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Lisa and Brit

Part 1

Lisa and Brit




     The small plane took off from the grass strip and


left Lisa and Brit standing there, wondering why Dr.


Schmidt was not there to meet them.  They shouldered


their back packs and started toward the road which


should lead the village.  They had no sooner reached the


edge of the forest when they were surrounded by


soldiers carrying automatic rifles and dressed in


camouflage uniforms.  The soldiers took the back packs.


An officer approached them.


      "May I see your passports, please?"


He said in fairly good English.  "Yes, you are Lisa...and


you are Brit.  Strange name, that.  Is there a Saint Brit?"


     "No."


     "And what brings you here?"


     "I'm a free lance reporter.  I came to do a


magazine piece about the medical missionaries and how


they help the native peoples," said Lisa.


     "And Brit?"


     "She's my daughter.  She's only fifteen.  I


couldn't leave her behind."


     "Well, I'm afraid I've no choice but to put you


under arrest."  He took out some handcuffs.


     "Fuck, Mom!  What have you done now?"


     "Be quiet, Brit.  Let me do the talking."


     Soldiers held Brit's arms, as the officer cuffed


her wrists together in front of her, then did the same


with Lisa.  The soldiers hustled the women down the


road to a waiting truck and lifted them into the back,


while the officer sat in front.  They raised the women's


arms over their heads and fastened the handcuffs to the


bows which supported the canvas covering.  It was hot


and musty smelling.  The soldiers sat on benches along


the sides of the truck bed, while the truck lurched down


the road and the women swayed unsteadily, half hanging


from their cuffed wrists.  When the truck stopped, the


soldiers got out except for two, who groped the women's


breasts before releasing their  hands.


     "Stop that, you bastards!" shouted Brit, but the


soldiers just laughed, and one groped at the crotch of


Brit's jeans.  He stopped when the officer appeared.


The truck had stopped in the inner courtyard or patio of


a substantial stone and concrete building complex.  The


gates to the entry were closed, so the women had no idea


what lay without.  The officer led them into a sort of


office and removed the handcuffs.


      "You can't just arrest us for no reason.  What's


the charge?" said Lisa.


     The officer left them standing while he sat


behind a desk and lit a cigar.   "Oh, espionage will do,


and  assisting the communist rebels.  Those missionaries


are in rebel territory.  And slandering the government.


Our intelligence informed me you were coming.  You


also work for Amnesty International.  You planned to


report on 'human rights abuses', the use of torture by the


government forces.  You will, of course, learn a great


deal about our use of torture."  Two soldiers came in


with the back packs and started emptying them on the


floor.  "Lisa, Brit, take off your clothes."


     "NO!" said Lisa.  A soldier stepped behind Brit


and pulled her elbows behind her, as the second soldier


used his bayonet to begin to cut away Brit's T-shirt.


"OK!  Don't hurt my daughter.  We'll undress."


     The soldiers stepped back.  Lisa and Brit leaned


against a wall as they clumsily untied their hiking boots


and pulled them off,  and their socks.  Brit pulled her T-


shirt up over her head, revealing her bra, and then she


fumbled with the button at the waist of her jeans.  Lisa


wore  a simple blouse.  She undid the buttons and slid it


off over her shoulders.  Her bra, chosen for comfort in


the tropics, was a thin mesh, front-closure  affair; her


nipples were visible through the fabric.  She undid the


fastenings  and shrugged it off, too.  At 34, her figure


wasn't quite what it used to be, but she was still a size


14, and a good looking woman.  She looked at Brit, who


was inches taller than Lisa but couldn't have weighed


more than 110 pounds, with her slim limbs and flat


tummy. A soldier "helped" Brit with her bra, and


laughed as he turned it inside out to show it was padded.


Brit's firm little conical breasts contrasted with her


mother's slightly sagging C-cups.   Brit slid the jeans


down over her girlish hips, and stepped out of them,


dressed now in nothing but a pink string bikini.  The


waistband was low on her hips.  There was only a small,


pink triangle of cloth in front, and a narrow band up the


crack of her ass in back.  Lisa undid her belt and


dropped the baggy, many-pocketed khaki trousers she


had bought from a  catalog, which had called them safari


pants.   She stood there in her white cotton panties,


suddenly conscious of her somewhat convex belly and


well padded hips and tapered thighs, so much more


voluptuous than her daughter's bony figure.  Brit's


parallel-sided thighs were no bigger than her mother's


shapely calves.  The officer nodded at Lisa, and she


removed her last bit of covering, to stand there naked.  It


had been years since a man had seen her naked, and


never three men at once.  The soldiers busied


themselves searching the women's pockets and even


tearing out the padding in Brit's bra, in case it should


conceal spy paraphernalia.


     A middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform


entered the room and looked over the two prisoners.


She applied a stethoscope to Brit's chest and back,


instructing her to breath deeply.  She  repeated the


examination with Lisa.  The nurse said something in


Spanish, which Lisa understood to mean the prisoners


were healthy enough to withstand interrogation.  Lisa


shivered with fear, and was thankful that Brit probably


didn't understand.  "Squat", said the nurse, and Lisa


squatted on the floor.  The nurse pulled on a latex glove


and slipped a finger into Lisa's vagina, sweeping it


around.  "No contraband," she reported.  "I think she has


had a hysterectomy."  It was true, a treatment for


fibroids.  Lisa had a sub-dermal implant to provide


estrogen replacement.  She didn't mind that she could


never again get pregnant, and she was glad she no longer


had her monthly periods.  Her sex life should have been


better, except that she didn't have much a sex life.  She


wanted a long-term commitment, and that was difficult


when one traveled a lot.


     The nurse went over to Brit and made her squat.


It was easy to push  the pink cloth aside and insert a


finger into Brit's tight pussy.  Lisa stood and said, "Don't


hurt her!"  The nurse then inserted her finger into Brit's


anus.


     "Ow! Stop that," said Brit.


     The nurse withdrew her finger and helped Brit to


her feet.  "No matter," she said in English, "We'll have


to clean you both out, anyway.  Spies and drug


smugglers often swallow a capsule, thinking it won't be


detected, but we always find them.  It all comes out in


the end."


     The officer smiled.  "Before we continue with


the in-processing, shall we call it, have you anything to


say?"


     "Fuck you!" hissed Brit.


     "I'll take that under advisement," said the


officer, smiling, "though I'm sure you will be fucked


first."


     "She's totally innocent," said Lisa.  "She just


came along for the ride, because she couldn't stay with


her grandmother.  I'm innocent, too.  I don't know


anything about rebels and communists."


     "By your own admission, you were here to visit


them and to write propaganda in their favor."


     "It's not true."


     "You will confess soon enough.  So will Brit."


     "Confess to what?"


     "Anything we want.  Perhaps we'll have you


make a televised statement that you are a spy in the


employ of your CIA.  I'm sure Brit could convince


viewers that she was a mule, carrying illegal drugs."


     "But none of that's true!"


     "Whatever we decide is true, you will say it is so.


Whatever your will power, we can break you."


     "All right.  Suppose we have confessed. Then


what?"


     "Well, if you are very lucky, you will be


exchanged for some of our people, held by your country.


If you are not so lucky, we may keep you around for our


amusement.  The troops are so isolated here.  They don't


get to visit their wives and girl friends.  You two can be


their whores."  Lisa gasped at the thought.  "If your luck


runs out, or you are not cooperative enough, you will be


disappeared.  You will vanish without a trace.  You


doubt that?  We have only to take you on a one-way


plane ride, over the jungle or the ocean."


     "OK, I'll say whatever you like, as long as you


let Brit go, unharmed.  OK?"


     The officer just laughed.  "I don't have to


negotiate with you.  You are mine, to do with as I


please.  Let us enjoy your company for a while, a few


days, at least.  Time enough for confessions then."  He


gestured to the soldiers, who knew what to do, from long


practice, perhaps.  They marched the naked prisoners


across the sunny patio and into another, darker part of


the fortress prison.  There, was  a large room, a former


stable, perhaps, dimly lit by light through  high, slit-like


openings in the wall.  It had the look of a torture


chamber, with stocks and a pillory and various apparatus


which Lisa did not recognize.  Over a  drain in the


cobblestone floor was  a wooden frame, a sort of room


without walls, from which hung ropes and chains.  The


soldiers began to tie a rope around Lisa's wrist.


     The nurse said something to the officer, who


stopped the soldiers.  To Lisa, he said, "I am advised


that our initial efforts should not leave visible marks, as


you may have to appear on televison.  That is fortunate


for you, but be advised.  If you do not cooperate fully,


we can use stronger measures."  Lisa looked terrified.


"Amnesty International reported that we douched female


prisoners with hot oil and subjected their breasts to


terrible tortures.  It's all true, of course, as you may find


out for yourself."


     The nurse stepped forward and wrapped tape


around Lisa's wrists, and then Brit's.  Brit, ridiculous in


her tiny pink bikini panties, had the look of a child at an


amusement park, as if she were waiting in line for the


scariest roller coaster, not a sadistic torturer.  The officer


personally wrapped nylon straps around the wrists, over


the protecting tape, and attached the straps to ropes.  At


a nod, Brit and Lisa were hauled aloft, hanging from


their upraised arms, facing each other.  "Brit..." began


Lisa, unable to continue.


     "It's all right, Mom.  I'm not a child.  I'm tough.


Whatever these  ass holes do, I'll survive."


     "Ass hole, eh?" said the officer, with a chuckle.


"That reminds me.  You have one.  We must see what, if


anything, lies within.  But first..."


     The soldiers expertly put straps around Lisa and


Brit's ankles, and the women found their legs being


hauled up and apart, until they hung from the frame with


their legs in a wide vee, the pelvis lifted and tilted so


that their cunts and assholes were raised and fully


accessible.  Lis a found herself looking between her own


breasts at her upraised mons, with its bush of curly pubic


hair, and beyond that, she was looking directly at her


daughter's private parts, barely covered by thin pink


nylon.  The officer took hold of the back of Brit's


panties and pulled, so the pink fabric folded and sank


onto the crease of Brit's vulva until it half disappeared,


and Brit's puffy girlish labia were forced apart, to peep


out either side of the pink.  When he released his grip,


the thong rebounded, but the pink nylon stayed


embedded in Brit's vulva.  Brit was breathing hard and


trying to remain composed.  Lisa wondered how much


that hurt. Did it rub Brit's clitoris painfully?  The officer


again pulled down on the thong, and continued jerking,


until the embedded cloth was sodden and Brit was


groaning, "uh,uh" and struggling with each jerk of the


thong. The officer smiled as he stretched the pink nylon


even more, and Brit cried, "Aww!  Gaaawd!" and


relaxed.  With a final yank, the panties tore away,


revealing the red, tortured membranes of Brit's gaping


vulva, framed by her sparse, matted, brown pubic hair.   


      One of the soldiers  brought a black bag, like a


doctors satchel.  The officer took something from the


bag and with his other hand he pulled on Brit's left


nipple, which was about even with his chin.  He put a


spring clamp on it, not a little one, like the nipple


clamps in adult toy stores.  This one resembled the


clamps on the end of battery jumper cables, and Brit


yowled in pain.  He applied a clamp to the other nipple,


and then placed clamps on Lisa's somewhat bigger


nipples.  Lisa gritted her teeth and tried to breath deeply,


willing not to scream.  The beast obviously enjoyed


inflicting pain.  She wanted to deny him satisfaction.


Brit, seeing her mother's stoic resistance, tried to keep


quiet, too.  Perhaps it was the release of endorphins in


her brain, or a numbness from the restriction in blood


supply, but it seemed to Lisa as if the pain in her nipples


was the decreasing.  She hoped that was true for Brit,


also.  It wasn't fair for them to torture Brit.  The bastard


officer enjoyed it, and he knew it hurt Lisa to see Brit


suffer.


     The officer made a noose of stranded copper


wire and slid it over Lisa's left breast, pushing it as afar


as it would go toward her rib cage.  Lisa could imagine


what would happen if he tightened that noose; it could


slice her breast off!  The nurse said something and the


officer looked annoyed.  He removed the copper wire


and substituted a loop of rubber strap, which he fitted


around the base of Lisa's breast and then pulled tight.


The constricting strap almost pinched off her breast,


making it swell into a globe, which began to turn pink.


Veins which had been invisible swelled under the thin,


pale skin, and the pain in her nipple intensified until


Lisa could not help screaming.   Quickly, the officer


repeated the treatment on Lisa's right breast.  Her


beautiful breasts were being deformed and stretched


before her eyes.  Her eyes met Brit's.  Brit was staring in


disbelief.  Her little breasts, at least, could not be bound


like that.


     The nurse, meanwhile, showed up with a hose,


like a garden hose.  She pulled the little pink thong aside


and applied the nozzle to Brit's anus.  The officer took it


from her and said, "This one is mine.  I'll teach her


about ass holes."  He twisted the nozzle to increase the


flow and, as the water forced Brit's  little rosebud open,


he pushed the nozzle deep inside her, past her anal


sphincter muscles.  Brit bore the indignity, along with


the pain of the nipple clamps, but soon the pressure


inside her was too great to ignore.  Intestines have no


sense of pain, except for stretching, but they are very


sensitive to that.  As the water gurgled higher and higher


into Brit's colon, the pain became unbearable, and she


screamed obscenities as she writhed as much as her taut


suspension would allow.  Lisa cried, to see Brit's


torment, but she wouldn't speak, wouldn't give the


torturer the satisfaction.


     At last the nurse put her hand on the officer's


arm, and he yanked the nozzle from Brit's upturned


bottom.  A stream of brown water, with lumps of shit in


it, spewed from Brit's anus and splashed across her


mother.  In seconds, Brit hung limp and quiet.  The


officer stepped aside and looked down at the filthy floor,


looking for capsules of contraband, while the nurse,


somewhat more gently, flushed Brit's colon again and


again, until the water ran clear and it was obvious


nothing interesting would come out then.  "Poor Brit,"


she said.  "We will have to repeat this tomorrow.  Here,


drink this."  She held a squeeze bottle to Brit's lips and


forced her to drink.


     "Yahgh!" said Brit, "it tastes awful."


The nurse made Lisa drink, too.  It tasted like fish oil.     


           Then the nurse handed the hose to the officer, and


it was Lisa's turn to be flushed out.  The indignity, the


embarrassment of having her rectum invaded, was bad


enough, but the mounting pain as she felt the water


pressing deeper and deeper into her was so great it


distracted her from her swollen breasts.  When, at last,


the nozzle was removed, and the awful pressure in her


bowels was relieved, it was at the cost of her spewing


shit all over her own daughter.  The officer didn't stop.


He pushed the hose deeper and deeper into her bowels.


She could feel it, pushing around the corner from her


rectum to her colon, moving up her colon, even across


under her ribs, all the while water spewing from her


wretched stretched anus.  Finally, he let go of the hose


and Lisa felt is sliding out her, until the nozzle passed


her aching anus and fell on the floor.  The officer said


something in Spanish about changing his clothes and


left, taking the soldiers with him.


     The nurse went to Brit first, removing the nipple


clamps.  Brit writhed in pain or relief, Lisa wasn't sure,


and then hung limply as the nurse hosed the filth off her.


Then the nurse removed the clamps and the rubber


bindings from Lisa's breasts.  Yes, it hurt for a while, as


the more normal blood flow was restored, but Lisa was


reassured when her breasts seemed to rapidly assume


their normal shape.  At least they didn't seem to be


permanently injured.  The nurse hosed her off  and used


the hose to clean the floor, making sure the effluent


from the bowels ran down the drain.  The water, Lisa


realized, was almost body temperature, probably from a


tank on the roof, which had been warmed by the sun.


How much worse the ordeal would have been had the


water been really cold.


     "Now," said the nurse, "I realize you are


uncomfortable, but you are in no danger, for the


moment.  Had you been left hanging from your arms


alone, the blood would eventually pool in your legs, and


you might lose consciousness.  You won't starve, and


with all the water you have absorbed from your guts, you


won't dehydrate for a while.  Of course, the captain will


return to play his little games with you, but that may not


be before morning.  So, rest if you can.  I will check on


you, as a good nurse should, from time to time."


     When they were alone, Brit spoke first.  "Mom,


are you all right?"


     "Yes, I think so.  You?"


     "Yes.  At least he didn't do that thing to my


breasts.  I'll bet it hurt."


     "Yes, it did, and I worried that they'd be


permanently damaged."


     "He's doing this for his own pleasure, isn't


he?  He doesn't care if we confess or not.  He just enjoys


torturing us."


     "I'm afraid so, Brit.  I'm sorry I got you into


this."


     "It's not your fault, Mom.  I know that.  We'll


get through it, somehow."


     Time dragged.  The light from the windows


faded, leaving them in darkness.  The fluid they had


been forced to drink was a powerful laxative, castor oil


or such, and their almost empty bowels cramped and


dribbled.   Sometime in the night, the nurse returned,


with a lantern, and she flushed them out again, fairly


gently, and washed them and the floor.  As she was


about to go, she turned and put her hand on Lisa's thigh.


"One more thing, I think.  It may help you to sleep."       


         She turned the water on again and directed the


stream not to irrigate Lisa's rectum but to irrigate her


vagina.  The stream of water played over the entrance to


her tunnel like a lover, and from time to time, the stream


was directed toward Lisa's clitoris.  The hood fluttered


in the stream, and the sensitive glans, normally hidden


out of sight, was stimulated to the point where Lisa was


squirming and making incoherent noises.  "Uh, uh, uh,


Ohhhh!"  The tension mounted to a climax, and a mega-


orgasm washed through her, an orgasm like she hadn't


felt in years.


     The nurse now turned her attention, and the hose,


to Brit's pussy.  Lisa wondered how a teen-ager


would react.  In the almost darkness, she couldn't gage


Brit's reaction, until she heard, "Please, stop," and the


nurse left.  Lisa wondered, as she came down from her


high, if she should say anything to Brit.


     Brit spoke first.  "Mom, did you have an


orgasm?"


     "Yes, a good one.  I couldn't help it."


     "Me, too.  Several.  I enjoyed it."


     "I didn't know you knew about orgasms."


     "Mom, I've been masturbating for years."


     "What about boys?  Have boys given you


orgasms?"


     "Mom.  You shouldn't ask."


     "Are you a virgin?"


     "Technically, yes.  I don't want to get preggers.


But, I've let boys...you know, play with me.  Ron Russel,


when we were staying with Grandma, he made me


come, a couple of times."


     "I guess a mother is the last to know."


     "Mom...  Mom, do you think they will rape us?"


     "I'm pretty certain they will."


     "What if I get pregnant?"


     "You just finished your period.  You probably


won't be fertile for about a week.  Given the way that


jerk likes to inflict pain, I'd say pregnancy shouldn't be


very high on your list of things to worry about."


     "Is it true, Mom, what they say?  If  rape is


inevitable, lie back and enjoy it?"


     "I never used to say that, but under the


circumstances, it might be pretty good advice.  I'm


sorry, Brit.  You are only a child, and it's a shame you'll


never grow up normal after this."


     "I'm tough, Mom.  It's like being in an accident.


I'll get over it."


     "If we live through it."


     About dawn, the officer was back.  "Oh," he


said, "such nice upturned asses, with the skin taut and


pale and just waiting for some decoration".  He selected


a cane and administered ten strokes to each ass,


alternating between Lisa and Brit and leaving both of


them sobbing, with ugly red welts across their buttocks.


He stopped when the nurse came in.


     He glared at her, and she said nothing, just


watched, as he continued the torment.  First, he used the


hose again, but the women were used to that by now,


and they kept quiet even as the cramping pains wracked


their guts.  Their spew was barely colored and didn't


smell much.  The officer rinsed them and hosed down


the floor.


     "Gringas are always so concerned about their


asses and bowels.  Did that pretty much break your


spirit?  Not so proud now, eh?  After you've shit on each


other!"  Neither Lisa nor Brit replied.


     "Hey, Lisa, you like to see Brit get it, eh?"  Lisa


wondered if he had been drinking.  She did not reply.


He selected a tapered butt plug and pushed and twisted it


into Brit's ass hole, while her mother watched.  "Those


child-like little tits.  It's a shame to leave those alone."


He looked in several cabinets and returned with the


things he needed.


     First he rubbed Brit's tits with a smelly, greasy


stuff.  They became shiny and a bit pinker.  "Lisa, in


case you're wondering, that's a heat-rub, like they apply


to sore muscles.  Brit's little tits feel like they are on


fire, don't they?"  Brit remained quiet.  "Here, Lisa, you


can have some, too."  He rubbed Lisa's breasts with the


goo.  There was a lot more breast to rub, and, yes, it did


burn.  Strangely, Lisa found it sexually stimulating, even


as it hurt.  Had he continued rubbing her breasts, she


might have come.  "Lisa, you know what comes next?"


     He wheeled a sort of cart up behind Lisa.  He


took a pair of clear glass  cylinders, like bottles with the


bottom cut out, and he forced one over each greasy


breast.  Then he screwed a cap on each and connected a


tube from the cart to each cap.  He turned a crank, and


there was a pocketa-pocketa sound, the sound of a


pump.  Lisa's breasts  were sucked into the cylinders.


With Brit, he had to have the nurse hold the cylinders,


until there was enough vacuum to hold them against her


smaller breasts.  "I'll connect the hoses together, Lisa,


so the vacuum is the same for both of you.  That way


you'll know just what your innocent child is


experiencing.  Who knows, if we have time, she may


have C-cups like yours."  He laughed at that and turned


the crank some more.  Lisa felt her breasts being


stretched, and they turned pink again, as they had when


bound.  What concerned her more was Brit's breasts.


She could see them swelling with fluid, and turning


color. Too.  What would such stretching do to a girl's


delicate breasts?  With so little tissue to expand, would


she be deformed for life?  Would her breasts, perhaps,


sag on her chest like a used condom?


     "The best is yet to come, Lisa.  You are going


to fuck your own daughter.  How can you have any self


respect, after you've done that?"  He laughed again.  She


was sure he was drunk.  First, he released the straps


which held their ankles from the supports overhead, so


Lisa and Brit were  were hanging from their arms, the


straps still on their ankles.  Next, he dragged over a pipe


which he hung from a chain at the center so it could


pivot  just like the see-saw one can see in a child's


playground.   However, instead of having a broad seat,


the rider would be straddling a round object. "When a


male prisoner rides this, you can imagine what happens


to his testicles," the torturer remarked.  He lowered Lisa


until she stood, straddling the pipe.  He


took two shiny metal things, the size and shape of cigars,


and pushed  one into her rectum until it was out of sight


and the other into her vagina.  The one in her vagina was


a little long, so the last inch peeped out between her


labia.  There were wires attached to each cigar. He


lowered her arms some more, disconnected the straps


from above and retied them beneath the pipe, so she was


sitting on the see-saw, the pipe pressing the cigar in her


cunt, mashing her labia, spreading her thighs, and she could


not raise herself to relieve the pressure.


       On the other end of the pipe, he attached a knobby


rubber dildo, sticking up.  He lowered Brit until she was


impaled on it.  The nurse helped, guiding her so that the


dildo entered Brit's vagina without ripping anything.


"How's that feel, Brit?  Do you like having a cock in


your cunt?"


     Truthfully, Brit replied. "I've never had anything


so big inside me.  It feels as if  it will  rip me open and


I'll bleed to death."  The officer laughed.  He used the


straps on her ankles to fix her legs in front of her against


the pipe and then slackened the wrist straps, so her


whole weight was supported by the pipe and the dildo


between her legs.  "You will have to try to balance and


keep yourself upright. If you fall off, you will rip


yourself a new cunt."  Brit found that by pulling on the


straps still attached to her wrists, she could hold herself


upright.


     "Now," said the officer, "we come to the clever


part.  I'm really quite proud of myself for inventing


this."  He placed a sort of stool under the end of the pipe


behind Lisa, so the if she flexed her legs a bit, lowering


her end of the pipe,  the pipe would hit the stool and


stop moving abruptly. 


     "Before we go on, let's stretch those tits some


more."  He turned the pump crank a few more times,


until both Lisa and Brit screamed and pleaded with  him


to stop.  "Don't complain, Brit," he chided, "soon you'll


have B-cup tits."  When she looked down at them, they


certainly looked bigger.


     "Now we need the motor to make this go."  He


connected the wires from Lisa's "cigars" to a box, and


he placed an electrical switch, attached to the box,


between the pipe and its stop.  Lisa was heavier than


Brit, so if she did not support herself with her legs, her


end of the pipe would drop and compress the switch.


The torturer then lifted Lisa's end of the pipe and let it


drop.


     Lisa could not stop the drop stiff legged; she had


to bend her knees a bit, and the pipe hit the switch.  A


jolt of electricity raged through Lisa's body, contracting


every muscle, it seemed, below her navel.  Her vaginal


muscles clamped on the metal cigar, just as the impact


of the pipe drove it deeper into Lisa's cunt.  Her rectal


muscles did the same, as if to expel the rear electrode,


but, of course, they couldn't.  The gluteal muscles in her


ass contracted, too, extending her legs and propelling


her upward.  At least, as Lisa's feet left the ground, the


terrible electroshock stopped for a second or two, and


her muscles relaxed.  Again Lisa's end fell, and again the


electricity convulsed her cunt muscles and extended her


legs and bounced her aloft again.  And so it continued.


Entirely involuntarily, Lisa jumped up and down, while


her vaginal muscles spasmed painfully an instant after


her feet hit the floor.  So preoccupied she was with her


own painful predicament, that it took her a while to


realize what was happening to Brit.


     Every time the electricity made Lisa bound into


the air, Brit's end of the pipe dropped so quickly that the


dildo pulled out of Brit's cunt a fraction of an inch, and


every time Brit fell back upon the pipe, the rubber


invader was driven deep into her.  Given the knobby


texture of the rubber cock, Brit was fucked harder than


she could have imagined.  As Lisa screamed with pain


and frustration, fucking her own daughter even as Lisa's


vagina was clamping down on that metal cigar, Brit was


screaming with the sheer excitement of coming again


and again.  Her wild ride on the end of the pipe was


fucking her harder than any man could have done.


     Finally, the nurse put a stop to it.  The vacuum


was released from the tit suckers, leaving Lisa and Brit


with bright red circles on their chests, and breasts which


throbbed with pain.  When they lifted Brit off the dildo,


she was only semiconscious, fucked senseless.  Lisa fell


off the pipe exhausted, her vaginal and rectal muscles


aching from the accumulated lactic acid of anaerobic


exercise; the demands on them hand far exceeded their


oxygen supply.   "A minute more, and one or both of


them might have had a heart attack," the nurse observed.


"They need to rest."  She removed the "cigars" from


Lisa but left the butt plug in Brit.


     The officer insisted they be chained to the frame


by one ankle, so they couldn't escape.  When he had


gone, the nurse brought them juice to drink and a plastic


air mattress, so they could rest a bit.  With their bottoms


sore from the whip and the pipe, and their breasts very


tender, the only way to rest was on their sides, facing


each other on the narrow mattress.  They managed to


sleep.


     Too soon, the officer was back.  He yanked the


mattress from underneath them, dumping them on the


cobble floor as he cursed in Spanish.  "Get up!  You


have no time for sleep.  It's time to sign your


confessions."  He held out a clip board with a typed


statement on it, in Spanish and English.  "Lisa, sign


here, both copies."


     With new-found courage, she said, "No."


     He smiled, and walked to a rack on the wall,


where he selected a whip, a long, single-tailed whip.  He


snapped it twice in the air and then, expertly, cracked


the tip against Lisa's right breast.  She leaped back, to


the end of her chain, blood from a three-inch gash


dribbling off her nipple.  CRACK!  He marked her left


breast.  She turned and curled up on the floor, hugging


her breasts for protection.  Undaunted, the officer


lacerated each ass cheek.  "Sign it."


     "No."


     "You know I can easily cut you to ribbons with


this whip, and I'd enjoy doing it, but that can wait for


later.  Sign the confessions, or the next time I crack this


whip it will take off Brit's right nipple."


     "OK, I'll sign."  She did, and Brit followed her


example.


     "My men are impatient," he said.  "They had a


whore, but she died."  He showed them a large photo of


a naked Indian girl.  Her lips were pulled back in a


grimace, showing that her front teeth were missing.


"The better to suck cock," the officer said, pointing.


Her body, her breasts especially, bore several scars, like


the whip marks on Lisa.  Across her belly, below the


navel, in large letters, there was an ugly  brand,


"PUTA".  "I show you this, " he said, "to remind you


that resistance is futile."  He released the chains from


the frame and pointed to the door.  "Go."


     Lisa and Brit walked slowly toward the door,


their ankle chains clinking on the cobble stone floor.


They stepped outside, half blinded by the bright


sunlight.  Soldiers took their arms and led them toward


the center of the patio. There two saw horses had been


set up.  The officer directed the soldiers, as they used the


ankle and wrist straps to fasten down the women, facing


each other.  "Lisa," he said, as her wrists were fastened


to the legs of a horse, as her ankles were,  "I want you to


watch as Brit gets fucked by the entire garrison.  And


then it will be your turn."


     Lisa's heart pounded as she was forced to watch.


Brit was similarly strapped down, with her legs spread


and her ass upmost. Brit raised her head, caught her


mother's eyes, then let her head hang down.  The soldiers,


more than Lisa had seen before, formed a line behind Brit,


each in some stage of undress.  Most had removed their


shoes and trousers; a few were naked.  The officer removed


Brit's butt plug and gestured to the first soldier.  Lisa realized


that Brit could see each rapist, standing there behind her.


Lisa watched in horror as the man stroked his huge penis


a few times and then leaned hard against Brit's rump.


Lisa couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if in one thrust he


had buried that rod in her rump.  Brit went, "Ahhh!,"


and "Uh!, uh!" with each thrust.  Lisa cried to think of her


daughter being so abused, but through the tears, she saw Brit


look up and mouth the words --- if rape is inevitable....


     Lisa felt the officers hand between her legs.


Somehow, she sensed that he couldn't get an erection,


but she felt him slide his thumb into her vagina, still


flaccid and unresisting  after the electoshock, and his


forefinger rubbed her clit.  She saw the soldier withdraw


his slimy cock from Brit, and the next man took his


place, gyrating his hips as he stretched Brit's childish


pussy.  Lisa wondered if Brit was suffering or if she


might begin to enjoy it.


       Lisa realized that, even though she hated the


bastard, the officer was making her wet.  She shuddered,


as his thumb found her G-spot.


     Then there was the stutter of automatic weapons


fire, and a crushing weight on Lisa's back.  Blood


soaked her hair and ran down her cheek.  All was noise


and confusion.  Then silence.  The weight of the dead


officer was lifted from her, and she looked up to see a


dozen masked men in campesino dress, obviously the


rebels that the officer has spoken of.


     "I'm Dr. Schmidt," said a voice behind her.  "I


am sorry we have to meet under such circumstances, but


I must thank you and your daughter  for helping us.


Thanks to you, we caught the garrison with their pants


down."


Review This Story || Author: Abe
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