and as for the men who'd abducted us from the Killhope Girls van, I hadn't even seen their faces, and I avoided mentioning the curious moment of interaction between their leader and the Sergeant though they did press me quite hard on exactly what I'd seen as we were taken away. My Interrogators were soon becoming irritated by my honest "I don't know, Sir" responses.

The questioning went on and on, the tone growing more and more impatient and threatening. I was beginning to feel shaky on my wide-apart feet, it was hours since I'd had so much as a glass of water. Eventually, Ioannides came back in, listened for a few minutes, spoke briefly to the UCS agent, then nodded to the Adjutant who'd brought me here. "Take her down!"
 
thought y're enjoying Friday-evening with your feet upwards:D
 
3​

As a pair of huge men moved across to grab my arms, I glanced back, eyes wide, glimpsed the cage and what was inside it, bright little bead-eyes, rough tawny fur, little white teeth, claws ... I shrank away instinctively, as they led me downstairs a sharp hiss followed me.

So this is the place, the Colonel's Bedroom ... no windows, bright light, bare walls, tiles on the floor, a water-tap, a drain, a desk and some chairs, a bench with a glistening black whip on it, some machinery, and dominating the room, two pieces of stark metal furniture, the Bed and the Chair.

They removed the plastic cuffs from my wrists. “Strip!” I glanced at that whip, obeyed. Not much to take off – shorts, shirt, bra and briefs – put them on the bench. Again I felt my nakedness, I'd got so used to it in the IPCG, but I'd only been bare with Barbara during my months at the Depot, now I was in front of men again, feeling like I was a little kid.

I turned to let them look at me – best to co-operate – stood as I knew I must, legs wide open, trembling fingers gripping my bare buttocks, eyes lowered submissively, lips slightly parted, wondering,‘will they rape me now?’ The sergeant read my thoughts, “Not yet, you little whore, we know what you're wanting! After we’ve tortured you soaked in sweat and quivering with pain, that's when we'll fuck you. Girls’ cunts are more excited when they’ve had electric current through them, and us men more horny when we’ve watched your sexy body dancing in agony!”

Now to the Bed. A steel beam lay along it, hinged to the base-frame at one end, resting on the bottom bar of an upright steel framt at the other end, so it was at a slight angle. They made me climb on to it and sit astride, facing the upright frame. “Lie down!” The hard steel felt cold to my naked shoulders, back and thighs as I lay back. But I kept still, knowing if I struggle I’ll feel that whip. “Hold out your wrists!” Steel manacles, so familiar to my slender arms, my bones still ridged by the irons I'd worn as a slavegirl in the IPCG. They screwed them tight, they hurt, then pulled my arms above my head and clipped the chains to a steel ring near the end of the beam.

“Open your legs.” I spread them wide with a little sigh, feeling my vulnerability.They took hold of my ankles and lifted them to the top of the upright frame, forcing my legs still wider as they clipped steel restraints to hold them securely near the top corners of the frame.

Then, turning a small handle, they moved the frame so that the beam was pushed up a bit further, and my legs were flexed. Now I was shackled, lying on my back, arms stretched back above my head, my thighs lifted up and held wide apart, my knees at right-angles.

I could move a bit, lift my trunk, struggle and twist, but felt very conscious of my thighs held wide, no way I could close them - my private parts were so conveniently exposed – a perfect position for a female torture victim! I was quivering in fear, and yet I felt a strange sense of security now I was back in bondage, even some weird thrill in my defenceless nakedness.

They switched on a bright lamp above me making me blink. Now they started shaving me – “Ouch!” Don’t wriggle, I told myself, they’ll cut me - feeling my armpits, groin, my tender love-parts last caressed by Barbara scraped.

I watched with horror what was coming next. One of them took a flame-gun off the table, brought it over, pointed it between my legs... I was shrieking, begging him not to.... oooooooow!

It didn’t last long, he turned it off when he was happy no trace of hair was left. My skin was red and raw, my tenderest parts throbbing with pain. Now my body was swabbed with greasy water, to make the electric current surge across my skin. They fingered me like Barbara did, flicking my nipples.Then, in between my thighs, one opened the still hot, burning flesh-folds- I screamed -he touched the trembling seed, feeling right inside me. I tugged at the tight-screwed manacles, but of course there's no escape! My blood pumped hard, I was panting, sweating, although my conscience told me I was hating it, I sighed with pleasure as my tits and clitoris swelled hard. In spite of my terror my breasts were throbbing and firm, my sex soft, warm, tumid.

But now they’d got me ready for the Instruments: clips on my pulsing nipples, armpits, thighs, quivering labia - “Ow!” - the clips bit into my burnt flesh so sharply! And finally to make my sexual Torture complete, a wet steel scouring pad, like a wire tampon, was forced into my cunt. I heard the machine start, making a constant hum, then the message on the intercom: “She’s ready sir!” We waited, minutes seeming like hours.

At last the Colonel came, with the Interrogator, the UCS man, and fourth man in a a white coat. That one checked me, making sure the electrodes were precisely where they’ll cause most pain, to my breasts, my vulva, close to my clitoris. I trembled, my muscles taut, tense, yet I felt excited – even eager!

Questions began. At first, I thought my answers and confessions seemed okay -perhaps I was satisfying him, might I be spared the horror? But bit by bit his tone became impatient, harder, angrier... and then, “Begin!”

“Ahhhh!”

Power screamed right through my body to the metal beam, I felt on fire! I heard my own shrieks, high, piercing, echoing round the chamber. I jerked, leapt about, kicked wildly, my shoulders and buttocks springing up off the Bed. My hair swung wildly, my head shaking side to side, teeth snapping – they thrust my little briefs into my mouth so I wouldn’t bite my tongue off.

The electric shocks were ten, twenty, perhaps thirty seconds each, with brief gaps in between, some more, some less, some to my genitals, some to my breasts,
sometimes to both.

Between the torturings they went on questioning, threatening, shouting. As soon as they saw me relax a tiny bit, my heart-beat slowing, again they'd torture me! I was held in constant terrified anticipation.

Still they keep on and on. I swore I’d told him all I knew. “Liar! You little whore, you're going to tell us every dirty little secret you’re trying to hide!”

Sometimes they moved the clips, twiddling the wire pad inside me slightly, just so I wouldn’t get numb – I felt a fresh bit of my flesh being made ready for the pain.

That wire pad spreads the shocks right through my genitals, arousing my clitoris, stimulating ovaries so I could feel moisture oozing through my cunt-lips even in the heights of pain, the muscles of my womb were seizing and contracting – exquisite, burning agony deep inside my womanhood! And, worst of all was when they touched my quivering female parts with the electric probe. That sent a current like a streak of fire right through me to the nearest terminal.

My youthful body was no longer my own, they’d made it an electric toy that moved at each touch of the switch, jump, jerk, sharp squeals coming out of it.

In between the inflictions, I'd scream, beg them for mercy, plead again and again, “Let me confess!” They laughed - “We’re in no hurry, slut, we’ve hardly started on you, you're going to suffer much, much more!”

At last, like in the Interrogation Unit, a smart young woman in a miniskirt brought in a sheet of paper - my confession, typed up in readiness. They paused from torturing me, released my hands, made me sit up, so I could read it – “Read it out loud, cunt, so we can hear you!”

Then they make me scrawl, shaking, my name and number. It made me cry, just seeing my poor name scarcely legible, all I’d got left that was mine, even that was breaking apart!

“You know the routine, you must remember your confession – every word – so you’ll repeat it while we're torturing you, over and over.”

Just a little space they let me lie there, sweating, gasping, sobbing begging for water. They refused. I was shuddering still, my breasts, womb and genitals, still gripped with cruel orgasms. The Medical Inspector fingered me. My eyes pleaded helplessly as he felt inside: “Still nice and wet and throbbing – a fine, healthy cunt, it's ready for more!”

“Right," said Ioannides, coldly, "but I think it’s time to fuck her first. Lie back, slag, get ready for rape!” They fixed my arms above my head again, released my feet and moved the frame away. I was lying, panting, bracing myself as one of the Torturers, a huge, obese wrestler, took off his pants.

I did as I knew I must, pressing my feet down on the metal grid of the bed-base, raising my wide-open thighs, lifting my buttocks off the steel beam, face up, blinking under the lamp, lips parted, signalling my readiness. It had become routine, my instinct now.

“That’s the way girl!”the other Torturer said, “You know how to receive a man” “Of course she does”, Ioannides snarled, “Merida's little cow’s been selling herself around since she was twelve!”

My rapist hurled himself on me. It hurt as my cunt, still quivering and burning from the electric pain, was forced wide open by his massive prick. I worked with my thighs as he thrust and pumped in me, turning my head aside with a sigh for him to gnaw at my neck. As his semen burst, I felt the warmth inside my flesh.

He knelt up, spat in my face, and slapped my cheek. I whispered – as I knew I must – “Thankyou Sir – I hope I pleased you Sir.”

And now the others had their turns- nearly all of them, one by one, even the Medical Inspector, but not Ioannides nor the UCS Agent, they just stood there watching - the UCS man impassive, Ioannides with a cold, contemptuous smirk on his lips.

My body was tired, sore, feeling stuffed full of boiling semen. As soon as they'd done, they fitted the Instruments again. After the gang-rape, I was more sensitive, blood was returning to the tortured spots, my nerves responding, the soreness inflamed – it’s all part of the process, increments of added pain.

The Torture started again. My muscles seized, gripping my womb and thighs, like I was giving birth over and over. I was aroused, orgasmic, raped, in a cruel parody of sexual ecstasy!

I felt they were gouging out even my mind from me, the thoughts I’d always had about myself – perhaps they’re wrong? Perhaps the hideous things they make me say are true?

“Oh let me talk!” I begged, “Oh, please, let me tell you...” “Repeat your confession, whore!” snarled Ioannides. I gasped, and tried to splutter out the words, fighting my crumbling memory to recall...

He had to prompt me several times. I paid the price – he shouted to the men, “Punish her!”. The whip cut viciously across my breasts, ribs, fanny, thighs – a different kind of pain, more raw, more elemental than electric shocks, another variety of agony. Three dozen strokes, my bare skin stinging, criss-crossed with weals, great purple bruises, red patches of internal bleeding...

Yet again they fitted the electrodes. Hour after hour. I hardly heard their questions now, I could not understand, I was gabbling nonsense, sobbing and howling, even laughing hysterically. I’d lost all sense of time.

The Torture only stopped when they thought I might die. “Shall we let her dress, or keep her naked?” “Just let her have her bra and briefs. Keep those parts warm for next time, little slut – we’ll soon be having fun with you again!” I climbed down off the Bed, pulled on my undies – the parts they touched tremble, I sobbed at the soreness.

As I tried to walk I staggered, my legs were still shaking. I fell and crawled on my hands and knees, guards kicking and beating me, dragging me by my hair, across to a trapdoor in the corner of the Bedroom. They pushed me into it, I dropped into a pit about a metre deep and less than that wide. I crouched down, ready to curl up on the concrete floor.

They were about to shut the trapdoor above me when Ioannides called, "Stop, wait! She can have a companion." One of the men was away for a few minutes, he returned carrying a cage, which was dropped into the pit onto my still quivering flesh. I moved aside and pushed it into position so my body wrapped around it in the tiny space.

"Hisssss!" In the brief seconds before the trapdoor slammed shut, I saw it, close up against my face, its beady eyes peering into mine, its little jaws snapping fiercely through the bars of the cage – the rat!
 
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