It was fairly easy when I was young as I wasn't really noticed. I found that when sitting on the floor I could often see up the skirts of my Mother's friends, some of whom were quite attractive despite being what I thought of then as old. When my older sister's friends came round I would try to be standing at the bottom of the stairs when they went up to her bedroom. But the richest source was at school. The sixth formers were the ones that were most interesting, but as they were allowed to wear ordinary clothes they were often in jeans. Sometimes I might glimpse a flash of their panties that had ridden up above the waistband, but that was never as exciting as seeing up a skirt. There was nothing more erotic than seeing beautiful legs leading up to brief panties.

The girls in my year were a better source of material. They would often be running and jumping about so a flash was very common. Sometimes the more adventurous ones would just lift their skirts as part of a dare, or to be provocative, but the consensual exposing of underwear didn't do anything for me. Some of the more forward boys would often just lift a girl's skirt up against her will, and that was much more interesting. I started keeping a record in a secret book at home of which girls panties I'd seen, and what color. A bit like collecting football stickers. It was a real thrill to be able to add a new girl's name to the list, or different color panties I hadn't seen before.

When video recorders became available I was interested in filming, but the early ones were so big it was difficult to do it secretly. I started dating girls and having sex, but upskirting remained my obsession. I would try to take secret photos up the skirts of my girlfriends, and when we had sex it would be these I was thinking about. I know it seems ludicrous, as the girl was naked and I was inside her but the most exciting thing was seeing her panties under her skirt. One of my early girlfriends found some pictures, and we had a massive argument about it. She couldn't understand why I needed to do it secretly, when she would have willingly let me look up her skirt. She just didn't get it. I didn't either, really, I just knew that was how it had to be. We broke up soon afterwards, and after that I was very careful not to leave any evidence around.

I went to university and did a computer sciences degree. My life continued on without any real aim. Girlfriends came and went, I did a few dull jobs. Meantime technology was moving on at a rapid rate. Video recorders got smaller and smaller, mobile phones and then smart phones arrived. I could now take HD quality films with very small devices. With my computer degree I had a very good understanding of how they worked, and I was able to manipulate video files in many ways to get the results I wanted. I also wrote numerous apps for phones and tablets. Most of these came to nothing, but then I had one which was basically just a moronic game that became incredibly popular. I add monetized features and in a ridiculously short period of time I had earned a significant amount of money. This gave me the freedom to work as and when I pleased, and I devoted a lot of time to perfecting my hobby.

I found a camera that was tiny and recorded ultra HD in low light. There was a metro station near me that featured a very long escalator from one of the deeper train lines. If I was positioned behind a girl on this, as she was higher than me on the steps above, it was fairly easy to film up her skirt. In fact I discovered you could lift her skirt up to give completely unobstructed access to her panties. This sounds impossible, but it was remarkably easy. There was a fair amount of wind blowing along the tunnels, so her skirt would naturally be moving around. So long as you were careful, and perhaps moved her skirt around a bit first so she thought it was just the breeze, you could lift it quite high without her even noticing. It always amazed me that nobody around me noticed, or at least never said anything, but they were often staring at their phones. I couldn't tell what I was actually filming until I got home and loaded it onto my computer, but I became pretty proficient so that I hardly ever failed to get some good shots.

I recognized a lot of the same girls and soon had a collection of them wearing all sorts of different styles and colors of panties. Sometimes I'd film a girl wearing nothing under her skirt, usually longer ones that came down well below her knees but with a careful lift it didn't stop me filming underneath. Rather perversely though, I didn't really get any enjoyment from these. Seeing a naked pussy seemed like a cheat, almost as if she wanted me to see it. Panties that had ridden up so you got a glimpse of her pussy lips or some stray pubic hairs were great, but total nakedness not. I had thousands of videos, and posted a few to websites, but I was inundated with comments from people not believing they were real. They thought it was impossible to lift a girl's skirt and film underneath while on a busy escalator without her noticing. She must be in on it. I had no time for this so I stopped sharing them – their loss.

Everything carried on like this until one day, while on my favorite platform and scoping out who to film next, I saw her. She was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen. If I had designed my perfect woman she was it – I wouldn't have changed anything. She was tall and slim, dark hair that cascaded across her shoulders. Her face shone with intelligence, makeup subtle but perfect. Her figure was also superb, long legs, toned calves, breasts a nice size (I've never liked massive tits). She was wearing shoes with heels, nothing slutty, but they showed off her legs to perfection. Her skirt was knee length and slightly loose, so it would be possible to lift it. I had to get a film up her skirt, more than I'd ever wanted to before. I followed her down the platform to the escalators, but I was unable to get behind her. You had to be quite forceful to make sure you got the right position, but of course you couldn't be too aggressive or it attracted attention and made any upskirt activity very difficult. It was incredibly frustrating.

I came back the following day at the same time to try and see her again. And there she was looking as perfect as before. And again I couldn't get positioned. It hardly ever happened that I couldn't get the shot I wanted. And this was twice in two days. For the girl of my dreams. I couldn't believe it. The third day I had more luck. She was wearing a black dress which was again down to her knees. She stood on the escalator and I was behind her two steps down. The camera was running, and I carefully grasped the hem of her skirt. I swished it gently and she reached behind her with her left hand and smoothed it down. I let go and let her, waiting until she moved her hand back down to her side. My heart was thumping as I grasped the hem again and slowly lifted it. This time she didn't seem to notice. I moved the camera around, making sure I would capture everything in as much detail as possible. The ride up the escalator took a long time, and I didn't have to stop filming until we were right at the top.

She walked through the barriers, and I headed back down the escalator to get the train home. I was desperate to see the film and I almost ran the whole way. Once safely ensconced in my room, I loaded the film onto my computer and started watching it. It started like all my films, following the girl and getting a full body shot of her from behind. She looked fantastic. Once on the escalator I filmed her feet which were clad in black open toed sandals, with a heel but not too high. The camera tracked up her legs, perfectly shaped calves to the hem of her skirt at her knees. My hand reached out and grasped the bottom of her skirt and started raising it. The scenario played out in front of me just as I remembered it, her hand smoothing her skirt down and me lifting it again. And then the camera was under her skirt. Her legs were incredible, thighs firm and trim, going on for ever. At the top was the most perfect ass, not a hint of fat, muscled buttocks cupped by her white panties which had ridden up slightly.

But although this should have been the most exciting thing I'd ever seen – the panties of the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen – that wasn't what made my jaw drop. It was the raised red lines that covered the backs of her thighs and ass. I stopped the film and stared at the crystal clear still. I'd seen plenty of porn over the years, a lot of spanking ones as they were a good source of upskirts and panties, and I recognized the marks of a caning. I traced each one, as it started on her left buttock, disappeared under her white panties, and appeared on her right buttock, or crossed from her left thigh to the right. I tried to count them, but there were so many, and they criss-crossed each other, it was difficult. At least 25, probably more. This was way more severe than a traditional six of the best. I watched the film several times. I wondered what had happened. Who had done this to her? Had she been bent over a chair, skirt raised and panties round her knees, as a man had thrashed her repeatedly with a cane? Had she cried, and begged, and pleaded with him to stop? It didn't take long before I was spurting into a tissue.

I watched the film numerous times during the evening. And the more I thought about her crying in pain as her buttocks were striped, the more I decided that I had to know more about her. So the following day I was at the station again, and when she appeared I followed her. This time I didn't film her as I didn't want to risk being caught. As I watched her buttocks moving under her skirt it made me hard thinking about the stripes that covered them. She left the station and walked about half a mile to a large office building. I followed her in, and watched as she went through the barriers using a pass to open them. She got into an elevator and vanished. There was a large board on the wall with the names of a lot of companies and which floor they were on. There was a receptionist at a desk that visitors were talking to, and next to that was a security guard watching a screen. I moved over to stand near him and I could see that as each person presented their pass to the barrier a picture of them appeared on his screen along with their name. Bingo.

The following day I waited for her again, and this time went ahead of her on the opposite side of the street so I would arrive at the office building slightly before her. I went into the foyer and when I saw her coming through the main door moved so I could see the screen being monitored by the security guard. She presented her pass and a picture of her flashed up with her name – Louise Menzies. That was all I needed.

Back at my house I got straight onto my computer and started a search for her. It didn't take long to find a Facebook account. There wasn't much on it. There was no mention of a husband or boyfriend. She was 28. I was able to hack a bit further and find that the last time she logged on was yesterday. I also found a lot of private messages. These were quite strange. For example, one was a conversation with someone about whether a hedgehog was available, another about stinging nettles and whether there were a lot in her garden. Very odd.

I watched the film of her again and as I raised her skirt and her panties and caned buttocks came into view I decided I would send her a message. I didn't know what to expect, but this was the girl of my dreams who had had her buttocks thrashed, so I needed to find out more. I signed into a secure VPN so that my IP was hidden, set up a dummy email address and messaged her:

"Looks like you've been a naughty girl who's had her bottom spanked."

Pretty lame, but I couldn't think of anything better. It was very unlikely she would reply, but maybe she was the kind of woman who liked strange men to beat her – I knew some women did. Unlikely, but you never know.

It was about an hour later when my computer pinged and a new message arrived in my inbox. It was a reply to my email. I couldn't believe it. I was almost shaking as I opened it to see what she'd replied.

"Has my whore been showing you her arse?"

I stared at it. This wasn't anything I'd expected. I hoped it might be something flirty, but thought more likely it would be fuck off. This sounded like it had come from a third person. I checked and double checked to make sure my IP was hidden, and replied.

"Who are you?" I typed.

Almost immediately a response arrived.

"I'm the person who makes sure my cunt knows her place. Who are you and how do you know she's got a smacked arse?"

I wasn't really sure what to reply. This was most peculiar. Satisfied that my anonymity was safe I decided to be more forward.

"I've got a clear film up her skirt." "Show me."

I sent the film. Shortly he replied.

"That's good quality. But I'm going to have to seriously punish the stupid whore for allowing that to happen."

And then shortly afterwards "Why don't you come round to our house tomorrow night."

This was taking a strange turn. "What for?"

"I think someone who likes looking up a woman's skirt might appreciate what I can offer."

He gave me his address and told me to be there at 8. Every cell in my body was saying it's a trap of some kind and not to get involved. But watching the film of Louise a few more times, and spurting a few times as well, convinced me to risk it.

The following day I went to the station but she didn't appear. Back at home I checked out the address. It seemed to be a house on its own at the end of a long private drive. The guy must have money. At the appointed time I drove to the house. It was large, and as I'd seen completely on its own. The nearest neighbor must have been several miles away. I thought long and hard about whether to go in, but eventually the image of Louise's striped buttocks made me. There were large gates, and I had to ring a bell to get them to open. An older man in his fifties met me at the door. He was well dressed and fit looking. He introduced himself as Michael and ushered me into a room where we sat in large leather armchairs.

"Would you like a drink? I have a dry German Riesling that I think you may find very entertaining."

I wasn't particularly interested in a drink but said yes anyway. He went to the door and shouted "Louise, bring some of that German Riesling." He sat back in his chair and stared at me. Neither of us spoke. I couldn't think of anything to say. The silence was eventually interrupted by Louise appearing at the door. She was carrying a tray with two glasses of white wine. She put it down on the table between us and handed one of the glasses to me. God, she was gorgeous – long dark hair that looked as soft as silk, perfect makeup that emphasised her beauty but didn't look at all trashy. She was wearing a red dress that came down to her knees, and matching red shoes that had a heel, but like the ones I'd seen her in before not too high. She sat down in another chair, legs demurely together. Her toe and fingernails were painted red. I was suddenly struck by the difference in their ages – it must have been nearly thirty years.

"Cheers," said Michael. I said cheers back and we both took a sip of the wine.

"What do you think of it?"

"Very nice." I hadn't really tasted it – I couldn't help staring at Louise and thinking about what I knew was under her skirt. The three of us sat in silence for a while. I suddenly realized Louise had only brought two glasses of wine and didn't have one herself. Eventually Michael spoke.

"Well, let's get down to why our guest is here." He put down his glass and picked up a remote control. One click and a very large television, at least sixty inches, in the corner of the room burst into life. Another click and my film of Louise started playing in ultra clear HD. I looked over to see what she was doing. She was staring at the screen, mouth slightly open, obviously completely surprised – I was sure she knew nothing about it. I watched as I raised her dress on the film, the camera recording every detail of her white panties and the red stripes across her buttocks. I felt myself break out into a sweat. Watching the film was as exciting as ever, especially as Louise was watching it with me, but I had no idea what Michael was going to say and do.

When it was finished he turned the TV off and looked at Louise. She was staring down at her lap.

"Look at me." She looked up.

"Did you know he was doing that?" She shook her head.

"Speak up."

"No." It was the first time I'd heard her speak. Even her voice was perfect.

"How could you not know? A man lifts your skirt and films underneath for all that time and you don't know? Why not?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? What sort of a stupid cunt are you? A nice girl wouldn't let some stranger film up her skirt, would she? WOULD SHE?" He shouted the last words.

"No," answered Louise. She seemed on the verge of crying. She was holding her hands in her lap. I was feeling very uncomfortable. Like watching a couple having an argument, but this was so much more surreal.

He turned to me. My heart was racing. "Do you do this a lot?" He gestured at the TV and I assumed he was talking about the filming.

"Yes."

"I suppose you only like it when the girl doesn't know you're doing it?"

He obviously understood the motives behind it.

"Would you like to film up Louise's skirt again?"

"Michael…" she started to say, but he cut her off with a curt "Shutup."

"Yes," I answered a bit nervously. There was nothing I would have liked more. Well, there were a few things actually but this wasn't the time.

"What's your favorite color for panties?"

I didn't really have a preference, but I said blue.

"I'm sure Louise must have some blue ones - don't you Louise?" She nodded.

"Go and get them."

"Michael…" she started to say again. "Shut the fuck up and do what you're told." I definitely saw a tear this time, but she stood up and walked out of the room. I couldn't help staring at her despite his presence. We said nothing while she was gone. It probably wasn't long, but seemed an eternity. When she came back she was holding something in her hand.

"Lay them out nicely on the table so our guest can have a good look at them." And she did. There were four pairs, all brief and slightly different shades of blue. I couldn't imagine how humiliated she must be feeling being forced to put pairs of her panties on a table in front of a stranger.

"Which of these would you like Louise to wear?"

"Please Michael."

"Quiet, or you'll regret it," he snapped at her.

She stood by the table looking at the floor, hands clasped in front of her. I looked at her, then down at the displayed panties. I pointed to one of the pairs, a light blue color with pink flowers, a thong.

"Those."

"OK Louise you can take those and leave us."

She scooped up the flimsy bits of material and rushed out of the room. Michael took a sip of wine from his glass and looked at me. "She'll be at the same place you've seen her before, at the same time. She'll be wearing the panties you've just picked out. I realize that this doesn't completely satisfy the normal conditions of the girl being unaware as you film up her skirt, but I can assure you she really does not want you to do it, she is definitely not complicit in this. She won't do anything to help you, but nor will she do anything to impede you either, so you may be as bold as you want to be while filming. Tomorrow evening you will come here at the same time as tonight, and bring the film you took with you. Then you can report to me about how well Louise behaved, and I will decide whether she needs punishment or not. As you've already seen I do not put up with any disobedience from the whore. Do you have any questions?"

I'd barely said a word since I'd arrived. "No, I understand."

"Good, then I'll see you out."

I drove home in a daze. This had, beyond any shadow of a doubt, been the strangest night of my life. I was still very suspicious of what I'd got involved in, but the memory of seeing the beautiful Louise treated with such disdain, and the prospect of filming up her skirt again, was excitement enough to keep me hooked. Back home I watched the film several times, and jerked off as I imagined Louise crying and begging as she was abused.

The following day I waited at the station until she appeared. She was wearing a loose dress that was dark blue with white birds on it. I don't know if she saw me or not, but she certainly didn't show any sign of recognizing me. She walked to the escalator and stood with one foot on the step above. A perfect position. I grasped the hem of her skirt and lifted it. I wasn't being careful, and there was no way she wouldn't have felt it but she did nothing. I put the camera under, between her legs, and slowly moved it up. My hand grazed the inside of her thighs as it was so high up. They were warm and silky smooth. Still she did nothing. We stood like this for the rest of the journey. I was rock hard. At the top I withdrew my hand and she started walking, but rather than leave the station as she had before she turned and headed straight back down the escalator towards the platform. I stood at the top and contemplated following her but decided better of it. I rushed home to look at the film.

I already had my cock out as it started playing it. My hand lifted her skirt, and the camera moved under it. The skirt was loose enough, and I was holding it high enough, that I could see all the way up, past the blue thong with the pink flowers that the previous night had been sitting on the table in front of me, along the smooth line of her back that was crossed by the white straps of her bra. An absolutely perfect upskirt shot. The camera moved up between her thighs until the whole screen was filled with a close-up of her crotch, the outline of her lips clearly visible where the panties had ridden up and were clinging, some stray hairs poking from the sides. But once again this wasn't the main thing that caught my attention. Added to the now fading cane strokes across her buttocks were some fresh ones. Not as many, but bright red and raised, looking like someone had used maximum force when hitting her. Had Michael done this last night after I left? I came immediately, spurting over my hand. I watched the film numerous times and jerked off until my cock was sore.

The following evening I was at the house at the same time. Michael once again answered the door. I was still apprehensive about what might happen, but not as worried as I had been the previous evening. We went into the same room, and without any niceties Michael asked for the film. I handed him the USB stick, and he put it into his computer. It was very strange watching it on the huge TV with him. When it finished I was hard again. He switched it off and turned to me.

"What a whore, letting a stranger stick a camera between her legs."

I wasn't sure what to say. He obviously knew I knew that he'd made her do it. I looked at him, he seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"Was it you that caned her again?"

He smiled. "Yes. She tried to persuade me to not make her do it. I can't have that sort of behavior, so the bitch had to be punished. The cane strokes were only part of it. Did she do what you wanted?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Don't you think she needs punishing for not doing what she was told to do?"

"I don't want her to be hurt." This wasn't true – I just didn't want to admit it to him.

Michael smiled. "Come now. A man who films up women's skirts without their knowledge wants control over them. You want to humiliate them by looking at their panties without their permission. It's not the same if they're complicit. From there it's a small step to hearing them beg you not to hurt them, forcing them to do things they don't want to do. To have complete control. If you tell me otherwise you're lying, maybe to yourself as well as me."

He was right. I wanted to hear Louise scream and beg. But I still wasn't sure about admitting it to him.

"So wouldn't you like to see Louise punished for letting you film up her skirt? Especially as she didn't have any choice? Wouldn't that be extra exciting, knowing she was being punished for something she had no choice over?"

I swallowed. "Yes."

Michael smiled. "Well in that case you might be in luck. Come with me."

He led me out of the room and across the hall. We went through another door into a room that was pitch black. He switched the light on. The room was a large double garage, although there were no cars in it. The walls were lined with the usual things you'd expect to find in a garage – tools, cans of oil and so forth. What you wouldn't expect to find was a woman tied down over a workbench.

It was Louise of course. She was lying across the bench, her wrists and ankles tied to the legs so she was unable to get up. Her mouth was packed with some material and a rope had been tied to hold it in place. It was pulled tight into the corners of her mouth. She was dressed exactly as she'd been this morning – blue open-toed sandals, the same dark blue dress with the white birds on it which was stretched across her buttocks and had ridden up at the back so a large amount of her thighs was exposed – unfortunately not quite enough to be able to see her panties.

"So what do you think?" asked Michael.

"I don't know what to say. I don't understand what's going on. Why am I here?"

"Well it's quite simple. Louise used to be a lawyer. She was responsible for putting a number of my friends in prison. It's true that they may not have been the most upstanding members of the community but they were still important to me. So I decided to make her pay. Now I make sure this cunt doesn't have a good time."

"But, I've seen her out on her own. She could just have escaped, or gone to the police."

"She won't do that, because she knows if she does, or if anything happens to me, there are a lot of people who will visit her two sisters, and her poor widowed mother, and they will kill them all, very slowly – it will take months and they will be begging for it to be over long before it actually is."

Part of me was absolutely appalled, part of me was very scared, and I was harder than I'd ever been. Louise was making no sounds at all.

"But someone must have reported her missing. The police will be looking for her."

"You don't exist in the same world as me. Everything is possible with the right incentive. Some people will do it for money, maybe greed or to pay for that operation their sick daughter needs, some have a secret they don't want revealed, some are visited by Louise herself and will do anything for that pleasure. She's not missing. She's working abroad. She emails her friends and family regularly. Well, some of my colleagues email them from her account."

"But she goes to work – she had a security pass."

Michael laughed. "The whore doesn't work. She was visiting someone I wanted something from. She was part of the deal. He arranged for the pass so she could visit him at his office – makes it easier to keep secret from his wife. The name on it is false of course. Louise is her real name, it amuses me that she has to continue using it, but the surname is made up."

"You mean she's a prostitute?"

"No money changes hands. She visits people I tell her to. People who have interests that are hard to meet with a normal whore. I only give her to people I know are going to hurt her, abuse her, humiliate her, who are going to make her life hell. So when you tried to contact her after filming up her skirt I thought you might be the sort of man who would be interested in doing that. Are you?"

This was like something out of a dream. I'd never really thought about hurting a woman in this way. But she was so gorgeous, and looked so sexy stretched over the bench, long legs exposed. God I wanted her.

"So? Do you want to see her punished for letting you see up her skirt?"

I swallowed and nodded. Michael smiled. "I thought so." He went to a cupboard and came back holding a long thin cane. He lifted Louise's skirt so it was bunched on her back. She was wearing the same panties as this morning, of course, pale blue with pink flowers on. He grasped the waistband and pulled them down so they were stretched across her thighs. Her buttocks were firm and smooth, and I could see the slit of her vulva between her legs, a small amount of dark pubic hair at the top.

He undid the rope running through her mouth and pulled out the cloth that was packed in, dropping it onto the floor. As I looked at it I realized it was the three pairs of blue panties that Louise had laid out on the table the night before, the ones I hadn't picked.

"Please Michael, don't," Louise sobbed.

He tapped the cane on her buttocks. "You know the rules, Louise, count each stroke. If it's not counted, it doesn't count. In fact we start again." And with no further comment he raised the cane above his head and slashed it down with all his strength. I was shocked at the amount of force he put behind it. There was a loud crack as it impacted her buttocks, and I could see it sink into the flesh. Louise gasped, and then said "One."

Michael tapped her buttocks again, then delivered another stroke. Louise gasped slightly louder, and then said "Two." The straps holding her to the bench creaked as she pulled against them.

'This is what you get for behaving like a whore, you filthy piece of shit. Letting anyone with a dick look up your skirt."

He slashed the cane down again, and this time I could detect a break in her voice as she counted three. The cane had left bright red stripes across her buttocks, just like the ones I had seen the first time I filmed up her skirt. He slashed the cane down twice in quick succession, and Louise yelled for the first time as it cut across existing stripes. "Five," she shouted.

"Oh no, you don't get away that easily, bitch, you forgot four so we have to start again."

"No, Michael, please, there were five, you've given me five strokes, please don't."

"I don't care, you missed out four. This is number one." And he hit her just as hard as he had before. Louise screamed this time, but managed to shout out one. The next stroke landed across the tops of her thighs, the one after that in the crease where her legs met her buttocks. She was screaming with each stroke now, but still managing to call out the count each time, even when Michael tried to trick her. She was up to twenty now, in fact twenty five as the count had restarted, and her buttocks were covered in livid red lines. Finally he got her to go wrong by just tapping her lightly and she called out twenty-one.

"Oh no, whore, that was just me teeing up, not a stroke, so we're back to one."

"No please Michael, please, I can't stand it," she sobbed desperately.

"Shut the fuck up and count," he snapped back, and slashed the cane down to the accompaniment of her screams.

I have no idea how many strokes she took before Michael was satisfied and dropped the cane. My cock was rock hard. He walked round to her head and undid his trousers, letting them fall to the floor around his ankles. His cock was erect, oozing pre-cum. He grasped her hair in one hand and lifted her head up. I could see the pain etched onto her face, her cheeks wet with tears. "You better make this good, bitch, or you'll be feeling a lot more strokes of that cane." Louise opened her mouth and licked the glistening head. He moved forward and I watched mesmerised as she used her tongue to lap at the rigid member.

"That's it, bitch. It's all you're good for." He wrapped both hands in her hair and pushed his hips forward. Louise gagged and drool ran down her chin, dripping onto the floor. He got into a rhythm, pulling out slowly so just the head was still in her mouth. Her tongue licked around it, and then he would push forward so he was hitting the back of her throat. Eventually he pushed further and her mouth slid all the way down his cock until her nose was pressed into his pubic hair. He held her like this for a long time, I could see her struggling as her breath ran out. But tied as she was there was nothing she could do. Eventually he pulled out, and Louise gasped in large breaths, drool pouring down her chin. But he did it again. And again. Her face was getting redder and redder and her gasping breaths more desperate. He started thrusting faster into her throat.

"That's it whore, I'm cumming you better swallow it all." And with a groan he pumped load after load into her gasping mouth. Eventually he let go of her hair and pulled his softening cock out of her mouth. A line of sperm rolled down her chin from the corner of her mouth. She was sobbing loudly. He pulled his trousers up and picked up the panties that were lying on the floor, grabbed her hair and lifted her head. Louise's eyes widened in fear. "No, Michael, please, no more, I'm begging you." He ignored her and stuffed them into her mouth. He didn't bother with the rope that had previously been holding them in place. He walked over to me.

"The cunt still needs punishing. Did you notice she let some of my spunk drip from her mouth?" I had. "She was told to swallow it all. I can't put up with that sort of disobedience. She's got another couple of dozen strokes at least until I'm ready to do her again. Then we'll see if the cunt has learned her lesson and can follow a simple instruction." He grasped my arm and led me towards the door. "Let's go." I looked over my shoulder as we left. Louise was sobbing into the panty gag. I couldn't imagine how she could stand any more strokes on her already damaged buttocks, but then tied as she was she had no choice. My cock was throbbing. I wanted to ram balls deep into her and was extremely frustrated that he was just leading me out of the room and not letting me fuck her.

Once out in the hall Michael spoke to me. "Would you like Louise to visit you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. She visits you, you do what you want to her. Anything. Just remember that I want her life to be a living hell, I don't want you taking her out and buying her diamond earrings. Do you understand?"

My mind was in a complete whirl. I was worried about the consequences, but I wanted to feel her mouth on me and be deep inside her. I nodded.

"Good, I'll be in touch." He opened the front door and I left.

I had no idea what to think about any of it. It was all so far from anything I had experienced before I couldn't form any rational thoughts. I suppose I didn't really expect to hear from Michael again. But just over a week later I got a message from Louise's email that simply said "Tuesday, 8."

Tuesday came, and on cue my doorbell rang. I was more nervous than I'd ever been when I opened the door. There she was, looking stunning as always. She came into the front room. I offered her a drink but she refused. We sat opposite each other in silence. I didn't know what to say. It was like the most awkward first date ever. Eventually she spoke.

"Listen, I know you like me a lot."

I started to speak but she interrupted me.

"There's no point denying it. I've been reading men all my life. I know exactly what they all think. Mostly they want to fuck me, but you want to more than most. So I have a proposition. Michael wants you to hurt me, abuse me. But I can give you something I bet you've never had before. I'll do anything you want, anything at all. You can slap me, knock me about, pull my hair, just don't do the things the other animals do to me."

"What things?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She parted her legs slightly. I could see between her thighs, but not high enough to see her panties. "Wouldn't you like that? You know in the real world you could never have me." I was slightly insulted by this, but she was right. She was way out of my league. "But now I'm here, you can do anything you want to me. Just don't hurt me too much. Shall I crawl over to you and show you how grateful I'd be?"

The question didn't need an answer. My cock was rock hard. She slid off the settee onto her hands and knees and started crawling slowly towards me, her eyes never leaving mine. I was mesmerized. When she reached me she rose up to her knees, leant forward and kissed me on the lips. Just a peck at first, but then her tongue pushed into my mouth. She French kissed me passionately, her hands reaching for my zip and undoing it. She pulled my cock out then bent forward and engulfed me in her warm wet mouth. God, it was fantastic. She was fantastic. She did things with her tongue I had never experienced. I was on the verge of coming when she lifted her mouth off my cock. I gasped.

"Grab my hair. Make me deep-throat you."

I didn't need asking twice. Her hair was silky smooth. I pulled her down onto my cock and she gagged as it hit the back of her mouth. Her throat was tight. I pulled her off by the hair, then back down. Drool ran down her chin. I got into a rhythm and I could feel my balls tightening.

She pulled her head back. "Come on my face, make me lick it off." And I did just that. It was the best orgasm I'd ever had. Afterwards she sat back on the settee, legs spread so that this time I could see her white panties. "I'll be the best girlfriend you've ever had. Anything you want. Anything at all. Just tell me. I'll do it all." She slipped her fingers into her panties and stroked herself. And then she crawled back over to me, sat on my lap, and fucked me. Her cunt was warm and tight, and I came again very quickly.

And so started the strangest affair of my life. Every couple of weeks I'd get a message from her email account with just a day and time. And we'd fuck in every way imaginable. Sometimes I'd tie her to the bed, or pretend to rape her while she struggled, all at her suggestion. We'd watch all the upskirt videos I'd taken, with her sucking me off as we did. She'd pick the type of girl, or color of panties she wanted to watch. We would go out and film new ones, with Louise picking the girl and helping me by chatting to her on the escalator, distracting her. This allowed me to be bolder when filming up her skirt. I would film up Louise's as well. Then we would watch the film until I exploded down her throat.

Sometimes she would have marks on her body. I'd ask her about them but she refused to discuss it. On some occasions it was obvious she'd been hurt inside, as it would be painful for her as I thrust into her. Often her buttocks were covered with cane stripes, like they were the first time I'd filmed up her skirt, and I would make her stand in the corner, hands on her head, skirt tucked round her waist, panties pulled down round her thighs. I would jerk off until my sperm poured over my stomach, and she would crawl over to me, panties still tangled round her legs, and lick it off before cleaning me with her tongue. Sometimes she would stay overnight, but often she said she had to leave.

And so it continued for several months, the perfect relationship, mind blowing sex and none of the usual hassles that went with having a girlfriend. We couldn't go out to a restaurant, or do anything normal, as she didn't want to be seen with me, unless I was filming up her skirt. And then one day I didn't get a day and time in the email but a video. I was feeling a bit nervous as I clicked it to play it.

It started with a head shot of Michael. He appeared to be holding the camera himself and taking a selfie. He started speaking.

"It seems Louise has been a very naughty girl." He turned the camera round and showed Louise. She was lying on the floor on her front, and was severely hogtied, her arms tied behind her back and her ankles secured to a strap round her elbows. Her hair had been tied by a thin rope, which had also been secured to her ankles and pulled tight so her neck was stretched backwards, her head held painfully up facing the ceiling. Her mouth was crammed with a large gag that was so tight her cheeks were bulging around it.

She was fully clothed, wearing a dress as she always did when visiting me, and high heeled sandals. I noticed that rope had been passed round her feet and tied to her wrists so that her toes were kept pointed. Michael panned the camera round her body, crouching when he was next to her legs. He reached out and lifted her skirt so that her pale green panties were revealed.

"This is just for you, I know you like it, right?" he laughed, then dropped her skirt and moved round to her face. Her eyes were red from crying, and her cheeks were wet with tears. She was obviously in pain as I could see her struggling to breathe through her nose, her body trembling with the effort. Her lips had red lipstick on, stretched around the tight gag. I thought of all the times I'd been inside that warm mouth and blown down her throat, and my cock started to get hard.

Michael turned the camera to face himself again. "Be here at 8 tomorrow evening. And don't make me come and find you." The film ended.

I played it a few more times. I hadn't seen or heard from Michael since the time I'd watched him cane Louise in his garage. I was now in no doubt that he was a very dangerous man with a lot of power and influential friends. I spent ages thinking about what to do, but realized I was too scared not to do what he wanted. I was scared to do what he wanted as well, but the image of Louise in the tight hogtie was some compensation.

The next evening I arrived at his house at 8 as requested. Michael answered the door and led me inside. Without saying anything he walked towards the garage door and I followed him, my heart beating. Inside it was very bright. And in the center of the room was Louise. She was sitting in a large wooden chair with a high back that looked like some kind of medieval throne. She was tied to it, her legs pulled back and her ankles secured close to the back of the seat. Her wrists and elbows were tied to the large arms of the chair. Her hands were palm down, thin straps across her knuckles so that she couldn't curl her fingers up. It seemed an unnecessary detail as her arms were so well secured anyway. There was a strap round her neck preventing her from leaning forward, her head rested against a padded cushion attached to the back of the chair, and a strap across her waist prevented her from moving her buttocks. Her mouth was stuffed with a large ball of material.

She was wearing the same dress as in the film Michael had sent me last night. Against one of the walls a very large burly man sat on a stool. He looked at us as we came in but said nothing. His head was shaved, and his neck was so thick it was hard to tell where it ended and his head began. He was the sort of man you would cross the street to avoid. Michael gestured to a couple of chairs that were placed in front of Louise. I sat in one and he sat in the other. Louise was looking at us with wide eyes. She was obviously scared.

"It appears I have greatly underestimated the lovely Louise. It turns out she's a very clever young lady. While I thought her life was being made a living hell she was actually plotting against me – she's managed to steal a very large sum of money from me, and get false passports for her mother and sisters who have now left the country. So you can see this is something I can't possibly allow to happen. I now need Louise to tell me exactly who helped her, and where her mother and sisters have gone."

Once again things were taking a very strange turn. "What's any of this got to do with me?"

"That will become clear. In the meantime we'll start by making Louise aware of how serious things are." He motioned to the other man in the room, who stood and picked something up from a bench. He grabbed the stool and pulled it over to Louise, placed it to her right, and sat down. I watched with growing horror as he took hold of her little finger, and placed what I now realized was a scalpel against the tip. Louise jerked against the bonds that held her, but they were too tight to allow any movement.

"Wait," called Michael. The man paused and looked over at him. Louise also looked at him, her face full of hope that he was going to stop this and not hurt her.

"Pull her skirt up so our guest can enjoy his favorite view." The man grasped Louise's skirt and pulled it so it was bunched round her waist. Her legs were held apart due to the position of her ankles tied to the back of the chair, so I had an uninterrupted view of her crotch covered by the pale green panties she'd been wearing in the film Michael had sent me. I could see the outline of her vulva.

"Very good. Continue."

The man moved back to her little finger and Louise made noises into her gag which grew more desperate as he slid the blade under her perfectly red painted nail. She howled into the gag as he very slowly worked it from side to side. She banged her head against the back of the chair, but as it was padded it had no effect. Side to side went the blade, slowly moving deeper. Blood oozed out from under the nail and dripped to the floor. It went on for over five minutes until he started to prise the nail up. Eventually it came loose.

I was horrified by what I'd witnessed, but the overriding sensation was how hard my cock was. Seeing the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on screaming into a gag excited me beyond anything I'd ever experienced.

Tears flowed from Louise's eyes, her hair damp with sweat. She was gasping through her nose, her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

"Do you think the whore will be more willing to talk to me now?" Michael asked.

I nodded "I expect so."

Michael got up and went over to Louise. He grabbed her hair. "Well you filthy cunt – ready to start talking yet?" She nodded as much as she could with her hair being held tightly. He let go of her hair.

"Well I'm not quite ready to listen yet." He came back to the chair and sat down. "Carry on," he said to the man with the scalpel. He took hold of Louise's next finger and started working the blade under the nail. Louise went mad, screaming into the gag, jerking against the ropes, banging her head against the cushion. For the next forty-five minutes we watched as he methodically removed all the nails from her right hand. By the end Louise's eyes were wild with pain, she was soaked in sweat, her gorgeous hair plastered against her head.

Michael went over to her and pulled out the gag. She coughed and sputtered. "OK cunt, have you got anything to say?"

"Oh God, please Michael…" she sobbed.

"I'm not interested in your whining, bitch. Let's start with the name of the man who got you the fake passports."

Louise answered him, and lots of other questions he put to her. But when he wanted to know the name of the person in his own organization who had helped her get access to the money, she wouldn't tell him.

"Please no more Michael, please I'm begging you."

"Which scumbag helped you steal my money, you bitch?"

"I can't tell you. Please, I'm begging you, I'll do anything you want."

He forced the gag back into her mouth as she howled into it. I couldn't understand why she hadn't just told him everything and saved herself from more torture.

"OK, cunt," he said to her. "My colleague here is going to do the same to your left hand as he just did to the right. We're going to have something to eat, and a couple of glasses of good wine, and when we get back we'll start on your tits. So I suggest you think carefully about what you're going to say."

As he led me out of the room I could hear the desperate noises she was making as he started on her left little finger.

We sat in the dining room eating a buffet that had bizarrely been laid out on the table, accompanied by an excellent Bordeaux. Michael made small talk about the weather and politics, but my mind was on what was happening in the garage. This was the most peculiar experience of my life. I was also scared as Michael was an unpredictable man and I wasn't completely sure why I was here. It could turn out very badly for me. I considered trying to make a break for it, but I wasn't convinced I could overpower him, and anyway he would almost certainly be able to track me down.

"So tell me," said Michael. "Did Louise always spend the night with you?"

"No – sometimes she did, but often she left."

"I'm glad you said that. I was hoping you wouldn't claim that she'd spent every night with you as I've had you watched and I know she often left. I think that time, between leaving you and coming back here in the morning, is when she made all these arrangements. Most of the men she visits keep her for as long as they can. Perhaps you were aware of her plans and that's why you let her go?"

I felt my heart quicken. Having just witnessed Michael have Louise's fingernails torn out I didn't want there to be the slightest hint that I was involved. "No, I didn't know anything about it. She said she had to go and I believed her."

Michael smiled. "How very trusting. Perhaps you didn't realize what a lying whore she is. I trust you enjoyed your time with her?"

I nodded. "Very much."

"I'm glad to hear that. Shall we go and see how Louise is getting on?"

Nearly 2 hours had passed since we'd left the garage. As we went back in everything was pretty much the same. The man was sitting on the stool, looking at his mobile phone. Louise was still bound in the chair, her head slumped forwards. All her fingertips were now raw and bloody, the painted missing nails lying on the floor in front of her. The red nail polish made them hard to pick out amongst the blood that also decorated the floor. There was a dark stain on the front of her panties, and I realized she had lost control of her bladder, urine dripping from the seat of the chair. I sat in the same chair I was in before, and Michael walked over to Louise and pulled her head up by the hair. She opened her eyes, red from crying, and Michael pulled the cloth gag from her mouth. She coughed and some drool ran from her mouth.

"So cunt, are you ready to talk yet?"

"Yes, please no more, please."

"Who helped you to steal my money?"

Louise told him. He asked lots of questions about how it had been done, and she answered. At one point he wasn't happy with her answers and simply brought his fist down on the raw tips of her fingers. Louise screamed horribly and told him everything he wanted. Eventually he said "Where have your mother and sisters gone?"

"Please, Michael, please, leave them alone, they've nothing to do with this."

He grabbed her hair again, twisting her head back and leaning close to her face. "Listen, cunt, I told you what would happen if you tried to pull something like this. I'm going to find them anyway, once I get my hands on the maggot who gave you the passports he will tell me what names they were in and then I'll be able to track them. But I want you to tell me. I want you to know that you've given me the information that will turn their lives into a living hell. Where are they?"

"Fuck you, I'll never tell you," she screamed at him.

Michael released her hair and stood up. He came back to the seat and sat down. The man got up and grabbed the material gag from the floor, rubbing it in the urine pooled on her chair before forcing it back into Louise's mouth. He grabbed the top of her dress and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere. She was wearing a white bra, and he simply grabbed that and wrenched it away from her breasts so they were exposed. Her nipples were hard with fear. She was panting, her breasts rising and falling.

"I told you we'd start on your tits," he said to her. He turned to me. "Take a good look, they're not going to look so perfect in a while."

The man picked up a pair of pliers and without any hesitation grasped Louise's right nipple and squeezed. She screamed into the gag. He twisted and pulled and she jerked against her bonds desperately. When he released her nipple she was sobbing onto the gag, then he used the pliers to pinch the flesh all round her right breast leaving angry red marks. It was obvious from her response how much it hurt her. The process was repeated with her left breast, starting with her nipple. Louise's eyes were wild with pain, she was staring at Michael strange noises coming from her.

"I wonder if she's ready to tell me yet?" he said to me. "I think her tits must be really hurting now." He got up and walked back to Louise and leaned close to her face. "Ready to tell me, cunt? Or maybe you want more? Perhaps you're enjoying it after all those things men have been doing to you recently? OK, let's carry on for a while before I remove the gag and see what your whore mouth has to say."

Louise was obviously desperate and pulled and struggled against her bonds as Michael came back to his chair. This time the man used long needles. He heated each one with a cigarette lighter until they were glowing red before pushing them into breasts. Twelve in each, the last being pushed into the tip of her nipple. Then he used the lighter to heat each one up again while they were still embedded in her flesh. Especially the ones in her nipples which he heated repeatedly. And all through this Louise was horrifically conscious, feeling everything and screaming and writhing. My cock was at bursting point. Finally he used a cane to beat her across the breasts driving the needles deeper and leaving red stripes across the perfect globes.

Michael pulled the gag from her mouth. "Now, whore, are you ready to tell me where the other whores have gone?"

"I'm begging you, please no more, please…"

"Just tell me where they are and it will all be over."

"I can't, have mercy please, they're my family please leave them alone. I'm pleading with you. Please I can't stand anymore."

"Save your breath whore, you can stand plenty more because you have no choice. Tell me where they are or it's your cunt next. Is that what you want? We'll turn your cunt into a mass of agonized flesh, then I'll have fifty men gang rape you."

Louise's breasts heaved with big sobs as she cried in pain horror and fear. The needles sticking out trembled with each movement.

"Please don't make me, please, have mercy. Do anything to me but leave them alone."

Michael thrust the gag back into her mouth. "You know you're going to have to tell me, bitch. It's just a matter of when. And I can see in your eyes it won't be long."

He sat back in his chair. "When she's told me what I need you can fuck her one last time." I was desperate to fuck her now.

The man approached her and reached between her legs to tear her panties off, which he threw to the floor. I could tell Louise was trying to beg Michael through the gag but he was taking no notice. Her legs were held apart due to the position they were secured in, and I could clearly see the slit of her vulva topped with her neat pubic hair. The man fetched a hammer and some nails and knelt down in front of her. As his body was in the way I couldn't see what he was doing, but I saw him use the hammer several times and cause Louise to shriek dementedly into the gag. When he stood up I saw that he had pulled her labia far apart and nailed them to the chair seat so her vagina was held widely spread open.

"Ouch, that's really got to sting," said Michael in an amused tone of voice, as if he was talking about Louise pricking her finger rather than having her vagina nailed open. The man pulled the stool over and placed it in front of her, then fetched a handful of long metal skewers, the sort you might use to thread chicken pieces onto for a kebab. He sat down on the stool, picked up one of the skewers and started heating the tip with the cigarette lighter. Louise was looking frantically from him to Michael begging with her eyes and pulling at the ropes that held her fast to the chair. It didn't take much imagination to realize where the sharp skewer was destined to go. Once he had the metal heated to his satisfaction, he leant forward and moved it between her thighs. Unlike when he had hammered nails into her labia, his body wasn't blocking the view so I could see exactly what he was doing. He pushed the skewer into her vagina. At first Louise didn't react much, but she suddenly lurched against the ropes, her eyes flew wide open and she made the most horrendous noises through the gag. Most of the skewer had disappeared inside her, only the handle still visible and I realized the man must have pushed it so deep that the hot tip had pierced her cervix.

While her sobs and gasps gradually died down the man was heating another skewer. Once Louise realized what was happening she went mad again, and made even more horrendous noises as the second skewer was speared into her cervix. He got the same reaction from the third and fourth skewers.

"If the skewers weren't heated first she'd be bleeding like she was having a bad period, but the heat stops the flow," explained Michael in a very matter of fact voice. I wondered how many women had screamed and begged while Michael watched red hot skewers being rammed up their vaginas in the past.

With the handles of four skewers sticking out from her vagina the man carefully inserted two fingers inside and was obviously feeling around for something.

"He's looking for her G-spot. Very sensitive part of a woman," said Michael. With his fingers still inside her he pushed another skewer slowly in. When he was happy with the position he pulled his fingers out and thrust the skewer further up. I didn't think it was possible but Louise made even more horrendous noises through the gag. She was bathed in sweat, her skin glistening and hair plastered to her head. He moved the skewer around, ensuring she felt the maximum pain from having her G-spot pierced. A small trickle of blood oozed from her vagina and dripped onto the chair seat.

Next was her clitoris. He pulled the hood back and pulled and stroked the sensitive bud to make it swell slightly before inserting another heated skewer into it. I couldn't believe how deep he pushed it. I'd heard that what you see of a woman's clitoris is only the tip and that it goes quite a long way into her body – he must have run the skewer along the whole length. Next he started methodically heating the skewers with the lighter. This had Louise in the agonies of hell. The four in her cervix and each one in her G-spot and clitoris were heated in turn. From time to time he would use the lighter on her labia which were still stretched and nailed to the chair, before going back to heat the skewers again.

Eventually Michael stood up and went over to Louise. He grabbed her hair as he always did and turned her head to look at him. "Do you want to tell me where your whore mother and sisters are? Or shall we carry on? We've got all the time in the world." Louise nodded her head as far as she could with his grip on her hair. "So you've had enough?" She nodded again. "Are you sure you're going to tell me everything I want to know?" Another nod.

He released her hair and stood up. He stared at her for a while, then reached down and tapped one of the needles still protruding from her nipples. She jerked away. "Not yet," he said and came back to the chair. Louise howled into the gag, obviously trying to beg him for mercy. Even I could see she was completely broken.

This time the man wheeled over an electrical device. It had a red and a black wire ending in small crocodile clips. He attached one to the skewer penetrating her G-spot and the other to the one in her clitoris. Louise was frantic, but not as frantic as she was when he turned the current on. Once again her horrendous cries into the gag reached new heights. She slumped down when the current was cut and I watched fascinated as the ends of all the skewers inserted inside her moved and clacked together as her vagina convulsed. She lurched against her bonds when the current was applied again, her labia stretching as even the small amount of movement she could make was sufficient to pull against the nails. And again. And again. Sometimes short shocks in quick succession, sometimes longer ones, sometimes longish gaps between them to make her hope it was over. But it wasn't over for a long time. Probably a couple of hours.

Eventually Michael went over to her and lifted her head by the hair before pulling the gag out. She looked exhausted, snot running from her nose, eyes red. "Ready to talk now cunt, or do you want more?"

"Please, no, anything, please, I'll tell you anything, please no more."

"Where did your whore mother and sisters go?" And she told him, everything he wanted to know. Every now and then he would signal to the man who would send electricity racing into her vagina just to remind her of the consequences if she didn't co-operate. Her screams without the gag were unbelievable, begging "Please no more, please, I'm telling you everything."

When he was satisfied, he patted her on the head like you would a child. "There Louise, that wasn't so hard was it? You were being a very silly girl. You could have saved yourself so much pain." Then he leaned close to her ear and whispered something I couldn't hear. Louise wailed with misery and tears poured from her eyes.

Michael came over to me. "Do you want to fuck her one last time?"

God did I want to. "Yes."

"Pussy or ass?"

"Pussy." I could vividly remember the silky smoothness as I'd sunk into her in the past. I wondered what her vagina would feel like now after all the abuse it had suffered. And what it would feel like to her.

He spoke to the man. "Get her ready. You can have her ass but leave her cunt for our guest to use first." He turned to me. "Let's have a drink."

We sat in his study drinking a fantastic Chianti. He really did have good taste in wine. I was still feeling nervous, but not as bad as before. It was so surreal, I'd just sat in his garage watching a woman being tortured in the most extreme way. Nothing could ever have prepared me for this.

"What did you whisper to her?" I asked Michael.

"I just said her mother and sisters would be experiencing everything she just had, but a lot worse. And she would be watching." He took a sip of his wine. "That seemed to upset her a bit."

God, this man was a monster. But I was so excited I must be as well.

Back in the garage Louise had been moved. She was now tied bent over a bar, her ankles and wrists tied to uprights that held her legs wide apart. Her back was towards us so the first thing I saw was her spread open crotch. All the skewers had been removed, and her vagina gaped open. It was raw and red, burns all over the labia, dried blood round the opening and on the insides of her thighs. Her anus was red and stretched also with blood and semen leaking from it. The man had obviously used her as he'd been allowed to.

"There you go," said Michael, as if inviting me to help myself to a sandwich. I felt slightly nervous with him and the man in the room, but my excitement overruled everything. Walking over to her, I lowered my trousers and without any hesitation rammed myself inside her. She screamed, and her vagina clenched around me. I grasped her hips, and started thrusting brutally, as if I was trying to hurt her. Well if I'm honest, I was trying to hurt her, which wasn't difficult.

"Please, it hurts, please don't," she begged, which just encouraged me. Every time I hit her cervix she screamed in pain. I tried to ram into her as hard as I could, and the warm clutching of her vagina and her screams soon had me spurting inside her in one of the most intense orgasms I'd ever had. I pulled out and some of my sperm leaked from her and ran down the inside of her thigh.

Michael walked round to the front of her and lifted her head by the hair. "I better not feel any teeth, bitch, or I'll pull every one out with pliers and then start on your cunt with a blowtorch." He pulled his cock out and rammed it into her mouth and face fucked her hard, using her hair as leverage, forcing his cock deep into her throat. When he came he pulled out and spurted all over her face. He did his trousers up and came over to me. He spoke to the man. "Round up everyone you know. I want the lovely Louise fucked in every hole for at least the next 12 hours with no breaks. If she's not enthusiastic enough do whatever you want to liven her up. But don't kill her." He led me out into the hall.

"So you can fuck off now. I don't suppose I have to tell you to never mention this to anyone, do I?"

I shook my head. My fear was returning now.

"Good. I don't expect to see or hear from you again, or you will regret it. Goodbye." And I left.

For the next few weeks I was very nervous, looking over my shoulder, expecting someone to be waiting for me. But as time went by and nothing happened I relaxed. I thought a lot about Louise and what was happening to her. I looked at the photos I had of her frequently and jerked off imaging her screams as I last fucked her.

It was maybe six weeks later when I got an email from Louise's account. I was nervous opening it, and wondered if it was from Louise itself. But it was from Michael. There was a picture and some text.

The picture was of Louise. She was hanging from the ceiling in a brightly lit room, arms and legs spread wide apart. A swarthy looking man was holding her head up by the hair so she was looking at the camera. Her face was bruised, one eye swollen almost shut, blood trickling from her nose and the corner of her mouth. Her body was covered in cuts, bruises, burns and whip marks. Her breasts were bound with barbed wire so that they were swollen and purple in color, blood from cuts caused by the barbs running down her bruised stomach. Needles pierced her nipples. A very large object, which seemed to be lined with small spikes, was rammed deep into her vagina, her labia stretched obscenely around it. More blood trickled down her inner thighs. There was scorching on her lower stomach and I realized her pubic hair had been set alight. Three other swarthy men, dressed in jeans and black T-shirts were standing around.

I read the text. "Louise is in the cellars of a Russian interrogation center. For some reason they believe she is a spy, and are doing their best to extract every secret she has. Of course you and I know she's not a spy, so the poor girl doesn't have any secrets to give. They don't believe her. They've had her for a week, and I think it'll be a couple of weeks more before they're finished with her. Then they will hand her over to the Syrians who will also want to interrogate her to find out what she knows. It's not a very pleasant prospect for such a beautiful woman. The Syrian security services really hate Western women, and they will be very keen to extract every last detail from her. But at least she was reunited with her mother and sisters before the Russians took her. Maybe not the reunion she was hoping for, but she was able to spend a long time with her tongue in their cunts to clean all the spunk out of them in between the rape and torture sessions. You won't be hearing from me again, and remember not to tell a soul about any of this."