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Subject: {ASSM} Christina and the Colonel ( viol, elec, snuff, m/f tort } REPOST
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 "Please," Christina protested. "You can't do this to me. I'm an
American."
The Colonel laughed. "On the contrary, Senorita Applegate. I do this
to you precisely BECAUSE you are an American. What I do to you now is
nothing more than your country has done to mine for the last three
decades. As your country has raped mine, I now rape you. As your CIA
has tortured our citizens, I now torture you. You see, it is only
just."

"But I didn't do any of those terrible things!" Christina protested.

"No," he agreed. "You simply sat back and allowed your government to
do them in your name. You cashed your fat television paychecks and
refused to concern yourself with the troubles of the world. Well, now
those troubles have found you, Senorita Applegate. Look around you.
What do you see?"

"A cell," she replied, mystified.

"That's right. Now describe it."

"There's nothing to describe!" Christina complained. What did he want
her to say? "Four concrete walls, a steel door. A table bolted to the
floor. A pair of chains mounted on one wall. That's all."

"Very good. Now think about this. For the rest of your life, you will
never see anything but what you see now: these walls, this table,
these chains, and me. This is your world now. Your old world, the
decadent world of your TV sitcoms, no longer exists. Here you will
live, and here you will die."

"I don't believe you," she said defiantly. "I'll be rescued. You'll be
overthrown."

The Colonel shrugged. "Perhaps. But if so, it will take years. We will
have a life together, you and I. And yes, perhaps someday that life
will come to an end. But if it does, rest assured of this: with my
last breath, I will put a bullet in your brain. So you see, you will
not leave this place alive."

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked softly.

"It's very simple. Each morning I will come to this cell at nine
o'clock. I will torture you brutally for two hours. Then I will leave
you, so that you may recover for our next session. You will be well
fed. You will have plenty of water. Each day I will torture you for
two hours, no more. How long can a woman endure that, do you think? It
will be interesting to find out. I imagine you will last for months,
or even years."

"You're a monster," she whispered.

"So I've been told," he agreed. Crossing the cell, he seized her
wrists, forcing her up against the wall. She whimpered as he pressed
his enormous bulk against her sleek, fragile body. He was a huge man;
pinned down by his weight, she couldn't possibly resist him. He forced
her wrists up against the wall, snapping them into the steel shackles.

"That's better," he said with a smile. "Now, I would like to introduce
you to the instruments which I will be using to torture you." The
colonel carried a small, black case; opening this, he drew out a
stiff, leather riding crop and set it on the table. Next he removed
something which looked very much like a cattle prod. He set this next
to the whip. Closing the case, he unfastened his belt buckle and
removed his pants. Christina's eyes widened at the sight of his
bloated, purple cock; it was one of the largest she had ever seen.

"Do you like it?" he laughed. "Every woman I've ever fucked--and there
have been many--has assured me that it is painfully huge. So here are
the three tools I will use to torture you: this whip, this prod, and
this cock. Unless you have any questions, we will begin your first
day's torture now."

"Please," she whimpered, her eyes full of tears. "Don't do this."

"Ah, the helpless pleas of a beautiful, chained woman! If I were not
already hard, I would soon become so. I must have you, Christina."
Forcing her legs apart, he lifted her short, black skirt. She wore no
panties, and her cunt was bald. He smiled at the sight of it. She
whimpered as he pressed his enormous, purple member up against her
tight, dry slit. Slowly he forced his way into her, inch by inch, as
she squirmed and struggled. At last he was inside her. She felt as if
she would burst; she didn't see how her tiny cunt could hope to
contain his huge, engorged cock. And then he began to rape her, moving
in and out of her with brutal, rapid strokes. She screamed wildly; she
couldn't help herself. It felt like he was fucking her with a baseball
bat. Her unwilling, unready cunt burned as he raped it. Her screams
only excited him more, and he redoubled his efforts to hurt her,
pounding her tender cunt ruthlessly. He was torturing her with his
cock, as promised. At last he erupted into her and withdrew, leaving
her sobbing and ravaged, dangling from her chains.

"Magnificent!" he exclaimed. "And to think, I can have you whenever I
want! Looking into your deep, green eyes, I can see that I have hurt
you greatly, and that is good. Now let's see if we can add to your
pain." With a flourish he seized the riding crop, raised it high and
brought it down hard across her firm, round breasts. She howled in
pain. He continued to whip her breasts, lashing the tender mounds with
a rhythmic pattern of his own devising. She marveled at the fact that
he had not even stripped off her clothes. He was whipping her through
her black blouse, through her bra. It made no sense! But gradually she
came to see the terrible logic of it. Her clothes provided her some
small measure of protection from the whip's vicious, cutting edge. She
probably would have lost consciousness by now, if he were whipping her
naked breasts. This way she would last longer.

He whipped her for about an hour, while she screamed and howled and
twisted in her chains. At long last he set the whip aside. Whimpering,
shivering, she allowed herself a brief moment of hope. Could it be
that he was done with her for the day? But no. He was only exchanging
the whip for the prod. She still had another hour of agony to endure.

The prod was, if anything, even worse than the whip. For one thing, it
was more precise. There was a knob on it which allowed him to control
the amperage of the shocks; he explained this to her, showing her how
it worked. Also, he did not limit himself to her breasts when he was
using the prod. To be sure, he sent brutal electric current through
her blouse and bra and into her tender, whipped nipples. And that was
sheer hell. But the breast shocks weren't even the worst of it. He
roamed freely over her body with the prod, sending electric pain into
nerves she didn't even know she had. He shocked her armpits. He
shocked the backs of her knees. He shocked her thick, rouged lips, and
she was astonished at how much it hurt when the prod touched them. He
forced the prod between her lips, into her mouth. The wet flesh of her
tongue muscle made a perfect conductor, carrying the current through
her entire body. He laughed at her spasms and convulsions, assuring
her that she looked quite ridiculous.

Of course, it was inevitable that he would also shock her in the
tenderest part of her body. She begged, she pleaded, she implored him
not to go there, but he only smiled, raising her skirt once more,
pressing the tip of the prod hard against her hairless clit, then
slowly raising the amperage while she howled her agony. This was pain
in its purest form: he was sending electric agony straight into the
most sensitive nerve center of her body. She screamed wildly, twisting
helplessly in her chains. She felt herself starting to slip into
blissful unconsciousness, and she welcomed the darkness...

She was dimly aware that he was unshackling her. "That's all for
today, Senorita," he said, dropping her limp body onto the floor. "But
don't worry. We shall do this again tomorrow, and the day after, and
every day, for the rest of your life." He buckled his pants, packed up
his whip and his prod, and was gone. The steel door clicked shut
behind him. And Christina began to cry as all hope left her.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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