Six days before Angie had entered the director's office and was told to be seated, which she did in front of the impressive oak desk. "A new cultural attaché is joining the Russian embassy. Officially he is here to arrange more exchanges of musicians, artists, etcetera between our two countries. Unofficially he is here to see what information he can glean on our intentions in that part of the world.

"There is a lot more we know about him, but what is relevant to this discussion is that, one, he likes to drink, often more than he should, and two, he is an incorrigible womanizer. Three, he is often a lot more careless than a man in his position should be. And that extends beyond personal relationships to care of documents.

"His name is Giorgi Letnikov and he will be attending a party honoring a Russian pianist who will be performing around the U.S. in the coming months, including the White House next week. You will be attending as a member of the board of the Baroque Orchestra of Philadelphia. If you've never heard of it, it is because it doesn't exist. But don't worry, he certainly won't know that either."

The man behind the desk pushed over a manila folder. When Angie opened it, she found three photos of Letnikov, and nothing else. He was broadly built with impressive shoulders and not much of the paunch that is usually found on middle-aged men of that physique. His face could best be described as Slavic, featured by narrow eyes spaced close together above a blunt nose. His mouth in all three photos was bent slightly upward in a smile that struck Angie as exceptionally cruel.

Angie pushed the folder back across the desk. "Let me guess. What you want me to do is make sure he drinks too much, seduce him, get him back to his digs, fuck him unconscious and have a look around. And the reason you have chosen me for this honor is because, A) I am the sexiest agent you have and B) you think I have the morals of a frog. I don't think so.

"And let me tell you why. There is very little I won't do for the Company. I have taken risks for you that could have gotten me captured or killed, and I am pretty sure the latter would have been the more preferable.

"And I'll go further than that. I guess no one can say how they'll act under torture until they've had the pleasure, but I feel pretty safe in saying it would take more than someone hooking my clit up to the anode and my asshole to the cathode to make me talk. But I'll be damned if I'm going to fuck some bullnecked creep just so you can get a look at the menu for tomorrow's breakfast at the embassy."

The man behind the desk didn't smile or frown or even change his expression in the least. He simply cocked his head to one side and said, "No, Angie, I'm not asking you to take one for the team. But I do want you to get into his place and the easiest way to do that would be to make sure in no uncertain terms that that is what he believes you are offering up. After that you will have three ways of dosing him up so that he not only will be unconscious in a matter of say thirty seconds but will remember none of it when he wakes hours later. Your only challenge, and it is a small one, will be to stay out of his grasp if you need to use a needle rather than the oral drug until he passes out."

Angie pulled the folder back and looked at its contents once again. She looked up again and said. "God help you if I end up getting fucked by this ugly prick."

The operation had gone just as promised and planned. Letnikov drank too much, made more than one clumsy pass at Angie, and she left with him. At his place had managed to slip the pill into his champagne. He was out cold shortly after he had opened her blouse but had not even had the time to remove it.

She did a quick but efficient survey of the rooms and found a number of documents that were lying in plain sight on the desk in his office. She photographed them, looked through unlocked desk drawers, found some more documents and photographed them as well. She buttoned up and left, confident he would not even remember her (fictitious) name.

So how was it that she was now standing in front of this man whose grin was as wide as a toothpaste commercial even if his teeth looked as though he never used the stuff; cuffed and shackled hand and foot, gagged, somewhat disheveled and barefoot, in the grip of two goons who looked as though they could crush her humerus bones just by tightening their grips.

Well, of course she knew how it was she had arrived there. She had been tail-ended by a car on the road leading to her house. Another car that had been right behind the first pulled up beside her. The driver said he had seen the whole thing and would give an affidavit to that affect. When she got out to exchange information with the offending driver the witness had followed behind her. She vaguely remembered the arm around her throat and the sweet smelling cloth pressed over her mouth and nose.

She awoke, lying on the floor, painfully hogtied, gagged and blindfolded. She struggled ineffectually against her bonds for a few minutes and then gave up. Not long after that she heard a door open. The rope fastening her shackled wrists and ankles was removed to be replaced by the short chain and she was hauled to her feet. Now she stood before Letnikov, unable to resist, having to bear the insufferable weight of his smirking smile.

"Hard to believe no one in your organization thought we would have video installed throughout," said Letnikov. "Or maybe they did but thought it was worth the chance; thought you were expendable, worth the risk."

Then three things happened simultaneously. Letnikov nodded to his right. Angie noticed for the first time the angular sinewy woman off to that side. And one of the guards twisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back.

The woman took the five steps needed to position herself mere inches in front of Angie. She was taller than Angie, perhaps a bit more than six feet, so with her head pulled back the helpless young agent was forced to stare up at her captor's accomplice. At this close proximity she could see the coarse texture of the older woman's skin. And smell the unmistakable odor of sexual arousal. The woman smiled and then ran her tongue over her lips. Suddenly Angie was very afraid.

Angie got a glimpse of the tan leather, caught the glint of the buckles in the light, but missed the small black box below the ring at the front, before it was placed against her throat. She tried to pull her head away but the guard held her fast. The leather collar circled her neck and with practiced ease the woman fastened the topmost of the straps that joined the device behind her. She then stepped behind Angie and completed the task, buckling the lower two straps and tightening the top one. All the while Angie struggled in the grasp of the two giants that held her, twisting her body and arching her back in a vain effort to escape their iron grip. She didn't know what her captors had in store for her but she was sure it was going to be an ordeal worse than anything she could imagine.

The woman now moved back around in front of Angie and snapped a three foot chain onto a ring at the front of the collar. The thick leather was almost five inches high and completely enveloped Angie's long slender neck, its upper edge pushing painfully against her jaw and forcing her head back to its limit against her neck. The woman wrapped the chain around her fist and gave a short sharp pull. "Bring her," she ordered the two goons.

"Wait," Letnikov said. "Let me explain in broad strokes what is going to happen to you," he said to Angie. "You embarrassed me. You embarrassed me not only as a man, but in front of my colleagues and superiors. The one location in my rooms in which there is not a camera is the bedroom – I know, I have checked – so that embarrassment was private. But that does not make it less offensive to me. Your pilfering private material was done in front of my people. That could have career implications for me besides the disgrace I feel. So you are going to be embarrassed by me. No, not embarrassed, humiliated, thoroughly and totally humiliated.

Angie pulled against her restraints and shouted something at Letnikov which was muted by her gag. "You are obviously a strong woman, as strong as you are beautiful. I see in your eyes anger and frustration and, what is that? Could it be fear? Perhaps fear, but no humiliation, only defiance. You should be humiliated already, standing before me in chains, knowing that soon I will have you bound naked for my pleasure. But you are not. Not yet. But you will be, shamed and degraded and begging for mercy."

Angie tried to lunge at Letnikov but was held back by her guards. "Of course you can't beg now, not with your mouth full of gag. You can't even curse me. Don't you find that demeaning? You are so helpless you can't even utter one word. Is that worse than being in chains? Of course when I want to hear you beg I will remove the gag. But first you will suck my cock."

Letnikov motioned with his head and the two thugs pushed Angie up against his desk. Without rising he lifted his hand toward her mouth. She twisted her head to avoid his grasp but one of the guards grabbed her by the neck and pushed her forward. Letnikov took hold of the bulb at the end of the short tube that projected from her mouth. Angie tried to pull back but was held helplessly in the iron grip of the giant guard. Letnikov squeezed the bulb and her cheeks swelled around the inflatable gag. She squealed and Letnikov laughed.

"Then there is the pleasure that you cheated me out of. I will have it from you now. Not in the manner I expected, but I am sure just as agreeable, at least for me. I have never forced a woman before. I look forward to the experience."

"Third comes your punishment. I am going to hurt you. And with every stroke of the knout, you will regret having played me for the fool.

"And finally comes the interrogation. Hopefully you will not have been broken by the prior events and we will be forced to torture you some more before you give up the information we want.

"Of course dividing these trials into separate events is a bit arbitrary. They are intermixed with one another. You will find torture very humiliating, ceding control of your body to another without your consent, begging for mercy. And of course I will take great pleasure in watching you suffer. So we have my four goals combined into one. But you get the idea. And just think; all this will happen a short walk from the safety of your offices.

"I will see you soon. Take her to our special room."

Panic and desperation overrode logic, and although she knew it was useless and gave her captors pleasure to see her fear so clearly displayed, she fought violently as she was hauled toward the torture chamber. The woman led the way, pulling on the chain attached to her collar and keeping it taut, although it was completely unnecessary with the two brutes dragging her along. Every few steps the woman turned around and grinned at Angie's struggles.

When they finally reached the door, which looked the same as any other door they had passed, Angie could do nothing but stare in fear as the woman unlocked it, her heart thumping wildly beneath her ribs. The room itself, once she had been dragged inside, was nothing like what she had imagined in her short journey: no medieval rack, no x-shaped cross, and no masked bare-chested torturer heating up breast-rippers in an iron brazier.

What did make Angie's blood run cold were the acoustic tiles. They covered every inch of the walls, the ceiling, the door and even the floor, something she immediately noticed when her bare feet first felt their rough consistency. They were there for one purpose, and Angie knew what that purpose was: to contain inside the room a victim's agonized screams. Angie thought, "This time that victim is me. They are going to make me scream. They are going to make me scream by torturing me. I'm going to be tortured. Oh God no. It's my time now. I'm going to be tortured."

With that thought Angie again began her desperate struggle to tear away from her captors, but was brought up short by a sharp slap across the face from the woman, who then unsnapped the chain from her collar.

"I am going to free your wrists, but first I want your promise that you will not resist and will obey my orders. Just nod if you agree." Angie stared at the woman in disbelief. The woman nodded at the two guards who released her arms, but before Angie could move a searing pain unlike anything she had ever felt before tore at her throat.

When Angie had stopped quivering on the floor, she was pulled to her feet by the two guards. Through a haze of pain she saw what looked like a small TV remote control in the woman's hand. "A handy device, not unlike one of those dog invisible fence collars, but a lot more powerful. That was setting five, half way up the scale. Would you like to try for six or are you going to cooperate?"

Angie managed to shake her head no, a foolhardy act of defiance, but she wasn't going to give in to this bitch and become little more than a compliant slave.

When she was pulled to her feet a second time she could not even maintain the semblance of an erect posture, her limp body held up solely by the guards. "That was still five, and I think for the next shocks I will have to actually reduce the current. Don't want to damage you quite yet."

Angie stared up at the woman. She could not have done this unaided but the collar held her head up so their eyes could meet. Unbelievably despite the pain, once again Angie managed to shake her head no. The woman – admiring the young agent's courage despite herself while enjoying the prospect of breaking her – hit the button again just as the guards released their captive.

When Angie's limbs had stopped their spasmodic twitching, the woman stepped over her so that she straddled her waist. She said nothing but pushed the button once again; and a minute later a third time. "Those last were at three, but I think we can try five for the next one, hmmm?"

Angie cried out "No more," through her gag, the words unintelligible but her wide eyed expression of urgency leaving no need for translation. Still the woman hovered her finger over the button, playing with her prey, while Angie tried desperately to nod her head yes, which the high stiff leather collar made impossible. Finally the woman motioned to the guards who lifted Angie to her feet.

Tears of relief clouded Angie's eyes. The woman waited a full five minutes until her prisoner's legs could clearly support her. "Remove her cuffs but leave her ankles shackled." When her wrists had been unfettered, Angie rubbed them distractedly while staring at the woman and waiting for her command. "Remove your blouse, and then the bra."

Angie understood the order and what it was meant to do. But just in case, the woman told her. "Your ordeal begins here. But of course I need you naked so Giorgi and I can reach your girl parts. I could have my two guys tear your clothes off but I would much rather you did it…voluntarily. There is something so erotic about watching a lovely girl strip herself naked, with her knowing she is doing it to help us, to make it easier for us to make her suffer unimaginable cruel tortures ."

When Angie did not move immediately she held up the controller and said, "Come now, my pretty, this thing works just as well with your hands free."

Angie moved her hands to her top button and began to slowly undo it, then paused. She couldn't do it. She couldn't obediently strip for them. An image of her standing naked before them, waiting to be dragged across the room to where chains waited to spread her open, spread her thighs wide so they could torture her pussy. She could never make it that easy for them.

"Move bitch," the woman snapped, once again brandishing the remote. Angie gritted her teeth and quickly reached up to tear the collar from her neck. It was a stupid act of defiance but she would die before she would help in her own torture. She clawed at the collar but couldn't even get her fingers between the leather and the flesh. She dropped her hands to her side and looked at the woman, who just stood there smiling, then slowly lifted the control and pointed it at Angie, enjoying the look of fear that passed over the young agent's face before she pressed the button.

One short blast; Angie screamed and collapsed. Then a longer one had her writhing on the floor in agony, the muscles in her throat constricted so she could not breathe, no less scream.

"Get up," the woman snapped at her. Angie managed to get to her hands and knees when her torturer hit the button again and once more had her thrashing about in spasms of pain.

When it stopped, Angie didn't have to be told, and struggled to her knees, her right elbow supporting her torso, her left arm raised palm up toward her tormentor in a gesture of supplication and surrender. When nothing happened Angie struggled to get her hands beneath her and push herself up to a kneeling position.

"Stop right there. I like you on your knees before me. Now off with that blouse." Angie finished the task of removing her blouse, and then the bra, leaving her naked to the waist but for the leather collar. The guards pulled her to her unsteady legs. The woman nodded toward Angie's skirt, and this time she had no thought of resisting. Moments later it was pooled about her ankles, leaving her nude but for her thong.

The woman sucked the air through her pursed lips producing a low whistle of approval. "Good," she said, and then making a circular motion with the remote, "Turn around." Angie obeyed, but kept looking over her shoulder apprehensively, afraid of what came next.

"Nice ass. Very very nice ass. I'm getting wet just thinking what I am going to do with it…and to it." Her laugh sounded more like a giggle. Angie moaned through her gag. "Now step out of that skirt and walk over to that bar."

The bar was a wooden pole set waist high on two adjustable stanchions. Angie did not like the looks of the device but the feel of the collar enveloping her neck moved her forward. She stopped a foot short. "Up against the bar, girlie." She advanced until her abdomen was pressed against the thick wood. "Now bend over it." Angie leaned forward at the hips, inclining her body at an angle over the bar. The woman brought the palm of her hand down smartly on Angie's firm buttock. "Get on your toes. I want you bent over the bar. If it's too high, get on your toes." Tears of anger and shame were now running down Angie's cheeks as she rose up on her toes and bent over the bar, holding her arms out in front of her for balance.

The two guards immediately seized her arms and pulled downward. The woman came in front of her and snapped the chain back onto her collar and then pulled it down until Angie's head was a good foot below her waist. She then locked it into a ring set in the floor. Even when the two goons let go of her wrists Angie was for all intents and purposes, helpless.

They left her like that for a few moments as the cruelly fettered girl grabbed at the chain and pulled at it, grunting in frustration and accomplishing nothing beyond hurting her imprisoned neck.

One of the guards tore her right hand from the chain and held it while the woman fastened a broad leather cuff around her wrist. Angie tried to fight them, swinging at them with her left arm, but with zero leverage, her flailing arm was easily pushed away. While this was going on, the other guard was unfastening the shackles that bound Angie's ankles. He then came around to grab Angie's free arm and held it while the woman fastened an identical cuff around that wrist and his partner held on to the other.

Both arms were now pulled straight back by the guards so they ran at a shallow angle out from her sides. With her body bent forward and her head forced up by the collar, the position of her arms made her look like a swimmer on the blocks in the ready position. The woman snapped a carabineer onto the ring on the left cuff then took a short chain and ran it through one of many holes spaced along the bar over which Angie was bent. Then she ran the chain to the carabineer and passed the open gate through two of the links and locked the chain in place. When she did the same with the right wrist, Angie's arms were pulled back painfully taut

The two guards had moved behind Angie and one of them started to pull her thong down her hips. A thought – really more of a subconscious imperative – told Angie she could not let them complete the job of stripping her and leave her totally naked and at their mercy. She kicked her legs frantically, her left heel striking the guard undressing her under the chin. Although little more than an annoying delay, the other guard seized her flailing feet by the ankles and held them while his partner finished dragging her thong down her legs. He then took her by the calves while the other guard finished denuding their prisoner, pulling the thong over her immobile feet.

Angie was now bent naked over the bar, her arms locked by the wrist to the bar and her neck stretched out before her by the chain that ran to her collar. Her bare feet were positioned next to each other, the soles arched, so her toes could reach the floor. With the gag filling her mouth the only way for her to get oxygen was to breathe through her nose; and as her struggles, as brief as they had been, had left her wheezing for air, this was hardly sufficient. She could put up no resistance when the guards took her ankles and pulled them out until they pressed against the uprights, spreading her legs wide and exposing her fully.

While the guards held her feet, the woman wrapped nylon filament five times around one of Angie's slim ankles, lashing it to the stanchion with the sole facing up. The woman then ran the loose end of the filament to Angie's large toe, looped it around the base and pulling it back to her ankle. Angie cried out in pain. The woman kept the filament taut, wrapped it around the stanchion and tied it off. The tension pulled the sole of Angie's foot back hard, flattening her arch. Far beyond the utility of binding her foot immovable, the forethought and precision of the act was frightening. The procedure was repeated with her other foot.

Now not only was she bound naked in the most humiliating posture she could think of, but the pain of her bondage began to ramp up immediately. There was no play in her body; not only was she stretched painfully taut, but with her legs so widely spread, her hips were having a hard time accommodating the difficult posture. And her head seemed to be crushing the vertebrae in her neck as it was bent back by her collar.

Angie heard the woman speaking on her phone. "She is ready for you…yes…yes… of course. My pleasure," and she gave a short laugh. Without another word she strode out the door, but not before patting Angie almost fondly between her legs, then softly caressing her labia. Angie could not stifle a groan.

One of the guards brought the palm of his hand hard against Angie's offered left buttock. She yelped in surprise and pain. It hurt much more than she would have thought a simple spanking would have any right to. Of course the way the shock reverberated through her tightly fixed body didn't help. The second smack on her other cheek hurt just as much, but half expecting it, Angie managed to hold back her cry. Worse than the pain was her awareness of the heat emanating from her backside and knowing that her firm ass was glowing brightly for the two goons' enjoyment.

Five minutes later the woman entered with Letnikov. For those five minutes Angie pulled at the chains that held her arms and neck but without much conviction. Escape was impossible and she knew it. Letnikov motioned to the guards and they silently stole from the room. If there was any disappointment at not being able to witness Angie's torture it did not show on their faces.

Letnikov was wearing a dressing gown and shower slippers. That there was nothing underneath his robe became evident when, after a few moments of examining the nude captive bound helplessly before him, his erection pushed aside the material and protruded alarmingly in front of her.

Angie had never seen a member of such prodigious size. Its length was partially hidden by the folds of his robe, but was obviously impressive. It was the girth, however, that made Angie moan at the thought of it being forced inside her. At the same moment she felt the woman's fingers rubbing her vagina with lubricant, first the labia, then deeper inside. Her first reaction was horror; her moment of truth was fast approaching. Then, oddly, there was a moment of relief. Hovering over her was the threat, what with her being bound with her hindquarters raised in open invitation, that Letnikov was going to take her anally, something that she had never allowed a lover to even entertain the thought of. It was an act that, for whatever reason, she found abominable and unthinkable.

That moment was brief indeed, for in the quiet of the chamber she could hear the rapid breathing of the woman. Clearly she was becoming aroused by her ministrations to Angie's pussy. That did not bode well for Angie, as there was little doubt that the woman was not going to be satisfied with watching the beautiful young girl merely raped. At some point Angie thought, she was going to want to participate in the prisoner's pain and debasement; which made it clear that Angie's ordeal was not going to end with her ravishment.

Letnikov had dropped his robe revealing a brutally solid body and an organ that matched his body in bulk and menace. He moved forward until his cock rubbed against Angie's lips. She tried to pull away, to turn her face from Letnikov's member, but the chain running from her collar made that impossible. The woman was now finger fucking Angie with three of her digits and Angie responded with a mad struggle against her bonds, but the filament and chains held her fast and at the mercy of her two captors.

"Anya," she heard Letnikov bark, "Enough. You will have our chance later, I assure you." The violation of Angie's pussy stopped immediately. "And you, my little chicken, how do you like my anxious friend? Have you ever seen anything so impressive?" Angie howled through her gag, resuming her hopeless struggles against her bonds. "Why don't you answer me? That is very impolite, you know. Oh how stupid of me." Letnikov released the valve in the inflatable gag and the air escaped with a hiss.

Angie coughed and wheezed when the gag was pulled from her mouth. "So," Letnikov smirked, "Tell me how much you are looking forward to me filling you up with…" Here he stopped, and instead of continuing with his speech, pushed his cock once more into Angie's face.

"Fuck you," she croaked, barely able to speak, and unable to move her face away from Letnikov's prick, the chain and collar making escape impossible. "Fuck you, you sick piece of shit."

Letnikov looked above Angie and held up two fingers. She tried to scream "no", at that moment remembering the woman, the remote and the terrible pain, but before she could get the word out of her mouth, her body went stiff and she lost control of any voluntary action.

Letnikov looked down at the quivering girl. "Are you sure you don't want to think about that answer?" Angie could do no more than moan in reply. "Never mind," he said, "I will have my fun with you in any case."

The fucking was brutal, long, painful and utterly humiliating. Despite the thorough greasing that the woman Anya had given Angie's pussy, it took Letnikov three or four vigorous probes to get his rigid outsized cock fully inside her. Once there, he started slamming Angie unmercifully, crashing into her buttocks and the back of her thighs with all his weight and strength.

It hurt. It hurt more than Angie could have imagined it would. Every time he slid out of her until only the tip of his penis remained inside, she grit her teeth in anticipation of the next agonizing thrust. She swore she would not give him the pleasure of knowing how much she suffered, but each time he pounded her she could not hold back a loud grunt that ended in a pathetic groan.

She did not realize how desperately she had been straining to free herself from the bonds that held her for the rape until she heard him shout at her, "That's it bitch, struggle. Squirm and struggle." And then he laughed, actually shook with laughter, and her humiliation was complete; she could not stop herself from sobbing and writhing beneath him.

Her manifest distress pushed his lust to a new level and his laughter was replaced with grunts as he pounded her faster and faster. She felt the thick wooden bar she was stretched over bend under his attack. Her hips were pushed almost to the point of dislocation as her long legs were held immobile by the nylon that lashed her ankles to the stanchions. As horrible as the debasement of being bound naked before her enemy and helpless to resist him using her pain for his pleasure, the agony of the rape grew to be worse. Despite her resolve she was crying out of control with each thrust, "Stop…Oh God stop…make it stop…"

When finally it was over, when she felt him discharge inside her, felt him soften and then slip away, felt the residue of his rape trickle down her thigh, both semen and blood, and more blood that she did not feel that oozed from her abraded ankles where the nylon had torn away the skin, her head slumped forward as much as the collar and bondage would allow.

Letnikov pulled his dressing gown around him, not bothering to clean himself, although he did consider for a moment wiping his dick in her hair. No, he thought, it will be much better using her mouth; and that would happen much sooner than he would have expected as he felt himself getting hard again at the sight of her delightful nude body, still shackled open and available for his use.

It was a few minutes before Angie had the strength to lift her eyes. She had stopped weeping and her distress had been in good part replaced by anger. She saw Letnikov and spit curses at him, calling him a pig and a pervert, until she saw his considerable cock rising between the margins of his robe. Oh God, she thought, he is going to rape me again.

It was then she saw Anya who stepped around in front of her. She had lost the rather nondescript dress she had been wearing and was now clothed in black leotards and a black bra. She was just finishing adjusting a foot long strap-on dildo. Set into the hard black rubber were uncountable evil looking chrome studs positioned around the shaft in a pattern that left less than an inch between any of the wicked looking nodes and its nearest neighbor. The head of the dildo had been replaced with a chrome ball wider than the diameter of the shaft. "Now for my turn at some fun," she cooed.

"Don't let her," Angie cried out to Letnikov, "It will tear me apart. She'll kill me."

"I don't think so," the large Russian said, "Be gentle with her, Anya." And he laughed.

The chains holding Angie's wrists rattled eerily as she pulled at them with all her strength. Her desperate struggle to tear her ankles free of their bonds and close her legs was no more fruitful. "NO! YOU CAN'T" she shrieked at her captors. They did not bother to answer.

As Angie strained against her bonds she kept crying out "NO. NO. NO." the single word over and over. She could move her wrists an inch but her ankles were fettered so tightly she could do no more than curl her toes. As their preparations for her final debasement moved forward her struggles became more and more frantic. Anya used a two-inch wide leather strap drawn tight over the small of Angie's back to fix her to the bar and press her belly hard against the smooth wood. Letnikov removed the broad collar from Angie's neck. He then twisted her long black hair together in a ponytail, fastened it tightly with a loop of binding twine, and ran the long end up to and around a pole that ran across the top of the stanchions. Carefully he pulled the rope taut. When the minimal slack in Angie's arms, pulled out behind her by her chained wrists, was taken up, her back began to slowly arch. Her voice dropped and her mantra changed to "Stop. Stop. Stop."

When Letnikov had pulled the rope taut to the point that Angie's back and throat formed a gentle arc and her breasts were almost parallel to the floor, he tied the binding twine off. He on the left and Anya on the right then took thicker lengths of rope and used them to pull Angie's thighs further apart. The rope was doubled up and the loose ends passed through the formed loop just above Angie's knees, then pulled tighter and tighter until their prisoner was crying out in pain. With one final tug the ropes were tied off to the stanchions. Next the process was repeated with the ropes circling Angie's thighs at her crotch, the line actually pressing against her labia. These were pulled as tight as possible so they dug deeply into the muscles of Angie's thighs until the young girl was gasping and moaning in pain.

Her two tormentors stood in front of their naked victim, enjoying the sight of her tightly roped body and the sound of her whimpering. Angie didn't see their wide grins. She only had eyes for the chrome knobbed dildo strapped to Anya's loins. When Anya began smearing the menacing instrument with petroleum jelly Angie let out a long wail which ended in a shuddering sob. She began to beg. "Please, please don't. Don't do this to me. I'm begging you. Have mercy. I beg you. Mercy. Mercy."

"You don't know the half of it sweetie," Anya purred. "This grease here has been," and she had to pause to think for just a moment, "infused," and again she paused, obviously proud of her English, "with juice pressed from the hottest chili peppers we could find. It's going to burn your insides like fire."

"No. No. You can't," Angie sobbed. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Letnikov disappeared behind the bound girl and reappeared holding a video camera that had been situated at Angie's rear filming every moment of her rape degradation. In the paused camera's screen she saw herself as her captors had secured her – her naked body bent over the bar, her firm buttocks lifted high, her back arched, her slim ankles lashed to the uprights spreading her legs wide and her tightly roped thighs opening her pussy.

She moaned and closed her eyes and her struggles ceased. She was helpless. There was nothing she could do to stop Anya from raping her, from pushing the horrid strap-on deep into her vagina, the chrome studs brutalizing her with every thrust, the hot pepper oil scorching her sensitive membrane. She was totally at their mercy. It was no use fighting them; she needed to conserve her strength to survive her upcoming torture. The only movement of her body was the result of her uncontrollable sobbing.

She felt Anya's hands on her buttocks. The dildo was between her legs, its rough shaft against her sex. She gasped and stiffened her body, waiting for it to penetrate her pussy. But it slid upward until Angie felt the cold lubricated head begin to probe her anus.

She didn't scream; not at first. She tried desperately to tighten her sphincter, to stop the offending shaft from entering her, but the ropes spreading her thighs and buttocks made that effort useless. She had never let a lover enter her there, had not even considered it, as she felt it totally demeaning. To be raped this way by a woman who was doing it to torment and torture her was beyond what she could bear. She felt the chrome bulb begin to squeeze into her anus. "Not this," she moaned, her voice little more than a whisper, "Oh God please not this."

There was a sucking sound as the large bulb penetrated her fully and her rectum closed around the shaft. Angie could not hear it over her own sobbing but Anya did. She giggled, withdrew the tip of the dildo, and then immediately pushed it back up Angie's anus. Her giggle turned into a full throated laugh, and she repeated the process three more times, never pushing the dildo in further than the head. Whether her laughter was prompted more by the sucking sound, or Angie's tormented wailing which grew in intensity with each entry of the swollen projection, is hard to say. But on the sixth thrust she didn't stop at the head and pushed the shaft six inches into Angie's ass.

Now Angie screamed. While the wailing and sobbing had been generated more by fear and humiliation, this scream was from pain. The thick black rubber dildo stretched her past any reasonable limit and the chrome studs dug into her colon, tearing at the sensitive membrane.

Anya grabbed hold of Angie's hips, drew back until only the head of the dildo remained inside the helpless girl, and then plunged forward violently, forcing the brutal shaft into Angie's ass until her hips rammed into her prisoner's buttocks. Angie shrieked out her pain once more.

Again Anya pulled out until only the tip of the brutal shaft remained inside her sphincter. Then with all the strength she could muster, using Angie's hips for leverage, she drove forward, until her pubis smashed into the helpless agent's buttocks again. Angie screamed, tried again to beg Anya to stop, but all she could get out was "No please n…" before Anya slammed into her once more.

Anya was no longer laughing as she speared Angie again and again, battering her with all the force she could muster. When she pulled back before each vicious thrust, blood could be seen coating the hard rubber and chrome of her weapon.

Now the chili oil began to do its work. Angie went wild, every muscle straining at the ropes and chains that held her at Anya's mercy. Her fingers splayed open then closed into tight fists. Her head shook back and forth at the end of her tethered hair. Scream after scream was ripped from her parched throat. But her tightly roped ankles and thighs were held immobile, spreading her wide for Anya's attack.

Angie's screams and struggles drove Anya's sadistic lust to higher and higher levels. Both women glistened with sweat, Anya from her peaking sexual excitement and Angie from her unrelenting agony. Finally Anya let out a scream of her own, her body shuddered and she leaned her weight forward onto Angie.

Angie hung motionless in her bonds; the only thing keeping her head from slumping onto her chest was the binding twine that held her long black hair. The anal rape was obviously over, at least for the moment, but Anya had not moved away from her wretched victim. The horrible burning had abated somewhat and now was a painful background to her overall misery. "Take it out," she moaned. Then she looked up at Letnikov and begged him, "Make her take it out. Please… please… make her take it out."

She did not see the ring gag Letnikov held in his right hand. With his left he squeezed her jaw until she screamed in pain, then pushed the steel circle into her mouth behind her teeth. The ring was large and forced Angie's jaws wide apart. Anya reached up and fastened the strap behind Angie's head. Even that small movement caused Angie to cry out in pain from the slight shift in the torturous shaft impaling her innards.

"I know that must hurt your mouth," Letnikov said, "But we had to make it big enough to accommodate my cock." He pushed his now erect penis at her mouth. The binding twine only allowed Angie's head perhaps twenty degrees of movement, but that was enough to turn her head so that Letnikov's member slid against her cheek. Without hurry or any sign of impatience he wrapped two of his sausage-thick fingers around her jaw and held her head steady.

In the moments before he entered her mouth, she didn't focus on how she was going to be sodomized against her will; what tore at her soul and caused her eyes to brim over with tears was her utter helplessness to resist him. In seconds he was going to be pushing his cock down her throat and she couldn't even close her mouth. Her limbs were useless, bound so tightly to the frame, and he could hold her head motionless with two fingers.

She tried to shake her head loose but found it impossible to move. Her pitiful moan of despair was stifled by his engorged member pushing into her mouth. Still she felt it necessary to cry out her protest, but what emerged was a pathetic gurgle.

At first Letnikov was content to feel the warmth of his captives mouth, only moving his prick back and forth a few inches. Only for a instant did Angie taste the foul mixture of his cum and sweat and her own juices, with such disgust she thought she was going to retch. At that moment Letnikov shoved his dick deep into her throat and she couldn't taste a thing.

Angie gagged on Letnikov's cock. She couldn't breathe. He pulled it back for a second and then drove it into the back of her throat, choking off her air before she had a chance to take even a shallow breath. He didn't pull out of her mouth but pushed in on her, his gut pressing on her face. She struggled desperately for air but to no avail. She tried to turn her head to pull away from his cock but Letnikov still held her by the hair. She was close to fainting when she felt Anya begin to withdraw the dildo from her ass. Then Letnikov pulled his still swollen penis out from her mouth and Angie gasped for oxygen.

Her relief was that of an oxygen deprived diver breaking the surface. "It's over," she thought, and she gulped down another lungful of air, but her ordeal was far from done. Three things happened in such rapid succession that they could have almost been simultaneous. With a vicious thrust Anya drove the strap-on deep into Angie's ass. Angie screamed. Letnikov drove his dick into Angie's mouth and down her throat.

Letnikov and Anya fell into a rhythm, alternating their thrusts into Angie's tortured rectum and mouth. The tormented girl could not even scream out her anguish as every second Letnikov's huge penis was not blocking her throat she spent gasping for air. Her body jerked back and forth between her two assailants, her movements out of her control. Finally Letnikov came into her throat and moments later Anya issued her second orgasmic cry.

The battered young agent hung in her bonds. Her eyes were closed, as she was either unwilling or unable to open them to see the two Russians gloating before her, glorying in their sexual release and in her abject misery. The residue of Letnikov's cum was discernible on her lips and on her tongue, the latter visible inside her mouth which still gaped wide, held open by the ring gag. Her breath was rapid and ragged as evinced by the panting noises coming from her mouth and the heaving of her bared breasts on her stretched rib cage. The muscles of her taut belly and thighs could be seen twitching beneath her naked flesh, and every few seconds her body shuddered uncontrollably, throwing off a fine mist of sweat that settled back on her nudity that glistened under the harsh lights.

She had ceased struggling against the ropes and chains that held her, not because her struggles were useless, but because her ordeal had sapped away her strength. She could no longer resist. They would do with her as they wished.

Letnikov slapped here across the face, not with full force but hard enough to hurt. Angie moaned and opened her eyes. "Well, that's that," she heard Anya say, "This one is beginning to bore me. What should we do with her?"

Letnikov smiled. "Oh, I trust you will come up with a good idea."

"I'm going to kill her. The only question is how. Nothing quick, of course. She doesn't deserve it. I need to think of something horrible to do to her."

Angie screamed. Her nightmare wasn't over. Not only was she going to die, but she was going to be slowly tortured to death for no other reason than to satisfy the twisted sexual desires of her female tormentor. She looked at Letnikov and tried to plead with him to stop the witch from having her way, but all that came through the gag were unintelligible gurgles.

Anya unbuckled the strap-on and held it in front of Angie. It was coated with the foul remnants of its trip into Angie's bowels plus the chili infused lubricant that had eased its entry into her anus.

"For starters," Anya smirked, "I think I'll push this thing down your throat. When you faint from lack of air I'll just pull it out until you come to and do it all over again. Or maybe I'll just leave it in there and watch you strangle to death. We'll see."

Despite the impossibility of escape from her bondage, Angie began to struggle wildly once again. Anya pushed the strap-on closer to her face and Angie turned her head away as far as she could, screaming "No! No! No!" through her gag. Just the thought of it touching her face was unthinkable and the thought of it being shoved down her throat made her stomach spasm and she managed to wretch up some clear liquid.

Anya grabbed her by the top of her head and held her steady. With her legs spread so wide apart and her ankles and thighs so tightly bound to the torture frame, all she could do was pull ineffectually at her wrist bindings. In a last desperate measure of resistance Angie tried to close her mouth around the ring gag. But when the pain of the metal digging into her palate and the floor of her mouth became too much to bear, she simply shrieked unintelligible pleas for mercy.

Then without a word but with a good deal of laughter, Anya moved away from her captive. Moments later Angie felt the straps holding the ring gag in her mouth loosen and fall away. She worked her jaw back and forth and then, looking up at Letnikov with a doleful cast to her eyes moaned "No more. Please, no more."

Letnikov looked down at her as though he were about to say something, then glanced over her shoulder. A second later Angie felt a line of fire burn across her buttocks.

Before she had a chance to scream, a second streak burned the back of her right thigh between knee and buttock. Before the third strike landed on her left thigh she heard the swish of the cane and started screaming before it landed.

Letnikov held up his right hand, signaling Anya to stop, or at least pause. "You obviously do not remember my short explanation not so long ago," he said to Angie. "You have been debased and I have been pleasured, but we have not gotten to the punishment part until now." He nodded to Anya who resumed Angie's brutal canning.

Anya lashed Angie's thighs and buttocks, her back and even her calves. The tortured agent's screams became croaks and whinnies as her vocal chords began to give out. She wanted to beg, to promise Anya she would do anything if she would only stop, but she couldn't get the words out from her burning throat. And then it did stop…

At first Angie barely felt it, the light rhythmic tapping on the bared sole of her right foot: it was hardly noticeable through the fiery pain that shredded every inch of her exposed skin. But still it continued, and whatever its purpose, she was grateful for the surcease in Anya's brutal caning.

The cane beat a steady tattoo, moving from her heel to the pad beneath her toes and then back down her arch. It began to hurt. Angie realized it had to be part of her torture, but compared to her lashing it was almost benign. Why? What was the purpose? It must be like the Chinese water torture, she thought, but instead of the constant drip… drip… drip between the eyes it would be the unrelenting tap… tap…tap on the sole that was meant to drive one mad.

Then it stopped, but only for a moment before the cane was landing on her other foot. The tempo was the same and so was the force – not hard but insistent. Angie's breath was coming faster, her hands clenched into fists. Any moment she knew the evil hag would bring down the cane with all her strength on her bare foot.

But she didn't. Anya moved back to the right foot. TAP…TAP…TAP like a metronome, but firmer than before. "What are you doing? What are you doing to me?" Angie cried out hoarsely. There was no answer, only the constant tapping of the cane on her sole, louder as Anya applied the bamboo with more force. Angie's toes curled and uncurled in time with the unrelenting beating of the cane on her foot. Anya switched feet again. Angie groaned. The pain was growing with each strike. She tried to pull her foot free from the filament that held it rigid and was met with a sharp pain running down her stretched large toe to the heel of her foot.

Angie's brain reeled. They had bound her feet for this torture from the very beginning. This was not just some whim of Anya's; the plan was from the very start that this was to be the culmination of her ordeal, the torture that would break her beyond salvation. How could this be more terrible than what she had already endured? What more did they have planned for her? Suddenly Angie was terrified.

The pain in Angie's feet seemed to grow exponentially with each new strike of the cane. Soon the tears were pouring down her cheeks as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her tormented soles were badly swollen and blood had begun to seep from the abraded skin. Words poured unbidden from her lips, "No. No. Oh God make it stop. No more…no more." She no longer had to wonder about the effectiveness of foot torture.

Anya was standing between Angie's widely spread legs; from there she could reach either one of the bound girl's bare feet without moving. She switched from the cane to a flexible lightweight leather slapjack. She had to be careful; too hard a blow could easily have broken bones in Angie's foot, something she was not ready to do.

But being careful was a long way from being merciful. The first blow with the sap literally took Angie's breath away. Her body went stiff, and her eyes opened wide with the horror that anything could hurt that much. It felt as though her right foot had literally exploded. The next stroke at the left foot sent Angie into a paroxysm of agony. The air burst from her lungs in scream made ragged by the hundred screams before that had left her throat raw. She pulled crazily at the bonds that held her helpless on the torture frame, not even feeling the additional pain this caused her.

Anya waited until Angie's body had ceased shaking before delivering the next stroke. While the first blow had fallen on the middle of Angie's bared right sole, this one landed on the soft pad and delicate toes above. Again she waited, savoring Angie's agony, before delivering the next.

She fell into a routine, alternating between Angie's feet and waiting between strikes for the poor girl's inevitable pleading. "Stop. I beg you stop. Have mercy. I beg you. I can't take anymore." Then with a laugh Anya would answer "Oh you can take a lot more." Or "Why do you beg? You know I'm not going to stop." Or "Such pretty feet. Are you ready for the next one?"

Finally, after a dozen strokes to each foot, Letnikov raised his hand and said in Russian, "Enough." Anya ignored him and snapped the weapon twice more on the top of Angie's waiting toes, and was rewarded with shrieks of pain.

"I am getting bored and I have things I need to do," Letnikov sighed. "Don't you think she's had enough for now?"

"How can you be bored when she is still shrieking and begging? You must be getting old Giorgi. Go if you wish but allow me to entertain her a bit longer."

Letnikov shrugged. "Just make sure she can still talk when you get done with her," and he turned and walked out of the torture room.

Angie heard none of this exchange, and wouldn't have understood it if she had as it was in Russian. She was still conscious, although barely, but so preoccupied with her pain that nothing else slipped into her cognizance. If she had seen Anya rubbing her hands with glee she probably would have fainted on the spot.

Anya moved to a thin fiberglass switch with which she continued to whip the tortured soles of Angie's feet. She wielded the slender flexible whip with all her strength, each strike on the already brutalized flesh bringing a spray of blood and an unholy shriek of agony. After the first few assaults with her new weapon on the young agent's bare feet, Anya stopped pausing between blows, preferring to watch the continuous writhing and struggling of her captive's nude body and hear her scream in pain than listen to her beg for mercy.

When two consecutive strikes brought no reaction from Angie, Anya pressed a button on her phone and within a minute the two guards appeared, with Letnikov right behind them. Anya had spent that short time listening to Angie's groans and running her hands over her captives naked skin, stopping a couple of times to lick the sweat off her fingers. By the time the guards walked through the door Anya could barely contain herself and was already rubbing her legs together.

"Take her away and put her in cell two, restrained," Letnikov said. The men immediately began releasing the semi-conscious girl from her bondage. Angie gave no sign she knew what was happening, or indeed if she was aware of anything, other than groans of pain every time her body was shifted or moved.

"Make her walk!" Anya said, the glee of thinking of what a torture it would be for Angie to take even one step on her damaged feet animating her voice. After a quick glance at Letnikov the guards ignored her and grabbed Angie underneath the arms and dragged the naked girl out of the room.

Angie came to in a state of confusion and panic. The back of her body pulsed with pain from her shoulders to the soles of her feet from her caning and the bastinado. Her pussy and asshole still ached from her rape and she could still taste Letnikov's cum in her mouth. It only took seconds for it all to come rushing back to her, including the terror – she was in the hands of the Russians, helpless and without hope.

But she was no longer bound to the torture frame. Her captors had tied her painfully to a pole near the back of her cell. She vaguely remembered struggling weakly and ineffectually as they pushed her back against the smooth wood. Her ankles were pulled behind the pole, crossed and lashed together, then pulled up until her heels touched the wood. A thick rope was then wound around her ankles and the pole, locking them in place and forcing all her weight onto her aching knees. Next came her wrists. They were pulled behind her on either side of the pole, tied together, and the long end of the rope pulled taut so her arms stretched back almost to the point of dislocating her shoulders. The rope was then fixed to a ring set in the wall, pressing her back hard against the pole. But they weren't done. A rope was passed through her lips and around the pole, and then around once more, the double thickness holding her head motionless against the wood and drawing blood from the corners of her mouth. Finally she was blindfolded by pressing patches of cloth against her eyes and binding them in place with a black cloth.

She tried, but only once, to test her bonds. It was obviously useless and it hurt too much to continue that exercise in frustration. So Angie waited motionless, moaning occasionally through her rope gag from the pain of her previous torture and her present bondage.

She tried not to think of what awaited her; there were many possibilities, but only one made sense - interrogation. She vaguely remembered Letnikov promising that to her, and why would anyone waste the opportunity of deep questioning with impunity a captured operative from a foreign nation? After interrogation, who knew? They could release her, trade her, keep her prisoner or kill her; the last option by far the most likely. She did not see the use in thinking about that, not with what she faced in the immediate future – interrogation under torture.

Would they break her? She had little doubt they would. She thought back to the ordeal she had already been through and how she had begged for mercy. If there had been critical information involved would she have traded it for an end to her torture? She didn't know. But she did know she would hold out for as long as she could. If she talked they would not need her anymore and there would be no reason for them to kill her, or even "give" her to someone like Anya for her sadistic pleasure. No, she would fight them as long as she could. And to do that she would have to hold onto her composure; panic would be a big step on the way to the Russians breaking her completely.

Angie's wakefulness faded in and out; one minute she would be totally aware of her present situation and the next wandering in some kind of deep fog. She was in the latter state when she felt the rope that filled her mouth removed. Her head slumped forward as the binding that held her head to the post was released. She was aware of hands at her feet, undoing the rope that bound them to the post. Finally her wrists were untied from the rings and she pitched forward, barely able to twist and avoid falling directly on her face.

The floor was cool on her naked skin, then the toe of a boot flipped her over onto her back and her arms were pulled over her head. While her wrists were being locked into manacles she managed to rasp through parched lips. "Take it off my eyes. Please. Let me see." The only answer was the snick of the hasp of the manacles. "Please. Where are you taking me?" She was lifted off the ground and stood on her feet, supported by the two guards, one on each side.

Angie was moaning in pain even though she was not putting weight on her tortured feet, the mere fact they were touching the floor enough to add to her torment. "Walk," one of the guards ordered.

"I…I can't. Too much pain."

Without another word one of the guards pressed a stun gun into Angie back at her left kidney. She shrieked in pain and went limp, conscious but unable to support herself, still held upright by her two captors. The guard waited a full minute for his prisoner to recover from the electric charge then pressed the gun into her back again without pushing the trigger. "Walk," he said.

Angie took a tentative and fearful step. As her brutalized foot bore her weight, pain shot up her leg and drew a sharp cry from her lips. The next step was worse and the one after even more so. By the sixth step she was sobbing uncontrollably. "My feet," she moaned, "I can't go on. The pain…oh God the pain." The guard's reply was to shove the stun gun into her back. She felt the prongs did into her flesh and she made herself take one more step and then another despite the fire that consumed her feet from heel to toe. Then one more which forced something that sounded like the growl of a big cat from her throat and she sagged between the guards, only their tight grip keeping her from sprawling onto the floor.

"No. Please. Let me go. Where are you taking me?" Angie's body swung from side to side as she was carried face up, one guard holding her ankles and the other her wrists. "Please. Let me go. They're going to torture me. Let me go. Help me. Don't let them torture me."

She heard a door open. And she screamed "Noooo!" She couldn't see but she could smell the odor of sweat, chemicals, fear and human pain. She was set down then pulled up to her knees. One of the guards held her by the nape of her neck as she knelt naked, bound hand and foot, in front of a tall casually dressed man. He said something in Russian and Angie was pulled to her feet. She cried out in pain as her injured feet took the weight of her body, and slumped over so that she had to be held upright.

Everything else took only two minutes. The manacles that held her wrists were undone and she was dragged backward a few feet. She was lifted into the air, and while one guard held her feet, the other guard and the tall man each strapped a wrist to an X-shaped table. That done, the ropes that tied her ankles were swiftly cut, her legs spread apart and her ankles strapped similarly to the bottom portion of the X.

The table upon which Angie was bound could be swiveled so that her body could be presented at any radii of a circle; vertical, upside down, face up or facing the ground, and anything in between. It was not exactly X-shaped. The arms of the X were angled so they met three inches above the small of her back and the legs of the table met three inches below her groin. This left a gap between the extensions that left her pussy exposed for torture, and once she had been turned face down, almost all of her back, buttocks and the back of her thighs. Her head rested on a padded board that ran between the two arm extensions, but was free to move.

The extensions were adjustable and had been set for Angie even before they laid her out on the table. Still they were pulled tighter once she was strapped down, stretching her body taut so her hips, belly and buttocks formed a tense bridge over the gap in the table. Inch wide straps were fastened over her knees and elbows, and thinner bands over her upper thighs and above her biceps. Finally narrow strips of leather were tightened around her waist, below her ribs and above her breasts, pinning her helplessly to the table.

For the first time since being dragged from her cell, she did not feel hands on her body. Angie had not struggled while she was being bound to the torture table. She wanted to; she did not want to go meekly to her coming ordeal, but being blind repressed even that meager resistance. How could she fight what she could not see? But now that the preparations for her interrogation were completed she tested her restraints. She couldn't move. Outside of her fingers and toes the only part of her body that was not tightly restrained was her head. The macabre thought pushed its way into her brain that she wouldn't even be able to writhe in pain once her torture began, but she would be able to throw her head from side to side while she screamed.

But even the luxury of screaming out her pain under torture was immediately denied Angie as her jaw was seized and a large rubber gag more or less shaped like a dog's bone was forced between her lips and its strap fastened behind her head. Then, as if in compensation for losing the power of speech her blindfold was removed.

A man hovered over her, dressed casually and rather handsome. He looked down on her and smiled. "Tell me Angie, is it very disconcerting to be lying on your back, spread-out and strapped down naked and helpless, looking up at a man who is going to hurt you in ways you cannot imagine."

Angie craned her neck upward and made loud unintelligible, but obviously agitated noises around her gag.

"Now you see Angie, your helplessness even extends to the inability of being understood. There is nothing you can do – or say – to stop what is going to happen to you. You cannot beg, or promise, or give up all the information you have stored in that pretty little head of yours. I imagine that is quite frustrating, knowing your only option is unlimited suffering."

Angie screamed at him. The gag made it impossible to tell if it was a scream of hatred or fear or a combination of both.

"Actually unlimited suffering is not the proper expression. You will be given a chance to limit your suffering when I think you have reached the limit of your capacity, physically or mentally, to withstand any more torture. That chance will consist of divulging all that aforementioned information. If you are one quarter as intelligent as you are beautiful, you will jump at the opportunity."

The only way to tell Angie was struggling against her bonds was by watching her muscles flex under her skin or noting how her breasts rose and fell on her ribcage and listen to her rapid shallow panting. Her long slender limbs remained motionless.

"I think you should know that pain is only one component, albeit the major one, of torture. For one, there is the anticipation of the pain, which brings us to an interesting quandary. For example, there is little doubt that electricity properly applied, say to the genitalia, is gruesomely painful. However, unless one has previously been subjected to electro torture, it is impossible to describe the suffering. Compare this with vivisection which is not nearly as efficient as a source of pain. However, picture the poor damsel strapped down much as you are, watching her interrogator sharpening scalpels and selecting drill bits… somewhat more worrisome wouldn't you say?"

He had Angie's full attention. Here is where she found out what her immediate future held in store. She stared up at him, her eyes riveted to his face. She had unconsciously sucked in her breath and was holding her lungs full.

"Fortunately I have an answer. Acid."

The air in Angie's lungs exploded in a scream that her gag did little to stifle. There was no interpretation needed. It was a scream of terror.

"You see? And we have not yet even started the demonstration. That is why you are bound so strictly. A certain amount of precision is required in the application of the acid, so we can't have you squirming around. Since your head is not restrained, you can believe your face is not going to be a target, at least initially."

He grasped a lever at the side of table and two seconds later Angie was upright, still bound to the X-frame, but now perpendicular to the floor.

"Allow me to introduce Boris. Boris is not his real name but I think it fits him. Boris will be the one actually working on you. I will just watch and offer suggestions from time to time, and decide when you have had enough pain for me to trust your answers. Boris speaks no English."

Boris was a foot shorter than Angie's interrogator. Perched between his shoulders was a head that appeared perfectly round and would have seemed large on a man twice his size. He wore large round metal rimmed glasses that magnified his rheumy eyes. His bizarre appearance was topped off by a beret which he wore pulled down on his pate and a lab coat that was filthy with brown and red stains. He wore rubber gloves and a surgeon's mask hung around his neck. While to a disinterested observer he would have appeared comical, to Angie he was terrifying.

"I know I don't need to explain what acid will do to your soft skin. Your scream told me that. But allow Boris to demonstrate on something a bit more substantial than human flesh." He nodded to Boris, who pushed a two-tiered shelved table on wheels five feet in front of her. On the bottom shelf was a collection of bottles, vials and other glass containers. Boris took a round covered glass dish from the bottom shelf and placed on the top. Angie could see there was about two inches of liquid in the container. She had no doubt what it was. Next he picked up glass tongs with his right hand and took a dull gray metal disk three inches in diameter from his pocket with his left. He grasped the disk with the tongs and pulled the surgical mask over his nose. He removed the cover from the glass dish. Only then did he look at Angie. Her gaze moved back and forth between his face and the tongs that held the metal disk. Her eyes showed her fear; his eyes showed his smile.

He dipped the disk into the dish so it was covered by the liquid, and held it there for only a second. When he removed it, it emitted a vapor that rose into the air with a hiss. Angie watched in horror as the disk began to liquefy, the acid leaving a bubbling skin on the once smooth disk as it dissolved. Her strict bondage reduced Angie's struggles to a pathetic squirming as the shreds that were all that remained of the disk slipped from the tongs into the dish.

Boris said something in Russian as he removed the surgical mask. The interrogator translated: "Time to get to work."

The interrogator pulled the lever at the side of the table and a second later Angie was flat on her back. In spite of the speed with which she was thrown back, the process was more unnerving than disorienting. It forced the state of her total helplessness upon her; just as they moved her around like a piece of furniture they could do whatever they wished with her naked body.

Angie craned her neck and twisted her head, trying to keep her interrogator and Boris in sight. Then Boris was standing over her, holding what looked like a very large eyedropper in his hand. He patted the inside of her thigh about half-way between her knee and her groin. She screamed and shook her head violently from side to side. Boris did nothing but gently stroke her thigh where he was going to administer the first drops of acid. She heard the interrogators voice near her shoulder. "Boris likes to draw things out, prolong his enjoyment of your terror before he thrills to your pain."

Her head swung toward his voice and lifted up toward his face. She screamed at him through her gag, trying to beg him to stop the troll. His hand was on the bare skin on the inside of her thigh; what would the acid that had melted metal do that soft flesh? He looked down at her and moved his head once slowly from side to side. He could not have possibly understood a word she had yelled to him, but it would have been obvious to anyone that the gist was a desperate plea not to start her torture.

"It is all necessary. You must suffer, suffer deeply, so you will know what waits for you if you do not cooperate."

Angie didn't feel the hypodermic needle pierce her flesh. After the interrogator had injected her, he held the needle up where she could see it. "This will keep you awake through the pain." Angie shook her head violently from side to side.

"Anya told me you were brutally whipped and assaulted, and still refused to talk. I admire you're bravery if not your sense of self preservation. So now you will be truly tortured, tortured to the edge of insanity. That is the only way I can be sure I am getting the truth from your lips."

"It's not true," she wanted to scream. "She just wants you to hurt me more, to torture me for her own sick reasons." But of course the gag that filled her mouth would frustrate any attempt to speak, so Angie could do nothing but weep.

Then from the other side she heard that voice, Anya's voice. "Now we will see just how brave you truly are," she said with a smile and took Angie's head in both her hands and turned it so she could watch the first drop of acid fall to her thigh.

In the time it took for the drop to descend, another was already on its way behind it and a third starting to form at the opening of the glass tube. Angie watched in terror, silently, eyes wide, not straining at the straps that pinned her to the table, paralyzed with fear.

There was the fraction of a second between the acid touching her thigh and the message of pain reaching her spinal column and finally her brain. Then Angie's stasis exploded into a shrill scream and a violent struggle against the binding straps.

Angie was still thrashing around the best she could in her tight bondage – not in an attempt to escape, but in a somatic reflex to the horrible pain – when Boris placed his hand on her belly. Anya tilted Angie's head back so the helpless girl had to stare into her eyes. "Did that hurt dear-heart? Was that worse than the cane?" She then pushed her head forward as far as she could so Angie stared down at the hand of her tormentor exploring her stomach, looking for the best place to continue her acid torture. She managed to twist her head free from Anya's grasp and her eyes found the interrogator's. Her voice could be heard through her gag, not screaming, but begging with indecipherable words cried out between her sobs of pain and terror.

Angie felt Boris's hand at her navel start to slowly slide down until it touched the juncture of her lips. The girl's head snapped back to stare down her body. When the hand lingered there for a moment and probed between her lips she gasped in fear, her total helplessness overwhelming, her inability to stop or even delay the horrible ruin of her pussy . Then Boris's hand moved up and settled on a spot midway between her sex and her navel.

When Boris had demonstrated the power of the acid on the metal disk, how it literally disintegrated before her eyes, besides the agony she knew she would feel, how that corrosive agent would scar and mutilate her soft skin was uppermost in her mind. Now with the pain from her thigh still stabbing at her with only slightly diminished fury, only the thought of the agony that would pierce her belly remained. She didn't think she would be able to stand another dose of acid, but there was no way she could stop it.

When it fell, two drops this time, Angie thought it would burn right through her belly. Her body convulsed, went rigid and shuddered. She tried to scream but the pain had stolen her breath. Gasping for air she managed to lift her head to stare down between her heaving breasts, afraid of what she would see but compelled to look. There were two circular wounds, red flesh no more than the diameter of a quarter that seemed to bubble upward, horrible defacements on her beautiful soft skin.

Even before her head fell back to the torture table, Boris was moving his hand over her body, stroking her sides, playing with her breasts, softly circling her nipples, reminding Angie there was no place he could not reach with his acid and bound as she was, she was helpless to stop him. Her face turned to her right side, tears running down her cheeks as she sobbed into her gag.

"Having fun yet?" Anya whispered. He selected her left armpit, letting the acid drip into the delicate scoop of her flesh, three, four, five drops, pooling in the deep hollow for a fraction of a second before eating its way into that tender morsel. Now Angie found the breath to scream.

"Shhh. Shhh," Anya cooed at her helpless captive, "Save your strength. We have only just begun."

For the next half hour Boris drew out her ordeal by spending long minutes stroking her nudity, pausing at the most delicate areas of her tightly restricted body, letting her anticipate the ungodly pain that the acid would bring, before moving on. Finally he would stop and pat her gently on the portion of her anatomy he had selected to next feel the fire of the acid.

He stood between her outstretched arms looking down on her spread-eagled body and let one drop fall in the crook of her left elbow, then quickly in the crook of her right. From there he moved to her breasts, her pubic mound, the crease of muscle and tendon where thigh met hip, then down to an inch from her pussy on that same crease.

Angie's body pulsated with the agony of her torture. She was in constant motion, squirming and twisting in the straps that bound her to the torture table, her bondage now allowing for movement, however slight. It was not that her fetters had loosened – they hadn't – but her insane struggles had stretched her sinews. Her writhing was totally uncontrollable, driven by pain and desperation, as were her screams.

Anya seized her head again and held it steady. "Watching your naked body writhing in pain is making me hot. I can't wait till Boris uses the acid on your pussy." Angie shrieked in anguish and redoubled her efforts to tear herself free from the leather straps. "Oh God how I love to watch you struggle. You can't help it, can you? Even though you know it is useless. Even though you know how much pleasure it gives me."

Boris let the acid fall onto her navel, six drops, spacing them out seconds apart. Angie was screaming at them to stop, screaming she would do anything they wanted if they would only stop her torture. "I'll talk!" she shrieked. "I'll tell you everything! Just stop! Just stop!" In her mindless desperation to escape the torture table, to stop the mind destroying pain, Angie was oblivious to the gag crammed between her lips. In her pain addled brain they could hear her total surrender, but of course the torture did not stop.

They strapped Angie's head down and then swung the torture table up and over until Angie felt herself, still spread-eagled, but now facing the floor. This simple act ratcheted up her terror and feeling of helplessness to a new level: how easily they moved her, positioning her tightly bound and naked body for new torture. And there was nothing she could do to stop or even delay them from painting new pictures of pain on the fresh canvas of her back and buttocks.

Angie could nothing but wait and weep, staring down and seeing nothing but the immaculately clean floor. With the new strap holding her head she couldn't even shake it in denial. So she waited for what seemed forever for the first drop to fall.

They started with her feet. Boris tilted the torture table until Angie was at a 60 degree angle with her head facing the floor. This left the soles of her feet facing upward, and her unable to see anything but the shoes of her torturers .

"You know how much I love playing with your feet," Anya purred. "I think now I will get another chance."

Boris sneered at her, obviously not fond of her insinuating herself into his well-practiced technique of torturing helpless beauties, but replied, "If you wish, I'll let you help. Spread her two smallest toes; we'll start with the delicate webbing between them."

Angie felt Anya's fingers on the small and fourth toes of her left foot, spreading the two as far apart as possible. Anya turned to Boris. "If one drop as much as brushes a finger I'll see to it you replace this one on the table." He snorted at her in derision, tempted to intentionally let the acid burn a digit or two, but let the impulse pass; he would much rather see, he reasoned, his stunning captive bucking against her bonds and screaming into her gag.

And scream and buck she did as the corrosive liquid burned her flesh. Angie didn't know whether the nerves In her toes were more sensitive, or if it was the accretion of this pain on top of the agony she had already endured that made her new torture more excruciating than the old. In fact, that question never entered her mind. The horrifying pain she was suffering made rational thought impossible. Even though she had to know that escape from the torture table was impossible, she struggled with all her strength against the straps that bound her to the insidious device. And even though her gag made her speech unintelligible, each time she felt Anya's fingers spreading two new toes apart, she begged for mercy and screamed for Anya to stop.

After her torturer had dripped the acid between each of her ten toes he started on the soles of her bare feet, dripping the caustic liquid drop by drop in a thin line from the pad beneath her toes to the top of her heel. He worked slowly, drawing out Angie's suffering as long as possible.

The agony finally became too much for the poor girl, and after the second line of acid had traveled down the sole of her foot she fainted. But she was not to get even a minute's respite from her torment. Not wanting to chance what another shot of stimulant might do to her heart, the interrogator revived her with an ammonia capsule, and her torture went on.

Angie did not faint again. Four more times the acid was dripped in a thin line down the soles of her bare feet while she screamed into her gag and strained against her bindings. With all her strength she tried to pull her feet free or even just twist them away from the torturing acid. It was no use. The broad leather straps held her ankles motionless. Her struggles were useless.

She was helpless. They didn't care if she talked. She was ready to tell them everything, anything, to stop the mind destroying agony, but they kept her gagged. She knew that even if she did do what they wanted, she was going to be slowly tortured to death.

In confirmation of her fears, she felt the torture table move again, this time positioning her body perpendicular to the floor, her head still at the bottom of the column that was her nude body, her long black hair brushing the floor. Anya's Nike trainers inches from her face filled her restricted vision. She felt the Russian's hands on her hips, just resting there, but Angie knew they would soon move up between her thighs, and she strained hopelessly trying to close her legs, held so painfully wide, baring her pussy to Anya for the most horrible and obscene torture she could imagine.

Anya's fingers slowly slid across the front of Angie's thighs, then up to her pubic mound, lingered there before moving leisurely down again, her nails brushing against the lips of Angie's vagina as her fingers glided unhurriedly, light as a feather against the soft flesh of Angie's wide-spread inner thighs until they touched her knees. There they reversed their path and started back up toward her sex, the tips of Anya's fingers meandering against Angie's sensitive skin, in gentle circles as they made their way toward her open pussy, the touch more of a lover's than a torturer's.

Angie moaned into her gag. Despite the throbbing pain still emanating from the acid burns that dotted her body, she was becoming aroused. The irony of that did not enter her mind; what did was that succumbing to the overtly sexual ministrations might offer a way of escaping more torture. Anya's fingers found her labia and gently spread them apart. Angie was pulling at her restraints, her naked body no longer reacting to pain but trying to arch toward the pleasure giving caresses. She felt Anya's breath warm on her pussy as her tormentor's face dipped between her thighs, the tongue seeking her clit, and Angie stiffened on the verge of her orgasm.

Timing it to perfection, Anya's fingernails dug into Angie lips and pulled sharply, drawing spots of blood and a scream from Angie's mouth, barely muffled by her gag, not of pleasure but of pain. Another scream as Anya's sharp nails dug in deeper, one hand releasing its target to squeeze and stab Angie's clit.

When she stopped screaming and slipped into a state of sobbing and moaning, the torture table was spun upright so she hung perpendicular to the floor, motionless and bathed in sweat. She felt the gag removed from her mouth and when she opened her eyes she was looking into those of her interrogator, not Anya's.

"Please. I beg you. No more. No acid. Not my pussy. I'll talk. I'll tell you everything."

She did. Before the questions began she was again blindfolded. For the next four hours she was kept bound to the torture table even though she answered every question as fully and honestly as she could. All through the interrogation she begged to be released, or at least have the blindfold removed, promising to continue her cooperation. Her interrogator replied each time to her pleas with the same statement, "Shut up and answer my questions."

"Just don't let her near me," she sobbed. "I'll do whatever you want, just keep her away."

She didn't know it but Anya had left the chamber. The interrogator had waved his hand at her, silently directing her to the door. There was no reason she should be permitted to hear Angie's revelations. She didn't care. It was obvious that her beautiful captive was broken and there would be no more torture.

After that initial session Angie was unstrapped from the torture table and taken back to a cell. She wasn't restrained, was given a simple shift to wear, and treated humanely. She was taken from her cell and questioned three times daily, three hours each session. They sat her in a metal chair and cuffed her wrists behind her back, through the bars that made up the back of the chair. This was the only way she was restrained.

On the fourth day she was told to strip off her prison smock before she was taken from the cell. She did, her heartbeat increasing rapidly. "Why?" she asked the guards in growing panic. The only reply was, "Hands behind your back."

One guard zip tied her wrists together, first positioning them palms out. They were not using cuffs, this was different; Angie was not being bound in a manner that would allow for a simple release. "What are you doing?" she stammered.

"Feet together." When she hesitated, the guard in charge barked at her, "Now!"

Angie's ankles were zip tied as well and she was immediately thrown over the guards shoulder and carried out the door of her cell. "Where are you taking me?" she moaned, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. The only answer was the sound of the guard's shoes as she was carried down the hall.

The room she was brought to looked more like a storage room than anything else. A seven foot long table, one chair and some boxes and crates. Angie was dumped on her back onto the table and immediately the two guards went to work binding her with broad web belts. The first went around her knees to keep them straight, being wide enough so that when tightened she could not bend her knees. The second went around her waist, locking her arms firmly to her body. It took the two of them to manage this; one to hold her off the table while the second circled her body with and then tightened the belt. The webbing abraded the soft skin on her belly. "What are you doing to me? Why are you doing this?"

Angie was helpless, there was no way to fight them, or even struggle, as they finished binding her. A belt went across her elbows and was fastened just below her breasts. A strap was cinched around her ankles over the zip tie. A leather belt with a ring at the front circled her waist resting on her hips. A collar like the one that had been fitted to her at the start of the ordeal minus the electroshock device was buckled around her neck. A chain was run from the ring on the back of the collar, down her spine through the cleavage of her buttocks and between her legs, where it was pulled up so it sawed between her pussy lips, drawing a wail of pain from Angie as it was yanked tight and fastened to the belt. Now any movement upward of her head would pull the chain cruelly into her pussy. She was secured and immobilized.

She was pulled to her feet. One of the guards held her upright while the other pulled over the lower half of a solid wooded crate. It was six feet long and a couple of feet wide and the same in depth. Inside it was well padded. Angie knew she was going in there, she just didn't know why.

Inside the crate was what looked like rubber mask that would cover the lower half of her face. A black tube about an inch in diameter and three feet long ran through the position where a mouth would normally be. The back half of the mask was a set of straps. The second guard started to push it onto Angie's face. She twisted her head trying to avoid it. "Stop fighting it. This is for your own good unless you want to suffocate. Besides you know we'll get it on you anyway."

Angie relented. There was no sense in resisting the inevitable. She began to weep. The air tube was screwed into a hole in the side of the crate. Then the guards covered her in a layer of packing pillows from head to toe. The pillow on her face immediately raised her feeling of claustrophobia and her weeping turned to sobs. She turned her head to the side which gave her a small amount of relief. The material above and below her naked body clung uncomfortably to her sweat-soaked skin.

Before they sealed her in her traveling coffin, the lead guard leaned over her. "As you probably have figured out, we are packing you for a trip. I'll give you a hint to the destination – it's a capital in Europe over 4,000 miles from here and when your box is opened you will undoubtedly be greeted by someone who will be very happy to see you but I think not the other way around."