Kelly Bauman saw the man sitting on the bench, waiting for the bus, and knew who he was, even though his face was buried behind a newspaper. She continued to jog toward him in South Miami's cool morning air, dressed in her jogging shorts and sports bra. [See Pic] Having run nearly four miles, and glistening in perspiration, she was glad that it was not warmer.

Kelly stopped when she reached the bench, and put her right leg up on it to stretch, bending from the waist until her nose touched her kneecap. Without looking up from his newspaper, the man spoke: "This week's paper has even more dreadful news than last week's."

It wasn't just the code line that made her certain that this was the right man. Any other man would have looked up at a half-dressed woman with long light brown hair in her mid-20s. And with a flat stomach and large breasts for her frame. "The shipment will arrive within the next three weeks, by boat, about 30 miles down the coast." Kelly raised herself, brought her right leg down and left leg up, as she spoke, and now moved her nose down against her left kneecap.

"Not much more specific than your last report," the man complained, still without looking at her.

"I will have more next time," Kelly responded, peeved that the insinuation that she was not doing her job.

"We have another concern, though," he continued. Kelly knew that this would be the same "concern" that she had heard from other of her contacts, delivered to her at the insistence of her superior in the Narcotics Unit of the South Miami Police Department. She thought about just continuing on her run, leaving him staring into his newspaper, but she decided to save her insubordination for the frequent times when it mattered more to her. So she finished stretching her left leg, raised herself, and began twisting her upper torso at the waist, back and forth, holding her arms at waist level, her back to the man, waiting for his lecture.

"We are aware that you engage in dangerous sexual activity that could subject you to blackmail and compromise the undercover operation. It must stop."

To avoid drawing attention to them, Kelly was forced to reply softly, but her words dripped with venom. "Listen. I've given six months of my life to this operation. So, when I get a rare chance to do what I like to do -- and I'm afraid that it is only a rare chance -- I am going to do it. And it can't compromise my position, because I don't care who knows about my kinks. They're nothing I'm ashamed of. So loosen up."

"I have been directed ..." Kelly had no need to hear the same words that she had already heard several times before. "Your bus is coming," she interrupted, "and you don't want to be late for your desk job." She began to jog in place. "And I have to go before I cool down too much and catch pneumonia, which might compromise the operation. You wouldn't want that now, would you?"

Kelly charged down the road. When she turned back to cross at the next intersection, she could see the man getting onto the bus. At least she wouldn't have to deal with anyone from the department for another two weeks. That was the best part of her assignment.

Chapter 1

Standing near the energy drink machine, Peter watched the Wednesday evening crowd arrive at the gym. So many attractive women, all dressed so provocatively. And by the time that they finished their workouts and headed toward the women's showers, they all would look like they had been through a sexual ordeal -- body sweating and chests heaving.

Peter knew that a handsome, wealthy 30-something like himself could have his choice from a number of these women, but only one now held his interest. He knew that that she would arrive shortly and head to the drink machine before going into the women's room to change into her workout clothes. He had observed her routine several times, and thought that, the last time, she had also noticed him, even smiled at him. So today he would make his move.

It was just another minute before Peter saw her walk through the door, dressed in a peach-colored wool sweater, black pants and black heels, carrying her gym bag over her shoulder. She always dressed nicely, her clothes showing off her attractive figure. He turned toward the drink machine and deposited the required coins, then glanced over his shoulder to see that she was already standing behind him, waiting her turn. He smiled, and looked back at his drink choices. "I have trouble deciding sometimes. Not sure how much energy I'll need for the evening."

Kelly brushed past him, and pushed a button on the machine. A plastic bottle crashed down. "That one will give you the most," she responded provocatively, "and you never know when you might need it." As she leaned back, her face moved close to his, and he could almost taste her delicious breath. Peter retrieved his bottle, and turned around, his back against the machine. "You're Kelly, aren't you?"

Kelly looked into his face. "Yes. I've seen you here, but do I know you? Or are you a stalker?"

Peter laughed nervously. "No, I'm Peter. I dated your friend Nina about six or eight months ago. She mentioned you. How is Nina? I haven't seen her for awhile."

"I think that Nina told me she was going on a singles cruise around now, Kelly responded. "But why would Nina mention me to you?"

Peter's laugh sounded even more nervous. "Well, it's actually a bit of a story. I mean, I'm happy to tell you, but I've already finished my workout -- I was just leaving -- and I don't want to interfere with yours. Maybe after you're done here we could get some coffee? I'll wait for you."

Kelly looked intrigued. "I run three days a week. I workout here three days a week. I can miss a day. Sure, let's go."

Chapter 2

The coffee shop was in the same mall as the gym, and. in less than five minutes, they were sitting at a table in the corner. "So how long have you been stalking me?" Kelly started the conversation.

Peter now felt more self-assured. "Two weeks. I know that you always get a drink when you come in. That's why I was standing there."

"You think that wasn't obvious?"

"Maybe. But it worked. It did work, didn't it?"

Kelly stared into his eyes. She liked the way that they twinkled when he was trying to be clever. He was attracted to her, she could tell. "That remains to be seen. So what did Nina say about me?"

"Oh," Peter's eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. "Well, maybe it's a bit too early to go into that."

"It's only too early if you never want to see me again," Kelly's voice was playful.

Peter took a deep breath. "Well, in that case. But this may end things before they've begun, and I would hate that because I think that you are very attractive and very nice."

Kelly raised her eyebrows, indicating that flattery would not save him from answering her question. Peter closed his eyes, as if preparing himself, then opened them.

"Nina and I went out for about two months. She's a great girl. We got along great ... except ... well, the sex wasn't so good, so ..."

"I see," Kelly interrupted, "and of course Nina mentions my name whenever she has bad sex? Peter, I've never had sex with Nina. lousy or otherwise. I know that lesbianism is fashionable these days, but I like men. Only men."

Peter was pleased that Kelly already felt comfortable enough with him to talk about sex. "No. You see, the sex wasn't great because, well, ... I'm aggressive. I like to be in control. And Nina's not into that. She's into more ... well, she's not into that. But she said ..."

"That I might be more your type, then?" Kelly finished Peter's sentence. She and Nina had talked several times about their sexual kinks -- well, Kelly had told Nina about hers. Nina didn't really seem to have any, unless candlelight and romance could be considered kinky. "Maybe she's right," Kelly offered matter of factly. "Tell me what you mean by being in control?"

Peter paused. "This is moving way too fast. I'm not ready to have this conversation yet. I don't want you to slap me and walk out. I mean, we just met 15 minutes ago." Kelly looked at him. "Who brought up Nina?"

Peter finally continued. "Yes ... foolishly."

"You're stalling. All I asked was what you meant."

Chapter 3

"OK," Peter looked directly at Kelly, "I'm into bondage. I like to tie my partners up before we have sex. And sometimes pretend they're captured foreign spies at my mercy or that kind of thing. That's my particular kink, and, if that turns you off, then I understand."

Kelly could feel an instant twitch of excitement between her legs as Peter spoke. She wanted to grab him by his shirt and drag him home with her right then. Cute and into bondage games. What more could a girl ask? But she'd have to restrain herself, she thought. Although that would be a first, since usually she had others do it for her. "Are you also into SM?"

Since she hadn't slapped him or walked out, Peter relaxed. He had passed the most dangerous hurdle. "If appropriate to the scene. To make it more realistic, I think."

Kelly pondered his response. At least he hadn't had to ask her what SM stood for. "And what did Nina tell you about me."

"She just said that she had a friend whose interests more closely matched mine than hers did. She wasn't more specific. She gave me your number and told me that you belonged to the same gym as I did. I was afraid to call out of the blue. 'Hi. This is Peter. Can I tie you up and have my way with you?' So I watched you here for awhile, trying to get up the nerve."

"So you lied when you said you were the aggressive type."

"That's my problem." Peter offered an impish smile. "I'd get a lot more dates if I was aggressive when I'm shy, and have a lot more success on my dates if I'd be shy when I'm aggressive."

Now it was Kelly's turn to laugh. "Not with me. But you know that people who play games like these have to be very careful, especially when they play from my side of the whip, so to speak?"

"I would expect it. One mistake is all you get."

"So, if I were to ask," Kelly spoke as if the thoughts were just forming in her head at the same time that they left her lips, "to see your driver's license to make sure that you are who you say you are ..."

"Sure," Peter responded immediately, pulling out his wallet, removing his license and handing it to Kelly, who glanced at it.

"Geez, you even take a good driver's license photo ..." She handed it back to him. "And if I were to insist on calling two of my friends to tell them I was with you, so that at least you wouldn't get away with it if you murdered me ..." She wouldn't really have to call her friends, as long as he thought she had.

"Call ten friends. No problem. Tell them all. I'd want the world to know I was with someone as attractive as you."

" ... and if I also insisted that we went back to my place instead of ..."

"Fine." Peter was ready to leap out of his chair. "Do whatever you want to satisfy yourself you'll be safe with me."

Kelly continued, "And ... if I insisted that you first let me tie you up, to show your trust in me ..."

Peter laughed. "I've never been on that side, but sure. Maybe learning a bit what that side's like will help me on my side."

Kelly paused for what seemed to Peter like an interminable moment. "I'll think about it. No promises," Kelly finally replied. "I'll see you at the gym sometime and let you know." She waited for his reaction.

Peter tried not to show his disappointment that the start of the game that seemed so imminent just a second ago was going to be postponed. Or even possibly canceled. "Well, now I'm going to have to go back to the gym and take a cold shower, I can promise you that. You were getting me very excited. But, yes. I understand. That's OK." It really wasn't OK, but, if he were to have any chance in the future with her, what else could he say? "You'll let me know when. Or if ... But may I ask you one question?" Peter was not yet ready to give up entirely.

"Sure."

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

Chapter 4

"Let me think about that, too." Kelly stood up and started to walk slowly to the door. Peter immediately followed. Once outside, as they reached her car, Kelly asked: "Where do you live?"

"Redland. About 30 minutes from here." Peter could see the inquisitive look on Kelly's face. "I work nearby. That's why I joined the gym here."

"You have a house there?"

"Yeah. I've ... well, I've done pretty well for myself. I bought it last year. And about three months ago, well, I put in a special feature."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. The person I bought it from was a musician and he had sound-proofed the rooms in the basement. And I thought, well, how perfect to have sound-proofing down there. That was sometimes a problem when I rented. You know."

"Your partners are screamers?"

"For more reasons than one, I like to think."

You said you put in a special feature. But the previous owner was the one who sound-proofed the basement."

"Yeah. I put in, well ... a home-made rack. Wood board on two wooden horses. A roller bar attached to the top. Haven't had much of a chance to use it ... so far."

Kelly could feel her excitement growing. "You are so obvious. I'll bet you do get slapped.... But I tell you what. I've never seen a home-made rack before. So I'll follow you to your place. I'll call my friends on the way to tell them where I'll be."

Peter's eyes noticeably brightened. "See it? Do you think that you can just see it without trying it out. I guess we'll see how much will power you have, then." He turned and walked to his own car. A late model Mercedes. Yes, he had done well for himself.

* * *

Kelly saw just how well Peter had done for himself when they arrived at his home in Redland, near SW 189 Avenue and 253rd Street. A very large house, with a three-car garage under it, on at least two acres of land. Kelly imagined that the basement was next to the garage, and that steps between the garage and basement led up to the main floor of the house.

Peter pulled into the garage, and signaled Kelly to pull in along side of him, then closed the garage doors behind them. Kelly walked up to him and gave him a long kiss on the mouth, her tongue probing for his, then asked bluntly, "So where's the special feature. So far, I've just seen an ordinary garage."

"You don't want to see the rest of the house first?"

"Why would I?"

Peter led her through the garage door connected to the house. Kelly's guess where the basement was correct, but the area was much larger than she had expected, and seemed to be made up of two, maybe even three, rooms.

"This area is all sound-proof?"

"All sound-proof," Peter confirmed. "So you can scream to your heart's content. Anyway, the neighbors are far enough away that they probably couldn't hear even if it weren't sound-proof. But it is just to be sure. Wouldn't want any cops spoiling the fun."

"No. Wouldn't want any cops." Kelly enjoyed the irony of Peter's remark. Although Redland was out of her jurisdiction.

"And here, my lovely spy, is the special feature that you've been asking about." Peter opened the nearest door, flicked a switch that bathed the room in only a dim light, and allowed Kelly to enter first.

Chapter 5

Kelly's intake of breath was audible as she saw in the middle of the large room, just as Peter had described, a home-made wooden rack with a roller on the end. Peter hadn't described the heavy metal ankle cuffs attached to chains at the corners of its base, nor the matching wrist cuffs attached to the chains that wrapped around the roller. In the dim light, which Kelly see was coming from two torch-like fixtures on each of the longer walls, the device looked incredibly ominous. Glancing around, Kelly noticed that the walls were covered with padding, no doubt the sound-proofing that Peter had mentioned. Hanging from the far wall were vibrators and dildos of different sizes, cuffs, chains, blindfolds and hoods, and a pair of metal ice tongs. On a table at the wall nearest the foot of the rack she saw a small knife and several whips and crops. The rest of the room was empty, except for two chairs in one corner, so that the room's entire focus was on the rack in its center.

Kelly could feel her heart pounding. She had never played in a room with such realistic atmosphere. This was a place where the victim stretched on the rack could really believe that she was being interrogated in the middle ages by the Grand Inquisitor himself.

"I trust that this is to your satisfaction," Peter broke the silence. Kelly turned to him, eyes wide, and he required no other response. "Shall I tell you some of my rules?" Kelly nodded slowly, then scanned the scene again.

"The safe word is 'elephant.' If my partner says 'elephant,' then I immediately stop what I am doing and undo whatever might have caused her to use the safe word."

"Yes. Elephant. I'll try to remember."

Peter suddenly beamed. She said "I will try to remember," he thought, which means that we are playing tonight.

"Oh, I suggest that you do remember. If it comes to that, I mean, which I doubt it will. At least if you play as well as you talk." Peter teased. "And your unsafe words are 'Groucho Marx.'"

Kelly looked quizzically at him. "Unsafe words?"

"Yes. Since I really have no idea how much you can take and how much you want, I might think that I'm nearing your limits when, in truth, I'm not even close. In that case, you use your unsafe words, and I'll know that I can -- and should -- go further."

"A very interesting concept. Groucho Marx. Those words I'll make sure to remember. Groucho Marx," Kelly repeated. "And the safe word was what again? I forgot." She looked at him, then smiled.

"You will notice," Peter continued, "that the safe and unsafe words do not share any of the same phonetic sounds, so that one cannot be mistaken for the other, which would be a tragedy whichever way the mistake was made. Now, would you care to play a captured member of the French resistance caught spying on the Gestapo in occupied Paris?"

Kelly instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, her hands at her neck, conjuring up the dangerous scenario in which she would find herself, already beginning to get into character for her role. It didn't take her long. "But I'm not a spy. So I have nothing to tell you. Nothing ..." Kelly's voice sounded insistent.

"No? I think that you may reconsider. For your own sake. We'll just have to see. By the way, I have three other soldiers here in the room with me, so I wouldn't try anything stupid."

Kelly thought that she might soon wish there were three other men in the room. But this would do as it was. This would do just fine.

Chapter 6

"Take off your shoes, your sweater and your pants, or I will have my men do it for you."

Kelly's excitement was building quickly. She wouldn't mind, and expected, that her underwear might not survive intact -- she had other underwear in her gym bag. But, as exciting as it might be to let Peter rip off her sweater and pants, she really didn't want them ruined. So, with her eyes fixed on Peter, she kicked her shoes off toward the corner of the room, reached to the bottom of her sweater and slowly pulled it up over her head and off, and flung it onto one of the chairs near where her shoes had landed. She could tell that he was enjoying her striptease. Then she unzipped her pants, inched them down her hips to below her knees, stepped out of them, and tossed them onto her sweater on the chair. Now wearing only her flimsy white bra and skimpy panties, she stood upright, her hands at her sides, trying to look defiant.

Peter loved the white underwear. So misleadingly virginal. He could see that her breasts not too large, but definitely not too small, and that she had long shapely legs. It hadn't before registered in his mind that she was nearly as tall as he. About 5'8" to his 5'11", he guessed.

"Clasp your hands behind your neck." Peter's voice was stern. "And spread your legs."

Kelly obeyed. The movement of her arms forced her chest out, and she continued to watch Peter stare at her. He walked toward her and lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. He could see that her body was trembling. She sure was a great role player, he thought. Or maybe she was just reacting to how cold it was down here in his intentionally unheated basement. Or maybe she was just getting excited herself.

"I will give you one chance to tell me what I want to know," Peter's left hand moved down between Kelly's legs as he spoke, and she shuddered as he cupped her sex through her panties. "One chance." Now his hand moved up and under the right cup of her bra. He squeezed her right breast just hard enough to make her gasp. "Otherwise, we will move on to more persuasive methods."

Kelly did not want to embarrass Peter so soon by using her unsafe words, so she decided to give him another incentive to get her onto that rack sooner rather than later. She spit in his face. "Never. I said never, you coward."

Peter was startled for a second until he realized what Kelly was doing, then quickly recovered. He punched Kelly in the stomach, harder than she expected, and her knees buckled. As they did, her hands came down from behind her neck and she doubled over toward him. Peter lifted her off her feet, slung her over his shoulder, turned and deposited her face up on the rack.

As she held her hands to her stomach, struggling to regain some of the air that Peter's punch had knocked out of her, Peter secured her ankles to the cuffs at the base of the rack. He then climbed on top of Kelly and forced her hands up and out to the top cuffs held by the chains attached to the rack's roller bar. Keeping all of his weight on her, much to his enjoyment, he secured first her right wrist and then her left to the cuffs, before rolling off her to stand at the side of the rack to admire his work.

Kelly was now chained spreadeagled in her underwear, not yet stretched, but unable to offer an defense to anything that Peter might do to her.

"What do you have to say for yourself now, my pretty spy?" Thankfully, Peter made no attempt to hiss his threats in a phony German accent. So Kelly made no attempt to feign a French accent. Using their normal voices added to, rather than detracted from, their personal involvement in the scene.

"Just one thing, you bastard," Kelly sneered back at him from her prostrate position.

"And what is that?" Peter waited.

"All I have to say to you, you depraved piece of shit is ... Groucho Marx."

Chapter 7

"Oh, my dear. You don't know how depraved." Peter moved to the head of the rack and stood by the roller. "How depraved and how professional at my work. It's a very dangerous combination for a French resistance spy, you will find." He turned the roller slowly, and the slack in the chains that held Kelly's limbs begin to disappear until Kelly was fully stretched on the wooden rack. With the final click, Kelly let out a gasp, as she felt her shoulders stretched more than she had anticipated. Peter obviously had not liked her suggestion that she needed him to be more "unsafe." It seemed to challenge his manhood.

Peter began to rub his hand on Kelly's exposed belly, and she shuddered at his touch. She began to squirm to try to reduce the pressure building in her shoulders and Peter could feel her body begin to sweat. When she ran or worked out, she perspired, he thought, but when she played, she sweated.

"Anything to say now?" He asked coldly.

Kelly took a second to catch her breath, then responded softly, "Viva la France." Peter walked over to the table at the wall at the foot of the rack, and returned, holding the small knife that Kelly had seen earlier. "Very well. You have made your decision." He climbed onto the rack, and squatted on Kelly's hips, one knee on each side. His weight forced her body down farther into the rack, stretching her more, and she again gasped loudly. He placed the tip of the knife just under Kelly's chin.

"Give me the names of the members of your resistance cell, my little spy.. Let's start with just three names. This cuts flesh as well as clothing, you know."

Kelly stared at Peter, then at the knife, then back at Peter. She could feel the hardness in her nipples and the growing wetness between her legs. If Peter had any doubt that this kind of play turned her on, it would be quickly eliminated as soon as he used that knife on her underwear.

"Or maybe we could start with just one name. Certainly there is one member of your group that you wouldn't mind turning over to us. Maybe the one who is fucking your boyfriend as we speak?" Peter moved the knife to just under the right cup of her bra. Slowly, and fearfully, she shook her head again.

Peter carefully pushed the knife underneath the bra cup, and Kelly could feel her stomach tighten as he kept the tip raised just enough that it cut into the bra and not her skin. When the tip of the knife poked up out of the center of the cup, he slashed down quickly, releasing Kelly's breast from its constraint, before moving the knife to her left side. Kelly felt her stomach relax slightly. Without a word, Peter performed the same delicate operation on her left side before putting the knife in his teeth to free his hands.

Squeezing both of Kelly's breasts roughly through the torn material, Peter pulled apart the remnants of her bra, then took the knife out of his mouth and cut the tops of its straps. Placing the knife at the side of the rack, Peter then pulled the torn material free and dropped it on the floor. Kelly shuddered as the complete nakedness of her breasts enhanced her feeling of total vulnerability. Left wearing only her flimsy panties. Her body totally exposed and helpless to the whims of this depraved Gestapo officer.

With her attention now once again focused on her spreadeagled position on the rack, Kelly began to squirm to try to reduce the pain in her shoulders. Peter decided to eliminate even the little movement that she had, however, stepping over to the roller bar and turning it until he heard one more click. Kelly let out a small scream as any opportunity to try to reduce the pain was now gone. Peter waited a few seconds, fearing that he might hear the dreaded word "elephant." But he needn't have worried. Kelly's mind was filled with a mix of pain and reverie. He clicked the roller one more notch. Kelly had a very nice scream, he decided.

Chapter 8

"So you can see how much pain you are already in, and we haven't even started yet." Peter squeezed Kelly's face between his thumb and forefinger. "Tell me. Are you going to deny that you are a spy for the resistance?" He released his grip to allow her to respond.

"No. I don't deny it. I am proud to be on the side of freedom."

Peter laughed. "Not doing a good job of it, at least not from what I can see." Peter looked down her stretched body. "And do you deny that you provided the resistance with information that led to yesterday's train bombing outside the city?"

Kelly hesitated before responding. "No. That will be just the first of many such resistance efforts."

"Well, I'll need the names of those who participated in such a fatal attack. And I don't recommend Groucho Marx."

Kelly lifted her head to look down her body, which was now totally bathed in sweat. Then she looked back at Peter, who was moving toward the far wall. When he returned, he was holding the pair of metal ice tongs. These, she could now see, had a scissors handle that opened the tongs when the handle was pressed together. When the grip was released, the tongs clamped into their normal closed position, with the tips of the tongs pressed firmly against each other. Peter held them in front of her face, squeezing them open.

"Do you know what this simple device can do to you?" He moved the tongs down to her chest. Kelly's eyes followed. "If I'm not careful, I could probably remove your nipple with it." Peter slowly released his grip, keeping it from closing fully, but allowing it to grab the nipple on Kelly's left breast. "If I just relax my fingers like this ..." Kelly screamed as the device tightened on her nipple. After a few seconds, Peter again gripped the tongs more firmly, releasing Kelly's nipple. "Now imagine if I released them completely." Kelly shuddered at the thought. And imagined the pain.

"But you needn't worry about that ... yet. But then, I could also do this." Peter moved the tongs down to surround her entire breast and released his grip. The tongs closed tightly on the sides of her left breast, squeezing and misshaping it enough to force Kelly to scream more loudly than she had before. Peter watched her for a full 15 seconds before squeezing the handle to release its grip. He moved the tongs to surround her right breast. "I don't play favorites. I believe in equal treatment." Kelly again screamed as he released his grip on the handle for an equal length of time.

Peter returned the tongs to their place on the wall, and walked back to the side of the rack. He removed his shirt and his shoes, leaving him wearing only his pants and undershorts, and again mounted Kelly, letting his entire weight down on her stomach, making it hard for her to breath. He reached under the side of the rack on her left, and pulled out an alligator clip attached to a retractable wire. "You probably hadn't noticed this feature, had you?" He held the clip in front of Kelly's eyes, and then attached it to her left nipple, its serrated edges cutting into her. When he released it, it quickly retracted, stretching the nipple. For a second she feared that the clip might tear her nipple off, but when she looked, it was still there, although she could seek flecks of blood oozing out of it.

Peter then moved to the other side. "Remember. I don't play favorites." He pulled out the alligator clip on the other side of the rack, attached it to her right nipple, and released it, Kelly was pulled in every direction -- stretched down by her ankles, up by her wrists, and to the sides by the alligator clips to her nipples. She could not move in any direction now without bringing severe pain upon herself.

Chapter 9

Kelly was forced to gulp air through her mouth now and she could not believe how severely her shoulders ached. One more click of the roller on the rack -- maybe two at most -- and her shoulders would dislocate, she was sure. She could feel that her panties were soaked from her excitement. She couldn't say it, but she hoped that Peter would take her right now. She was feeling the pain. Now she wanted to balance it with some pleasure.

But Peter was not yet accommodating. Instead, he moved back to the table near the foot of the rack, and picked up a short hard leather crop, then climbed onto his knees on the rack between Kelly's spread knees. She could not even think to try to move any part of her body to protect it from becoming his target.

Holding the crop in one hand and bending it with the other, he flicked it down with a sharp snap against Kelly's left breast. The pain quickly shot down her body, and she instinctively tried to move herself away, realizing instantly, though, that she must not, but must keep as still as she could, or the pain to her nipples from the alligator clips would match the pain from the crop. She knew that she was absolutely helpless and exposed.

Peter next snapped her right breast, then quickly again her left, and then her right, before moving down to her belly and her thighs. With each snap and involuntary movement, Kelly screamed, each scream growing louder, although she managed to stifle her screams during the seconds in between blows.

And then Peter inched back a bit and a wicked grin crossed his face. He moved the crop under the right side of Kelly's panties, and then out through the left side, gripped it with both hands, looked up at Kelly, who was staring down to see what he was doing, and he pulled, shredding the thin cloth between her legs. He moved the crop under her panties' waistband, and pulled again, then grabbed the remnants of the panties from under Kelly and tossed them onto the floor.

The game had now advanced beyond any that Kelly had ever played before. Completely naked, stretched taut on a rack, with her nipples secured by alligator clips that stretched them to her sides and made all movement painful, Kelly screamed as Peter now snapped the crop directly between her legs, again and again. It was difficult to tell if these now constant screams were screams of pain or screams of ecstasy. Peter imagined that, to Kelly, the two were actually one. Painful ecstasy. Ecstatic pain. He doubted she could separate them.

He continued to snap the crop down on her, moving it to all parts of her nakedness. When he finally stopped, her screams did not. But by now, the sight of such a beautiful woman in an apparent state of extreme arousal was too much for Peter to resist any longer. He removed his pants and undershorts, and, this time when he mounted the rack, he lay down directly on top of her, his arms around her neck, his body careful not to disturb the alligator clips.

With one thrust he was deep inside her. He could not remember ever having anyone who was so ready for him. A different kind of foreplay, but obviously very effective. He was wrong to have thought that her screams could not grow any louder. She was a challenge for his sound-proofed room.

Peter looked at Kelly's face. Her eyes were closed and he thought that she was a thousand miles away, in some very special place that he wagered she had not visited in a very long time. It was exciting that he had brought her there, but a bit unsatisfying that she no longer knew that he was with her. He could feel her entire body shudder under him as he began his rhythmic thrusting. Realizing, as strange as it sounded, that Kelly was feeling no pain, he removed the alligator clips from her nipples, fearing that she might harm herself without even realizing it. Of course, he was rewarded for his consideration, as he could now use his hands and mouth freely on her breasts.

In just a few minutes, Peter realized that his feelings of arousal were greatly heightened by Kelly's total abandon, which told him that there was no real need for him to hold back as long as he could. He began thrusting stronger and faster into her. To his amazement, Kelly's screams intensified even more,as Peter finally thrust one last time as deeply as he could and held it for as long as he could before releasing himself into her.

When he rolled off of her and climbed off the rack, he could still here her screams, though, finally, they were starting to lessen. He put on his shorts and stared at Kelly's shuddering, shivering nakedness. He wagered that she had been aroused to multiple orgasm. He only wished he, and not the situation, could take the real credit for it.

When Kelly finally opened her eyes a few minutes later, it still did not seem to him that she had returned to the room.

Chapter 10

"Well, my dear. Don't think that I'm through with you yet." Peter reached for the roller, and Kelly's eyes widened. He thought that he might hear her safe word for the first time -- if, in her state, she could remember it -- but he did not. Still, although he thought about stretching her another notch, he did not, fearing that he would separate her shoulders. Instead, he released the pull from the roller entirely. He was surprised to see how far her body dropped, not being aware that she had been stretched so taut that her body barely touched the wooden board below her except when he was on top of her.

As she relaxed for the first time in a long time, Kelly's screams were replaced with audible sighs of relief and pleasure. Peter moved to the foot of the rack, and unchained both of her ankles, leaving her completely unrestrained. But she was in no condition yet to try to move, except to raise her hands to her nipples to massage them back into their proper shape after their ordeal with the alligator clips.

Peter picked up the torn bra and panties from the floor, and placed them on the chair next to Kelly's sweater and pants, then turned back to watch her as her breathing slowly returned to normal. From the glaze in her eyes, though, she seemed still in her far-off reverie.

Peter watched for a few minutes, then walked over to the rack. "Are you still my captured French spy, or have you forgotten your role?" Kelly turned to the sound of his voice but did not answer or open her eyes.

"Well, I still need information from you." Peter grabbed Kelly's right wrist and this time chained it to the left side of the roller. "Who is your leader?" He then chained her left wrist to the right side of the roller, forcing her arms to cross her body.

"I've already told you what you wanted to know." At least part of Kelly was back with him in the scene. "I've told you ... my leader is ... Groucho Marx. I am a devoted Marxist."

Peter nodded. The woman was amazing. He pushed the side of her body, forcing her over onto her stomach, and then moved to the foot of the rack to pull her ankles down to secure them to the cuffs and chains. Kelly was now spreadeagled again on the rack, this time on her stomach. Peter moved back to the roller at the top of the rack.

"We will see how long you continue to insult the fatherland." Peter began to turn the handle, and, with each click, Kelly's body again back to stretch until she was in her familiar spreadeagled position. The pain in her shoulders that had begun to subside immediately returned, and Peter was pretty certain that the gasp that escaped from her lips with the last click was once again the sound of pain.

Chapter 11

Peter put his pants back on, and then walked to the top of the rack and lifted Kelly's head by her hair, forcing her to look up at him. He was holding in his other hand one of the hard rubber dildos that she had seen hanging on the wall.

"One name or I will have more surprises for you," he said.

"What's the matter? You need a helper? Not man enough on your own?" Kelly's defiance had obviously not yet been tortured out of her.

Peter pretended to grimace. "Ooh. That hurts. But the truth is that I have another appointment in just a few minutes, so I'm going to have to use a substitute."

"What? You're going to leave me here alone like this? For how long?" Kelly was a little startled.

"I think that captured spies, traitors to the fatherland, don't get to ask the questions. But does it really matter? Did you have other plans for the evening? Unless you have a name to give me." Kelly shook her head and Peter released her hair. "I didn't think so."

Peter moved to the middle of the rack, and Kelly turned her head to see him pull a lever upward. She immediately felt the stretch on her body tighten and screamed, then realized that it was caused by a rise in the center of the rack that lifted her under her hips.

"A much more ... shall I say? ... receptive position, wouldn't you agree?" Peter leaned over the rack and began to massage Kelly's backside, before moving the tip of the dildo to the entry to her anus. "I would think that a beautiful woman like yourself would find it rather humiliating to have a hard piece of rubber shoved up her ass, no?" He began twisting it and slowly pushing it into her, with some effort. Kelly immediately screamed, but this time it sounded to Peter like a scream of pure pain. Maybe she did not like this. But he did not hear a safe word. Whether she liked it or not, she was a true player. "A kind of statement that you are not worth true flesh and blood. Just a piece of inanimate rubber." When he had finally forced her body to take all but the last few inches, he stopped, thinking that it looked even more humiliating to leave those last few inches that way.

Peter then walked to the wall and picked out a black cloth hood, like the ones often worn by those facing the gallows. Without a word he slipped it over Kelly's head and tightened it at the neck, to make certain that no light could penetrate it. "Don't worry, my beautiful spy. There are a few air holes. And now I will allow you to lose yourself in your own world again. I have some business to attend to."

Kelly could hear Peter walk to the door, open it, and then close it behind him. For how long he would leave her like this, she didn't know. And that raised wooden piece in the middle of the rack had stretched her more than she had been stretched when she was on her back. Her shoulders were inflamed. She could not move. She had thought about using her safe word, and wished she had. But she had been too proud. So now she found herself chained on a home-made rack -- naked, hooded and spreadeagled -- in the sound-proof dungeon of a man she had just met a few hours earlier. Oh, yes, and with a dildo stuck up her ass.

Chapter 12

She had no idea how long it had been since Peter left. It could have been just 10 minutes. It could have been hours. She knew that it was longer than she wished, but she had no other sense of time. And she knew that the pain that now raced through her entire body, but still even worse in her shoulders, was beginning to consume her mind, preparing her for the defense of unconsciousness. In the meantime, however, she could feel her body begin to convulse. From cold. Fear. Pain. And pleasure. She could not judge which contributed most.

Then, finally, much to her relief, she heard the door open, followed by footsteps and then the sound of Peter's voice as soon as the door again closed. "I have been told by my superiors that I have taken much to long to break you, and that, either you will provide me with the information I want immediately, or I should finish with you and move on to another of our captured French spies. Another female one, I hope." Peter lifted Kelly's hooded face. "So?"

Kelly certainly was not going to give him the name of Groucho Marx. Peter had proven that he didn't need -- or take kindly to -- that kind of encouragement. In fact, she had been sure, during the time that he was gone, that as soon as he returned she would use her safe word. But now that it seemed that the game was winding down, she felt that she could hold out. She shook her head.

Peter lowered her head back to the rack, and moved to the wall to take another item from it. He then climbed onto the rack, squatted on her back, and leaned over to whisper into the hood where he left ear would be. "I propose to try a little edge play. I'm not sure if you've done that before, but most find it extremely arousing. Any names to give me?"

Kelly knew that edge play was a form of breath control. She had never tried it before, but she was always willing to try something once. Of course, she had tried anal once, didn't like it, and vowed not to do that again, but ... Slowly, Kelly shook her head in response to Peter's question.

Peter turned around, and pushed the dildo in the last few inches. As Kelly screamed, Peter then removed the hood, and immediately replaced it with the plastic bag that he had taken from the wall. He secured this around her neck and held it tightly closed.

Kelly was unprepared, having expelled most of her air during her screams. Her body immediately began to struggle, as Peter held the bag closed. He could feel her shuddering underneath him, as her desperate body exploded. Finally, he opened the bag at her neck, and removed it, allowing in the air that she had frantically sought. Kelly gulped it in as quickly as she could, her body still exploding.

"See. I knew you'd get off on this," Peter bragged. "This time, take in a deep breath first, which I didn't let you do last time, and your orgasm will be even stronger." He reached around and slid the dildo out of Kelly's ass, and also pushed down the lever that had raised Kelly just under her hips. The chains, which had once seemed taut even without the wooden piece that raised her, now seemed slack, although Kelly remained fully stretched. "This is so you can concentrate completely on this," Peter explained.

Peter watched Kelly's deep breathing, and placed the bag over her head just after she next inhaled. He again secured it tightly at her neck, and watched as she began to struggle, her body convulsing and spasming and shuddering. Peter kept his firm hold on the base of the bag around Kelly's neck. Her movements became even more intense, as the air left her lungs. And, as it did, her body's explosions also increased.

For 30 seconds more, Peter held the bag firmly closed, as Kelly seemed to reach the last throes in her need for air, her body shaking the entire time. And, then, just as her shuddering start to fade ...

Chapter 13

Leaving the bag firmly secured around Kelly's head, Peter rose from the rack and moved to its head to look into her face. Her eyes were open, bulging, looking desperately at him, pleading. Her body was still shivering, spasming. But then her struggles gradually weakened. Finally, her muscles relaxed, her open eyes remained fixed and staring, and Peter could smell that she had lost control of her bladder. It might have been messier, he thought, had they actually eaten dinner.

Peter checked to be sure that she had no pulse before he removed the bag from around Kelly's head, closed her eyes, and released from their pull the chains holding her wrists. "Yes. In this game you really do only get one mistake. And I'm afraid that you've made yours, my pretty police officer. You let your cunt control your brain."

Peter moved to a corner of the room, and pushed a button on the wall. Within a a few seconds, two men entered the room.

"Well, it took you long enough. You couldn't just kill her when she walked into the basement? Why'd we have to wait around forever?" The man who spoke walked to the far side of the rack, and began to release Kelly's left wrist, and then her left ankle, from the cuffs that still held them. The other man worked on her right side.

"No reason not to have her enjoy her last few hours. I mean, she died without knowing that anything was other than as she thought it was -- a man and a woman attracted to each other playing the kind of game they both loved. Hell, I'll bet she hadn't orgasmed like that ever before in her life. So what was the harm?"

"Yeah, right," it was the other man's turn now. "I'm sure that you did it all for her. You're a sick man, Peter."

The two men had by now released Kelly's body from its chains, had each grabbed under her shoulders, and dragged her off the rack. They picked up her clothes and her gym bag. As they moved to the door with her between them, Peter blocked it momentarily. "Listen. I get the job done. That's why the Don pays me the way he does. How I get it done -- and whether I enjoy my job -- is of no concern to you. Now I trust that you will do your part of the job as well as I did mine. For all of our sakes."

Peter stepped out of their way, and the men shrugged, then, without another word, left the room and dragged Kelly's body into the garage. One of the men rifled through the pockets of Kelly's pants, found her car keys, and opened its trunk. They tossed her in, with her clothes and gym bag, and slammed the trunk shut. When they opened the garage door, Peter could see that they had their container trailer and semi truck backed up within a few inches. One of them got into the driver's seat of Kelly's car and backed it into the container. By the time he exited it and slid the back closed, his partner was already sitting at the wheel of the cab. He joined him on the passenger's side, and rolled down the window. "See, we're as professional as you are."

Peter smiled. "I know. That's why we're a good team. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

The semi pulled away with its container trailer. Peter walked back into the garage.

Epilogue

Peter walked past the room where Kelly had played her final game, past the next room in the basement, to the third room. He opened the door. This was the room that Peter's accomplices had occupied during most of the time that he was having his fun with Kelly. The room where the meeting was for which he had to leave Kelly alone for the extended period of time that he had left her.

Although the two men had left to make their delivery, Peter still found one occupant when he entered. Cuffed to an X-frame at the corner of the far wall was a naked woman. Blond hair. In her 20s. Nice body. Well, it had been a nice body when she had first been brought there. [see Nina pic] By now, though, she was hanging by her wrists, her head down against her chest, her knees bent, unable to hold up her weight after the ordeal evidenced by the whip marks across the front of her body and legs. And apparently his accomplices could find no ashtray to put out the many cigarettes that the stench from the room indicated they had smoked. And their favorite target, Peter was not surprised, had been the woman's breasts, each of which now looked like it had half a dozen nipples scattered across them. The real ones, which had also been targets, were difficult to distinguish. And her body was trembling, shuddering, even in its apparent unconscious state. Nearly as severely as Kelly's had been.

A few feet above each of the cuffs holding her wrists was a bag partially filled with a liquid mixture. Out of each bag ran an intravenous line into the woman's forearms, secured by straps to hold them firmly in place. This body was shaking, at least at the moment, for quite a different reason than had been Kelly's.

"Hello, Nina," Peter offered in a friendly tone. "How are you doing?"

Nina raised her head slowly and opened her eyes, making no effort to try to stand to relieve the pressure on her shoulders. When she saw that the voice came from Peter, however, she began to shake her head. "No, no more. Please, no more. I've told you everything I know. Please. Just turn the switch. Turn the switch. Please" She looked up at the bag of liquid on her left.

"I may, Nina. I just may. It depends. Let's go over things one more time, shall we?"

"No, I've told you. Please. Now. I need it."

When the Don had learned that Nina, the South Miami Police Department's records clerk, was planning a two-week singles cruise, he decided that she might be the perfect one to fill him in on who from the police department had infiltrated his organization. He didn't know for certain that someone had, but he had begun to suspect. He hadn't become the Don without having a savvy instinct for what was going on around him.

It had been so easy. He made sure that it was one of his drivers who answered her call for a cab to take her to the cruise ship's berth on the morning of her departure. After depositing her luggage in the trunk of the cab, the driver had leaned over his passenger as she took her seat in the back of the cab. "I'll help you with that seat belt, ma'am. It sticks some times." As she turned to look down at the belt, he jabbed a needle into her neck. She looked stunned for a second before collapsing. When she awoke, she was right where she was now. Right where she had been for the last five days.

Peter had soon decided to hook Nina to the heroin drips, and, controlling them carefully, within 36 hours she was begging for greater amounts. Between her need for the drug, and the brutal tortures that he and his men had inflicted on her, they soon had from her the information that they wanted. Only one officer from the Narcotics Unit had infiltrated their operation, a young and attractive officer named Kelly Bauman with whom Nina had been friends. And Officer Bauman had this particular kink that might prove useful to luring her to this "unsafe house." So now Nina was shaking from withdrawal and begging for Peter to open the drips again.

"Nina, you're going to have a more exciting day than you can imagine."

The Don had sent another woman on the cruise in Nina's place. A woman in her 20s with blond hair and a nice body. Who made sure that most on the cruise knew that her name was "Nina." That she worked for the police department. And that, during the activities at the second port on the cruise -- which the ship would have reached that morning -- "Nina" would appear to have a terrible ... and fatal ... hang-gliding accident with her instructor. In the middle of the ocean. Where there was no point even in trying to search for their bodies.

So the only question was whether Nina might suffer the same ultimate fate for real today that her counterpart on the ship had staged. Which depended upon whether Peter believed that she had really provided all her useful information, as she protested she had.

"Nina, your information about Officer Bauman has proven accurate, and she is now bound for her own cruise." Within a few hours, the container with Kelly's car would be loaded onto a ship headed for South Africa, and placed carefully on the far back. Somewhere in the middle of the South Atlantic, it would be slipped off into the depths of the ocean. "Sleeping with the fishes" was sometimes more than a cliche in the Don's world.

Without giving a second thought to Kelly's fate, Nina screamed again to beg Peter to resume her heroin drip. "I've earned it" preceded a series of four-letter vulgarities.

"What about the others? There is more than one infiltrator?"

"No. No. In the other organizations, yes. And I've given you those names. And access to my computer files. With their files. All of them. But only the one in ours. Kelly Bauman." Nina words flew out of her mouth.

Peter knew from her protestations ... and her need for the heroin ... that Nina was telling the truth. She had told him all she knew about the police's infiltration of all the drug organizations. But Peter walked toward the door, reaching for the doorknob, before turning back to look at Nina. She was sobbing and shaking her head violently. "That's all I know!! That's all!!"

Peter walked back to her, bent down to look into her eyes, which were red but open. "All right. I believe you." Nina's face brightened.

Peter rose and turned the left drip on full, then the right. Within a few seconds, Nina's eyes closed, her tongue began to lick her lips and her breathing eased. Whether she might be in a world similar to the one that grabbed Kelly in her ecstasy Peter could not say. But she was definitely well on her way to another world. Although not perhaps the one she expected.

Peter walked back to the door, this time without turning around, and left the room. The drips had never been turned on more than a quarter of the way before, and, even then, just one at a time. So this was eight times the largest dose that Nina had ever received. Peter expected that she would reach her final other world within an hour or two, by which time his men should be back. Why they couldn't have waited to take them both together, he couldn't figure. But those were the Don's instructions. Two separate containers. Two separate ships headed in two separate directions. Nina and Kelly were both going to sleep with the fishes, all right, but not with each other. Such an added expense. But, when it came to disposing of members of Miami's Narcotics Unit, price was no object to the Don.

Peter knew that the replacement for Kelly that the police would send was not likely to be nearly as attractive or kinky ... or gullible ... as Kelly Bauman. He missed her already.